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spideyjimin · 26 days

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UNTIL I FOUND HER | kth

⤷ part of the dads universe

⏤ pairing: football/soccer player!taehyung x female reader

⏤ genre: best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, angst, fluff, and smut

⏤ rating: 18+

⏤ warnings: dom!taehyung, swearing, alcohol consumption, jealousy, a lot of making out, sexual tension, mention of sex, some teasing, praising, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, multiple orgasms, mention of oral sex, some crying, mention of pregnancy, mention of unprotected sex, mention of abortion, and pregnancy

⏤ words: 17,145

⏤ summary: taehyung is your best friend, he’s been part of your life for as long as you can remember. his love life is a complete chaos. there is only one girl he has truly ever loved. that girl is you. but how would things turn out when he finds out that you love him back?

⏤ author’s note: the fic is finally here 🤗 i loved writing this fic & writing this Tae, he’s so soft 🥹 honestly, i was super excited to post it, i truly hope you enjoy this fic 💜 let me know what you think of it & thanks for reading, angels ✨

DECEMBER 31, 2021

As every year, you celebrate the new year with your best friend, Taehyung. You’re not really fond of this celebration but you get to be with your best friend so you deeply cherish this day. This day is also a continuation of his birthday which takes place the day before.

Since he became a professional footballer/soccer player, you barely get to see him. His life changed completely. He trains a lot on a daily basis, he has games during the weekend, he constantly travels, and most importantly, he became famous. He’s one of the best players of his generation so he gets a fair amount of attention. It’s been hard for you to find your place in this new life, but Taehyung has always made sure to keep in contact with you. Most importantly, he has been keeping you out of the public eye.

Everything that he does instantly makes headlines, he doesn’t get much of a private life. However, he protects the people he dearly loves. Seeing him become that famous broke your heart because you’ve been loving him for a couple of years now. With his fame, you get to see him kissing girls and flirting with them. For a while, he also had a girlfriend and he was going everywhere with her. It was hard to see even though he had introduced her to you.

There are quite a lot of people at this party. But nothing new. You don’t know most of the people, they are friends of friends of friends. In summary, they were invited by someone. Taehyung also invited known people like Jungkook, a famous singer, and Hoseok, a famous actor. They’ve met through acquaintances and since then, they’ve been invited to this new year party. You like them a lot, they are very nice people despite being famous. Hoseok is actually the one with whom you’ve got closer. He’s now like a super friend.

You’re sitting at a table with Jungkook and you’re animatedly speaking. Honestly, you’re surprised by the life this man lives. He’s been a singer for more than 10 years but it feels like he has been living that life for 30 years. So many things have happened in his life and he has done so much. He’s also young so it’s almost impossible to believe him.

For a brief moment, your eyes scan the room and your body freezes for a split second when your eyes meet Taehyung’s. He’s so fucking gorgeous. The type of gorgeous that takes your breath away. Well, he’s always handsome but tonight, he’s even more than usual.

His hair is fully pushed back, except for a strand of hair falling on his face. It kind of makes him look like a bad boy. However, he’s a nice bad boy which is ironic. He’s wearing a flannel blue shirt with a large black pair of jeans. It’s simple but anything simple looks great on him.

You both glance at each other for a moment, it feels like there’s nobody else but you. Since yesterday, things have been different between you. The way you look at each other is different, the way you act around each other has changed. Nothing is awkward. It’s simply different but it’s a different that feels good. However, it leaves you wondering why your encounter changed this time around. What caused this change?

After what felt like an eternity, Taehyung joins you.

“How’s the night going?” He asks you.

Your eyes glance at him. “So far, it’s going well,” you answer with a smile.

Taehyung smiles back at you. “I’m glad we’re here together tonight,” he says. “I was actually looking forward to seeing you because it’s been a while.”

Your best friend is sometimes sad to not be able to see as much as he’d like to. For sure, he’s content with being a footballer/soccer player but this life has drifted you apart. By some miracle, you managed to keep the friendship which he’s very happy with. However, he barely sees you in a year. He tries to always make it to your birthday and make sure you get to celebrate his birthday and new year together.

However, he wishes he could be with you forever.

This separation sometimes breaks his heart because he spent all his childhood and teenage years with you, and now, you barely see each other. Of course, you text and call each other daily but it isn’t the same.

As he says those words, you can feel the heat taking over your face. Hearing those words makes you feel something in your stomach, you can’t quite explain it but it definitely makes you feel good and loved.

“Me too,” you simply reply.

Taehyung offers you a genuine smile before taking a sip of the drink he’s holding. Probably a cocktail that he prepared. For a little while, you talk about random things that happened in your life for the past months. The two of you enjoy this moment, it warms both of your hearts to hear what has been going on.

Taehyung can’t help but love the way you smile as you explain an event that occurred at work. The way your face lights up when you talk about work makes it obvious to him that you adore what you do for a living. He can’t help but find you absolutely stunning tonight. You’re wearing a blue pair of jeans with a floral top. It fits you perfectly. Well, he believes that everything fits you perfectly.

After a while, you split as you start talking with other friends around you. Throughout the night, you keep drinking some cocktails prepared specifically for the party. Well, some bartenders were hired for the event so you can ask whatever you want and they’ll make it.

You head to the little bar, joining Jungkook who’s already ordering something.

“Hi again,” you say as you reach him.

His head turns to the left, a smile growing on his face when he sees you.

“Hi again,” he replies.

Jungkook is a very good-looking man. He emanates a strong confidence which causes everyone to constantly look at him. For sure, you believe that this comes with being a singer. A singer constantly performs in front of people, gives interviews, signs autographs, takes pictures with fans, and many other things. For you, a singer needs to be comfortable in their shoes otherwise things can be hard, especially for the attention they get. It’s hard to imagine how Jungkook can handle all that. Well, you wonder the same with Tae because, at the end of the day, all of that applies to him as well.

“Has someone ever told you how pretty you are?” he asks with evident seriousness. “I constantly wonder how Tae hasn’t already fallen for you.”

Your cheeks instantly turn red. This is clearly and certainly unexpected. You never imagined that he considered you as pretty. Usually, famous people only find super thin and fit women as pretty, and to be honest, you’re none of both. But it actually flatters you that such a handsome man finds you pretty.

Since he caught you off guard, you don’t even know what to reply. “Tae is my best friend.”

As soon as those words leave your lips, you actually feel ridiculous. Tae is your best friend but that doesn’t change the fact that you developed feelings for him. However, you’re convinced that he doesn’t feel the same about you.

“Honestly, if you were my best friend, I would have already tried to seduce you,” he tells you. “Being best friends doesn’t necessarily mean that you can’t fall for each other.”

He’s totally right, and you absolutely know it.

“You’re not wrong,” you reply.

A smile appears on his face. He’s stunning when he smiles. As you glance at him for a little while, you realize that you clearly understand why he has many girls at his feet. He’s very talented and attractive. No wonder that most of the girls scream like crazy when they see him.

“And to answer your first question, not many people have said that to me,” you say.

“Well, they clearly are blind,” he teasingly says.

A little laugh escapes your lips. Honestly, if this fantastic singer is going to flirt with you tonight, you’ll do the same. It’s not every day that someone like Jungkook flirts with you.

From afar, Taehyung watches the two of you discuss. It’s more than obvious that his friend, Jungkook is flirting with you. What he hates watching is you flirting back with him. From the way you laugh at his silly jokes to the way you touch him makes him want to throw up. Never in his life did he think he’d have to watch you flirt.

But he can’t do anything. You’re not his. He’s just your best friend. More than anyone else, you deserve happiness. He can’t stop what is starting to happen between you and Jungkook. If you like each other, what can he concretely do? He takes a sip of his drink. For a moment, he simply looks at the two of you openly flirting together. He wishes that this would have not happened in front of him. It makes him jealous, and he doesn’t like that feeling. It makes him feel vulnerable.

Right at that moment, Jungkook looks at him with a devious smile. Tae knows right there and then that he’s doing this on purpose. But why? For sure, he does that because he has an idea in his mind. Tae talks again with the guy next to him about football/soccer. It occupies his mind and it also doesn’t tempt him to glance at you.

After a while, Jungkook takes a seat next to him. He smiles like an idiot, Tae only wants to slap him when he smiles like that.

“You should tell her you like her,” he says with still that silly smile.

“I don’t see what you’re talking about,” Tae replies with his cheeks turning red.

“Yes, you know,” he instantly answers. “It’s written all over your face that you fell for her.”

Tae takes a sip to try to cool down his body’s temperature.

“I noticed it a while ago,” he starts saying. “You’re quite subtle. Being her best friend is the excuse you use to hide your true feelings. But slowly, I realized the way your face lit up when you talked about her. It was obvious you liked her more than a friend,” Jungkook explains. “I used this party to test the waters by flirting with her and your face confirmed it all.”

The footballer looks at his friend in disbelief. It’s unbelievable that his friend did that to simply confirm a theory. But he’s also surprised that he noticed he has feelings for you. For years, he thought he was discreet but it looks like he wasn’t after all. If Jungkook noticed it, surely other people would too.

“By the way, I totally get why you fell in love with her. Beyond being petty, she has a wonderful soul,” Jungkook adds. “But don’t waste more time. Go talk to her.”

Tae shakes his head. “I don’t want to ruin our friendship. I care too much about her and I don’t want to lose her.”

“Maybe you won’t lose her,” his friend says. “Maybe the feelings are mutual, maybe she loves you too.”

Taehyung doesn’t believe that. He’s truly convinced that you only see him as a very good friend and nothing more. Plus, he isn’t going to say anything because he’s scared to be heartbroken. He wouldn’t be able to handle that and still be your friend. And he’s sure that you would refuse to remain friends.

“I’m sorry, JK but I’m not going to do that,” he replies before leaving his friend alone.

Tae would rather see you falling in love with someone else than lose you forever. That’s the naked truth. He would prefer to be jealous than heartbroken.

As the night goes on, Taehyung avoids you. The discussion he had with Jungkook ⏤ and seeing you flirting with him ⏤ disturbed him. He knows that if he’s around you, he won’t be able to act like nothing happened. That he won’t be able to contain his jealousy.

The entire night you’re confused about why your best friend isn’t with you. It actually breaks your heart. You keep wondering if you did something wrong. The only thing that crosses your mind is the little flirting session with Jungkook. You wonder if he’s angry that his friend dared to get close to you. That’s the only reason you can think of. It’s the only thing that makes sense.

Taehyung keeps eyeing you from afar. It’s hard to be far from you when you’re in the same room. All he wants is to be next to you but he can’t. So he keeps on drinking and you do the same. By the time it’s 23:59, you’re both just completely drunk.

“10, 9, 8,” everybody shouts as you watch the countdown on tv.

You slowly get closer to Taehyung.

“7, 6, 5,” he looks for you in the room.

“4, 3, 2,” your eyes meet.

“1, 0,” your hearts beat fast.

“Happy new year!” everybody screams with joy.

You hug the person next to you and wish her a very happy new year. She does the same with a bright smile on her face. You keep doing that with friends while exchanging cheek kisses. It makes you happy to be starting the new year with them and their best wishes. You can feel that this year will be fantastic. You can’t explain how but you feel it deep inside you. It’s an intuition.

Slowly but surely, you get closer to Taehyung. There is no other person in this room with whom you’d like to hug, kiss, and wish a very happy new year. He’s the only person that has ever mattered in your life.

Once you’re face to face, you simply stare at each other. Your heart is racing inside your chest, your body is completely frozen, and your mind can’t think straight. Being in front of him after what felt like a crazy night is strange.

You take a step forward, your faces are quite close, and a smile appears on both your faces.

“Happy new year, Tae,” you finally say.

His smile grows bigger and even gets brighter. It almost looks like he’s shining. He gets closer to you in order to hug you but as he takes a step closer, his face gets closer to yours. For a split second, you can see his eyes going down on your lips which causes your heart to hammer even more in your chest.

Your eyes are lost in his, your breathing getting heavier, and the room’s temperature increasing insanely. You can feel his hot breath on your face, his strong scent invades all your senses. Right now, the crowd in the room disappears completely. There’s only you and him.

All you want to do right now is to kiss him desperately. You want to feel his lips on yours. You want to taste his lips. You want to get lost in his lips. For years, you wondered what it’d feel like to kiss him, and at this exact moment, you sense like you’re about to find it out.

Taehyung sees your eyes looking down at his lips which makes him feel like he’s won. Jungkook’s words echo in his head. ‘Maybe she loves you too.’ Maybe Jungkook was right. By the way you’re looking at him, he’d say that his friend was indeed right. You wouldn’t be looking at him with an evident desire to kiss him written all over your face if you were considering him as a friend. This wouldn’t be happening if he was only your friend.

A strong warmth invades his heart as he knows that he can do what he’s been dying to do for years. He’s still hesitant though. He’s not sure if he can do it.

“Happy new year to you too, yn,” he whispers while his face gets even closer to yours. “I wish you all the best for this new year.”

Shivers run down your spine. His eyes stare deep into yours and it makes you feel like he senses what you deeply crave right now.

Once he says those words, his mouth meets yours. Even though you want this, it catches you by surprise so it takes you a hot second to kiss him back. The kiss is shy at first, as if you’re both scared but it slowly turns into a desperate and fervent one. One of his hands goes to the back of your neck while the other one goes to your hips. He pushes your body closer to his. Your hands cup his face while you intensely kiss each other.

This feels like heaven for you two. This kiss has been wanted for years, but none of you dared to do it, too scared to ruin the friendship. Now that this is happening you’re not even afraid to lose each other. However, you wonder if this is only occurring because you’re both completely wasted.

You open your mouth, giving him free access to your mouth. His tongue doesn’t hesitate one second to find yours. Gently, your tongues meet and it feels wonderful. Inside of your lower belly, thousands of butterflies are freed. Never have you thought that this would’ve happened one day.

When you’re both out of breath, you break the kiss and rest your foreheads against the other. For a moment, you simply look at each other while you catch your breath. Taehyung’s fingers softly caress your face and you close your eyes to savour this moment.

“This is a great way to start the year,” your best friend murmurs.

You open your eyes to look at him. He’s so beautiful, he looks like a dream. This all sounds like a dream but it’s really taking place. You really kissed him. This isn’t something coming out of your imagination. This is real.

This time you’re the one who kisses him. You don’t want this to ever stop, you want to keep kissing him until your body can’t handle it anymore. A soft moan leaves his mouth when your lips meet. He also wants to keep doing this forever. He doesn’t know if you’ll both remember this tomorrow because you’re drunk so he wants to enjoy every second of it.

Taehyung teasingly bites your lower lip which causes a moan to escape your mouth. A devious smirk appears on his face but he gets back to kissing you fervently. This kiss seems to slowly evolve into something more. It’s evident that you want more. You can feel it in the way his tongue plays with yours, in the way your hands move in his body, and in the way his hands hold you tight against his body. You obviously want to have sex together. This could stop you but it doesn’t. You desperately crave this.

He breaks the kiss, it wouldn’t be appropriate to keep doing this in the middle of this crowded room.

“Do you want to go to my place?” he nervously asks.

Right there, when he dares to ask this, you realize the extent of the situation. You kissed your best friend, and there’s no doubt that you’re not going to his place to play cards. If you accept his proposal, you’ll get laid. Would your friendship resist this? Would you even remain friends? Would this mean that you’re together now?

Those questions are quickly erased from your mind. You’ve already ruined the friendship by kissing each other. Going a bit further won’t change that. And honestly, right now, you don’t want to think about what will happen tomorrow.

“Yes,” you nod.

Your best friend smiles before grabbing your hand and taking you out of this place. He guides you to the parking lot where his car is. It’s an underground parking lot and there’s absolutely nobody except you and Taehyung. You quickly reach his car, a brand new BMW X1. It’s such a wonderful car. You don’t know much about cars, you just look at them from the outside and judge them. You heard many good things about the brand BMW so you’re convinced it’s a good car.

He opens the car door for you before making your way inside the car. The smell of leather invades your senses. Weirdly, it’s a smell that you’ve always liked. The smell of a brand-new car always brings you back to a childhood memory, a very good one. So, you always like this smell. Taehyung looks at you with marvel. He’s aware of this liking of yours and he knows what it is related to. He finds you adorable.

Quickly, he starts the car and drives like a crazy to reach his place as soon as possible. He definitely doesn’t want to waste time. All he wants right now is to have his lips on yours and fuck you until there’s no tomorrow.

As soon as you arrive at his place, the two of you leave the car in a hurry. In less than a minute, you enter your place, take your shoes and coats off, and run to his massive bedroom. You know his place by heart as you’ve come a hundred times. It’s quite a wonderful and impressive house but right now, you don’t really have the time to take a proper look at his place.

Taehyung doesn’t waste a second before kissing you passionately. Damn, he is desperate to feel your lips against his. It’s all he wanted to do during the car ride. Actually, he is simply completely desperate for you. After all, he’s been having a crush on you for years.

“I desperately want you, yn,” he whispers against your lips with his deep voice.

You clench your tights together, his raspy voice sending shivers down your spine, but his voice is so low that you barely hear his words. However, you don’t need to hear him say it to know it, it’s clearly written all over his face.

“And I’m desperate for you, Tae,” you reply.

The football/soccer player presses his lips against yours once again but this time, he’s kissing you with a fervent passion. Having his lips on yours feels like a dream, it almost feels like this isn’t happening. But damn, this is even better than anything you dreamed.

Slowly, the two of you walk closer to the bed before sliding onto it, now finding yourself lying on the bed with his toned figure hovering over you. His toned body is still something you’re trying to adjust. Taehyung used to have a frail body but since he became a professional player, his body has completely changed. He got even hotter with time.

Never once do you break the kiss, loving the feeling of your tongues sensually battling in your mouth. A small whimper escapes your throat as his hands move down to your waist. He softly caresses you before his hands pull up your floral top to finally touch your skin. His long fingers brush on your stomach, the cold feeling of them making you moan.

“Your skin is so soft,” he whispers on your lips while his eyes lock with yours.

He doesn’t let you answer and his teeth grab your lower lip, snatching a moan out of you. Haltingly, his right hand descends on your body, goosebumps rising on your body as his fingers get closer to your core. His long fingers push your pants and underwear down your legs before throwing them onto the floor.

As slowly and carefully as possible, they swipe along your slit, making you gasp at the contact. A moan escapes your mouth, and Taehyung has to admit this is a sound that he adores. For sure, this is something that he’ll get to hear often tonight, and fuck, he can’t wait to make you moan even more.

At first, your crush abuses your clit with his thumb in order to get you wet before he inserts his fingers inside you to stretch you open. The feeling of his cold thumb circling on your clit feels marvelous, Taehyung is doing wonders to your body.

“I’m gonna add a finger,” he warns you.

The man wastes no time before dipping one finger into your heat, preparing you for what is coming. His eyes watch as your face contorts with delight while his finger slowly pumps in and out of you. It feels divine to have his finger inside you. It brushes against all the right spots inside you, this already feels like heaven on earth.

“Fuck, you’re already so wet, butterfly,” he says to you.

Hearing the nickname sends shivers down your spine. From time to time, Tae gives you cute nicknames and you actually love that. It sometimes makes you feel like your romantic feelings are reciprocated.

For a little while, he just stretches you open with one finger. The man has no rush in giving you pleasure but he knows that in the end, all this preparation will give you the best orgasm of your life.

“I’m going to add a second finger,” he informs you.

The fact that he lets you know what he’s about to do melts your heart. Taehyung is such a gentleman even when he gets all dirty. At least you can prepare yourself for whatever size his cock is. Hopefully, it’s not a monster. Based on what you can see thanks to his pants, he’s not small but at the same time, he doesn’t look too big.

Once his second finger slips inside you, you spread your legs a bit more. Small gasps of delight leave your lips as he pleases you with only two fingers. The room around you starts to get extremely hot, your heart starts to pound faster and harder in your chest, and the pleasure starts to build within you. Taehyung smiles as he feels his fingers getting covered with your wetness.

“Fuck, butterfly,” he mumbles, “you’re getting so wet.”

His fingers slowly move completely out of your pussy before sliding them in again with ease. Another moan leaves your mouth, closing your eyes to enjoy the feeling of his fingers filling you up. He repeats the action of moving his fingers out but this time, he brings his fingers to his mouth to taste your sweet and sticky juices. As he does so, you take a moment to admire his strong arms. Something that always turns you on when looking at his arms is how veiny they are.

Your eyes never leave him, a moan leaving your mouth as he twirls his tongue around his fingers. The sight is so damn erotic, and it makes you grow wetter. Taehyung places himself in between your legs, spreading them even more to get a proper view of your cunt. You’re prettier than in his wildest dreams. He can’t wait to be fully inside you and to feel your velvety walls around him. That thought alone almost makes him groan.

The two of you are already completely consumed by pleasure. As this is something you both desired for a long time, it makes everything feel more intense. You’re simply so needy for each other.

He licks his lips, taking in the amazing view he has before him. This sight alone turns him on even more.

“You’re so wonderful, butterfly,” he runs his thumb over his lower lip.

Your friend takes his shirt off, exposing his upper body to your very hungry eyes. Without an ounce of shame, your eyes wander on his toned chest and arms. He’s so fucking hot. It’s not the first time you’ve seen him shirtless. You’ve already seen him a couple of times shirtless. However, it’s different this time. He’s shirtless because you’re about to be fucked by this god.

Taehyung leans closer to you before pressing a chaste kiss on your lips. When he stands again, he pushes again two fingers inside your core, making you moan at the feeling of his wet fingers inside your velvety walls. For a little moment, he just enjoys torturing you at a slow pace with his two fingers covered in your wetness. Nothing can compare to the excitement he feels when he sees you contorting with delight. A delight that he is causing with his fingers. That swells his heart in a way he can’t even explain.

He’s pleasuring the woman he always loved.

“Ready for a third finger?” he asks.

You nod, knowing perfectly that you need that third finger to stretch your core even more. Your body and mind can even picture how it will feel. However, slowly but surely, you’re getting desperate to have his dick buried deep inside you. After your contentment, he curls a third finger into you, and damn, you love it so much. Your head rolls back, loving every second of Taehyung’s torture on you but as you do so, you expose your neck to his burning eyes. Without any hesitation, his mouth finds your neck.

Having his fingers thrusting faster, and his tongue and teeth abusing your neck makes you moan more and more. Without any warning, the wave of pleasure fiercely washes over you, Taehyung’s name rolling out of your tongue while he keeps abusing your neck and core. You close your eyes to enjoy the feeling that this orgasm generates.

“Wow,” you barely manage to say.

This is the first orgasm Taehyung offered you. It tastes tremendously wonderful, and you only want more. Your friend only stops torturing you when you’ve come down for your high. His fingers are fully covered with your arousal by now, and he carefully pushes them out of you to take a proper look at them. You gasp at the feeling of emptiness.

“Wow, it was so intense,” you finally say as you open your eyes.

You’re greeted with your friend licking his fingers to taste you. He’s standing tall between your legs with his long fingers in his mouth. That’s a very hot and intense vision, and you never thought you needed it before. This man is turning you on like crazy! You could keep looking at this forever.

“And it’s only the beginning, butterfly,” Taehyung replies with a little smirk appearing on his face.

“You’re such a tease,” you reply before giving him a gentle slap on his chest.

A little laugh escapes his lips.

“It’s nothing new,” he mumbles as he gets closer to you. “I’ve always teased you,” he whispers in your ear.

Fuck, you’re not sure you’ll be able to survive this night. It’s only the beginning and you’re already dead. Before you can comprehend what is going on, the man on top of you fully removes your top and wastes no time in removing your bra. Feeling his fingers brushing against your skin sends shivers all over your body. Your eyes only stare deep in his lusty gaze.

Your heart is rapidly hammering in your chest, ready to burst at any second. Sharing such an intimate moment with him is something you’ve been dreaming of for years, and you’ve been desiring it more than you can even express. However, having it actually happen is quite something. As your eyes keep watching him, you take in every single detail of his sweet face.

He has a pronounced jaw which is part of his charm. He has a little mole on his nose which makes him cute. His dark hair is falling on his face which makes him even more handsome. His deep dark eyes are looking at you with evident desire which turns you on. He has heart-shaped lips which you’ve desired to kiss for years.

This all feels unreal.

Quickly, the lust written all over his face turns into worry. His brows furrow, and you can’t resist the urge to touch the spot right in between his brows. Taehyung shivers when he senses your fingers before closing his eyes for a brief moment. This moment right here is the most intimate you both ever experienced in your lives. You’ve had partners in the past and you loved them, but nothing compares to this feeling.

The love you share has grown over the years and it only got stronger over time. This inevitable moment is the simple proof of your deep and shared love. Yes, it’s dirty, but it’s filled with true love. It’s evident that you’re soulmates. True soulmates.

Taehyung opens his eyes to be greeted by the prettiest woman he has ever seen. He could do this eternally. Seeing you every day would be his greatest pleasure. Being able to touch you every single day would be his biggest dream. Being around you is and will forever be his home. You’re the person that has ever been able to make him feel at home. It has never been about a place. It has always been about a person.

Without hesitation, you both kiss each other with tenderness and passion. You’re kissing each other like it’s the last time you’ll do it. And god, you indescribably love it. Your hands instantly find their way to his fluffy hair, softly playing with it as you kiss him like there’s no tomorrow. His tongue slowly finds yours to share an erotic dance. Little moans leave both your lips. Deep down in your body, you can feel the pleasure growing inside you. This kiss wakes up every single fiber of your body.

“Yn,” Taehyung whispers against your lips.

Slowly, your eyes look up at him. His eyes are closed so you can’t see them but you smile because you can’t help but find him adorable while he kisses you. You close your eyes to savor this moment. You break the kiss to catch your breath. Taehyung’s eyes quickly scan you before his lips get close to your ear.

“You’re a fucking dream, butterfly,” he whispers with a deep voice before he nibbles your ear which makes you moan.

It’s so disconcerting how he can switch from sweet to filthy in a second.

“And you’re my fucking dream, Taetae,” you reply before pressing a gentle kiss on his cheek.

A smile spreads across his face while he buries it in the hollow of your neck. You can feel his smile against your lips and you can’t help but hold him tight against you. After a little while, he presses kisses on your neck. Little moans escape your lips as he keeps leaving a trail of kisses from your neck to your jaw. Rapidly, he reaches your lips and presses a kiss on them.

Taehyung stands back again to take his pants and underwear off. But before he can unzip his pants, he’s taken aback by your question.

“So we’re going to make babies?” you softly ask while looking at him.

Taehyung is no stranger to your shyness when it comes to sexuality. He has always spoken very openly about his sexual activities. Not with you of course because he’s a crush on you and it feels weird to be talking about having sex with someone to the girl he loves. However, he isn’t embarrassed to sometimes bring up the topic. He has already said that he adores blowjobs, especially if they are done very well. Or that he loves giving pleasure to his partner. Whenever he talks about it, you instantly turn red. He has always found you incredibly adorable.

On top of turning red, you also don’t use harsh words. For example, you don’t say “cock” or “dick” out loud. Instead, you’ll say ‘pipi’, standing for penis. You’ll say “naughty time” instead of “having sex”. Sometimes, he even likes to tease you because you’re the cutest person ever when you get shy. He’s aware that you’ve had sex and the simple thought of you doing it with someone else makes him angry. But even though you’ve had sex, you still get very shy when the topic is brought up. Which honestly is very ironic.

“Well, if by making babies, you mean having sex,” he starts saying. “I’ll say yes, butterfly.”

Butterfly is a nickname that comes from when you were kids. Most of the time, you’d be the kind of girl running after butterflies in the park. Taehyung would run with you of course but you’d be the first to do it. Jokingly, he started calling you ‘butterfly’ but it stayed. But after he started dating his first girlfriend, he stopped giving you that nickname. You always thought she was the one who asked him to stop calling you like that, but it wasn’t.

He stopped doing it because, with time, that nickname meant that he loved you. He was never able to give a simple cute nickname to any of his girlfriends. It was impossible for him. Giving you a nickname was the proof that he loved you more than a friend should. He had to hide his feelings so that meant stopping calling you ‘butterfly’. However, sometimes, he still does it, especially when he gets tipsy.

But tonight, he has said the nickname more than he has done over the last few years. And it gives you butterflies.

Taehyung slowly undresses himself in front of you, and you enjoy the view. He’s incredibly handsome. You don’t even understand how you got here with your best friend. You bite your lower lip as you admire him undressing himself. That’s hot.

When he’s fully naked, your eyes inevitably look down at his manhood. It’s quite something. It’s a bit long but not too long as well. It’s a reasonable length. On top of that, it’s thick. You’d say it’s a reasonable thickness but that wouldn’t be quite right. Honestly, his dick isn’t a monster, but it’s not a baby too. Most of your previous partners had smaller dicks. Nonetheless, he’s impressive, and you can’t wait to have him deep inside you.

“Are you ready, yn?” you nod, ready to be completely mind-blown by this man you desperately love.

Taehyung holds his hard member before stroking it a few times, your hands snail down to his abs before slowly moving up. He bends down to press a kiss on your lips before he slowly buries his cock inside your soaked core, stretching your velvety walls. Both of you moan as he slowly pushes his thick cock inside you. Fuck, it feels wonderful.

Since the beginning of the night, you’ve been craving this and you’re both enjoying this.

Once he’s deep inside you, his hips stay still to give you the time to adjust. His lips press a gentle kiss since he adores doing it. For a little moment, your mind only focuses on him and his lips. Nothing else. When he breaks the kiss, your walls clench around his thick member, making him groan.

“Don’t torture me, butterly,” he begs, his eyes locked on yours.

“Sorry,” you apologize. “It wasn’t made on purpose, Tae,” you reply.

His lips press another sweet kiss on your lips, but very quickly, it turns into a fervent kiss. As you’re kissing, he slowly moves inside you. It’s very subtle but you definitely feel it. When you break the kiss, you give him a small slap on his ass.

“Whenever you want, you can move,” you whisper against his lips.

A giggle leaves his mouth after the small slap on his ass. He’s actually very amazed, he never imagined you’d ever slap his ass one day. In all honesty, he’s surprised in a good way.

Taehyung slowly pushes back, leaving only the tip of his cock inside you. His large hands find their way to your waist, caressing your soft skin while his eyes filled with lust glance into yours. He moves again his dick inside you, filling you up to the brim. It’s euphoric to have him completely inside you again.

“So fucking good,” you mumble as your eyes roll back.

A smile arises on his face, happy to be able to give you pleasure with just that but well, he’s enjoying it just as much. Once he’s completely inside you, he doesn't move for a little while, hovering over you and watching you with enchantment. His eyes glance down at your body. It’s the first time he’s seen you fully naked, and you’re just mesmerizing. He wants to keep looking at you to engrave in his mind how wonderful you are.

He starts to thrust into you at a slow pace at first. The movements of his hips are very sensual and slow, the room getting filled with the sound of his hips hitting softly yours. There isn’t any urge in Taehyung’s hips movements, all he focuses on is to provide you pleasure. His eyes keep going down on your body, and he groans when he watches himself buried deep inside you.

“Your cunt takes me so fucking well, butterfly,” he mumbles.

You close your eyes, completely enjoying the feeling of having him fully inside you. Never once do the thrusts become brutal and rough, they are deep and slow, making you moan a lot. It’s extremely sensual, and it definitely matches how you envisioned Taehyung in bed. The way he’s fucking you is euphoric. You only crave more and more.

The bed under you squeaks, the headboard hits the wall just behind you while your friend simply makes love to you, or as you’d say, he simply makes babies with you. He leans down to press a sloppy kiss on your lips, your hands finding their way to his neck and hair. Your nails scratch the skin of his neck and shoulders, making him groan against your lips.

The man over you decides to stop moving, torturing you just a bit. “Don’t stop, Tae,” you beg.

His lips press another kiss on your lips. “Your wishes are my command, yn,” he says before biting your lower lip.

Taehyung pushes his cock back before thrusting into you very slowly and deeply with both hands on your hips, pulling you back to meet his thrusts. The slick sound of your pussy soaking his cock as well as your moans fill the room.

“Damn,” you gasp while he keeps torturing you at a slow pace, “you feel so good.”

You’re completely drunk in the feeling of his cock filling you up, his hips hitting against yours with every thrust he makes. This all causes sparks of pleasure to shoot throughout your body, your arousal dripping from your core and creaming his cock. Taehyung smirks as he notices the sticky mess you’re causing.

His cock is buried deep inside you, making wonders inside you, and causing you to moan even louder with each thrust. Every time he pushes his hips back, he watches with delight the way his cock is completely covered with your arousal. Nothing drives him crazier than seeing this, you can see it in his eyes.

“You’re so fucking wet, butterfly,” he hisses before biting his lower lip. His hands press harder into your skin when he feels your walls tighten around him, “and making such a mess on my cock.”

“I’m only wet because of you,” you first say, “you’ve been torturing me since the beginning.”

Taehyung smiles before bending down to press a sloppy kiss on your lips while his thrusts slow down. You didn’t think it was possible to go any slower than the pace he’s going but apparently, he can do it. A desperate whine gushes from you, a sound that he instantly swallows.

His hands go up on your body, grabbing your breasts and squeezing them to make you moan with desire before his fingers start playing with your nipples. Moans flood out of your mouth as your friend keeps torturing your body.

“Damn, Tae,” you whine, “this feels so good.”

His thrusts return to get a little faster. His fingers never stop abusing your way too sensitive nipples. Gradually, his thrusts are faster and deeper, causing moans to fall out of your mouth. Your walls suck his cock as he slams his hips into you with more force. His fingers keep playing with your very sensitive nipples, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

His eyes look at you, contorting with pleasure as it slowly builds within you. Your moans are getting louder, you don’t even try to hold them back or to stifle them. Luckily, he isn’t living in an apartment because you’re sure all the neighbors would hear you. However, you’re also convinced that you aren’t the only one being fucked tonight. It’s the New Year, everybody is celebrating it, and some in a very nasty way. Just like you.

His hands that are on your hips can feel the way your body quivers with each thrust. The way he’s torturing your body is only making you lose yourself further. You’re already so close to your orgasm that you already know for sure that you’ll come soon.

“Fuck,” he groans when he feels the warmth of your walls wrapping tighter around him. “Your cunt is clenching so hard.”

The sweat is dampening his body, sticking some rebellious strands of hair to his face. Taehyung covered in sweat is a vision that can easily make you come undone. He’s so hot when he starts sweating. No wonder your mind easily gets lost when you see him playing football/soccer.

“You’re so damn hot,” you say as your hands wander on his neck and hair.

A smile spreads across his face as you compliment him, but he decides not to stop torturing you simply because you’re flattering him. His fingers pinch your nipples harder, making the wave of pleasure grow bigger inside you and making you cream his dick even more.

“Gonna come, Tae,” you tell him when you feel that all your emotions are overwhelming you.

Taehyung feels his cock twitching inside of you at your words, a low groan rumbling in his throat. One of his hands slowly moves down on your body, passing your stomach, and landing on your throbbing clit. His fingers rub your sensitive spot as his cock keeps thrusting into you at a slow pace.

“Beg for it, butterfly,” he says.

His fingers show no mercy on your clit, and you’re not even sure if you’ll be able to beg for anything before coming.

“Please, Tae,” you can’t even form a proper sentence with the way he’s torturing you.

You’re not even sure that you’ll be able to recover from this moment. This is just hot with the slow and sensual pace of his thrusts, and the way his fingers torture your body. This is for sure a wonderful way to start the new year.

“Tell me, butterfly,” he teases you with a smirk on his face.

“Let me come,” his smirk grows bigger on his face, delighted to have you begging him to come.

The wave of pleasure inside you is growing exponentially, almost becoming too overwhelming. You’re moaning like a mess, but at this stage, you couldn’t care less.

“Do it, butterfly,” he whispers, “come for me.”

Those words are what you need to hear for your orgasm to hit you fiercely. You come hard around him, your arousal covering completely his cock and your walls squeezing him over and over again. While you’re completely euphoric from your orgasm, he speeds up the pace of his hips slamming into you, chasing his own high. Breathy whines escape his pretty lips as he looks down at the mess you made on his cock. His eyes are completely hypnotized where your bodies meet.

Desperate moans leave his mouth when his orgasm hits him hard. He fully explodes inside you, painting your walls white with his semen. His eyes roll back with pleasure as his body tenses up and releases his load. Loud cries of euphoria escape his lips as he’s high from his orgasm.

He collapses next to you, both of your bodies covered in sweat after this intense sex session. After a little while, he pushes you against his body to hold you tight. He covers your bodies with a blanket. This warmth together with the alcohol and the steamy sex session makes you fall asleep in no time. Taehyung presses a gentle kiss on your head.

“I love you, butterfly,” are the last words you hear before falling into Morpheus’ arms.

JANUARY 7, 2022

The past seven days have been filled with memories of the new year’s night. You can’t stop thinking about the way he passionately kissed you, the way his hands were on you, the way he touched you, and most importantly, the way he fucked you. Honestly, it was the best sex you ever had, and gosh, you’d like to do it again. But let’s be honest, he’s been your best friend for years. Yes, you’ve had a crush on him but you don’t wish to lose him and his friendship that is so important to you.

So for you, this was a simple one-night stand.

For you, it’s preferable to keep living in your delulu world and go back to having a crush on him instead of actually trying to build a romantic relationship. You’re too scared of what could happen. You’re afraid of the unknown. You’re simply fearful of losing him. You can’t picture a world without him by your side. He’s your best friend.

Yesterday, he texted you, asking if you could meet today to discuss. No need to be a genius to understand that he wants to talk about that famous night. Especially since you haven’t talked at all since that night, not even by text messages. Weeks ago, it would have crushed you to not talk to him for a week but since that incident, you need some space.

Without any surprise, he asked if you could meet at his place. The same place where you fucked. But it’s understandable. He has done everything to protect you from the public eye so it wouldn’t make sense now to have a serious discussion where anyone can see and recognize him.

So now, you’re standing in front of his house. Just being here brings you back once more to that night. For a brief moment, you close your eyes to savor those memories. They taste good, and deep down, you know that you’d like to go back to that moment. You’d like to have Taehyung in between your legs, fucking you like there’s no tomorrow.

You knock at the door with shaky hands. You don’t know what to expect from this conversation. The only thing you truly care about is to keep him and his friendship in your life. The door is opened by your friend who invites you in. Your heart starts beating at an insane pace. The image of him licking his fingers instantly crosses your mind, and god, that’s hot.

Taehyung nicely asks if you desire to drink or eat something but you politely decline. You don’t know what to do or say so for a brief moment, you awkwardly stand there at the main entrance.

“Let’s move to the living room,” he first says. “If you want, of course.”

Your best friend notices how awkward you feel. It kind of breaks his heart because things have never been like this before. Nevertheless, he understands. After all, you had sex together. Friends don’t do that, otherwise, they aren’t friends. It leaves him wondering now what you are. Are you still friends? Are you more than friends?

“Fine,” you reply.

Taehyung lets you walk in front of him as the gentleman that he is. Obviously, his eyes wander a tiny bit on your ass. An ass that he finds wonderful. He definitely wants to smash it, but he can’t. That would be completely inappropriate. He gathers himself as this is not the right moment to drool over you. You need to talk about the new year’s night.

You both take seats on two different armchairs, sitting face to face. Even though you always loved to be next to each other, this time around is different. A little space is needed, especially if you want to talk. The two of you acknowledge that the new year’s night is the only thing you can probably think of. So being next to each other will only make that night happen all over again.

Taehyung takes a deep breath before talking. “Thanks for coming, yn,” he offers you a little smile.

“You don’t have to thank me, Tae,” you answer. “We need to talk about what happened so it’s normal.”

He nods. Quite frankly, he’s very nervous. Things are different between you and he feels that this conversation can forever alter your relationship. Or you remain friends, or you take it to the next level. There’s also the possibility that it becomes too hard for him to simply remain friends with you and that he takes some distance from you. He wouldn’t want to reach that point, and he believes it will never happen. But we never know what tomorrow is made of.

“Well, I fully want to be honest with you,” he starts saying, and you nod. “I’ve been loving you for years now, but loving in a romantic way.”

His hands are shaking. Saying it out loud makes it real, and most importantly, now, you’re aware of how he’s been feeling for years. It’s honestly quite a big deal for him. However, after what happens, he feels like he has to be honest with you. Keeping his feelings inside won’t help.

On the other hand, your body is completely frozen and your heart has stopped beating. Now, this is real. Your feelings have been reciprocated all those years. But now that he said those words, you don’t know how to process them. Honestly, it doesn’t really change anything because you’ve already crossed all the limits. But hearing those words warms your heart indescribably.

“Since I found out that I had feelings for you, I decided to keep it to myself. Your friendship has more value than anything else in the world. Losing you has never been part of the equation so I kept everything for myself,” he explains.

Now, your heart starts beating again, but this time around, it crazily hammers in your chest. It’s also making you nervous to hear those words, and you know you’ll also have to confess your feelings. Even though, you know now that they are reciprocated, it still makes you nervous.

“Jungkook understood it by himself, and he decided to provoke me by flirting with you,” he admits. It all makes sense now for you. “I was terribly jealous so I avoided you most of the night. I didn’t want you to notice the jealousy and I believed it was better like that,” he runs his hands on his face. “But it had the opposite effect. It only drew me to you.”

Taehyung hides his face in his hands, he doesn’t want to see your face while he confesses out loud his feelings for you. You stand up to get closer to him. You kneel in front of him before resting your hands on his legs. You place your hands on his to push them so you can see his face.

As he’s speaking about his feelings, you realize that he’s putting himself in a vulnerable position and that you need to gather all your courage in your hands to be just as brave as he is right now. For once in your life, you have to be strong and let him know that his feelings are reciprocated.

Since you started having feelings for him, you always pictured that you’d be the one confessing your feelings and that he’d be the one reassuring you. However, the reality is literally the opposite. The reality is that Taehyung is the boldest one.

Nevertheless, reassuring him is also scary.

Your best friend lets you move his hands from his face. Slowly, he opens his eyes to look at you. He’s greeted by your face trying to look at him. A face that he finds adorable.

“So you were jealous of Jungkook?” you ask with evident tease in your voice.

Taehyung instantly rolls his eyes.

“It’s not funny,” he says.

You nod before taking a serious face.

“I was heartbroken during the new year’s eve party,” you start saying. “I was there with my best friend but he avoided me half of the night and I couldn’t understand why.”

A part of Taehyung regrets how he acted when he was jealous, but the other doesn’t because, without that, he wouldn’t have shared such an intimate moment with you.

“I’m sorry about that, yn,” he mumbles.

He lets his face down but you instantly place your fingers under his chin to lift his face up. You want to look at him. You want to see his reaction when he realizes you love him back.

“Don’t be sorry, silly,” you smile at him. “Yes, I was heartbroken but you mended my heart when you kissed me later on.”

Taehyung stares at you in disbelief. Even though you had sex and it’s kind of the proof that you share feelings, it’s a relieve to hear you say, in a subtle way, that you love him back.

“I also have romantic feelings for you, Tae,” you admit out loud. “It’s been the case for years. Like you, I never said anything because our friendship means the world to me. I can’t imagine a life where you’re not here. I’d rather shut my feelings down than lose you.”

Your heart is beating faster, you can feel it on the edge of exploding. You’ve finally said what your heart has been desiring to say for years. It feels liberating.

“And if I’m being honest, for the past few days, I’ve been preferring to think that what we had was only a one-night-stand.” Those words obviously break Taehyung’s heart. “I’m so scared to lose you, Tae,” you mumble as your voice breaks. “So so scared.”

Now, you’re the one looking down. However, in your case, a tear starts running down your face. It’s hard to admit that for the past few days, you’ve been deeply scared to lose him because of your sex session. You wanted to pretend that nothing happened that night, but you simply can’t, especially not after Taehyung’s heartfelt confession.

“Hey, butterfly,” he says while lifting your face with his fingers under your chin.

Your best friend grabs you into his embrace. This is a very much-needed hug, but it’s also a very comforting one. Right in his arms, you start crying. For the past seven days, you’ve been bottling up your worries to build a wall around you, but now that he has confessed his feelings and is holding you in his arms, all the pressure goes down.

“I was so scared to lose you,” you repeat in between the tears.

Taehyung is completely heartbroken, but he inevitably understands you. He also believed that he was going to lose you after that night. The fact that you also didn’t text or call didn’t help. Of course, you both needed space, but it also made it feel like it destroyed everything. It accentuated the fear of losing each other.

“You’re never going to lose me, butterfly,” he whispers while holding you firmly in his arms. “I’m not going anywhere.”

For a little while, you simply stay like that, Taehyung holding you in his arms while you cry. You remain in his arms until you calm down. He invites you to sit on his lap so you can be even closer now. He presses his forehead against yours and cleans your face with his hand. It devastates him to see you like that. He hates to see you cry.

“I missed so much when you call me butterfly,” you admit while you’re looking into each other’s eyes.

“I missed it too,” he says.

Taehyung explains to you why he stopped calling you by that nickname. You can understand his reason, you would have probably done the same. You never really gave him a nickname. You always call him Tae or Taetae. Nothing really too exotic.

“You’re the prettiest butterfly I’ve ever seen, yn,” he says.

His face gets even closer to yours, his eyes staring deep into yours. They are searching for unsaid approval to get even closer. You know that he’s about to kiss you but he won’t do it if he sees anything in your gaze that would push him away. You simply nod, and he instantly presses his heart-shaped lips on yours. You kiss him back with the same energy. It’s a gentle and soft kiss filled with a lot of passion. Even though you kissed a million times during the new year’s night, this kiss definitely makes things real. He loves you. Your little hands move to his hair to play with it while his hand is placed on your neck to hold you close.

It also hits him as you’re kissing that you love him back.

Fireworks explode inside him as he realizes it. He’s never going to let you go now.

FEBRUARY 25, 2022

Being in a relationship with Taehyung is completely different than being his best friend. A lot of things are still the same, but a lot has changed too. He kisses you every time he sees you, he teases you a lot, and most of the time, it’s sexual, he calls you butterfly all the time, and he makes love to you.

Being honest, Taehyung is quite a master in bed. He fucks you so well, you almost beg him to never stop. Being fucked by him is like constantly being in heaven. He gives you pleasure like no one else ever did before. But it’s also not easy to be dating a football/soccer player since he’s most of the time away. As before, you asked to keep your existence a secret because you don’t want to deal with the hysterical fans and also to allow you to keep living a normal life.

Right now, you’re in Rome with your super best friend, Mia. You’ve met her later in life, she was a colleague from your first job. You instantly clicked and she’s been one of your closest friends since then. She was extremely happy when you told her you were with Taehyung. She even said that it was about time since it was more than obvious you liked each other.

This trip to Rome was planned months ago, and you were looking forward to it. It’s a one-week trip, but it should be enough to calmly visit this incredible and history-filled city. However, it hasn’t been going as you wished. You’ve been in the city for 2 days, and you’ve been sick to your stomach since the beginning. You’ve been throwing up constantly, and most of the time, you don’t feel well. The only reason you can think of is the chicken sandwich you ate at the airport. It was probably not well-cooked or it was already out of date.

This morning, it’s been a nightmare. You’re in the Vatican to visit the museums but you’ve already gone like 2 times to the toilets to throw up. It’s not easy for you, but on top of that, you feel sorry for Mia. You’ve been holding her back.

“Are you better?” she asks while you’re drinking a glass of apple juice.

You noticed that apple juice helps to calm down the nausea. Since it’s lunchtime, you’re sitting at a table in the restaurant located in the Vatican’s museums. Your friend ordered a salad while you’re simply drinking juice. You’re not hungry at all, and if you eat, you’re sure you’ll throw up again.

“Yeah, a bit,” you answer. You take a sip of the drink. “I’m sorry for this, Mia.”

“Eeh, don’t worry. It’s not really your fault if you’re sick,” she answers.

For a split second, she seems hesitant to add something else, but she finishes by saying what she’s been thinking since you arrived at Rome.

“Could you be pregnant?”

You almost choked with your apple juice. This is very unexpected. You’re obviously not pregnant. With Taehyung, you’ve been very careful since the beginning of the relationship. Having children right now it’s far from being a great idea. Plus, you want to enjoy being together before planning to start a family.

However, you can understand why Mia is raising this question. Nausea is one of the first visible symptoms of pregnancy. If the roles were reversed, you’d raise the same question.

“No, it can’t be,” you answer. “We’ve been using protection, and I’m also going to start taking the pill.”

Even if he uses condoms, you’ve decided to start the pill. This way, the chances of getting pregnant are very low. On top of that, it’s also a safety net in case you go crazy and don’t use protection.

“But have you had your periods lately?”

Honestly, you noticed you didn’t have them for the past 2 months but it doesn’t worry you at all. Your periods are irregular so there are moments where you can go 2-3 months without having them. For sure, lately, they’ve been quite regular but as soon as you get stressed, they come later.

“No, but I’m not worried,” you start saying. “For the past two months, my emotions have been all over the place,” you reply without hesitation.

There is evident concern written all over Mia’s face, and honestly, it’s worrying you. It’s making you nervous. You’re biting the inside of your cheek as you’re mentally browsing all the times you had sex with your boyfriend. It’s still so weird to call Taehyung ‘your boyfriend’.

“You’re sure you’ve always used protection?” she asks.

You’re still trying to remember every single time you were intimate with Taehyung. You can’t think of a time when he didn’t use a condom. Usually, you both make silly comments or jokes when he grabs a condom.

“Yeah,” you say with some hesitation.

“Well, maybe, a condom got broke or something,” she suggests.

“I’m sure it’s not the case,” you reply.

It’s impossible that you’re pregnant. In the event that you had unprotected intercourse with Tae, you would have taken the morning-after pill.

“Maybe you should take a test to be sure, yn,” she adds. “I’m concerned, and if it’s not that, maybe we could also go to a pharmacy or something to get something to help you out with the nausea.”

“Okay,” you reply before continuing to drink the apple juice.

The rest of the day, your mind keeps thinking about the conversation you had with Mia. Honestly, you’re convinced you’re not pregnant, but she managed to make you doubt it. If you’re expecting a baby, you don’t know how you’ll react and what you’ll do.

After the visit to the museums, you head to a pharmacy to get a pregnancy test. This entire situation makes you extremely nervous even though you’re sure the result will be negative. As soon as you reach your hotel room, you lock yourself in the bathroom to take the pregnancy test. You follow the instructions, you pee on the stick’s little strip. Then you wait five minutes for the result.

You place the test on the edge of the sink while you wash your hands. For a moment, you look at yourself in the mirror. Suddenly, the memories of your first night with Taehyung cross your mind. That famous new year’s night when you had sex for the first time with him. You were completely wasted but you still perfectly remembered that you had unprotected sex. He even ejaculated inside you. You don’t understand why you didn't think of that night when you were talking with Mia.

“Fuck,” you whisper while you close your eyes.

You have a period tracking app on your phone, and you remember seeing that the week of the New Year was your ovulation week. As your periods are irregular, sometimes the cycles are a bit messed up, and it happens that you ovulate at a different time. But you have the app to follow your periods since sometimes, you go months without them and it doesn’t even concern you. At least, that way, you can see how long your cycles are and when was the last time you had your periods. The ovulation week on the app is always an assumption.

Well, now you’re a hundred percent sure that the test is positive. You had unprotected sex during your ovulation week so it’s positive without any doubt. It also explains why your emotions have been all over the place lately. It wasn’t due to the fear of losing Tae or the fact that you’re now with him. It was due to the fact that you’re creating a human.

Your eyes look down at the test. Two clear lines appear on the stick.

“Fuck,” you repeat as you see the result.

You’re indeed pregnant. Pregnant with Tae’s child.

As you’re sitting on the toilet bowl, you run your hands on your face. What are you going to do now? Are you going to keep this baby? Are you going to get an abortion?

Having a baby is not part of your life plans for now. You just bought an apartment so you’re paying a mortgage and you’re spending money on furniture. On top of that, you just got promoted. You’re also now in a relationship with a famous football/soccer player. You’re trying to adjust yourself to all of those changes. A lot happened in a short period. And now there’s a baby on the way. That’s just too much.

Having a baby now isn’t a good idea.

MARCH 5, 2022

The game is almost over.

Taehyung and his teammates have been playing for over 90 minutes. For the first time in a while, you’re present at one of your boyfriend’s games. You can’t remember the last time you came, but today, you decide to join him since you have a big announcement for him.

It’s been a week since you found out about your pregnancy. For the past eight days, you’ve been thinking about what to do. It wasn’t easy, you spent nights crying like a baby because you’re simply lost. As you were confused, you didn’t say anything to your boyfriend. You pretended like nothing happened, but since he knows you well, he noticed something was off.

Mia was the first person to know about your pregnancy. You cried a lot in her arms, and she’s been there for you. She can’t do much because it’s your decision but she promised to be there for you no matter what you decide. For now, she’s the only person aware of your state.

However, eight days later, you’re still confused and you don’t know what to do. The only thing you’re sure of is that Taehyung needs to know. He’s the only one who can guide you with this pregnancy. Also, you’ve booked an appointment with your gynecologist to check everything up. It’s in two days, and you don’t want to go alone. You want to have Tae by your side, and you also want him to see his child.

Discreetly, you make your way to the changing room of Tae’s team as you desire to surprise him. He isn’t aware of your presence, he didn’t even notice you during the game. As you’re walking, you suddenly feel two arms wrapping around your waist and pushing you back. The sweet scent of Taehyun’s perfume mixed with sweat surrounds you. A smile appears on your face, and you turn around to meet the prettiest man ever.

“What a wonderful surprise,” Tae says with the brightest smile on his face before kissing you.

For a split second, you kiss him back but you quickly push him back. As you do so, you take a quick look at the man you love. His black hair is dampened in sweat, making it look wet. The top of his jersey’s shirt is stuck to his chest due to the sweat. His face is fully red. Even though he stinks a bit, he looks hot as hell. You’ll gladly open your legs for him right now.

“You’re stinky and covered in sweat,” you playfully say.

Taehyung holds you even closer and cleans his face on your chest. You giggle as he does so. He’s unbelievable, but that’s also why you love him. You try to push him back as much as you can but he’s a lot stronger than you so your efforts are in vain. He presses a soft kiss on your neck before taking a step back to look at the woman he dearly loves.

You’re wearing a jersey of his team, more precisely, the jersey he gifted you a couple of weeks ago. It’s a black one with his name and his number engraved in the back of the shirt. With that, you’re wearing a blue pair of jeans. You look hot as hell with his jersey. He could fuck you right here.

“What are you doing here?” he asks.

“I want to see you,” you answer with a smile on your face. “And also talk to you.”

Concern suddenly appears on his face.

“Something bad happened?”

“You should go change first,” you say without answering his question.

Your answer only worries him even more.

“Tell me, yn,” his tone is a bit harsh, and it catches you by surprise so you jump of scare.

None of you is smiling now. You don’t want to tell him in the middle of a stadium’s hallway that you’re pregnant while he’s wearing his team’s jersey and covered in sweat. Even if he looks incredibly hot, this is not how and where you want to announce to him your pregnancy.

“Please,” you first say. “Change yourself first.”

Taehyung takes a step closer to you. His face is tense, his heart is beating fast, and his mind is imagining a hundred different horrible scenarios. He's worried and the fact that you don’t say anything makes him worry even more.

“I’m not going anywhere before you tell me what’s going on,” his tone is still firm.

You look down for a moment before looking up at him. Although you know this man very well, it actually surprises you that he insists on knowing now what you have to say.

“We should be in a more intimate place, Tae,” you tell him. “I’m not comfortable talking with you in here.”

He takes a deep breath before nodding. If something is going on, talking here isn’t the appropriate place, and he can only agree with you.

“Okay, I’ll be back in two minutes,” he says.

You nod, and he kisses you before disappearing. He’s deeply concerned, worried, and scared of what you have to tell him. He’s imagining the worst. You’ve recently been back from Rome and he noticed that something changed during that trip. He noticed your puffy eyes, the dark circles under your eyes, the sadness written all over your face, and the way your mind is always somewhere else.

At first, during your video phone calls, he’d ask if you’re okay, but since you wouldn’t say anything besides ‘yes, i’m good’, he understood that he couldn’t force you to speak. It has to come from you. He’s convinced something really bad happened in Rome. He’d even say a man acted disrespectfully towards you.

In no time, he quickly dries himself with a towel before putting his clothes on. He says goodbye to his teammates and leaves in a rush with his bag in his hand. He finds you in the same spot. You’re looking down at your phone, probably looking at some reels on insta. You always do that when you have to wait.

Taehyung presses a soft kiss on your head when he’s next to you.

“Let’s go?” he asks.

You simply nod, and you both leave the stadium. Your boyfriend grabs your hand to guide you to his splendid car. The same car where Taehyung almost fucked you some days ago. You can’t get enough of each other when you’re together.

“Where do you want to go?” he asks once inside the car.

“My apartment?” you suggest.

“Okay, fine,” he nods before starting the engine.

The drive to your place is quite calm, you barely speak, but honestly, you don’t know what to say. Your mind is thinking of all the ways you can announce your pregnancy to Taehyung. Your boyfriend gets worrier as you get closer to your place. He’s scared to hear what you’ll say to him. Easily, he finds a parking spot near your place, and you quickly leave the car.

Once you're inside your apartment, the first thing you do is jump into his arm, holding him very tightly in your embrace. He’s caught off guard which destabilizes him but he quickly wraps his arms around you. It’s something bad, he can feel it.

“I’m pregnant,” you whisper against his chest.

His entire body freezes as he hears your words. Out of all the horrible scenarios he imagined, pregnancy wasn’t one of them. Well, being honest, pregnancy isn’t a terrible scenario at all. It’s actually the opposite. It’s probably not the right moment but it’s not a bad thing. All this time, he was convinced that you got rapes in Rome.

It takes him a couple of seconds to process what you said. He wasn’t thinking of getting the news of being a father this early in life. This is a shocking news. Taehyung pushes you a bit so he can take a proper look at you, his girlfriend.

“And you found it out in Rome, right?” he asks.

For him, that’s the only reason that would explain the shift in you during your trip with Mia.

“Yes,” you answer.

“Hmm,” he says while he turns his back to you.

He runs his left hand on his hair while he starts to really process what has been going on for more than a week. Yes, it all makes perfect sense.

His reaction worries you. Now, you’re not sure you should have said it. Maybe, he’s going to ask you to abort because he doesn’t want this baby. Oooh, this is all messing up in your head.

“Why didn’t you tell me when you found out?” he asks.

Taehyung isn’t still looking at you. Not having his glance on you while you’re giving him this huge news makes you feel so small. It makes you feel like a baby who needs to be reassured by a loved one.

“I didn’t want to announce that through a phone call,” you explain first, “and I also didn’t want to give you this news when I didn’t know if I’d keep the baby.”

As he hears your last words, he turns around to finally look at you. It devastates him to hear that you even considered aborting, and it breaks his heart that he wasn’t by your side at that moment.

“Are you going to abort?” he instantly asks.

You shake your head. “I don’t know, Tae.”

A tear runs down your face. Your boyfriend instantly holds you in his arms and presses a comforting kiss on your head.

His entire life, he imagined that it’d be a moment of joy when he’d be given this news. Of course, he always pictured that you’d be the mother of his children, but this wasn’t the way he saw things. He imagined you getting together, then getting married, and then having children. All those steps in life would be filled with joy and love because they would have been so awaited.

You take a step back. “I wanted to think by myself before announcing anything, but I don’t know what to do. All I know is that I need you by my side.”

“And you have me, butterfly,” he firmly says.

“It’s also your child so I can’t take this decision by myself.”

“Before being my child, it’s your body, yn,” he cups your face in his hands. “If you can’t or don’t want to carry it, you don’t have to and I will never force you to do whatever suits me.”

Taehyung has always been the biggest gentleman you’ve ever known. This right here is proof that he is a wonderful human being. Even if this situation is all messed up, you’re just thankful that Taehyung is your boyfriend. You’re not sure any other man would have said that. Maybe that you would be blaming you for not telling them sooner.

“All I can do is support you no matter what,” he adds. “I’m never going to force you to carry my child when you don’t want to.”

“But would you want to keep it?” you ask with the biggest doe eyes.

For a moment, Taehyung gets lost in his thoughts. He imagines your bump getting bigger, what it’d be like to see you pregnant with your child, what the baby would look like, and how it would feel to be a father.

“Yes,” he answers without hesitation. “If you’re the mother of my child, no matter what is going on in our lives, I’ll want it.”

His answer unimaginably comforts you. Knowing that makes you love him even more.

“Even if we’re poor and living under a bridge?” you ask.

A smile appears on his face. “Even if we’re poor and living under a bridge, I’d love to be the father of your child.”

A little smile appears on your face. It definitely comforts you to know that he wants to be the father of your child.

“And you’re the only person with whom I’d want to have a child,” you tell him.

You press a gentle kiss on his lips, causing his smile to grow bigger. This situation is a bit tricky for you, but your boyfriend’s reaction brings so much comfort to you.

“Do you know how far along you are?” he asks.

“Well, you probably knocked me up at New Year’s Eve party so I’d be nine weeks pregnant,” you answer.

Taehyung remembers that night very fondly. It was the night that changed his life for the better, and it was a wonderful night. The best night ever. Your first night together was wonderful, but now that you’ve got to learn about each other, sex is a hundred times better.

“Have you already made an appointment with your gynecologist?”

“Yes,” you nod. “That’s also one of the reasons why I’m announcing it to you now. It’s in two days, and I really want you to come.”

“I’ll be there with you, butterfly.”

He passionately kisses you. Now that he knows, it makes this news more bearable. It almost makes it feel like it’s not a big deal because he wants that child. But he only wants it if you want it too. So in the end, it’s really up to you to decide what you will do. Nonetheless, it reassures you so much to know that he will be by your side. If you decide to keep the baby, he’ll gladly be a present father. And if you decide to get an abortion, he will stay with you throughout the entire process.

MARCH 7, 2022

Taehyung is sitting next to you while you’re lying on a medical examination table. Your legs are wide open and the gynecologist is in between them. It’s honestly a bit weird to be in that position with your boyfriend sitting next to you.

“I’m going to insert the probe,” the woman informs you.

Doctor Park has been your gynecologist for years, and it was more than natural you’d be coming to her for this first checkup as a pregnant woman. Once you saw the positive test, you instantly booked an appointment. Luckily for you, she was available rather quickly.

When you exposed to her the situation, she informed you that she would need to do an endovaginal ultrasound. Since it’s only the beginning of the pregnancy, if she performs a ‘normal’ ultrasound, nobody will see anything as the baby is very small.

Taehyung is holding your hand as the probe is slowly and carefully pushed inside you. The doctor moves the probe from right to left until she finally sees something on her screen. A bright smile appears on her face when she sees what she’s been looking for and seconds later, the room is filled with the sound of heartbeats. Instantly, your head turns to your boyfriend who’s smiling as he’s hearing the sound. His eyes look down at you. They are filled with love.

Hearing the fast heartbeat makes it real. There’s no doubt that you’re pregnant. But hearing this sound warms your heart indescribably. A tiny human is growing inside you, and you’re literally creating life. It’s so unreal what a woman’s body can do.

Then, you both look at the screen and you’re trying to see something but you clearly don’t understand what’s appearing.

“This right here is your baby,” the doctor points out to a tiny black dot on the screen. “And this right here is your second baby,” she points out to another dot.

The world stops turning when she announces the second baby. There are two babies. You’re expecting twins.

“And you can hear the heartbeats of the two babies,” she says.

You look at the screen with disbelief. Two lives are growing inside you. You’re creating two little humans. You squeeze Tae’s hand as you can’t conceive that you’re expecting twins.

“Based on what we can see, they are identical twins.”

As from there, you can’t hear anything else. All you see is the two little dots on the screen. All you see and hear is your babies. They are real. They are here inside you. If you decide to keep them, two little humans will join you. You’d become a mother and Tae a father. This is a very big deal. From now on, you’ll be responsible for those two little lives. Whatever decision you make, it will inevitably impact them.

Your eyes move to Taehyung to watch him with admiration. There is no doubt that he will be a fantastic father and those two babies will always be lucky to have him as their father. Since you’re quite young, your boyfriend always said that he wanted a big family. He wants at least five children. It’s a bit too much, but from a very young age, he has that desire to become a father. You know that he wants those two babies. And as you’re looking at him right now, it’s evident to you that he truly wants to have the twins in his life.

Being here changes everything. Seeing the babies on the screen and hearing their heartbeats helps you to make a decision.

For sure, it won’t be easy to become a mother and jungle with all the challenges you’re facing right now. But never on earth will you get an abortion. You had doubts up until now, but you don’t have any more. You’re a hundred percent certain that you will keep them.

APRIL 7, 2022

Let’s be real, being pregnant with twins is far from being easy. You’re still pretty much nauseous, you’re belly is slowly but surely growing, and your emotions are definitely all over the place. Thankfully enough, Taehyung has been very supportive.

A month ago, when you told him that you wanted to keep the babies, he was the happiest man on earth. That night was very very spicy. He now speaks to the babies every single day, and that’s the cutest thing on earth. You’re now living together to make it easier and you chose his place. It’s a bit far from your workplace but before going to his daily trainings, he drops you off at work. When he’s present of course. When he’s in another city or country, you stay at your apartment to make it easier.

So far, you’ve been enjoying living with him. You get to be goofy together, to spend more time together, to watch random movies together, and to have more often sex. Surprisingly, your libido has been quite high. Whenever you lay eyes on your boyfriend, you simply want to make babies with him.

However, it’s not easy to be dating him. Every single day, there are rumors that he’s dating this or this girl, and they all come from because they liked a picture of him. It’s really incredible what can be read online. It’s such silly things. You try to avoid checking anything about him on social medias because when you read those things, all you want to do is to say that he’s with you which isn’t a great idea. It’s been four months that you’ve been together but since the beginning, it’s been hard on that aspect.

Since yesterday, Taehyung has been in another city because he played earlier against the team from that city. He’s coming back tomorrow morning, and you’re excited to see him again. You deeply miss him when he’s not hear. You miss your little bear.

After months of trying to find a little cute nickname for Taehyung, you finally found it. It came out of nowhere, he was speaking with the babies, you ended up calling him a papa bear, and it stayed. He’s your cute little bear.

You’re going through your phone, and you come across a video on insta of Taehyung. It’s apparently reported that he’s dating a random girl you never saw before. Nothing new so far. However, almost at the end of the video, there’s a picture of your boyfriend with her. They look very close, almost as if they are about to kiss. The picture isn’t very clear but obviously something is going on.

That breaks your heart in an unimaginable way.

Many questions cross your mind but you push them away because it’s definitely not a good idea to start imagining the worst. He’s clearly madly in love with you so he’s not going to cheat on you right now. But seeing this picture creates a big doubt in your mind.

You put your phone away before turning on the TV. Maybe you need to watch something else to distract you. You trust Taehyung, you know he’s never going to cheat on you. You’ve known him for years, he’s a respectful man. He would never cheat on his partner.

Nonetheless, watching TV isn’t helpful at all as this ‘new relationship’ of Taehyung is being displayed everywhere. Based on reliable sources, they have been together for months. They have been trying to keep it lay low, but they were seen yesterday in front of her house having a very intimate moment. This is heartbreaking. You want to cry.

Maybe it’s best you simply go to bed and sleep. Taehyung is coming in a couple of hours and you will speak about all of this. You don't want to jump to conclusions just yet. You want to hear what your boyfriend has to say about this incident. But it’s hard to fall asleep with that picture of him with another woman in your mind.

Your phone buzzes and the screen lights up, indicating that you received a message. It’s a message from Taehyung. “I’m here, open the door please.” You frown. What is he doing here? Shouldn’t he be in another city?

Slowly, you leave the bed to open the door. The main entrance is a bit far from the bedroom so it takes you a bit of time to reach the door. As you open it, you notice it’s raining outside. Your boyfriend is standing in front of you, fully swamped by the rain. It warms your heart to see him because you really need him right now.

“What are you doing here?” you ask.

“I saw the picture of me with that girl,” he starts saying. “I knew you’d see it too and I didn’t want to leave you thinking about it all night long.”

This scene seems coming straight out of a movie. Your lover is standing in front of you while it’s raining, swamping him more and more. Although you’re worried about his health, you find this is a heartfelt moment. It’s also very romantic.

“Come inside,” you tell him. “I don’t want you to get sick.”

He does as you say, and you close the door behind him. The two of you head to the bathroom. As you’re walking, you take a look behind you, noticing how wet the floor is getting. You mentally note to yourself that you’ll need to clean otherwise somebody slip and get hurt. Once inside the impressive bathroom, you stop in front of the toilet bowl while Taehyung remains close to the door.

“Why did you ask me to open the door?” you ask as he’s getting undressed. “Don’t you have the keys?”

“I left in a rush and forgot the keys,” he answers.

Your eyes wander on his toned body as he removes every single piece of clothes. Taehyung is so damn handsome.

“You didn’t need to come for that,” you tell him. “We could have waited for tomorrow.”

Taehyung looks up at you with wet strands of hair falling in front of his eyes. He looks incredibly hot. He’s pushing his black pants down but they feel quite heavy. He notices that you’re a bit sleepy, and he can’t help but find you extremely pretty. Taehyung hides the little smile appearing on his face.

“I couldn’t,” he says.

Once he’s fully naked, he wraps himself in a towel before sitting on the edge of the bathtub. Your eyes follow him before you sit next to him. Your eyes stare at him for a hot minute, but you quickly turn your face to look right in front of you.

“That’s an old picture,” he suddenly says. “It’s from like a year ago. It’s one of the many one-night stands I had.”

You nod. “I believe you,” you simply say. “It’s hard to be looking at this kind of pictures, it was even before we started dating, and seeing them makes me doubt.”

Taehyung puts his hand on your leg to softly soothe it. The warmth of his touch conforms you a lot.

“I love you, butterfly,” he says. “I’ve always loved you. You’re actually the only woman I’ve ever loved, and I would never do anything to hurt or lose you.”

You rest your head on his shoulder.

“I guess you know but my love life was a complete mess before the new year’s night. I was sleeping with lots of girls but I was never able to commit to any of them. It was mostly one-night stands,” he explains. “I was in love with you but thought you didn’t love me back the same way so I was trying to find that love somewhere else. But I couldn’t because you’ve always been the only one on my mind.”

Obviously, you knew about his many one-night stands but never said anything. You always considered those girls to be lucky to have at least had the experience of having sex with him. You weren’t exactly looking for sex with him, but when you’re in love, physical attraction is inevitable. So yeah, from time to time, you’d think about that.

“So I decided to only sleep with them. It’s easy, you just sleep and then, you never see them again,” he adds. “It got worse when you started dating Noah. I couldn’t bear seeing you in love and the only thing that could distract me from that was literally having sex with someone else. For a brief moment, my mind is simply lost in pleasure.”

It breaks your heart to hear that. You never thought it would be that hard for him to see you with Noah. Back then, you knew you weren’t in love with him because the only person you ever truly loved was Taehyung. But since you couldn’t have him, you tried to find love in someone else. Even if it meant to never truly be happy.

“So you did that for 3 years?” you ask.

“Yep,” he says while nodding. “Honestly, at some point, I even thought you’d get married.”

As he says those words, you bite your lower lip.

“Have I ever told you how it truly ended up with Noah?” you ask while turning your head to look at him.

Taehyung glances at you with confusion. Why are you suddenly raising this question?

“I guess you never told me at all how you broke up.”

“Well, he proposed but I said no,” you tell him.

“Really?” he asks with evident surprise.

“I never understood why he proposed. Back then, we were falling out of love. It was obvious that it was going to end sooner or later,” you explain. “I was never going to marry him. I wasn’t happy anymore.”

Quite frankly, he’s very surprised. In his mind, you would have agreed to get married with him. He always thought you were madly in love with Noah but now, he knows that he was wrong.

“So if he had proposed earlier, would you have accepted?” he asks with hesitation.

“Probably,” you shrug. “In my head, it was better to be with someone else than losing your friendship.”

His hand slowly moves higher on your thigh while his face gets closer to your ear. “Then, I’m lucky he didn’t,” he whispers, causing goosebumps all over your body.

Before his hand reaches your pussy, you push it back. “You should take a hot bath before you get sick.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes. “I didn’t come to take a bath.”

“Well, if you didn’t walk under the rain, you wouldn’t be taking a bath,” you say. “Maybe, we’d be making more babies.”

It frustrates him when you tease him like that, but he finds it extremely adorable that even if you’re together, you’re still kind of prude.

“I can still fuck you in the bathtub,” he replies.

“You’re always so crude,” you tell him.

“And you’re still so prude, butterfly,” he says. “No need to hold back with me.”

Your boyfriend gets closer to you before crashing his lips against yours. Kissing you is without any doubt his favorite part of being with you. This isn’t at all a shy kiss, on the contrary, it’s a very fervent kiss. No doubt you crave to do unholy things together.

“Let’s get in that damn bathtub,” Taehyung says on your lips.

He grabs your lower lip with his teeth, causing you to moan. Right after that, you stand up to get undressed while Taehyung turns on the water. Once you’re naked in front of him, a bright smile appears on his face when he looks at your little bump. It’s getting bigger as it should. Inevitably, he gets closer to you and softly caresses your belly. You watch him with tenderness. This is so cute.

“Hi babies,” he whispers against your belly before pressing a kiss. “It’s daddy.”

Your heart is melting at his words. Taehyung also takes a weird voice when he speaks with them. It’s the tone everybody takes when speaking to a baby, but it’s adorable to hear him speak like that.

“I love you both already very very much,” he adds. “And I can’t wait to meet you in October. Please be gentle with your mommy until there.”

Your hand caresses his soft hair as he presses another soft kiss on your stomach. It’s adorable to watch him interact with the babies. The gynecologist advised to do so in order for the twins to recognize his voice but she didn’t need to say it. Taehyung adores to talk to them.

“Now, I will ask you to close your eyes because your mommy and daddy will do nasty things,” you laugh at his words.

“You’re crazy,” you tell him.

“Hey, I’m just warning them,” his eyes look up at you. “It’ll be a little shaky shaky for them.”

He gets up to press a smack on your lips before turning off the water. He doesn’t waste any second before jumping into the bathtub. You don’t follow him directly as you’re watching him. Once he’s taken place inside the bathtub, his eyes look at you.

“You’re not coming?” he asks.

OCTOBER 01, 2022

Charlie & Freddie.

Those are the two names you and Taehyung chose for your little twins. They were born very early today, it was 2 am when they joined you. It wasn’t easy to give birth to two healthy boys, but honestly, this day is the best day of your life. After all, it’s the day you became a mother, but it’s most and foremost, the day you met the little boys you created with your boyfriend.

Taehyung is sitting on a chair, shirtless with Freddie in his arms. Seeing him with the babies is without any doubt the best thing in the world. He has spent the last hour holding them, one after the other to make the skin-to-skin contact.

On the other hand, you’re sitting on the bed with Charlie in your arms. After a little struggle, you’ve managed to breastfeed him. Between him and Freddie, he was the one having the most difficulties to latch. But now, all is good.

The twins really are identical, you can’t tell them apart. So with Taehyung, you’ve decided that for now, you’ll always put something red on Charlie and something yellow on Freddie. However, you wonder how long you’ll be able to keep up with that. Many sleepless nights are waiting for you. For sure, once you’ll get tired, you’ll get all mixed up.

Being in this room with Taehyung and your twins seems unreal. Last year, you were still having a crush on your best friend, not able to reveal your true feelings. You were so scared to lose him if you’d reveal your feelings. It was hard to see him with other women. But today, things are completely different. You’re madly in love with your best friend and you started your own little family.

Taehyung looks down at his son. His life has drastically changed in less than a year. He finally found peace because he was bold enough to reveal his feelings for you. He isn’t any more sleeping with strangers in order to stop thinking about you constantly. He’s now allowing himself to think about you night and day. All that because you love him back.

It’s crazy how a simple kiss on a new year’s eve party can flip someone’s world upside down.

#bts #bts imagine #bts imagines #kim taehyung #taehyung #bts v #v #bts fluff #taehyung fluff #bts angst #taehyung angst #bts smut #taehyung smut #bts x reader #taehyung x reader #v x reader #until i found her #uifh #spideyjimin

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buckyalpine · 4 months

Text

Actor Bucky x civilian reader

I’m feeling angsty. Fluffy. Just a thought. But like a long thought.

You should have known this would happen eventually.

You knew you should have put your phone down and gone to sleep hours ago. Scrolling through social media did nothing to ease you mind as you stared at the 100′s of posts that showed Bucky whispering in her ear with a boyish smile. A sickly feeling spread from your chest, up your neck and to your cheeks, the type of heat that made your throat constrict and your eyes burn. The lump in your throat was painful to swallow, blinking back tears when you clicked on a video that had been shot by the paparazzi and leaked to the press, all the news outlets having a field day with brand new pics of a budding Hollywood romance.

“Well, there you have it folks! Looks like Winter is warming up over here, stay tuned for more updates”

“Single no more? Things steam up on the set of The Winter Soldier”

“Swipe to get a sneak peak on the hottest new romance everyone’s excited about”

You wanted to throw your phone across the room, instead keeping your eyes locked on the way your boyfriend was cozied up with his co-star, the two of them seemingly giggling over an inside joke while taking a break between shoots. Her face was practically tucked into his neck while he laughed, both of them apparently blissfully unaware someone was watching.

The image turned blurry from unshed tears, squeezing your eyes shut, turning your phone off all together. Your deepest insecurities reared their ugly head, thinking about Bucky’s effortlessly gorgeous co-star with her tall and slim build with curves in the right places. They looked like a dream couple; both attractive with obvious chemistry on screen and based on the “leaked photos”, in real life as well. Every single fear you had over the last few weeks were proved to be true with a few viral pictures.

Bucky groaned, silencing his phone after getting yet another unknown caller asking him if he’d care to comment on the latest headline about him and the lead actress in his upcoming movie. He ran his hand over his face seeing the way social media blown up overnight after someone had taken pictures taken out of context making it look like he was smitten and in love. His PR team insisted that a few candid shots would be good for promoting the movie and great for his image; when he agreed to having hired paparazzi's take a few “spontaneous” pictures, he thought it would be pictures with the whole cast; not just suggestive close up shots with his co-star that appeared intimate.

Great.

He’d tried to call you repeatedly, every single one going straight to voicemail and all his texts unanswered. It had been a days since the new broke out and nothing had died down. Bucky hated that he was miles away from you, unable to even send anyone to check on you after you both agreed to keep the relationship a secret. The only person in his life who knew was his best friend, Steve, who was also on set. You’d been so understanding of his career, you hadn’t told a soul to make sure nothing ever leaked. Bucky knew you were used to a few rumors popping up every now and then about him and a potential new girlfriend but this was the first time there was photo evidence.

New stories popped up like weeds.

The last straw for him was when he spotted a magazine cover talking about his upcoming wedding and speculation over if there was a secret child on the way.

He couldn’t care less about PR or the movie anymore. A text to the director later, he was in his car driving off straight to you, carefully weaving through traffic while making a pitstop with his best disguise of a hat and sunglasses before speeding off once more.

You sighed at the new stories that were still being posted on your social media feed, locking your phone once more to go back to the book you were reading. You’d ignored all of Bucky's attempts to reach out, choosing to spend less time on your phone, already drowning in insecurities and doubt. You took out a bunch of books from the library and spent more time the kitchen hoping anything would help take your mind off of the love of your life having an affair with another woman.

The sound of the doorbell pulled you away from your book; you weren’t expecting anyone and it wasn’t usual for any of your friends to stop by in the middle of the afternoon. You were going to ignore it, thinking it was probably someone attempting to sell you something but-

“Y/n, doll I know you’re home, it’s me baby”

Oh.

Your felt your stomach drop. Heart beating so fast, you could feel your veins tremble in your finger tips. He rang the bell again in hopes that you’d even hit him, smack him, happy to take it, anything to at least see you again. Your emotions swarmed all over the place, anxiety, anger, love, all of it fighting for dominance while you stayed glued to your spot on the couch.

Asshole.

But that was your Jamie.

Dick.

But you loved him with your whole heart.

“Babygirl” Bucky pleaded outside of your door, realizing the giant teddy that was 4 times his size and flower bouquet of 100 red roses did nothing to keep him discreet. “Sweetheart, please let me explain”

You reluctantly opened the door, more worried that if someone saw Bucky at your door, a crowd of fans would end up swarming the area. If not for all the other emotions you were feeling, you almost giggled at the sight of a very wide, puppy eyed Bucky holding a stuffy that was larger than him and a bouquet of flowers that nearly covered his face. You wordlessly stepped out of the way while he dragged the comically large bear into the living room, placing the roses in its caramel fuzzy paws before turning to you.

You.

His pretty doll.

He could see your eyes were still puffy from nights of crying. Your lips were glossy from the balm you used when they were chapped after you’d nervously chew on them. Your poor little nose he loved to boop and kiss so much looked dry from how much you sniffled. Those gorgeous eyes he loved to stare into refused to even look at him, looking at your fluffy sock clad feet instead. You were still wearing a large hoodie of his but you probably hadn’t noticed when you slipped it on.

Bucky hated it.

His poor precious doll was so hurt all because of a stupid PR stunt.

“Baby” You stood rigid as Bucky stepped towards you, his hand coming to cup your cheek, his thumb stroking your skin, “Those pictures, they were taken out of context darling, they weren’t meant to come out like that-

“Then how were they meant to come out” You frowned, moving away till Bucky’s hand dropped, a sad sigh leaving his lips.

“The team-they thought a few random, candid pictures would garner some publicity to get people talking. I thought they’d post pictures of everyone together, not just me and her”

“That doesn’t explain why you were so close to her” You fidgeted with the long sleeve of the hoodie, this time letting Bucky reach out to hold your hands though you left them limp while he gently squeezed them. “So that was all you then? That’s even worse Bucky”

“No baby, no” Bucky frantically shook his head, pulling you closer with his hands now on your waist, “I pushed her away the second she got too close but apparently finding your co-star insufferable isn’t good PR. I looked irritated in all the other pictured so they didn’t use them. I promise baby, I’d never do anything to hurt you. I know I did and I’m so sorry, doll”

While a part of you believed him, the other part of you couldn’t digest the fact that the rest of the world still thought they were a dream couple. It shouldn’t have mattered. But it did. You didn’t even want to begin to imagine the headlines that would pop up if the public saw you with Bucky. You couldn’t scrub the image away of how perfect they looked together, feeling frumpy and awkward in comparison.

“I can’t be like her Bucky” You struggled to keep your voice steady, not willing to cry in front of someone who clearly could do better even if he looked like he was ready to fall on his knees for you.

And then he did.

“Y/n, I don’t want you to be her. Or anyone else, I want you” Bucky looked at you with pleading eyes, taking your hands in his and kneeling, pressing his lips to your knuckles.

“But no one else thinks I deserve you. I thought I’d be okay with you maintaining a single image, I know it’s important for your career but I-I can’t watch interviews with people talking about how perfect you look with someone else, how you both look so in love-

“I’m done”

“What?” Your heart stopped, your hands shaking wondering if done meant he was done dealing with your worries, your insecurities, done with you-

“You’re the one I want. Not anyone else. I couldn’t care less about what others think baby, not when it’s hurting you so much. I want people to know who I’m in love with”

“But-

“If you’re not comfortable with it, I understand. But I don’t want to hide you anymore angel. Never again”

Movie Premier

You swallowed thickly, your heart beating out of your chest, fidgeting with the gown you had been dressed in, nervously twirling the ring on your finger. The limo came to a halt, the driver opening the door to a sea of screaming and cheers, a plush red carpet ready for you to step onto.

“Ready, princess?” Bucky grinned, stepping out of the limo and reaching his hand out for you to take, helping you step out of the car. You gasped at the flashes of cameras and shrieks of fans coming from all sides, everyone trying to get Bucky’s and your attention.

“James! Over here! Who is your date for the night?”

“Miss! Miss!”

“Over there, darling”, Bucky whispered in your ear while you smiled at a different set of photographers, each of them clambering over another to get the best picture of you both.

“Could you step over here please, great, now one with the young lady, beautiful, James, one more!”

Bucky simply smiled and nodded, keeping his hand around your waist, guiding you down the red carpet and stopping for more pictures along the way. He skillfully avoided the reporters who called for him, keeping a protective grip around you as you both entered the hall to get seated. Hardly moments later, headlines had already started spreading everywhere, your phone blowing up with messages from friends and family wondering if they were seeing the news articles correctly:

James Barnes steps out with Mystery woman

Secret lover? James Barnes shocks fans with his premier date

10 things we know about James’s girlfriend

You giggled at the numerous posts that started to pop up on social media, your heart fluttering at the beautiful pictures of Bucky looking at you with heart eyes in every single one. There wasn’t one where he was looking anywhere else, focused on you the entire time and clearly people had noticed. You couldn’t help but feel warm and fuzzy at the comments people left, silencing all the doubts you had in your mind.

Get you a man that looks at you the way he looks at her

No wonder he was hiding her, shes gorgeous

I love him but like can someone tell me who SHE is?!

Look at him, he looks like an absolute puppy around her

She’s perfect for him, they’re babies are gonna be BEAUTIFUL

There goes my chance. I can’t even be mad cause he looks so happy and they look so cute

“What you reading there, baby” Bucky kissed your shoulder, peering over to see what you were looking at on your phone before slipping it away into your clutch. He smirked, sneakily nipping your ear lobe making you gasp before continuing to whisper in your ear. “They’re right you know. You look so beautiful baby, gonna rip this dress off as soon as we get to the hotel room”

“You can’t rip it Bucky, I have to give it back-” You hissed but he wasn’t having any of it, his hand moving to squeeze your thing, grazing your skin from the slit on the dress.

“I’ll pay for it. But you’re right, I won’t rip it. We’re keeping it, I wanna fuck you all type of ways in that-

“Oh my god” You hushed him with a peck to his devilish lips, your face hot while he gave you a smug smile. He couldn’t wait for the news that would go wild in the next few months.

James Barnes proposes to long time girlfriend, y/n y/l/n

Ready to tie the knot? James and fiancée spotted at wedding venue

Welcome Mr. and Mrs. Barnes!

James and y/n fly to the Amalfi coast for Honeymoon

Happy Anniversary to Hollywood's favorite couple

Baby bump or food baby? Y/n Barnes steps out in oversized hoodie for a late night food run

Baby Barnes on the way?

Double trouble? James reveal’s he and his wife are expecting twins

y/n Barnes posts first pictures of babies and they couldn’t be cuter

Bucky couldn’t wait.

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probablyasocialecologist · 7 months

Text

The latest questions are centered around Anat Schwartz, an Israeli who co-authored several of the paper’s most widely circulated reports, including the now well-known and scrutinized December 28 article headlined: “‘Screams Without Words’’ How Hamas Weaponized Sexual Violence on Oct. 7.” Independent researchers scrutinized the online record, and raised serious questions about Schwartz. First, she has apparently never been a reporter but is actually a filmmaker, who the Times suddenly hired in October. You would expect the paper to look for someone with actual journalistic experience, especially for a story as sensitive as this one, written during the fog of war. Surely the paper had enough of its own correspondents on staff who could have been assigned to it. Next, the researchers found that Schwartz had not hidden her strong feelings online. There are screenshots of her “liking” certain posts that repeated the “40 beheaded baby” hoax, and that endorsed another hysterical post that urged the Israeli army to “turn Gaza into a slaughterhouse,” and called Palestinians “human animals.” (Just this morning, more evidence emerged online; Schwartz apparently also served in Israeli Military Intelligence.) Finally, one of her co-authors on two of the reports was Adam Sella, who is her nephew. Let’s pause here. What would happen if the Times suddenly hired a Palestinian filmmaker with no journalistic background, who had recently publicly “liked” posts that called for “pushing Israeli Jews into the sea,” to co-write several of its most sensitive and contested reports?

[...]

There’s another related example of how the Times has botched the sexual violence story. One of the first Israeli organizations that arrived on the scene of the Hamas attack was Zaka, a volunteer group that recovers dead bodies. On January 15, Times reporter Sheena Frankel wrote a positive profile of the group; she included 3 or 4 sentences of criticism, only to quickly dismiss them. This site had already raised serious doubts about Zaka weeks earlier, pointing out that “the organization’s volunteers have systematically given false testimonies, and continue repeating them to journalists on behalf of the Israel government.” Then, on January 31, the Israeli daily Haaretz published a long investigation, that highlighted “cases of negligence, misinformation and a fundraising campaign that used the dead as props.” Haaretz cited one Zaka report that said a volunteer had seen a murdered pregnant woman, with the baby still attached by the umbilical cord — before concluding that the incident “simply didn’t happen.” At this stage, there are serious doubts about many aspects of Israel’s overall account about October 7. Only a genuinely independent and impartial investigation might some day get closer to the truth. But meanwhile, at the very least the New York Times must publicly recognize its errors, and assign new, unbiased reporters to try to clean up its mess.

#israel #palestine #new york times #hamas #Anat Schwartz #zionism #october 7

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hemmingsleclerc · 7 months

Text

Live on Tiktok┃MV1

Summary: where Max and his girlfriend find out the news while they are live on Tiktok

Max and Y/N were the paddock's favorite couple for a long time. Max known for being an RB driver in F1 and Y/N being a famous singer and vlogger. Her followers were fascinated by her content and loved even more so when Max was in them, whether cooking together, exploring new places or simply relaxing in their cozy home.

That afternoon, Y/N was bored so she decided to go live on TikTok, lying next to her boyfriend in their big bed. The couple shared laughter while reading what their viewers wrote in the chat and with the filters that later appeared on their faces.

''Why do those weird glasses or a crown appear out of nowhere on my face?''

''I have no idea how to make them not appear, guys what does this things mean?''

''Wait why are they suddenly going crazy on the comments?''

''They're asking if we already know the news...wait what news guys?''

username HAVE YOU HEARD THE NEWS ???????

username LEWIS IS LEAVING MERCEDES

''Wait what?! Max read this, they're saying Lewis is leaving Mercedes!''

''What?, is he retiring?''

username HE'S JOINING FERRARI IN 2025

Max and Y/N turn to look completely surprised.

''WHAT?'' Max screamed

''LEWIS IS JOINING FERRARI? WHO'S HE REPLACING?''

username Hes's replacing Carlos!!!!

''He's replacing Carlos?? Why??''

Max quickly opened Instagram and looked for the official F1 page to confirm the information. The headlines confirmed Lewis Hamilton's unexpected move, which shocked fans around the world. Max and Y/N couldn't believe what they were reading.

The chat on her TikTok Live exploded with comments from fans expressing their own disbelief and excitement.

Max and Y/N couldn't help but share their immediate reactions with their followers. "This is crazy! Lewis to Ferrari? Who saw that coming?" Max exclaimed, eyes still glued to the screen.

Y/N intervened: "I can't believe it! But wait, what will happen to Carlos?"

username We don't know, they haven't said anything 😭😭

As they continued to react to the news, their TikTok Live gained even more viewers, attracting fans eager to discuss the unexpected turn of events. The chat was full of speculation and excitement.

Max and Y/N , still processing the news, laughed at the spontaneity of the moment. Little did they know that their live would become a platform for fans to share their amazement and theories about the unexpected twist of the big news.

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zvaigzdelasas · 2 months

Note

Do you have an analysis on Sinwar being the new politburo chief? Very unexpected choice.

Have a couple thoughts:

Dissolving more of the barrier between Hamas as a political organization & as an insurgent organization

Spitting in Israel's face who was hoping that a decapitation strike would leave hamas with a leader lacking broader political legitimacy in the organization or create divisions/deepen divisions between civilian governance & militant organization

Lessens the leverage Qatar has over Hamas as they were providing Haniyeh with refuge

Since Sinwar is (presumably) in Gaza, his presence will likely be used to justify decreasingly discriminate attacks even moreso than it was before

Likely much more uncompromising (not to imply Haniyeh was) in negotiations

Israel and the US will have to directly negotiate with someone they despise

Dropsite News describes sinwar as such:

Despite the sinister portrayals, Sinwar’s writings and media interviews indicate he is a complex thinker with clearly defined political objectives who believes in armed struggle as a means to an end. He gives the impression of a well-educated political militant, not a cult leader on a mass suicide crusade. “It's not this black image of Sinwar as a man with two horns living in the tunnels,” said Hamad, the Hamas official who worked directly with Sinwar for three years. “But in the time of war, he's very strong. This man is very strong. If he wants to fight, he fights seriously.”

In 1988, just months after Hamas was founded, Sinwar was arrested by Israeli forces and sentenced to four life sentences on charges he had personally murdered alleged Palestinian collaborators. During his 22 years in an Israeli prison, he became fluent in Hebrew and studied the history of the Israeli state, its political culture, and its intelligence and military apparatus. He translated by hand the memoirs of several former heads of the Israeli intelligence agency Shin Bet. “When I entered [prison], it was 1988, the Cold War was still going on. And here [in Palestine], the Intifada. To spread the latest news, we printed fliers. I came out, and I found the internet,” Sinwar told an Italian journalist in 2018. “But to be honest, I never came out—I have only changed prisons. And despite it all, the old one was much better than this one. I had water, electricity. I had so many books. Gaza is much tougher.”[...]

Sinwar, unlike leaders of Al Qaeda or ISIS, has regularly invoked international law and UN resolutions, exhibiting a nuanced understanding of the history of negotiations with Israel mediated by the U.S. and other nations. “Let's be clear: having an armed resistance is our right, under international law. But we don't only have rockets. We have been using a variety of means of resistance,” he said in the 2018 interview. “We make the headlines only with blood. And not only here. No blood, no news. But the problem is not our resistance, it is their occupation. With no occupation, we wouldn't have rockets. We wouldn't have stones, Molotov cocktails, nothing. We would all have a normal life."

Throughout 2018 and 2019, Sinwar endorsed the large-scale nonviolent protests along the walls and fences of Gaza known as the Great March of Return. “We believe that if we have a way to potentially resolve the conflict without destruction, we’re O.K. with that,” Sinwar said at a rare news conference in 2018. “We would prefer to earn our rights by soft and peaceful means. But we understand that if we are not given those rights, we are entitled to earn them by resistance.”[...]

After the end of Israel’s 11-day bombing campaign against Gaza, Sinwar spoke to VICE News and sought to frame the Palestinian struggle in a U.S. context, using recent cases of lethal police violence against African Americans. “The same type of racism that killed George Floyd is being used by [Israel] against the Palestinians in Jerusalem, the Sheikh Jarrah neighborhood, and in the West Bank. And by the burning of our children. And against the Gaza Strip through siege, murder, and starvation.”

And additionally (echoing the words of Hagari)

Support among Palestinians for Hamas and its Gaza leader Yahya Sinwar, according to the recent poll, “remains very high” and has increased during the past three months. At the same time, while two-thirds of Palestinians polled in the occupied territories believe that Hamas will “win the war,” only 48 percent of those in Gaza agreed.

Hamas has insisted the war cannot destroy its movement and will remain part of the tapestry of Palestinian factions governing its besieged and occupied territories. “What matters is that you finally realize that Hamas is here. That it exists. That there is no future without Hamas, there is no possible deal whatsoever, because we are part and parcel of this society, even if we lose the next elections,” Sinwar warned in 2018. “But we are a piece of Palestine. More than that, we are a piece of the history of the entire Arab world, which includes Islamists as well as seculars, nationalists, leftists.”

Daniel Hagari has also echoed this last bit [TimesOfIsrael is Israeli Private Media]

“Hamas is an idea, Hamas is a party. It’s rooted in the hearts of the people — anyone who thinks we can eliminate Hamas is wrong,” he continued.

Rumors are that Netanyahu is trying to figure out necromancy in order to bring Haniyeh back

Also check out this interview conducted by Vice

youtube

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sytoran · 7 months

Text

⋆⭒˚｡★ ❝MILE HIGH CLUB❞ ★ n.romanoff !

pairing ★ sub!natasha romanoff x fem!avenger!reader

synopsis ★ on a plane ride to dubai for a romantic getaway, natasha takes matters into her own hands, and your cock into her own mouth. (oops?)

warnings ★ explicit content (minors dni), pwp, semi-public sex, jealous natasha is scarily hot, you are not the lord's strongest soldier, you have a cock, you almost get caught (kind of)

word count ★ 2.6k (IM BACKKK!!!! ...for now)

With Thor, Valkyrie and Carol back on Earth for about two weeks or so, you and Natasha were relieved of your Avenger duties. And what better way to spend the restful break than going on a romantic getaway to Dubai with the love of your life?

On the eighth of the eleven-hour flight, you were perfectly content to lounge in the luxuries of first-class, courtesy of S.H.I.E.L.D. But it seems that for the Avenger who was constantly on her feet, Natasha didn't deal well with ennui.

“I’m bored, Y/N.”

Unbeknownst to your girlfriend’s hidden agenda, you paid little mind to Natasha’s statement, continuing to watch the subpar rom-com playing on the aeroplane screen in blissful ignorance.

“Sorry, baby, I know it’s a long flight. You wanna watch this movie with me?”

Natasha lets out an aggravated huff. Because of course you didn’t know the effect you had on her. As much as the whole Avenger getup was as bold as it was impressive, this laid-back version of you really showcased the underlying details that marked her attraction to you.

Thin-rimmed reading glasses sat atop your nose, stray hairs framing the delicacy of your sharp cheekbones and marble-cutting jawline. With a tight-fitting black turtleneck that strained under the bulkiness of your sinful biceps, cut from the finest vibranium, and loosely-hung grey sweatpants that finished off the whole look — Natasha was just about ready to start sucking you off.

That passing thought had just been one of amusement, rhetorical and hyperbolic, seemingly impossible but altogether funny. But then Natasha takes a few steps back, figuratively, and considers it again — and a smile likened to a scheming devil crawls upon her face.

Well, Widows always got what they wanted, didn’t they?

“Y/N,” Natasha purrs, intently pressing into your side.

“Mhm?” you hum, reaching out a hand to entwine it with hers. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? You still bored?”

Your reaction was simply so innocent and angelic that Natasha almost felt bad for the devil-spawned arbitrary ploy she was about to enact.

Suddenly surging forward, Natasha lifts up the armrest that separates your seats, closing the distance between her and a trip down to hell, and lets a hand cup the mouth-watering bulge in your grey sweatpants.

“I said I’m bored, Daddy,” she whispers into your ear. “Mommy wants to play.”

The loud half-splutter, half-cough that resounds around the enclosed space around the two of you within the aeroplane is immaculate.

You choke on inhaled air, looking around at the other passengers with disbelief and anxiety, as if you had been scandalised.

And maybe you had been. Shifting in your seat uncomfortably, you desperately try to look away from the tantalising cleavage shoved in front of your sinning eyes.

Natasha’s low-cut top had you fighting every calvary in your mental war, and you struggle to regain a semblance of composure.

“But, uhm, Daddy wants to remind Mommy that we’re surrounded by complete strangers,” You whisper urgently, a handsome flush overtaking your features. “And that we are very well-known Avengers across the globe, so if we were to get caught we would end up on every news headline for the next month. And if it reaches Fury, well, we’d be in shit ton of trouble.”

Your state of arousal is unhelpfully heightened further when you notice that Natasha is eyeing your growing erection like a hawk, front teeth sinking into her ruby-red lip, ready to take strike and devour its prey.

“Oh darling, you know I’m a whore for attention,” Natasha replies loftily, and the silky-smooth way that the word ‘whore’ rolls off her tongue triggers a jolt of arousal straight to the tent in your sweatpants.

When Natasha begins caressing the hefty bulge in between your legs, a low groan emits from the depths of your throat and it melts in Natasha’s lower belly in the form of molten arousal.

“Natasha, as much as I want to rail you senseless in this very second—”

“What’s stopping you?”

“I don’t think that this is a good idea—”

“Stop thinking, then,” Natasha responds as if it’s the most simple answer in all of the galaxy, and before you can come up with another futile reason to deter her girlfriend’s libido, Natasha launches into action.

In a fraction of a second that could have rivalled Spiderman’s speed, Natasha unbuckles her seatbelt and sinks to her knees in front of your seat. Another upside of first-class was the spacious legroom which Natasha fully utilised. Ducking under your blanket, she drapes it over her hunched figure and tucks herself neatly between your legs.

“Fuck,” you breathe out, fumbling to unbuckle your own seatbelt and letting Natasha slide down your sweatpants. Social decency be damned, for when Natasha Romanoff presented herself to you, ripe for the taking, no one simply denied themself of that glorious heaven.

Deft fingers tug down black Calvin Klein boxers, and a huge, hardened cock springs out of its confinement. You exhale shakily as a hand wraps around the base, and a feather-light finger trails over its girthy length.

“I’m not surviving this, am I?” You mutter underneath your breath, leaning back into the seat. In response, Natasha gives kitten licks to the pre-cum emerging at your heady tip, so saintly and sinful all the same.

Guiding the head of your cock to a hot mouth, Natasha leisurely wraps her lips around the shaft. Your iron-hard grip on the armrest was almost completely useless in the face of regaining normalcy, not when the feeling of velvet lips set alight every nerve on her body.

“Fuck,” you curse breathlessly, your face contorting into one of pleasure. Darkened eyes fixate unto the blanket Natasha was hidden under, and your wandering mind fuels an image of your girlfriend’s hollowed cheeks and pliant mouth, to which you almost fall apart there and then.

Dirty, scandalous and filthy was being able to feel Natasha’s tongue swirl around your cock without seeing it happen. Your lack of sight heightened the sensitivity of your other senses by tenfold, and you had to physically restrain herself from bucking your hips forward.

Without warning, Natasha tilts her head up, ruffling the blankets, and then engulfs your cock in the threshold of her throat.

“Oh, Thanos' head on a fucking stick—”

“Excuse me ma’am, what can I get for you today?”

Your eyes fly open in a nanosecond, head jerking to the source of distraction. There in the aisle stood an air stewardess with a push-cart and a smile just a little too wide.

“Uh, uhm, just a water would be fine,” you choke out, attempting to exhale steadily as if you hadn’t been about to combust in your girlfriend's mouth just a few seconds ago.

“Right away, ma’am,” The stewardess answers. “You getting hot and bothered from the show?” She asks harmlessly, a smirk tugging up on her face.

You take a moment to understand the jest. Before you the shitty rom-com is still playing, except now there's a badly orchestrated sex scene playing, where the male actor is trying too hard to act as if he’s doing any good. It doesn’t do you any good that your face is flushed and evidently flustered, but for different yet similar reasons.

A false laugh escapes your lips, in hopes of driving the woman away. “What! No, no way. I’m all good here.”

You swear you can smell the jealousy radiating off from Natasha in leaps and bounds, and you decide it is best to end the conversation before Natasha fuses and convulses simultaneously.

God forbid Natasha decides to start deepthroating your cock at that exact moment.

You let out a ragged groan in front of the stewardess, as a hot mouth engulfs your cock in quick succession, sucking back and forth with an esteemed fervour.

“You alright there, sweetheart?” The lady asks, leaning closer, reaching out a hand to pat the side of your face.

You lean back, rapidly attempting to steady your breathing, and failing miserably. Natasha’s bobbing her head up and down with energised vigour, determined in her mission.

“Y-yeah, it’s really alright. Th-thanks, again.”

Just as you thought all was done and dusted, the air stewardess looks around cautiously. She leans closer to you with batted eyelashes and a supposedly seductive wink.

Then, in a low and sultry voice that seals your fate, the woman says, “Let me know if you need anything special, handsome.” You choke back a moan as Natasha twists her head, her talented tongue doing wonders to her cock.

The lady can’t get out of your sight any slower.

The moment the air stewardess disappears into the confines of the next cabin, footsteps fading away, Natasha's head whips out of the blanket, furrowed brows and an aggravated expression taking you by storm.

“‘Let me know if you need anything special, handsome!?’ Who does that whore think she is? Baby, do note that it’s taking me very large amounts of self-restraint not to get up right now and slap her silly. I can’t believe that an air stewardess would hit on anyone so openly like that, much less you! God, Y/N, I—”

Natasha’s stream of enjambments decrescendos into a meek silence at the look on your face.

Evanescent was the abrupt change in your demeanour, as if a switch had been flicked, as if the rest of the world had faded away, and it was just the two of them left.

Natasha’s cheeks flush so prettily, so quickly, because that look on your face only meant one thing.

A set jaw, glinting in the light — cut marble sculpted from the finest hands. Eyes that descend into such deep hues that Natasha feels like she’s drowning like the Titanic, downwards towards the depths of hell.

“Less talking, baby, more sucking.”

A rough hand finds Natasha’s head under the blanket and her hair is tugged on forcefully, jerking it forward to engulf the entirety of your cock. Natasha is more than happy to comply.

Natasha’s pretty gag is lost in the sound of the ongoing turbulence, and you grunt and drag those velvet walls down the length of your cock again. If Natasha decided to act like a brat, you could sure as hell treat her like one.

Up and down, up and down, and the way you manhandle Natasha to deepthroat a solid eight inches should be considered an Avengers-level threat. If you close your eyes, you can almost see the tears welling up in Natasha’s eyes, her pretty lips wrapped around your cock, strands of hair clinging to beads of sweat that adorn her face.

You're not too sure if the wet and squelching noises you hear are from Natasha's slick throat or a figment of your ever-rampant imagination. Either way, the contracting waves of Natasha’s throat around your cock is downright sinful, pretty and easy and oh so pliant.

From base to tip and tip to base, a preordained promise of paradise hangs in the atmosphere, and with each passing stroke, you barrel towards that high. You thrust hard into Natasha's throat, stretching it out, filling it up.

You lose yourself in the wet heat of Natasha’s mouth, your cock being stimulated in such heavenly eloquence of Natasha’s tongue. As an Avenger, you've fought a thousand battles, but none of them have ever quite left you as breathless as this one.

You're awfully close.

In the haze of being used like a mindless fucktoy, Natasha’s hand slips up the expanse of your clenched thigh muscle, and proceeds to toy with the heavy sack of balls. You groan, gripping Natasha’s hair tighter, tugging her downwards.

You're really, really close.

Your ears prick up as a sound emits from under the blanket, and your keen hearing picks up a whiny moan that sounds an awful lot like “Daddy, please”.

Oh, fuck.

Natasha’s helpless plea is what causes you to tumble over the edge of precipice, waves crashing and planets colliding as your vision becomes pure, unadulterated, white heat. “Fuck,” you grunt, a dragged-out groan from your chest, a ringing emblem of castle walls that crumble down.

Streaks and streaks of milky, white fluid are released into the depths of Natasha’s throat, coating her velvet walls, thick and creamy as it splatters against pink walls. Contented moans resound from Natasha, as she continues to suck on your extensive cock like it’s her last lifeline, like she might as well perish without it.

For a brief moment, you question your existence in the universe, and how remarkably infinitesimal you feel, hanging kilometres above the wide open sea and nothing else.

Be it land or sea or stars, though, you think you've found your muse, your reason for staying.

“Natasha,” you breathe out, like a sacred prayer, like a haunted blessing, as pleasure overrides your system.

You don’t recall quite how long you stay in that exact position, a hand cupping the back of Natasha’s head, rocking gently thorugh the aftershocks, Natasha’s palm resting on the side of your thigh.

Sentience gradually floats back into your capability, and you slowly blink as you arise from your out-of-body experience. “Well, shit,” you mumble, the aeroplane filtering into view, the snores from sleeping passengers around you becoming audible again.

Once the coast was deemed clear, you lift up the blanket covering your lap, but it turns out to be a dreadful decision as the sight of Natasha almost causes you to roll back into another orgasm.

Natasha’s previously neat hair was now a complete mess, sticking to her mouth and the sides of her face in the heat of sweat and slick. What used to be perfect, unblemished eyeshadow was now a runny mess due to Natasha’s tears, and a nude shade of bottle-red lipstick was smeared across her mouth and your semi-erect cock.

Lowered lashes shielded a smokey gaze, nearly all black, and you can feel herself hardening again, like you hadn’t just received a filthy blowjob that would make the heavens blush.

Immediately, that image of Natasha Romanoff was imprinted into her mind for an eternity to come, saved for future purposes.

By some saintly miracle, none of the passengers surrounding had awoken, and Natasha successfully crawls back into her seat with an all-too-smug smile.

“How was it?” She asks innocently, batting those lashes with a seductive head-tilt.

“I don’t know, maybe you should’ve moaned ‘Please, Daddy,’ just a little louder,” you retort quickly, no bite behind your words, delighting in the pink flush that adorns your girlfriend’s cheeks.

On about the ninth hour of the flight, approximately one hour after Natasha drew out an earth-shattering orgasm from your megalithic shaft, you effectively draws closer to Natasha, with crossed arms that unhelpfully accentuate the bulge of your biceps.

“Let me rail you in the toilet?”

“Y/N L/N, I am not sitting my bare ass on that filthy bathroom counter. I don't wish to end up with an STI."

“Who says I need to a counter to fuck you, hm?”

──── ☆ ⋅ ★ ⋅ ☆ ────

After three splendid orgasms, more abundant wails of ‘Daddy, please’ emitting from the toilet, and that same, very embarrassed flight stewardess politely requesting for them to get the fuck out, you and Natasha land in Dubai, officially kickstarting your romantic getaway with a bang.

Literally, quite a bang.

haven't written something new in forever, hopefully this is enough to satiate you gremlins' desires... (but forreal tho, thanks for sticking around) reblog or i'll hunt you down and NOT post for 12493482 years

main m.list

#natasha romanoff x reader smut #marvel smut #natasha romanoff #x reader #gxg smut #wlw smut #natasha romanoff smut #marvel #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha x reader smut #butch4femme #hornynat is my favourite nat #top reader #dom reader #bottom natasha romanoff #sub natasha romanoff

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dirtytomatoedwrites · 1 year

Text

INDEBTED

Summary: When your father's scandal threatens your family's legacy, Rafe makes you an offer you can't refuse.

Paring: Rafe Cameron x KookFem!Reader

Strictly 18+ No Minors to Interact

Warnings: Dark!Rafe, Dub-Con/Non-Con, Coercive Behaviour, Choking, Graphic Scenes / Smut.

Word Count: 4.8k words

Author's Note: 1000 followers! Wow, I never thought I'd reach 1000 followers. A part of me believes that half of these are bots, but regardless, to those who are real and have decided to join me in my little corner of the Tumblr woods, thank you. Your love and support, especially during these trying times, means a lot. I had this one shot sitting in my drafts for a while and thought I'd finish the damn thing and share it as a thank you. But heed those warnings : it's a dark one. Much love to you all ❤️

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

Embezzlement.

What a weird word.

It rolls off the tongue with an unfamiliar bitterness. It's the kind of term you'd see in a crossword puzzle, nestled between "clandestine" and "malevolent." You never imagined it would be splashed across news headlines with your family's name and the face of your father in the centre.

For years, your family was among the shining stars of Figure 8, leaders in hospitality, prestige, and wealth. Your home was the epicenter of elegance, the heartbeat of social galas. But now, news vans line the perimeter of your estate, their cameras hungry for a glimpse of the fallen dynasty. While online vultures, under the guise of investigative websites, sift through every chapter of your family's history.

Naturally, it caused a ripple, and as the waves of the scandal crashed onto the shores of Figure 8 with relentless force, family friends who once sought your company now wrestled with their association to yours. The 'friends' who once envied your galas and soirées now whisper behind closed doors.

It was the talk of every gathering. At lunches, tennis courts, even the marina; your family’s name was whispered with a mix of pity and sensationalism. Every disclosed detail, every leaked piece of evidence, threatens to shatter the glass pedestal upon which your family once stood unchallenged.

Yet, amidst the tempest of rumors and glares, your mother remains the eye of the storm. Resolute and graceful, she doesn't waver. The titan of Figure 8's social scene, she's always known how to command a room, and this scandal won't rob her of that gift.

Tonight, at the Midsummer ball, she's an emblem of defiance against the rising tide of whispers. And she does it so effortlessly. She glides through the crowd with that same charismatic charm. She smiles warmly, asking about children and recent vacations, pets, and passion projects, extending olive branches even when met with frosty receptions and curt replies.

You, however, are not as composed. The weight of judgmental gazes is too suffocating, the murmurs too piercing. The confines of the ball, with its glittering chandeliers and faux smiles, become a prison. With each passing moment, the walls seem to close in further. You need air. A moment of solitude. An escape from the suffocating pretense.

Whispering a quick excuse to your mother about needing the powder room, you slip away. The soft hum of the party fades behind you as you venture down a paved stone path, leading to the beach. The cool breeze and rhythmic waves provide solace, a stark contrast to the stifling ambiance of the party.

You had taken off the flower crown your mother had insisted you wear and were about to remove your shoes when you heard it: the soft crunch of footsteps on sand, drawing closer.

Hesitantly, you turned, finding him. The one whose eyes often sought yours in a crowd. Whose lingering gazes you'd always felt but habitually ignored. The same person who continually asked you out, oftentimes rudely and crudely. The one you had rejected, rebuffed, and shut down more times than you could count.

Rafe Cameron.

"Came to rub salt in my wounds?" you asked, unable to mask the bitterness in your voice.

"Now why would I want to do such a thing?" Rafe murmured. He pulled a joint from his pocket, placing it between his lips. The soft flicker of the lighter momentarily illuminated his face, revealing a brief smirk before the darkness cloaked him again. "I thought you might appreciate some company instead."

The word 'appreciate' ricocheted around your mind, sounding almost absurd in this situation. Company? From Rafe Cameron? The notorious Kook King of Figure 8, a classic case book narcissist who, you were certain, had probably raised a toast to the scandal engulfing your family. At this moment, you'd rather eat glass than accept his sympathy. Rolling your eyes, you turned back to the sea, barely acknowledging his presence.

“I'm not in the mood to talk, Rafe," your voice steady but seething with restrained frustration. Your eyes remained locked onto the undulating waves before you. The smell of sea-salt filled your nostrils, and for a fleeting moment, you felt at peace. It lasts all of two seconds before Rafe opens his mouth again.

"Fine, I'll talk. You listen," he asserts, as he settles against a rock. He leisurely inhales from his joint before blowing out a plume of smoke into the night air. You can feel his contemplative gaze on you; it becomes evident in the softened timbre of his voice when he speaks again. “You know, it's downright shitty what they're doing to your dad. To your family. To you... I can't stand by and watch."

A scornful laugh escapes you as you finally meet his gaze. "Well, life's not exactly handing out fairness certificates, is it?"

He shook his head, "No, it isn’t. But, it still doesn't make it right. It doesn’t make it fair when your dad claims he’s innocent—”

“My dad is innocent,” you assert fiercely, standing tall, arms crossed defiantly over your chest.

“Oh, I believe he is. But the world? Not so much. Your dad’s always been good to my family. My old man took it hard when he heard. I mean, of all the people on Figure 8 to be arrested for embezzlement, your dad was the last person anyone would suspect—”

“What's your point, Rafe?” You snapped, clearly about to lose the last shred of patience you had.

"I’ve been thinking about it alot, and maybe my family can help.”

Skepticism etched itself clear as day on your face. It seemed ironic that Rafe felt his family could help when Rose and Ward shunned your parents the moment the news broke.

“And how do you propose to do that?" you asked, your voice tinged with mistrust.

Rafe shrugged, a casual gesture that contradicted the gravity of the situation. "My dad, he's got connections—”

“So do mine,” you shot back.

“But did yours play golf with Senator Whitfield every Saturday? Rain or shine? Nah, didn’t think so.”

You felt a moment of silence envelop you both, the distant murmurs of the sea a constant reminder of the world moving around you.

"Alright, I'll bite," you said with a lick of your lips. "What do you want in return? You're clearly not doing this out of the goodness of your heart."

Rafe flicked his joint onto the sand, extinguishing it with a deliberate twist of his shoe. As he stepped closer, moonlight illuminated his eyes, giving them an almost predatory glow.

“You've got me," he admitted, his smirk devoid of warmth. “I do want something in return. Something that has been on my mind. Something I’ve wanted for a long time now. You."

A shiver raced down your spine, a cocktail of revulsion and trepidation. Retreating a step, your voice quivered but remained defiant.

"So, you're after a date?" You clarified, eyes narrowing. The same date he'd pestered you for, relentlessly, over the past year. The same date you'd denied him repeatedly, because despite being handsome, Rafe Cameron's moral compass seemed nonexistent.

Rafe scratched his ear as he moved slowly toward you, his expression pained as though what he was about to reveal would hurt him far more than it would hurt you.

"Yeah, see, a date won't begin to cover what I'm risking for your old man, given his rap sheet is longer than my arm. No, what I want is far more... rewarding," his voice sank to a sultry whisper as he towered over you.

"And what would that be?" you asked, tension crackling in the air between you.

"I want to be able to fuck you whenever and however I want—for a month, maybe two, perhaps even a year..." he shrugged slowly, "The specifics are negotiable, but doesn't that sound fair? A little pussy in exchange for your dad's freedom?”

The slap was instinctual. Swift. The sting on your palm matched only by the shock on Rafe's face. For a split second, everything was still.

Rafe's eyes turned to steel, his demeanor shifting chillingly in a heartbeat. He closed in, his voice a venomous whisper slicing through the salty sea air. "You must have a death wish" he hissed, an unmistakable dangerous edge to his words. His hand gingerly brushed his reddening jaw, his piercing gaze never leaving yours. "Your dad's freedom? It's dangling by the thinnest thread... The right words from a senator could decide whether he walks free or becomes someone's bitch behind bars."

He paused, his gaze falling to the flower crown in your hand. Slowly, deliberately, he reached out to touch it, his fingers lightly tracing the delicate petals, an almost gentle gesture that was jarringly at odds with the tension of the moment.

"If you want to help your dad, having a friend like me might be your best bet." he murmured. "Think it over, yeah?" His gaze lifted back to yours, a sly grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Fuck you, Rafe," you whispered, disgust fueled your retreat as you stormed away, his chilling laugh echoing ominously in the night air.

"You will, princess. When you come to your senses, you will."

Rafe's lingering words pressed on you, growing heavier with each breath. The looming possibility of your father's life behind bars became ever more ominous as Rafe presented a potential solution—a solution with an inconceivable price tag.

How could he even insinuate such a thing? The mere suggestion repulsed you, igniting a fury at Rafe's audacity. Yet the unease gnawing at your belly made you question: to what lengths would you go to save your dad? With your family facing disgrace and teetering on the brink of bankruptcy, Rafe's proposal offered a faint glimmer of hope, even if it took the ugliest of forms.

In the solitude of your bedroom, the pristine walls seemed to close in, just like the midsummer ball. Picking up your phone, you stared at the screen, the bright white light harsh against the dim setting. The contacts list stared back, an overwhelming list of names, none of whom had reached out during your family's time of need.

You scrolled, hesitating briefly before landing on Rafe's name. A whirlwind of emotions — from anger to desperation — consumed you as you pressed on it. Trembling fingers typed, deleted, and retyped a message multiple times, finally settling on the simplest of words.

"We need to talk."

Almost immediately, three dots danced on the screen.

"Tomorrow 7pm, Tannyhill.”

Was Rafe’s curt response.

You could barely sleep that night, as your mind raced, forming what you hoped was a semblance of a plan. You needed to negotiate on your terms, to retain some shred of dignity. It wasn't a detailed strategy, but it was enough to at least get through Rafe's offer with your sanity.

The next day as you approached Tannyhill, you whispered silent affirmations to yourself, reaffirming your resolve, your worth, and the necessity of your mission.

And then, there he was. Rafe Cameron, leaning casually against the frame of the ornate door, a picture of wealth and arrogance, a stark contrast to the turmoil raging within you. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, the world seemed to fall away, leaving only the two of you in the impending darkness of the evening.

Rafe opened the door for you, his face betraying a flicker of something you couldn't quite read, but there was no turning back now. You stepped in, ready to negotiate with the devil himself if it meant saving your family.

"Where's everyone?" you asked, there was no point in exchanging pleasantries. Nothing about the situation was remotely pleasant.

"Movies. You know, I hadn't expected a text from you so soon." his voice dripped with condescension, "I was betting on at least a week or two."

"Yeah well, it is my dad's life on the line," your footsteps echoed with purpose as you followed him into the living room, eyes steeling for the battle ahead. "The sooner we finalize our agreement, the quicker you can pull whatever strings you have, right?"

Rafe spun around, his gaze locking onto yours. The sly curve of his lips unsettling. "Sure, I’ll make a few calls,” he stated, voice dark and sardonic, "but it'll depend on the terms we agree to."

"Alright…” you braced yourself, your arms folded trying to regain control. "Let's start with how lon--"

“A year,” Rafe cut in, not breaking eye contact.

"That's out of the question. A month," you shot back.

His chuckle resonated with an underlying seriousness, his eyes narrowing in focus "Sure, we can say a month. You willing to fuck me at least twice a day? No? Then eleven."

You straightened your back, your resolve hardening. "Two months, tops."

His eyes gleamed as he considered your counteroffer. "How about this, we keep our little arrangement going until your dad's free. It could be a month, maybe two…” he shrugged nonchalantly “It might even be a year. It depends on how soon he’s out. What do you think?"

You hesitated, visibly weighing the implications of such an open-ended commitment. Your dad’s charges were serious. The chances of those charges disappearing and him being released in a month seemed like a miracle. "What if it drags on for years?" you whispered.

Rafe’s grin grew more pronounced, relishing your distress. "Well, princess, that's for you to decide. You can always walk away whenever you think it’s unbearable. Does that seem fair?"

"Okay, fine. Now about condoms--”

“Not using them--”

“Oh, we’re using them. I’m not interested in having your kid, Rafe, and I’m certainly not interested in catching anything from you.”

“While I should be fucking insulted” he said dryly “I always glove up and get tested regularly too.”

“Okay, so why are you suddenly against using condoms with me, then?”

“Because I promised myself…” he said slowly, his voice lowering as he made his way towards you, “If I ever got the chance to fuck you, I'd do it raw.”

Your jaw clicked, your hands itching to slap him again. “Weren’t you fooling around with Letizia a couple of weeks back?”

“Yeah, so? I was gloved up.”

“I don't care. You've slept with half the girls on figure 8. I want you fully tested before we even think about doing anything. Condoms every time, no excuses.”

“Alright. I’ll get tested. Condoms while fucking, no condoms for blowjobs.”

"Yeah, about that, I'm not doing oral.'” you said folding your arms in resignation.

Rafe's eyes bore into yours, annoyance coloring his features.

"No. No. You don’t get to dictate how I fuck you." he snapped, his voice taking on edge of authority. "Look, i’m willing to let you negotiate a few terms, give you some semblance of control but it’s got to be worth my while, and for it to be worth it, I get to fuck you how I want, when I want.”

You swallowed, feeling your resolve waver.

"Now, here's what I want to make this deal work: when I call, you answer. No matter the place, no matter the time. You show up. Clear?" Rafe said.

You paused before giving a hesitant nod, the magnitude of your agreement dawning on you.

"And if I ask you to wear something specific, you will. No questions. We have a deal?"

Your throat tightened as his demands began to overwhelm you, but you managed a brief nod in response.

"Remember, fail to meet my terms, and our deal ends. Understood?"

Another nod.

"Anything else?"

“When will you make the call?” you asked quickly.

“After our first session,” he proposed, his smile revealing a hint of anticipation. “After that I’ll do whatever I can to make sure your dad’s free”

" I want proof. I want proof that you’d stick to your part of the deal.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll get it.”

“Good." you said as you took a deep breath and released it slowly. "Get tested and send me the results," you responded, you're tone neutral, treating it as a standard business transaction. "I'll do the same. We can then choose a time and date."

Rafe nodded in agreement, his gaze intense and piercing.

You extended your hand towards him.

"What's that for?" he chuckled lowly.

"A handshake. To seal the deal."

Rafe reached out, his arms enveloping you in a firm yet tender grasp, pulling you against him. It took everything within you to not push him away.

"How about we seal this deal with a kiss, hmm?" he murmured, "Especially since we'll be doing a lot more than kissing very soon."

Rafe leaned in, letting his lips graze yours. But you stiffened, instinctively tilting your head so that his lips met your cheek instead. A soft chuckle escaped him as he retreated just a fraction.

“Ah ah” he chided. With his fingers gently but firmly cradling your jaw, he directed your face back to his, an unsettling tension growing palpable between you.

"Play. Nice.” he whispered, his voice considerably smug. "Kiss me. Like you mean it." It wasn't a mere request; it was a command that left you feeling completely cornered.

A battle of wills ensued; neither of you making the first move, both of you waiting for the other to blink first. Rafe's eyes never left your own as he leaned in once again, his determination clear.

His tongue gently pushed past your parted lips, and you allowed it, setting off a delicate yet conflicting dance between your tongues and lips.

Groaning into your mouth, his eyes shut as the kiss deepened, carrying an undeniable intensity. He sucked on your bottom lip, nipping at your tender flesh until his tongue lashed hungrily against yours sending a peculiar mix of tingles and dread coursing through you.

Finally, you pulled away from the kiss, catching your breath while your chest heaved. Rafe remained close, his lips just a whisper away from yours, his breathing matching your intensity.

"I'll get tested first thing tomorrow," he whispered, his voice thick with urgency and desire. "Make sure you do, too."

"All clear."

That was the message Rafe sent you two days after your heated conversation, accompanied by a screengrab of his test results. Without hesitation, you replied, sending him your own results in return.

As your fingers tapped across the screen, a surge of disgust washed over you. The very idea of being intimate with Rafe was anything but appealing; it fact, it made you feel sick.

You'd never choose Rafe of your own volition. Sure he was handsome but his excessive drinking and drug habits were repellant, and his disdain and bullying nature towards the Pogues was disturbing. None of his qualities were remotely attractive, let alone fuckable.

But then, the stern, resilient part of you asserted itself, urging you to focus on the goal at hand.

This was not about you or Rafe; it was about orchestrating your father's release from prison, a critical mission where failure wasn't an option. With this clear objective ingrained in your mind, you steeled your resolve, preparing yourself for what lay ahead.

When he proposed meeting up that same night, you didn't find it strange given Rafe's impulsive nature. However, the location he suggested did catch you off guard.

It wasn't Tannyhill, the somewhat familiar and comfortable place you had anticipated, but instead, an unfamiliar address. The randomness of the location set off tiny alarms in the back of your mind, making you wary but you took a deep breath, quickly typing out your response-

"I'll be there."

It wasn't just any random address, as you initially thought.

At the front of a gated tree-lined drive stood a prominent sign declaring, “Cameron Developments.” The freshly poured concrete and stacks of lumber clearly indicated that it was a home under renovation.

As you made your way along the winding path, unease gripped you, but the sight of Rafe’s truck haphazardly parked near the entrance reassured you that you had indeed reached the right place.

The estate was draped in an unsettling darkness, punctuated only by the soft chirping of crickets, the distant hoot of an owl, and the sporadic glow of work lights from inside, hinting at the ongoing renovations.

Exiting your car, you took a moment to absorb the scene before approaching the house. With each step towards the porch, your heart rate quickened. But before you could even announce your presence, the heavy door groaned open, revealing the looming presence of Rafe.

His expression, obscured by the shadows and dim work lights from within, gave away nothing. Without a word, he stepped aside, allowing you to enter, then closed the door and locked it.

A knot formed in your throat, a cocktail of dread and adrenaline. Pushing the mounting fear aside, you gathered your voice, attempting to sound braver than you felt. "Alright, let's get this over with," you said.

A wicked grin tugged at the corner of Rafe's lips. You felt an icy dread settle in your chest. "Oh, we will," he murmured, "But first, I want to play a game... to make things... interesting." The atmosphere grew heavy, oppressive.

"One minute" he said, as he cracked his neck from side to side, his eyes boring into you. "You get a one-minute head start and after that, after that--" he sighed happily "I'm coming for you. Run."

Panic gripped you. "Run? What? What the hell are you talking about? What do you mean run?" you stammered, your voice edged with rising panic.

But his eyes were cold, devoid of humor or empathy. He leaned closer, his voice a menacing hiss that left no room for interpretation. "Run."

A rush of adrenaline hit you, and without another word, you sprinted past him as if your very life depended on it.

You had no clear destination in mind, only the primal instinct to run and hide. Every fiber of your being was attuned to survival. Heart pounding in your chest, you sprinted up the grand staircase, taking the steps three at a time, feeling the weight of your own desperation in every leap.

At the top, a maze of doors and hallways stretched out before you. You lunged for the nearest one, finding yourself in a dimly lit bedroom freshly painted in white. Shadows danced on the walls from the solitary work light, and your gaze immediately snapped to a closet on your right.

Without hesitation, you slipped inside, gently closing the door behind you. The smell of paint and cedar filled your nostrils. Placing a trembling hand over your mouth, you tried to muffle the sound of your heavy, ragged breathing.

Gently, so as not to make a sound, you nudged the slatted shutter doors of the closet closed, leaving only thin slivers of the room visible – distorted, but enough to keep watch.

The ominous sound of footsteps reached your ears; they were methodical, unhurried. Rafe was searching, savoring the hunt. You watched in horror as his elongated shadow, cast by the work light, drifted across the closet. A cold sweat formed on your forehead, and you had to fight back the urge to gasp as the shadow paused momentarily by the closet doors.

After what felt like an eternity, the shadow moved away, and you heard his footsteps retreating. Letting out a silent sigh of relief, you gave yourself a moment to gather your bearings. But you knew all too well you couldn't remain hidden for long; he would inevitably retrace his steps and find you.

Gathering your courage, you carefully eased the closet doors open and quickly scanned the room for an escape route. Your heart pounded violently in your chest as you made your move. Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you tiptoed across the room, avoiding the creaky floorboards that might betray your presence. But the moment you stepped out of the bedroom, you collided with a solid mass.

Rafe's eyes pierced through to your soul, pure hunger reflected in them as he stared down at you. His hand clamped around your throat, pulling you close as the smell of your fear and his cologne filled your nostrils in a nauseating mix. His lips crushed against yours, ravaging your mouth with an intensity that nearly made you faint.

As your fight-or-flight instincts kicked in, you frantically writhed in his grip. Your fists relentlessly pounded against his arm, trying to get him to relinquish his hold on you, but it was no use. In one swift motion, Rafe backed you into the bedroom and forcefully dragged you to the floor, your fingers wildly clawing at his arm as you searched for any type of leverage you could find.

Rafe ravished your neck with unbridled hunger, his other hand violently tugged at your skirt and panties, scraping the skin of your thighs until finding your moist center—the slippery wetness signifying your surrender to pleasure. Rafe groaned as his fingertips slid through your slick folds and into you causing you to gasp at the white-hot jolts of pleasure.

"For someone who's only doing this to save their dad, you're soaked..." Rafe laughed breathlessly, trailing a line of wet kisses up your throat. "All that sanctimonious bullshit about what you will and won't do and look at you, fucking dripping for my cock—”

"Fuck you!" you screeched, a potent mixture of embarrassment and venomous rage coursing through you has you writhing beneath him, your determination to push him off almost frantic.

"That's it—fight back," he jeered, his voice dripping with dark amusement. "Fight back. It'll make this all the more satisfying."

You kicked and screamed, only for Rafe to capture your lips in a bruising kiss. His hands connected your wrists together over your head. In a single move, he flipped you onto your stomach and straddled you from behind, his erection pressing against your ass.

One of Rafe's hands tears off your panties, your screams in protest seize immediately as Rafe stuffed the flimsy cotton into your mouth.

"There" he taunted with a sinister chuckle, pressing you down further as you desperately attempted to wriggle free. You strained to let out a scream, your voice stifled by the makeshift gag.

That same hand worked feverishly to free himself from his pants. You could feel the throbbing heat of his erection at the cleft of your ass. Could hear him tearing open the condom packet with his teeth, the necessary prelude to satiating his ever-growing hunger.

Not too long after he was grinding the head of his cock against your wetness while you fought to express your protests through the gag.

"No, no, this is what we've agreed to. What you agreed to..." Rafe's breath hitched as his cock slid over your weeping slit. With one hard, raw thrust, barely allowing you time to adjust to his girth, he plunged himself deep inside you.

He wasted no time, immediately beginning his relentless thrusts, utterly indifferent to your muffled struggles behind the gag. Your body writhed beneath his weight, your movements punctuated by desperate grunts, the hardwood floor beneath you offering no mercy.

After a brief moment, Rafe released your wrists and drew you closer, his grip on your hips unwavering as he continued to drive into you with unrelenting force. Your head spun as you gradually surrendered to the powerful cadence of his movements. His hands clung to you possessively, guiding both of you in a desperate, synchronized dance. Every nerve in your body ignited, primal heat surging from deep within.

Your eyelids fluttered shut as your body succumbed to his unyielding force. Despite the freedom of your hands, you found yourself paralyzed, incapable of resisting or offering any form of resistance. Instead, you relinquished control, allowing Rafe to claim you entirely.

"I'm gonna fucking cum. I'm gonna cum. Cum with me," he growled through gritted teeth, his tempo increasing to a punishing pace.

You weakly shook your head, 'no,' your determination unwavering as you fought to maintain control over your desires. The mere thought of your pleasure becoming entangled with his, sullied and exploited for his depraved fantasies, was something you could not bear.

"Oh, you'll cum-" he sneered.

In a sudden, ominous gesture, he swiftly removed his leather belt from its loop around his pants and coiled it around your neck, pulling and winding it tightly around his fist.

"If you want to breathe, you'll cum," he snarled, pounding you with relentless force. The room was filled only with the sound of your choked gasps for air, Rafe's ragged breaths, the creak of the leather as he tightened his grip, and the rhythmic punishing slap of his hips against your flesh. You fought with every ounce of your being not to succumb to your impending orgasm, tears streaming uncontrollably from your eyes as you waged a futile battle.

The room reverberated with your agonised screams as your orgasm consumed you. Your muscles tensed and quivered beneath you, each wave of pleasure crashed over you like a violent tsunami drowning you. Your fingers clawed at the belt constricting your throat, the leather biting into your skin and to your abject horror, you were gushing around his cock as you climaxed.

Rafe fucked you harder, burying his face in the back of your neck. With a triumphant roar, Rafe's orgasm struck, and he shuddered against you, muffling his moans of pleasure into your skin as he stuffed his cock deep.

Sated and content, he collapsed on top of you, his breathing heavy and laboured, the condom filled with his cum. After a moment, he withdrew and shifted to lie beside you.

Summoning every ounce of strength you had left, you managed to free yourself from the tight confines of the belt and the stifling gag that had cruelly silenced you. Every fiber of your being, every muscle in your body, screamed with raw pain as you gulped in fresh air, each breath feeling like a hard-won victory. Tears of relief and anguish streamed down your face, and with a shaky hand, you hastily brushed them away.

The room seemed to sway, a disorienting blend of fear, relief, and vertigo threatening to drag you into terrifying darkness.

Yet, slicing through the fog of your distress was the haunting sound of Rafe's laughter. His voice was breathless, yet unmistakably gleeful. His fingers, dampened with sweat, raked through his messy hair, highlighting his heightened state of manic exhilaration.

"Next time," he grinned, a chilling promise lacing his words, "Next time, we'll use rope."

--------------

Thanks for reading x If you enjoyed it please like/reblog/drop a comment would love to know what you think. Until next time ❤️

#rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe fanfiction #rafe imagine #rafe fic #rafe smut #rafe outer banks #outerbanks rafe #rafe obx #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron smut #dark!rafe cameron #obx fanfiction #obx #18+ read #dirtytomatoedwrites #dark rafe cameron #smut warning

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saintobio · 21 days

Text

TITANIC.

deep in the heart of the Atlantic, an unexpected love defies the lines drawn by social class and destiny.

𝇈𓈒 genre. tragedy, angst, forbidden love, titanic au

𝇈𓈒 pairings. rafayel, fem!reader

𝇈𓈒 tags. first class!rafayel, artist!rafayel, third class!reader, singer!reader, social class differences, classism, might be ooc (esp thomas), not set in l&ds universe, mentions of arranged marriage, cheating, suicide attempt, allusions to sex trafficking and prostitution, violence (not from raf), explicit smut, nudity, cunnilingus, fellatio, unprotected sex, drowning, hypothermia, deaths, sinking of the ship, major character death.

𝇈𓈒 notes. 22.2k wc. dividers by drinkthesky and mikeykuns. events are exactly the same as the film, except for some small alterations. this was so fun to write albeit being really tedious and time-consuming 🤧 please enjoy, and reblogs are highly appreciated !

The RMS Titanic was known as the largest and most luxurious liner in the world. When the White Star Line first announced the ship’s launch, various headlines were even made across the globe, dubbing it ‘The Unsinkable Ship’ or ‘The Ship That Even God Himself Couldn’t Sink’. A bit ambitious, of course, but the hubris that came along with it was mostly from the upper echelon of the society who had the means to experience the ship’s impressive size and unparalleled luxury. It was all they ever talked about for months and months, waiting in full excitement to board the ship on its maiden voyage, scrambling to secure tickets to its first-class accommodations as if their money were merely falling from the skies.

Indeed, the Titanic was a grand ship, but for you and the other third-class passengers, it was anything but.

Your passage was paid for, not by a stroke of luck or generational wealth, but by a woman who recruited female entertainers to join the ship’s voyage. Just a month ago, your contract as a singer had ended when the pub you worked at shuttered its doors, leaving you without income and desperate to find a way to support your mother and sister. It was during one of those aimless nights, jobless and searching for a way to survive, that the proprietress noticed you. And it was exactly while she was posting a job vacancy outside her establishment when she claimed how your background and experience in singing and performing made you a perfect candidate for her offer.

You envied the wealthy. Truly. Because they had the privilege to turn down job offers, with countless others waiting in the wings or an inheritance ready to secure their future. Some of them didn’t even have to work at all. But for those on the other side of society—people like you who were struggling to make ends meet—certainly, the proposition was a windfall.

‘It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to board the Titanic,’ they’d say. ‘You wouldn’t have been able to set foot on it, even if you traded everything you owned,’ they’d say. ‘Only a fool would turn down such a chance.’ So, who were you to refuse? Beggars can’t be choosers, after all. Besides, who would deny the American dream? You considered that America held the promise of something greater, with the country being called the Land of Opportunities—a chance that might finally bring the stroke of luck you needed to lift your mother and sister out of the squalor of the slums back home.

A new beginning, a better life, and a future far from the harsh reality you were leaving behind.

And so, with the White Star Line boarding ticket on your hand, you turned back for one final glance at the place you had always known as home.

You soon made your way toward the deck of the ship, and your eyes searched the crowd to find your mother and sister standing among the sea of people, waving to you with hopeful, bittersweet smiles. You swallowed the lump in your throat and forced a smile of your own, holding back the tears that threatened to spill as you waved back, trying to etch their faces into your memory for the days to come.

“Farewell!” you heard one of your colleagues, Eliza, shout to her family by the dock. Like you, she too fought hard to keep her tears from spilling, feeling that familiar tightness in her chest as she waved goodbye.

“Won’t you come back?” you asked softly, your eyes drifting back to your own family.

Eliza turned to you with lachrymose eyes. “There’s no certainty how this journey will end for people like us. We’re often the last to know and the first to lose.” She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself as the ship’s horn blared, signaling the imminent departure. “But maybe… maybe this time will be different.”

You nodded, her deep words eventually sinking into you. The scent of the salty sea air, the cool breeze brushing against your cheeks, the creaking of the ship—all became imprinted in your mind as you both stood there, knowing that this might be the last time you’d see your families again. For a long time.

And as the ship’s engines roared to life, pushing the mighty vessel away from the dock, you clung to the belief that, somehow, this journey could still hold something brighter for you. The only way to live through life’s uncertainties and vicissitudes was to keep an optimistic mind.

Rafayel was once a celebrated artist across the continent. And today, he was among the elite who was surrounded by wealth and privilege, the same people who loved to talk about money and politics. He spent his first few days in the ship sketching its grandiose interiors and its ostentatious passengers, capturing the essence of their extravagant lives in his art. But despite his success and the admiration he received in his precedent years, there was a quiet loneliness within him now. A yearning for something more than the gilded cage he inhabited. The life of the wealthy—the first class people—just became too distasteful for him to paint on his canvas.

He couldn’t quite pinpoint when his disdain for high society began, but it had been long enough for him to realize that the lives of the wealthy and powerful were far from the glamorous façade they presented. In truth, they were dull and repetitive, filled with people who indulged in their riches and flaunted their possessions to your face. It was a never-ending competition of who had more, a relentless display of entitlement over who could command others at the whim of their fortune.

That was why when Rafayel stood on the deck of the Titanic that afternoon, despite his extremely comfortable and luxurious surroundings, he couldn’t help but lament over the idea that he was a prisoner in a ship, journeying to a place he never even once dreamed of going to. But being a painter who no longer flourished in the world of art, he somehow had to find a way to keep up with the lifestyle he had been living. And boarding this colossal ship together with a woman he didn’t love was his ticket to regain the success he had lost.

“You know,” Thomas, his agent, remarked as he leaned casually against the railings, “If not for Arielle, you’d never make it big anywhere else. Your time’s running out. Your paintings aren’t selling anymore. Soon, you won’t even be able to afford yourself. And knowing you, you can’t even live on tinned fish and cheap garments.”

Rafayel sighed inwardly, too weary to explain that the decline in his work’s quality over the past two years wasn’t due to a loss of skill, but rather a lack of inspiration. Being surrounded by the vain and self-absorbed had drained his creative spirit. Yet, the harsh truth was that with his paintings gathering dust and his exhibitions drawing fewer attendees, his rent payments had inevitably turned into mounting debts. It came to a point where he no longer had many choices for himself, financially speaking.

“You seem to hold Arielle in such a high regard,” he retorted, “Why don’t you marry her yourself?”

Thomas met his glare, unimpressed by his tone. “You brat. I’m doing this for you, Rafayel. I had to arrange this marriage between you two,” he repeated the same tired justification. “Didn’t you hear her? She’s the heiress to a wealthy family in New York, and she has all the connections you need to make a name for yourself there again. She’s willing to do it if you marry her. How can you speak ill of a beautiful woman who only wants your love?”

“Love isn’t something you can demand.”

He decided to ignore Thomas’s presence for a minute, tired of hearing his inane excuse of why he had to set up Rafayel with Arielle. Instead, he focused on his easel that was set up beside the rail, capturing the shimmering ocean under the twilight sky as he tried to find inspiration from the aureate horizon ahead of him. The soft brush strokes of his latest painting were interrupted by the occasional laugh or clink of fine china from the nearby dining room, but his mind wandered to a world he rarely saw—the lower decks.

Rafayel often wandered the first-class decks as he sought inspiration for his next masterpiece. Yet, today was the first time he noticed the decks below, and most importantly, you. You were a young woman from third-class, conversing with another female friend in your humble clothings, and seemingly longing for something beyond your reach. There was something about your warm, dreamy eyes that captivated him. And perhaps it was the stark contrast to the steely, formal interactions he was accustomed to in first-class.

You caught his eye once, which turned into a fleeting moment where your worlds collided, but his intense gaze seemed to have made your heart skip a beat. You were quick to look away as expected, and he felt awful knowing he might have made you uncomfortable.

“Oh, forget it.” Thomas waved a hand to his face, cutting him out of trance. “You’re aiming too low with those third-class women. You should be focused on a higher destination.”

Rafayel sighed in response. “Just leave me alone for a while. I need some space to paint in peace.”

Tonight, like every other night since you boarded, you had been told to sing. That your voice should fill the room with melodies, entrancing the well-dressed crowd of first-class passengers who watched you with a delicate balance of interest and indifference. Thankfully, the grand halls of the ship were already filled with laughter and music long before you were tasked to perform. Now, you were walking through the corridor, your heels clicking against the polished wood floor, while the elegant dress you wore swished around your ankles.

Frankly, it was mostly the men who were interested in your performances, and their women often indifferent.

You had performed in worse places than this, so you couldn’t complain. Besides, most of the guests, with their sparkling jewels and tailored suits, still applauded politely after every song, and some would even smile as you made eye contact with them. Admittingly, you did feel a little thrill at the attention, at being seen.

Because that was what you had always dreamed of as a child: to perform for the wealthy, to have your voice fill the room, and draw attention to your every move.

“Funny, isn’t it?” Eliza mused one night as you both settled into your cramped cabins in the steerage. It had been a tiring evening of performances for the first-class passengers. “Others dream of being wealthy, but you seem to dream of serving the wealthy.”

You adjusted the covers, keeping yourself warm. “I just feel like there are consequences to having so much money in your hands. I’m content with having just enough to get by.”

As the days passed and as the Titanic made its last final stop at a port in Ireland, that was when you began to notice things. Little things. The way some of the men in the audience looked at you, their eyes lingering far too long, with a hunger that made your skin prickle. The way your manager, Mrs. Hawthorne, hovered by the bar while speaking in low, hushed tones to the richest men in the room. You noticed how she always had a keen eye on you, watching as you moved from the stage to the back, and back again. It felt as if she was gauging something, calculating a certain transaction in her head.

After another night of singing, you found yourself backstage, wiping a sheen of sweat from your brow. Your voice was raspy, and your throat dry from hours of performance, but you felt a little bit of joy knowing you had done well. You were reaching for a glass of water when Mrs. Hawthorne appeared beside you—her smile a little too wide, but her eyes a little too sharp. A look that undoubtedly reminded you of a predator to its prey.

“Lovely performance tonight, my dear,” she said smoothly, placing a heavy hand on your shoulder. “But our clients… they might want a little more than just a pretty song. You understand what I’m saying, right?”

Your stomach twisted at the suggestion in her words. “What do you mean, Mrs. Hawthorne?”

She leaned in, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Some of these gentlemen… Well, they’ve paid a lot for your company. They expect a bit more than just a few songs. A bit of private entertainment, if you will.”

You blinked twice in the same second. “P-Private entertainment? You didn’t say anything about that when you hired me.”

Her grip tightened on your shoulder. “It’s all part of the package, dear. You want to keep your place on this ship, don’t you? Want to make those dreams come true?” Her eyes flickered darkly, and her aura became more and more austere as you refused. “Just be accommodating. Smile, laugh, let them buy you a drink or two... and if they ask for more, well... oblige. Surely, you aren’t a virgin to be acting like you’re new to this.”

The stubborn side of you pulled away from her touch. Everything that was coming out of her mouth brought you profound disgust. “I’m not a whore, Mrs. Hawthorne,” you hissed, getting straight to the point. “I’ve never done those things.”

She only chuckled softly. A cold, cruel chuckle that made your skin crawl. “Not yet, you haven’t. But this is a long voyage, and there are a lot of men here with deep pockets and lonely nights. You’re either useful to them or you’re not useful to me. However, I must remind you that your place in this ship is paid for by me. So, if I were you, sweetie, I’d make my choice correctly.”

“You…” Trapped and horrified at the situation you had thrown yourself into, you stared back at her in resistance. “You can’t do this! This is illegal—”

“Oh, sue me,” Mrs. Hawthorne replied in sarcasm before stepping back, her smile fading into the crowd. “Do what I say or you will be thrown off this ship. I have contacts back home that can surely check on your mother and sister, too.”

Your fingers tightened around the empty glass as she walked away, leaving you snapped into the dark and twisted reality of your current situation. All this damn time, the job you thought would bring you closer to your dreams was nothing but a front. A trap, with no escape in sight.

And somewhere in the back of your mind, you wondered just how much you were willing to endure to survive this journey. The faces of your mother and sister appeared before your eyes, their once hopeful gazes turning into a look of despair. Afraid for their lives. Hurt. Perished.

No, you couldn’t let that happen. You thought as you swallowed your pride.

Alongside Eliza and your other colleagues, you were forced to endure the advances of the wealthy men who frequented the gambling rooms below deck. The stench of cigars and alcohol, the rough hands, and the leering eyes became your nightmare-turned-reality while being in a prison that was supposedly dubbed as the ship of dreams.

You had never felt so degraded. You were overcome with a sense of filth and self-loathing, feeling as though you were utterly sullied. You felt so low, so disgusted with your own skin that your femininity was not respected.

How could Mrs. Hawthorne do this? That was all you ever thought about as you sat perched on a wealthy man’s lap, his rough hands roaming over your body as he laughed, more at the cards in his hand than at the joke one of the other old men had told him. The other men at the table barely noticed you, their eyes glazed with the haze of a high-stakes game as they bet all their money and fortune on a mere deck of cards. You had seen this look before, the detachment, the sense that you were nothing more than an accessory, a toy to be played with.

Your colleagues, fellow entertainers, were scattered around the room, their eyes hollow as they performed their duties, doing what they could to survive. But tonight, it was too much.

The disgusting old man’s grip tightened on your thigh, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered something vile. “Why don’t you let me have a taste later when I win this game, beautiful?”

“I-I need some air,” you muttered, trying to stand, but he pulled you back down with his iron grip.

“Not yet, darling. Wait until I have you naked on my bed,” he slurred, his voice thick with alcohol. You couldn’t imagine letting an old man touch you like that, and the mere thought of it made you sick to your stomach. “You will please me when I tell you so.”

“Let me go!”

“Pipe it down, will you?!”

You felt panic clawing at your insides as you bit down the screams that were trying to rise from your throat. It was as though the room was closing in on you, the walls narrowing until you couldn’t breathe. Until you suffocated. Without thinking, you wrenched yourself free and kicked the old man on the shin, stumbling out of the chair and into the corridor with your pulse racing as you broke into a run.

I’m sorry. You repeated your apologies to your mother and sister in your mind, over and over, as you sprinted across the deck. The click-clack of your heels ricocheted into the distance as you sobbed. I’m sorry I can’t make it. I’m sorry…

This wasn’t the life you had dreamed of, and you couldn’t bear the thought of being treated like an object, sold off to the wealthy and losing your dignity in the process. Night after night. Tears streamed down your face as you thought about letting down your family back home, about this being the last time you would ever see them, and about your own foolishness in embracing such cruelty.

You didn’t stop running and crying until you reached the stern of the ship, the cold night air nipping at your skin as you desperately tried to catch your breath. Breathe, you told yourself. But wouldn’t it be better if you didn’t? You leaned over the railing, the dark, icy waters below calling to you and offering a way out. And for a moment, you considered it. You considered it an escape. Anything was better than the life you were trapped in.

You knew you wouldn’t last another day in this ship without having your dignity stripped off you, especially not when it was the last thing you had for yourself. You may not have the money, the power, and the influence that these wealthy people had, but one priceless thing you owned for yourself was your dignity. And that wasn’t something they could take away from you.

Perhaps it was the adrenaline. The rush. The heavy emotions. Whatever it was, the overwhelming thoughts led you to climb over the railings, afraid and ready at the same time, to throw yourself into the gelid waters of the North Atlantic. Your trembling body and unstable breath didn’t stop you from looking down, waiting for the perfect timing…

“I’m sorry.” A sob escaped your lips as you closed your eyes, uttering a prayer in hitched whispers.

But before you could make the fatal leap, a strong hand suddenly grabbed your arm, making you gasp in horror at the unexpected intruder. You felt yourself being pulled back, and turned to see a man with amaranthine hair and kaleidoscopic eyes. “Miss, what are you doing?”

“I—” you choked on your words now that the shameful reality of what you had almost done was crashing over you. “You know what I-I’m doing. Mind your own business!”

“I can’t do that now,” he spoke with urgency, eyes softening as he looked at you with an earnest gaze. “Whatever you do to yourself, I’ll be held responsible. Think about it.”

What is wrong with this guy? You swallowed, confused by his insistence in pulling you back. Judging by the way he dressed, he was obviously another first-class passenger. So, why did he care about saving a mere third-class woman? Weren’t they all the same? You held your breath and glared at him, distrustful of his approach. “L-Let me go! You’re distracting me.”

The guy used his thumb to wipe the faint tears on your wet cheeks. “Let’s talk about this,” he said, “Jumping from here would be the most excruciating way to die, trust me.”

“How would you know?” you snapped, antagonism misdirected towards a man who was only trying to help. “You don’t get it. I don’t wanna go back there… with those old men…”

For a moment, his eyes flickered with recognition. “You’re the singer, right? I’ve heard you perform. You have a siren’s voice.”

“I’m no longer performing for people like you,” you bit back, trying to wipe away your tears. But in that instant, in that span of a second, you lost your footing and slipped from the railings. “Aaah!” Your scream pierced the evening air as you felt a cold rush of fear slapping your face. “Aah! Help! Help me! Please!”

“Hold on! I got you!” He gritted his teeth as he struggled to pull you back up, but determined with all his might to do so. “I… told you… you wouldn’t jump,” he panted, the muscles on his neck straining with the effort to pull you with your weight. You could see it in his eyes—the panic, the fear. Someone a stranger shouldn’t have for a person he didn’t know. And it brought you a thick sense of shame and guilt knowing you had him involved.

With your help, you extended another hand toward the railings and fought to climb back in. It was a struggle, but he eventually pulled you back onto the deck where both of you collapsed against the floor, gasping for breath like a freshly caught fish. You looked up at him, taking in his relieved yet gentle expression, and feeling nothing but shame for the terrible situation you had put him through.

“T-Thank you,” you stammered, your chest heaving as you tried to steady your breathing. “Thank you, and I-I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. You’re alright now.”

“W-What’s your name?”

He exhaled, a faint smile touching his lips as he shook his head. It was the first time through that near-death experience where you began to feel relaxed. “I’m offended you don’t know.”

“I…”

“I’m kidding. It’s Rafayel,” he said with a polite handshake, helping you to your feet. “Please remember your savior’s name.”

Before you could say more, the sound of footsteps approached, and you heard the old man’s voice, slurred and angry, as him and the Master-at-Arms headed towards you like you were a culprit they had been trying to catch. “There she is! That little whore! She thinks she can run away?!”

Panic seized you again, but the man beside you—Rafayel—stepped forward, placing himself between you and the approaching figures as if he was protecting you. “She’s with me,” he strictly said upon realizing the situation quickly enough. His voice was also firm, leaving no room for argument. “Leave her alone. It won’t end well if you insist on taking this innocent lady.”

The Master-at-Arms and security personnel hesitated, exchanging uneasy glances between Rafayel and the old man, who was clearly bristling with indignation. Yet, Rafayel’s gaze remained firm and unyielding, and it was evident that his social standing intimidated the crew. Unlike you, they seemed to recognize who he was and decided to back off.

So after a tense silence, the security personnel, clearly wary of challenging someone of Rafayel's stature, nodded reluctantly. They led the inebriated old man away, assuring him that they would find another woman who would be more willing to accommodate him for the night.

When they were gone, Rafayel turned back to you with his already softened eyes. “Are you alright?” he asked, his voice filled with a kindness you hadn’t expected. It was clear that through his gaze, he seemed to have picked up the puzzle pieces for the reason of your near-suicide. And he sympathized with you for it, as if he had once tried to go through that route, too. “Don’t worry about that old man. I’ll see to it that he won’t bother you again. Any of them.”

You nodded, though your legs felt like they might give out beneath you. The events that night were far too much for you to process. “Thank you,” you whispered. “You saved me twice today.”

He smiled, a small, sad smile, and offered you his hand. “Come with me. You shouldn’t be out here alone.”

For the first time in a long while, you felt something other than fear. You felt safe. And it strangely came from a stranger you knew little about except his name. However, he immediately noticed your hesitation, knowing that it was rooting from your mistrust and fear for the men in first-class who wanted to bed you, so he was quick to clear out his intentions.

“I’m not like those people,” he said, clearing his throat. His words were accompanied by a reassuring smile, and the earnestness in his eyes provided some comfort to the uncertainty in your heart. “I’m not a businessman, not a politician, definitely not royalty. I don’t gamble, I have no vices. I’m just an artist. You can trust me. I won’t do anything bad to you.”

Yet again, you weren’t given a chance to fully express your gratitude, only because a slightly older man with brown hair approached, shooting a disapproving look at Rafayel.

“I’m sure she knows her way back into steerage,” the other guy said curtly, his tone carrying a sharp reprimand as though engaging in a silent argument with Rafayel. “Don’t risk your image by accompanying her down there or offering her a place in first-class.”

Rafayel, visibly frustrated, shot back with the temper of a child. “Thomas, treat her like a human being—”

“I’m okay,” you interjected with a shaky voice, trying to ease the tension because you truly didn’t want to cause any more trouble on the man who had just saved you. You simply glanced at ‘Thomas’ before sending Rafayel a smile of gratitude. “He’s right, Rafayel. Your help means more to me than I can ever express, but it’s best that I return to my cabin on my own.”

Rafayel’s eyes searched yours, and for a moment, it seemed like he might argue further. But then he chose to relent when his shoulders slumped slightly in defeat. He clearly didn’t want to force anything on you. “Alright,” he said quietly, though his gaze remained passionately concerned. “But please, if you need anything, don’t hesitate to find me. I’m not far.”

You gave him a reassuring smile, the gratitude in your eyes more profound than words could express. But Thomas was there to humble you from the fantasy of being the damsel in distress. From his watchful gaze alone, you knew he was telling you that you weren’t and would never be welcome into their part of the ship after tonight. “Thank you, Rafayel. I’ll be alright. I promise.”

All Rafayel could do was nod as he reluctantly stepped back. Thomas could only give a brusque nod as well, signaling the end of the conversation. And as they turned to leave, you watched Rafayel go and felt a strange pang of sadness at parting with a person you just met. It was odd, definitely, but the momentary relief Rafayel’s intervention gave you was briefly replaced by the gruesome reality of your life at the steerage.

Turning back towards the staircase leading to steerage, you took a deep breath and started down the steps. The ship’s luxurious surroundings became more and more minimalistic as you descended, with the opulence of first-class fading away into the more sterile accommodations of steerage.

When you woke up the next morning, you thought everything that had happened was both a dream and a nightmare.

Eliza was staring at you from the opposite bunk bed, seemingly envious yet happy for you at the same time. For what reason? You weren’t sure yet. And neither did she say why she carried that look on her face as you got up from bed, wiping your eyes and realizing it was another dreadful day of being imprisoned in the Titanic.

“What’s wrong, Eliza?” you asked.

She offered you a small smile. “Nothing, just…”

It horrified you to see the marks on Eliza’s neck. And the pained expressions on her face, a reflection of someone who had been stripped of her dignity—someone who could have been you if not for Rafayel’s intervention. You couldn’t escape the grim reality that, despite his heroic act, your fate might soon mirror hers. Mrs. Hawthorne still held the chains around your neck after all, compelling you to do things against your will in exchange for your life, your family's safety, and your livelihood.

But to your surprise, Mrs. Hawthorne was a different person when she knocked on your cabin door that morning. You had braced yourself for the punishment of failing to fulfill your ‘duties’ to the old man the previous night, but her demeanor was unusually pleasant. Her smile seemed almost too pleased, leaving you wary and confused about her true intentions.

Has she gone mad?

“Good morning,” she spoke in the same merry voice that you hated, displaying a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Y/N, from now on, your services as an entertainer are no longer required.”

Your heartbeat took a pause. “What do you mean? I-Is it because of last night?”

She placed the papers on the small table beside you and sat down. “Your contract has been terminated. You’re free from your duties as of now.”

So suddenly… You stared at her, trying to process the sudden change in her demeanor. “But why? I don’t understand. Not even long ago, you were asking me to—”

“A gentleman from first-class, someone with rather striking purple hair, has paid a considerable sum to terminate your contract.” The cruel woman sighed, rolling her eyes. “He covered the cost of your ticket and added extra, more than enough to ensure you were released from your obligations.”

Your mind instantly connected the dots. “Rafayel? H-He did that? But why?”

Mrs. Hawthorne’s expression turned cold. “He made it very clear that he wanted you to stop entertaining people against your will. He even went so far as to threaten me with legal consequences if I didn’t comply. Said something about ensuring I’d face charges once the ship docks in New York if I didn’t let you go. What a boastful young man! If not for his money, I’d have cursed him out in the face. I don’t know what you did to woo that guy, but consider yourself lucky.”

What? You couldn’t believe it. You couldn’t ever believe Rafayel went out of his way to save you. Again.

“Go and enjoy the ship like any other passenger,” Mrs. Hawthorne continued, her words dripping with a false sense of privilege. As if living in peace on this ship was a luxury for you. “I’ll inform the crew that you’re no longer required in the entertainment department.”

As Mrs. Hawthorne exited your cabin, you sat in silence and finally understood the reason behind Eliza’s gaze. But you didn’t expect this, either. You could only glance out the porthole in guilt, seeing the vast expanse of the ocean stretching out before you. This new freedom felt both exhilarating and daunting if you were being honest to yourself. For the first time since you boarded, you now had a chance to explore the ship on your own terms, but the uncertainty of what lies ahead lingered in the back of your mind.

Because, then… What about your family? What about your income? What about your dream of performing on Broadway?

Only an ungrateful person would think selfishly about herself first before the person that generously saved her from this predicament. So, even if you swore to never bother him again, you had to take the risk. You had to seize your newfound freedom, at least, to thank him properly.

With that in mind, you made your way near the staircases leading to the upper decks. You had ‘borrowed’ a costume from the entertainers’ closet, the only suitable and elegant clothing you could find to pass as a first-class passenger. But as you walked through the luxurious parts of the ship, the sound of a piano drifted through the air, and its melody guided your next steps like a sailor entranced by a siren’s voice. The rhythm. The melody. It was drawing you closer and closer.

Before you knew it, you followed the enchanting tune, only to find yourself stumbling upon Rafayel in a room adjacent to the music room. There he was, deeply engrossed in his painting, the soft glow of the sun warmly illuminated his focused expression and the canvas before him.

Rafayel looked up, surprised. “Y/N? ” he said, his gentle smile lighting up his face as he noticed you. “I didn’t expect anyone to be here.”

You flushed, feeling out of place. The irony of stumbling into the wrong room seemed to have brought you to the right person. “I’m sorry. I-I didn’t mean to intrude. I followed the music, but it led me here.”

His curiosity was piqued. “And what brings you to this part of the ship? The music room is across the hall, miss.”

“I was just exploring,” you replied, smiling and feigning innocence. “Trying to see a bit more of this grand vessel.”

His response was a soft chuckle. “Well, you’ve found quite the place. May I offer you a seat?”

To your surprise, you found yourself seated next to him, eyes wide as you were immediately captivated by his artwork. The painting before you was breathtaking, truly mesmerizing. It was a picturesque depiction of the ocean and sunset, and every intricate color blended beautifully on the canvas. “Rafayel, did you paint this? It’s incredible! It’s so beautiful!”

“You flatter me too much, but I’ll take the compliment. It’s a work-in-progress, though.” He chuckled, wiping his paint-splattered hand with a towel. Despite the barriers of social class, a connection naturally seemed to spark between you both. “If you’re interested, I might even give you a discount on it.”

You knew he was joking, but if you had the means, you would have bought his masterpiece without hesitation. “You must be famous all over Europe. It makes sense why…”

“Actually, you’re mistaken,” he corrected, his smile dimming just a bit. “No one buys my paintings anymore. My art exhibits have become quite empty. I’ve been living off my savings and selling off my most prized possessions just to keep up with my lifestyle. Money and fame are fleeting, after all.”

“But why?” you asked, genuinely curious. “With paintings like these, I’m sure people would want to buy them.”

“It’s been a while since I painted something like this,” he replied, eyes locking into yours. “My recent works have been more somber. People tend to shy away from dull, lifeless art.”

You hesitated. “Is it because of a lack of inspiration?”

He stood up, smiling softly as if you were the first person to understand. “You could say that.”

Driven by curiosity, you glanced around the room and noticed several paintings concealed beneath dust covers. You looked at him for permission, and he gave it through a simple nod. However, when you pulled the covers back, you were taken aback to find that the paintings depicted intimate, nude portraits of women—women who appeared to belong to high society. To say you were surprised was understatement. You were rather stunned, astounded.

Rafayel, leaning casually against the wall, seemed to sense your astonishment. “Didn’t expect it, huh?” he asked with a hint of amusement. “Before you get the wrong idea, these are merely commissioned paintings. I didn’t paint them because I’m particularly intrigued with female anatomy or anything.”

“But they’re live paintings, you say?” you asked, truly amazed by the thought. “I… Wow.”

He hummed in agreement. “These kinds of paintings were what made me popular. Royals and high society people have a penchant for risqué art. It’s often erotic to them. They love commissioning nude portraits to gift to their husbands. My most significant client was the First Lady of France. I spent three months there, painting her repeatedly until an entire room in the palace was filled with her nude portraits. I even felt like I’m more familiar with every inch of her body than her husband, you know?” he jested just a little before continuing, “Anyway, so word spread about my paintings of the First Lady, and soon enough, French women flocked to have their own portraits done, too.”

You stared at the paintings, the elegant yet provocative depictions of high-society women capturing your attention in a way that you didn’t expect. And you supposed the perfect definition to your emotion right now would be fascination, because it wasn’t anything you had seen before.

Rafayel’s voice, on the other hand, broke through your thoughts. “It’s strange, isn’t it? How something so intimate and personal can become a symbol of status and power.”

You turned to him with no judgement in your eyes. “It’s admirable, really. You’re very talented.”

Rafayel pushed himself off the wall and walked over to the covered canvases, his fingers lightly grazing the edges of the dust covers. “Most people see me as just another artist, another name on a list of commissioned painters. But this,” he gestured to the paintings, “was what set me apart. It wasn’t just about the art itself but about the allure and the mystique. It drew people in, gave them something to talk about.”

You nodded slowly, absorbing his words. “And now? Does it still hold the same appeal for you?”

His expression may have softened, but a hint of melancholy blanketed his gaze. “Not as much. The thrill has faded. The commissions came, and the fame followed, but it wasn’t as fulfilling as I’d hoped. It’s easy to get lost in the glamor and forget why you started painting in the first place.”

You took a step closer as the air between you silenced into a quiet understanding. “What did you want to achieve? What was it you hoped to find in your art?”

He looked at you with his deep vulnerable eyes. “I wanted to capture the essence of beauty and emotion. I wanted my art to connect with people on a deeper level, to make them feel something genuine. But over time, it became less about that and more about what would sell.”

There was a brief silence as you considered his words. “Then, to me it sounds like you’re looking for something more meaningful.”

“Perhaps.” Rafayel nodded, his gaze turning back to the portraits. “I want to paint again, but not just for the sake of profit or reputation. I want to create something that speaks to who I am, something that brings back that initial spark of passion.”

“Maybe you’ll find that inspiration again.” You plastered an encouraging smile on your face. “Sometimes, the most unexpected encounters can reignite a lost passion.”

“I suppose so. And maybe, finding the right subject or the right moment will make all the difference.”

There was a brief, comfortable silence that settled between you. The intimacy of the moment, coupled with the way Rafayel glanced at your lips, created a sense of attraction that—like a magnet—pulled you closer to him. What was it about this man that drew you in like a moth to a flame?

But you had to think straight, of course. You woke yourself up to the reason why you were even here in the first place. Though, as you finally broke the silence, a small smile played on his lips. “Thank you… Rafayel. I heard about what you did for me. You didn’t need to do that.”

He put a handsome smile on display. “It’s the right thing to do. You don’t deserve to live like that.”

You didn’t want to go into details and ask him about how he found out how Mrs. Hawthorne’s illicit business operated, but you trusted that Rafayel was smart enough to figure it all out. Everything that had led you here; from your attempt to jump off the ship, to him freeing you from the chains of being an ‘entertainer’. It was an unspoken understanding between the savior and the saved.

You stepped closer to him. “I feel terrible, though. You said you sold off some of your belongings to save money, but you ended up spending them for me.”

Rafayel was amused at that, on the other hand. “Hey, I never said I’m completely broke. It’d take at least five more years for that to happen.”

“Lucky you, then.” You glanced around the room one last time, the paintings now seeming less like mere objects of scandal and more like symbols of Rafayel’s journey as an artist. You respected the nature of his paintings just as he respected you.

“Wanna get out of here?” he asked, playfully wiggling his eyebrows.

“To where?”

“To your accommodations down in third-class,” he suggested with a strange glint of excitement in his eyes, taking your hand in his, “I’ve always been curious. Can you show me?”

There were many things you learned about Rafayel. Firstly, he was an easy-going man who preferred rowdy pubs over formal cotillions. He didn’t care about social classes, something he had proven when you first met him, but watching him effortlessly bond with the other people from the steerage made your heart soften into mush. He began to feel almost unreal to you, like a dream, because you never imagined a man from such a high status could be so genuine, so down-to-earth. Yet, there he was, laughing and enjoying a pint of cheap beer with your fellow third-class passengers, without a scintilla of judgment or hesitation.

Secondly, he could certainly dance. You never saw it coming until he grabbed your hand and pulled you into the makeshift dance floor, inviting you to join him in a playful tap dance together with the other passengers. The lively, upbeat music of the steerage seemed to fuel his spirit far more than the refined, classical tunes often heard in the first-class dining halls.

“How’d you learn to dance?” you shouted over the music, spinning as Rafayel twirled you with an effortless grace.

He grinned, shrugging casually. “I’d call it au naturel.”

And lastly, he was far more charming than you ever anticipated. Despite his tipsiness, Rafayel remained by your side the entire evening, his presence around you gave way to subtle protectiveness that never wavered throughout the night. What amused you, though, was the reversal of roles—you felt like you were the one guarding him, a vulnerable first-class man surrounded by a roomful of third-class passengers, where he could easily become a target for discomfort or even theft. Yet, much to your relief, nothing of the sort occurred. Instead, his natural charm seemed to win everyone over, defusing any tension that might have arisen.

“Rafayel, please be careful on your way back,” you said, concern evident in your voice as you watched his half-lidded eyes and his unsteady sway from the alcohol. He stood outside your cabin, clearly tipsy. “Do you want me to help you get back up there? I don’t think I can enter past the gates, though.”

He swayed for a moment before leaning in, resting his forehead against yours. His eyes, clouded with intoxication, locked onto yours. “No need. That wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of me.”

You decided to tease him, hoping to break the sexual tension. “Well, getting this close to me isn’t exactly gentlemanly, either, Mr. Rafayel.”

“Touché.” His cool breath fanned across your face as he chuckled. “I guess I’m not much of a gentleman after all.”

For a moment, you forgot about the crowded halls of the third-class cabins, the distant hum of the ship’s engines, and the people bustling around you. It felt like it was just the two of you, suspended in time. Your heart couldn’t stop racing at an unreasonable pace.

Rafayel’s smile widened, his lips only a couple inches away from yours. “But if I were, would I have had the pleasure of meeting you?”

Your heart fluttered in your chest. “Maybe not. But I’m glad you’re here now, gentleman or not.”

He lingered there for a minute longer, his forehead still resting against yours, before he finally pulled away with a reluctant sigh. “Alright, I should head back… before I lose any more of my honor.” His grin eventually faded into a soft smile as he caressed your cheek with his gentle hand. “I can’t remember the last time I had this much fun, Y/N. Thank you.”

As romantic and noble as he seemed, you knew your boundaries. You knew your place in society was no way near his. “You’re always welcome here,” you said, gently holding his hand—the one that had touched your cheek. “But you don’t belong down here, so up you go.”

“I’d rather be wherever you are,” he whispered, planting a kiss on your hand and making your heart pound wildly against your chest.

Though you cherished the moment, you knew it wasn’t the right time. He was under the influence of alcohol, and you worried he might regret his actions and words later. After all, you were a mere woman from the steerage, not someone he could proudly show off and be with. You had nothing to offer, nothing to match his way of living. You only had yourself, but you didn’t know if that was enough.

With that in mind, you had to keep your composure. Being too ambitious might one day bite you back the hard way.

“Good night, Rafayel,” you said, taking a step back, watching as he turned and stumbled a little before catching his balance. “Be careful, okay?”

“Always, sweetheart. Always.” He glanced back, flashing you one last grin. Then, with a mischievous wink, he started to make his way back to the upper decks, leaving you with a warmth in your chest that lingered long after he was gone.

If only you two weren’t divided by social classes.

Slap!

“What on Earth was that stupid act you pulled down there?!” Arielle’s voice resounded across the room with a harshness Rafayel hadn’t heard from her before. But honestly, the sting of her slap wasn’t what shocked him, it was the way she had shown her true nature from being a sweet, passionate lady into a manipulative, entitled woman who seemed to think she had a claim over him. “I can’t believe you were mingling with those filthy third-class people while I was waiting for you in my suite last night!”

Keeping his head turned in the direction she’d struck, Rafayel clenched his jaw. “You don’t know those people. They’re better than most of the ones up here on this ship.”

“And what?” she snapped, her ocean-blue eyes blazing with fury that almost matched the deep crimson of her hair. “You went down there for some whore? Don’t push me, Rafayel. You are not to see that lowly woman ever again.”

Rafayel’s patience wore thin at the mention of you, and he finally looked up to glare at her. “Stop trying to control me, Arielle.”

“You are my husband-to-be.” Her reminder was more so a warning to him. “It is a privilege for you to be married to me. So start acting the part. You will live by my rules, spend my money, and enjoy the privileges I grant you. Don’t think you’re above your place now, especially with your boring paintings not selling anymore.”

Frankly, Rafayel had never imagined himself marrying this woman. The engagement ring on her finger wasn’t even something he had chosen—it was bought and meticulously picked out by Thomas because Rafayel couldn’t be bothered to find one himself. If he already felt this way about the engagement, how much more about the impending marriage? Her relentless need to control everything was already a nightmare he could clearly see unfolding. And he knew he would never have the freedom to be the man of his own house, always trailing behind her like a shadow, always listening to her commands like a broken man. He would have to obey her every whim like a pathetic servant, living solely for her pleasures and demands.

The wedding hadn’t even happened yet, but he already wanted to put a pistol to his mouth and end everything.

“Don’t you dare ruin our reputation by mingling down there again,” she sneered, her voice dripping with disdain as if she were speaking of animals rather than people. “I mean it, Rafayel. You know exactly what I’m capable of doing to that whore.”

That threat was enough to force him into a tense, angry silence. “...Don’t you dare touch her.”

Arielle scoffed. Despite the jewelry and makeup that made her quite the face of a luxurious woman, Rafayel could only see how rotten she was on the inside. “I will do what I want if you do not behave yourself.”

He didn’t even try to console or win her back after she stormed out of the room and slammed the door shut with a loud bang. Why should he? He held no affection for her, and he certainly didn’t care about winning her over. He was even contemplating telling Arielle directly to her face that he wanted to call off the wedding, to let her know he didn’t need her to survive on his own, but things were easier said than done. And more importantly, there were various factors that held him back.

One of them, being his longtime friend and agent, Thomas, who soon entered his private suite. The guy’s lips were already tightened into a thin line as he eyed the red mark on Rafayel’s cheek. “I told you not to get involved with that third-class woman. You’re already engaged to Arielle. Why can’t you just appreciate what you have?”

Rafayel remained silent, leaning against the table and rubbing his temples in frustration. He couldn’t believe that the person closest to him would be the first to side with someone else.

“And can we talk about why you paid that shady woman, Hawthorne, to release the third-class girl from being a hostess?” Thomas continued. “Her problems are none of your business. You’re just involving yourself in all these rumors.”

Rafayel’s eyes hardened. “You know Y/N didn’t consent to that situation. She was clearly deceived into it—didn’t you see her nearly jumping off the ship trying to escape those men? Helping her was the right thing to do. She has a mother and sister waiting for her.”

“This is not about what’s right or wrong. It’s about maintaining appearances. And if you start ignoring the rules for everyone you meet, you’ll find yourself in quite a predicament.” His agent stared at him blankly, sighing. “It’s not just about you, Raf. Your aunt Talia—she’s counting on you. She’s the only family you have left. She invested everything she had to support your career, hoping that you would make something of yourself. But things didn’t turn out the way we all had hoped for, did it? Besides, this marriage isn’t just a contract. It’s a way to secure your future and her well-being.”

He could feel his jaw tightening at the clear attempt to draw guilt from him. “I’m aware of what my aunt did for me, but this isn’t what she envisioned for me. She wanted me to be happy, to succeed on my own terms, not to be trapped in a marriage I didn’t ask for.”

“You’re being short-sighted,” pointed out Thomas, “By marrying Arielle, you secure not only your future but also Talia’s. You know she’s been struggling with her health. She needs to know that you’re stable, that you’re not making reckless decisions that could jeopardize her security. If you back out now, it could destroy her.”

Rafayel’s gaze dropped to the floor as his mind grappled into a whirlwind of conflicting emotions—frustration, guilt, and helplessness.

“Is this really about me,” Rafayel said quietly, “or is it about what will happen if I defy you?”

“I know Arielle isn’t the kindest person,” Thomas continued, ignoring his question. “But sometimes, we have to make sacrifices for the greater good. And this marriage might not be perfect, but it’s a step towards securing everything you’ve worked for. It’s what will keep Talia safe and secure, not some fleeting romance on a ship or a misguided impulse.”

Rafayel’s silence became pregnant with contemplation. He was ultimately speechless, not because he agreed with his agent, but because the tables had turned in a way where the guilt and pressure was now placed on his shoulders squarely.

Sensing his deep thoughts, Thomas stepped closer and placed a hand on Rafayel’s shoulder with a reassuring grip. “Think about it carefully. The right decision isn’t always the easiest one, but it’s often the one that will ensure a future worth living.”

Another day had passed since that fateful night when Rafayel had pulled you from the brink of ending your life.

You had already settled back into the confines of the steerage, trying to adjust to the routine of your life as best as you could while Mrs. Hawthorne stuck to her word of leaving you alone. But as each supposedly normal day went by, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing. The brief moments you had shared with Rafayel suddenly felt like a distant dream, and you wondered if it was all just a fleeting impulse on his part.

Did he actually regret spending time with you that night? Getting to know you? Opening his heart to you? Despite the joy he seemed to express, you wondered if he felt disgusted with his actions the moment he woke up sober. Because as kind and down-to-Earth as Rafayel appeared, he was still part of the wealthy elite, like the rest of them. He was born into a rich household, accustomed to the life of high society, and it wouldn’t be all too surprising for him to view the unsophisticated passengers of the third-class as pitiful.

But a small part of you believed Rafayel was better than that. No, he was more genuine than that.

It was early in the morning when you found yourself drawn to the upper decks from your humble area in the third-class decks. You watched the first-class passengers from the starboard side, trying to catch a glimpse of the man who had saved your life and made you feel special. He should be there somewhere. Some place where the sun had risen. After all, didn’t he say you could come find him anytime? Your eyes searched aimlessly through the crowd, hoping for a sign, a familiar face.

Until he appeared.

Rafayel stopped by the railing, engaged in a conversation with the captain of the ship. Next to him was a graceful woman clinging on his arm, a girl with luscious red hair, pearlescent skin, and crystal blue eyes. The dress she wore was bedight with intricate patterns, sewn carefully through hours of labor to highlight the detailed gold threads on the satin dress. She was about the same age as you, it seemed, but her aura was the epitome of elegance and wealth, someone you could never be. Though, despite the distance, you could see the tension in Rafayel’s posture and the way he didn’t appear to be present in the conversation at all.

Then, he happened to have looked in your direction.

Contrary to the expectations in your head, he didn’t greet you with a familiar smile or a friendly wave. No, he avoided your eyes not even two seconds after he met your gaze. It was as if he was intentionally keeping his distance, and the sight left you feeling inexplicably hollow.

“Hang on,” you could hear one of your cabin roommates say, “Isn’t that the gentleman from first-class who danced with us?”

“Who’s that woman next to him?”

“Oh, first-class people. They’re all the same.”

“Did he just ignore you, Y/N?”

He did. And it hurt in a way you didn’t expect. You couldn’t quite understand your feelings or why they were so intense when you should have anticipated this, should have expected it. Or did you really believe he could be some sort of prince charming who would fall for a poor woman after meeting her for a few days? This was no fairytale.

God, but it was unbearable—the silence, the misunderstandings, the thought. As foolish as it might sound, you needed to hear it from him directly. Growing fond of Rafayel was already an abyss you had thrown yourself into, and you were willing to walk that path just to speak to him again.

You weren’t sure how you did it so well, but by using the same old trick, you were able to sneak into the first-class deck smoothly. The transition from steerage to first-class was blunt, and you already knew you had to yet again play the role of a wealthy woman, or at least a nouveau riche, just to blend in. But that wasn’t what you were focusing on this journey, you weren’t there to dillydally with the elite. You were there to see a certain amaranthine-haired man who had saved your life countless times in this ship.

When you spotted Rafayel slipping into a private room—the same room where he painted, you followed him like a spy, hoping not to be seen or caught by other onlookers in the area. You still had the decency to knock softly at first, but when there was no answer, you decided to let yourself in. The room was dimly lit, with rich, velvet drapes decorating the walls. And the smell of paint and canvas was an unmistakable association to him. Of Rafayel, who was there standing by a large window, his back to you.

“Rafayel,” you said softly, taking a tentative step forward but inexplicably drawn to his beautiful, radiant face. “Hi.”

He turned to look at you in an unwelcome surprise, however. “What are you doing here? You can’t be here.”

You closed the door behind you, the soft click signaling your privacy. “I just… I don’t know why I’m here. Frankly, I just wanted to see you. I wanted to understand if I did something wrong.”

There was guilt in his eyes, you saw that. But he was quick to cloud it with a look of resistance. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” he said in a neutral tone, his eyes avoiding yours. “It’s just... it’s complicated.”

“Complicated?” you repeated. “It’s because I’m from steerage, isn’t it…”

“No,” Rafayel interrupted firmly, as if the thought was absurd. “It’s not about where you come from. That doesn’t matter to me.”

You felt the distance he was placing between you two as you stood in front of him, not wanting to wear your heart on your sleeve. But it did sting. The way he was struggling to meet your eyes, the way he was looking at anywhere but you.

“I have a fiancé,” he dropped the hard cold truth, “I’m engaged, and it’d be disrespectful for me to spend time with another woman behind her back.”

The revelation struck you like lightning, probably worse than the impact it would have on you if you had jumped off the ship that other night. “...I see.”

“I apologize,” he quickly added, still averting the direction of his gaze. “I didn’t mean to lead you on.”

There must be a logical reason why he had never mentioned his fiancé the moment he had met you. But whatever it was, the pieces of the puzzle were falling into place, and yet, the complete picture remained frustratingly out of reach. The pain in your chest was undeniable, truly, but you tried to mask it with a smile. You knew when and how to feign a calm composure in the most critical situations.

“If that’s how it is,” you said quietly, “then I understand. I just needed to know.”

Rafayel’s eyes were an amalgam of shame and despair. “I’m sorry. You should leave before anyone sees you here.”

You didn’t wish to carry any grudge or bitterness towards a man who saved your life. If anything, you were still grateful for everything he did for you up to this point. You were happy that while you were drowning in a sea of despair, he became the buoy that you could hold onto. Even for a short, fleeting moment. So, despite the ache in your heart, you brought it upon yourself to show appreciation for one last time.

“Don’t worry, I’ll leave you alone now,” you spoke softly and faintly, “But before I go, I just want to say, Rafayel, that you are the most talented artist I have ever met. I admire your eye for art… I do, and also your passion for what you love. I hope that when this ship docks, you’ll find all the inspiration you need to create wonderful paintings again. I hope you never lose faith in yourself, because I know you’ll make it big out there. Even bigger than you already are, I can see it happening. You are an amazing person and a blessing to everyone around you, Raf. I wish you and your fiancé all the best.”

You didn’t wait for his response, neither did you look at his eyes and hope for him to stop you. He didn’t need to. You knew your place, and it wasn’t anywhere near him or any part of the first-class rooms and amenities. It was at the bottom of this ship, in a small cabin with two bunk beds and your limited garments. Their world was not meant for you.

It never was.

“So, when’s the big day?”

As usual, the grand dining hall was abuzz with the chatter and clinking of expensive cutlery. The long table was set with exquisite silverware, and the servants moved about with practiced grace, ensuring every need was met with precision that defined the excellent service of the White Star Line crew. Yet, despite the utmost grandeur of the setting, Rafayel felt strangely detached.

He sat at the head of the table, surrounded by the elite passengers of the Titanic, staring blankly at the plate in front of him. Little did everyone know, his thoughts kept drifting back to the conversation he had had with you yesterday. The way you had looked at him with those searching eyes, the way you had quietly accepted the painful truth he had laid bare. The image of your hurt expression haunted him, so much so that he disregarded the polished and pretentious world that now surrounded him.

Arielle was there seated beside him, and was occupied in an animated conversation with a group of socialites. Her laughter was light, her gestures demure and sophisticated, but to Rafayel, it all seemed pretentious. He knew she was only trying to look happy on the surface, trying to keep up with the appearances. She often glanced his way, her eyes carrying annoyance whenever he didn’t respond to her attempts to include him in the conversation. It was clear she was treating him as nothing more than a decorative accessory to her social standing, rather than—as she called it—a future husband. The more he observed her, the more he felt like a mere piece of furniture, simply existing for her to use.

The disparity between this world and the brief moments of freedom he had experienced with you in the steerage was jarring. The laughter, the warmth, the raw honesty of those times were replaced by the superficial chatter and insincere pleasantries of the elite. The perfect lives they spoke of in high society wasn’t where he wanted his art to thrive. They were of no raw and unfiltered essence as the dreams you spoke of and the hardships you had endured. Your ability to find beauty in even the smallest things was where visions of empowerment bloom.

And in realizing that, he knew, all along, that you were the inspiration he had long been searching for.

“Darling?” Arielle’s hand rested lightly on his arm, a gesture meant to convey affection but to Rafayel felt like a shackle. She leaned in close, her voice a sultry whisper that he barely registered. “Rafayel, are you even listening? Everyone’s talking about our wedding. Aren’t you excited?”

“Of course, Arielle,” he said, forcing a smile before his gaze wandered to the window, where the sun was beginning to set over the horizon. He wondered where you were or how you were doing. Were you singing your heart out somewhere? Dancing with your friends down at the steerage? Drinking happily with fellow passengers who didn’t care about money or status or anything of the sort?

Truth be told, things began to strike him with a painful clarity. He knew long ago that the inspiration he had once sought was never meant to be found among the pomp and pretense of high society. But only now did he open his eyes to the times that had breathed life into his art, that had given him a glimpse of something real and meaningful. And they were moments with you.

But how could he have that inspiration now when the vibrant muse that had sparked his creativity was out of reach?

Rafayel’s gaze fell to his plate, the food before him growing cold and unappetizing. “Excuse me.”

Come Josephine… in my flying machine

Going up she goes, up she goes

The cold wind nipped at your cheeks as you stood at the bow of the ship, singing under your breath, and gazing out at the endless expanse of ocean stretching before you. The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of pink and gold, as if the universe itself was offering an evanescent moment of beauty in a world that often felt so cruel.

Balance yourself like a bird on a beam

In the air she goes, there she goes

You gripped the railing tightly, feeling the ship’s gentle sway beneath your feet, wondering how easily Rafayel would have captured the landscape forever in his canvas. You closed your eyes, letting the wind wash over you, trying to gather your thoughts, trying to push away the feeling of longing that had settled deep in your chest.

But then you heard it—the soft crunch of footsteps approaching from behind. You knew, even before turning, who it was. Your heart instantly tightened in your chest, holding your breath as you felt his presence come nearer. Slowly, you turned around, finding Rafayel standing there, his purple hair catching the light of the setting sun, his eyes apologetic and full of yearning.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled his words, taking a deep breath. “I lied to you.”

You felt a pang in your chest, both relief and hurt swelling inside you. “Why… are you saying this?” you asked softly, your eyes never leaving his. “Didn’t you regret everything?”

“No,” was his swift answer, shaking his head slowly and stepping closer. “No, I didn’t regret getting closer to you. Not for a second.” He then paused, only for his voice to break just a little. “But I was bound by obligations. Bound by things that I thought would help me and the people I care about. It’s all materialistic and I’m ashamed to admit it to you.”

You turned back toward the ocean, gripping the railing as the wind whipped through your hair. In that moment, truthfully, staring at the endless sea felt like you were flying. “Because I’m from third-class? Because I won’t understand your world?”

“No, it was never about that,” Rafayel replied urgently, stepping closer until he was beside you. Until he was holding you by the waist, both hands securing you from behind. “I’ve been living a life that was never mine. About to marry a woman I don’t love, painting for people I despise, pretending to fit into a place that feels like a prison. And then I met you.”

“Raf…” You could feel the changing rhythm of your heart as you turned to face him, searching his face, trying to understand. “She’ll give you a better life. You deserve to have a woman of the same class as you.”

“I don’t understand why we’re kept apart by such rigid lines. There’s so much more to life than these divisions,” he spoke in a troubled expression, his hand lifting to brush a strand of hair from your face. “The truth is, I can’t stop thinking about you. About how you made me feel alive again, how you gave me the inspiration I’d been longing to find.”

The sincerity in his voice made your heart melt, allowing your walls to break. “This sounds ridiculous, but I’ve missed you,” you admitted softly, your hand still under his, feeling the warmth of his touch despite the cold wind around you. “I wanted to forget you, but I couldn’t…”

“I don’t want you to forget me,” he whispered, leaning closer as a pained smile tugged at his lips. “I want to be the one you remember. I want… I want to be the reason you smile, the reason you feel alive.”

You felt a tear escape your eye, and he gently brushed it away with his thumb. “Rafayel, I—”

“I’m done pretending,” declared he, “I just want to be with you, for however long we have. I don’t care what it costs me.”

Was this real? Your heart felt like it was about to burst, and you were scared that this might just be a dream, an illusion that you would soon wake up from. But then he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your face. “May I?” he asked, his eyes flickering to your lips.

And you nodded, you allowed it. A soft gasp escaped your mouth as his lips captured yours in a deep, searching kiss. The world seemed to fade away as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer as you kissed him back with all the pent-up emotions you’d been holding onto for days. His lips were warm and soft, encasing yours in a passionate lock, while his tongue was sweet and tender, exploring your mouth in a loving, burning kiss.

For a moment, there was only the sensation of his lips on yours, the taste of the sea in the air, the feel of his heart beating against yours. The world, the ship, everything around you seemed to disappear, leaving just the two of you on the edge of the world.

“We’re going to get caught—!” There was an obvious hint of nervous laughter in your voice as both of you giggled while racing through the corridors of the first-class halls.

“Shh,” he hushed you with a grin, placing a finger to his lips. “We’re almost there.”

All the while, Rafayel held your hand tightly as he guided you toward his private room. The thrill of sneaking around, hidden from prying eyes, seemed to fill him with a rush of adrenaline. But you couldn’t blame him, for you certainly shared the same thrill. There was a certain excitement in having you there, in his world, in his arms, like you belonged to him.

And he was right about being near. Because just a few more steps down the corridor, he finally stopped in front of one of the larger doors and pulled you into a lavish suite that seemed like an entirely different dimension. And good lord, you could hardly believe your eyes. Even though you had heard countless descriptions of the luxury on this ship, seeing it with your own eyes felt undeniably surreal. Left and right, no matter where you looked, the room was adorned with rich furnishings, a plush king-sized bed piled high with soft pillows, and even a private fireplace to keep the cold at bay during the night. His private suite alone was the size of ten basic cabins in the steerage. You didn’t bother asking the cost of his boarding ticket, knowing full well that it was more than what you could ever afford in your lifetime.

To be able to throw so much money away for a mere couple nights on a ship, though, you couldn’t imagine yourself doing that.

“Wow,” you marveled nonetheless, spinning around in awe while Rafayel watched your delight with a warm smile, leaning in to kiss your temple. “Your room is enormous.”

“Can you stay right here for a second?” he asked, violet eyes meeting yours. “And close your eyes while you’re at it.”

“Okay…” Curious but trusting, you smiled and shut your eyes, wondering what he was up to or what he was planning. It wasn’t long until you heard the faint sounds of rustling, drawers being opened and closed, the click of a safe, and then his footsteps as he returned behind you. “Are you done?”

“There’s something I want to give you.” His raspy voice nearly tickled your ear. When you opened your eyes, you realized you were in front of a mirror, and you could see him from behind as he opened a velvet box and fished out a stunning, glistening heart-shaped blue diamond. Best believe your mouth was on the floor right at the next second. You were simply awestricken, and anyone who would look at it with a straight face was absurd. The jewel sparkled with an otherworldly brilliance, reflecting the tiny specks of light from the chandelier, yet maintaining its regal, deep blue color.

“The Heart of the Ocean,” you gasped, recognizing it instantly. It was a gem of legend, one you had only ever heard about in whispered tales when you were a little girl. “How… how did you get this?”

“The First Lady of France gave it to me,” he patiently explained while bearing a wistful smile. “It’s her token of gratitude for the time I spent painting her. Thomas insists it to be my gift—a dowry, actually—for Arielle.” He paused, his kaleidoscopic eyes staring at you through the mirror. “But now I realize it belongs to someone else entirely.”

Disbelief coursed through you. “Wait, I-I don’t understand. You can’t be serious…?”

“I am,” was his confirmation, stepping closer with a sincere gaze. With a delicate touch, he lifted the necklace and draped the cool, weighty chain around your neck. His fingers brushed softly against your skin as he fastened the clasp, then he leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of your neck. “You’re the one who deserves this and everything I have to give.”

You stared at the gem resting just above your heart, its blue depths shimmering like the ocean beyond the ship. It felt like a treasure meant for someone else, someone more deserving. For an ordinary girl, you felt undeserving of such a rare, exquisite gem. “It’s… stunning,” you breathed, your fingers grazing its cool surface. “But why give it to me?”

“Because you’re the one who holds my heart,” Rafayel whispered, his voice low and filled with emotion. “I want you to have it… to know that you’re more precious to me than any jewel.”

“Rafayel!” Your heart swelled, and you turned to face him, feeling a rush of emotions you couldn’t quite put into words. You could feel tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, wondering what you did in your past life to be blessed with such a man. “I don’t deserve this—I don’t deserve you.”

“You deserve everything and more, my sweet.” His words held all the sincerity and genuineness you had to hear. “I want to capture the way I see you right now. Will you let me paint you?”

Heat permeated your cheeks at his request, but you were willing. More than willing to be his muse. “I’d be honored,” you said, your voice steady despite the flutter of nerves in your chest. An intimate idea suddenly formed in your head. “But if I’m to wear something so special… I want to do it right. I want you to paint me like one of your French girls, Rafayel. Wearing only this.”

Being in the middle of the Atlantic exposed you to the cold, freezing temperatures.

Yet, how come Rafayel’s room felt quite… hot?

Perhaps it was the crackling fireplace offering the heated atmosphere. But you weren’t sure if it was really just that. Your heart pounded at an erratic pace, racing with every beat as you watched Rafayel arrange the couch in the middle. Meanwhile, you stood on the side, a thin robe on, as he padded the pillow before settling into his seat. It’s now or never, you thought as you released a breath you didn’t know you were holding. I shouldn’t be nervous around him.

“Monsieur,” you teased, taking in slow, measured steps in front of him. “Your muse is ready.”

The artist himself was blushing. His cheeks were limned with a deep rosy red, clearing his throat and trying to avoid looking at places he shouldn’t be. He gestured to the cushioned couch, his voice a bit shaky as he fought to keep his focus on the task at hand. “Uh, you can… you can sit there.”

You wondered whether this was considered you betraying your principles by willingly exposing yourself to him. Had you become a hypocrite, denying advances from wealthy men as an entertainer, but now willingly revealing yourself to someone of the same class? Not long ago, you were just running away from said first-class men, despising every inch of your skin that they desired to touch. So, why were you here? Why didn’t you feel the same way?

Firstly, Rafayel was different. He was respectful, kind, and everything the others were not. You could feel the sincerity in his gaze, the way he looked at you as though you were something precious. He saw you like you were the art, not his paintings, nor the landscapes. You. And so, you began to slowly undress, letting your robe fall to the floor, and immediately feeling the cool air hugging your bare skin. Rafayel’s gaze remained fixed on you, full of reverence and awe, as though he were witnessing something profoundly sacred.

When all that was left was the blue diamond nestled against your naked figure, you moved to the couch he had arranged and lay on your side on the cushions. Rafayel took a deep breath, as if steadying himself, and then moved to his easel with his brushes in hand. “Stay still, sweetheart. Move your left hand a little closer to your face.”

You did as told, shifting awkwardly on the couch to place yourself in the exact position he had envisioned for his art. Dear God, the tension was surely eating at you. You knew he could feel it, too. Especially when his eyes fell to the intimate places of your body—admiring, studying. Your best move was to clear your throat and break the ice. “Not so professional now, are we, Monsieur Rafayel?”

He was mixing his paint as you teased him, the corner of his lips being pulled into an upward slope. “I am very professional, just so you know.” You were glad to hear him returning the small banter. “Now, don’t be moving your mouth too much, sweetheart. Save it for later.”

“Hey!”

“Just kidding.”

The hours eventually passed in a delicate silence. You didn’t catch when exactly the awkwardness had begun to fade, but now, the only sound in this quiet room was the soft, rhythmic strokes of his brush against the canvas. You felt his eyes on you, studying every line and curve, every shadow and light, capturing not just your likeness but something deeper—something more human. It was as if he was painting not just your body but your soul, the very essence of who you were.

You remained still for him like a doll, and throughout it, all you could think about was this moment. Him. This encounter. Despite the initial horrors your job as entertainer presented, everything still led you to this—to Rafayel. To the man who saw you as the true art, not the colors he was blending in his canvas.

Were things too good to be true?

It took some time, probably a good hour or two when he finally pulled away from his canvas, his breath coming in soft, quiet exhales. You could see the emotion in his eyes as he gazed at the finished piece. “This is how I’ll always remember you,” Rafayel said, dreamy eyes staring right back at you. “As the one who wore my heart.”

Overwhelmed by the tenderness in his gaze, by the raw, unguarded love that radiated from his every word, you stood, crossing the room to him where he met you halfway and pulled you into his arms. You felt his heartbeat against yours, his breath warm against your ear.

“You are amazing,” you whispered against his shoulder, holding him tightly. “Thank you for seeing me.”

And for that moment, there was nothing else in the world but the two of you, entwined in each other’s embrace, lost in the profound connection that had brought you both together on the edge of this endless ocean. To forget about everything and everyone seemed to be the lingering thought in your heads, and it manifested in the way his hands trailed down your curves, pulling you closer to him. Your lips were inches away, a proximity so near that you could feel his minty breath fanning your face.

“Beautiful,” he spoke in a hushed voice, face mesmerized by the sight of you. “I want to kiss you.”

“Then, kiss me,” you replied, your fingers reaching up to his collar, gently pulling him down. Nothing stopped you when you pressed your lips to his in a passionate, fervent kiss. Nothing prevented you when your fingers began to work on the buttons of his shirt with slow and deliberate movements. The fabric of his shirt soon fell away, revealing the lean, muscular contours of his torso. You trailed kisses along his chest, savoring the feel of his warm skin beneath your lips. “I’m yours, Rafayel,” you breathed back into his mouth as the kiss deepened, catching your breath between each shared moment. “Touch me, feel me, do whatever you want with me. I want you just the same.”

“You drive me crazy,” he grunted under his breath, hands roaming over your body. His touch confirmed to you that the desire was mutual, driven by an urgent need to connect on a level beyond words. His hands moved with a gentle yet insistent hunger, caressing the curve of your waist, exploring the delicate arch of your back. And in your ardent lip-locking exchange, you could feel the slopes of your breasts being pressed against his chest. Rafayel then bit your lower lip, fully submitting to his carnal desires, before reaching down to give your bum a tight squeeze.

“R-Raf.”

“Tell me if you want to stop—”

“Don’t stop. Don’t.”

With your consent, he guided you to sit up on the couch, not knowing how his touch ignited an inextinguishable fire within you. While on his lap, you moved your body against his and traced your fingers along his collarbone, down to the ridges of his abdomen, feeling the heat of his body beneath your fingertips. He returned the favor by cupping your mounds, massaging the plump flesh as if he was desperate to feel how soft they were.

One thing led to another. And before you knew it, you were already crawling out of his lap, only to kneel on the carpeted floor in between his knees, undoing the buttons of his trousers. Your eyes widened as soon as you released his aching member from the confines of his undergarment, revealing a handsome size that was proportionate to his height.

“Don’t stare at it like that,” he whined, cheeks flushed red as he leaned back on the couch, wrapping a hand around his shaft. Who knew Rafayel can get quite shy, too?

You found it adorable, if anything. But the equal lust you shared in your gazes remained on each other, even as you joined his hands at doing the job. Up and down did you stroke his length, watching him hold back a moan, only to crumble as soon as you decided to replace your hand with your mouth. It’s warm, you heard him say. It feels good, sweetheart. His cute little groans were in fact a pleasure for you to hear, encouraging you to do better at bobbing your head and sucking his entire length. You didn’t care about the string of saliva that appeared when you released his member with a pop, now using your tongue and dragging it from the base to the tip, where it swirled itself around until his cock began to twitch.

“How’d you learn these things?” Rafayel’s quiet groan was more so a jealous complaint. But he couldn’t take it anymore, he had to have you. He had to have a taste of you, too.

So to your surprise, he suddenly carried you in his arms, moving in a rush as you shifted from the couch to the bed. His movements were clearly driven by a primal need to leave his mark on you, to feel each other in the most intimate way. Because you didn’t expect him to lay you gently on his bed, climbing on top of you like a hungry shark who was ready to devour a small fish.

He started with your neck of course, feathering soft, tender kisses around the skin before moving to your breasts, alternating between squeezing and sucking the flesh, nipping and biting at your nipple. It didn’t surprise you to see him hungrily trapping your breast in a tight suction, revealing a red mark that would later be the same color as his hair.

“R-Rafayel.” By now, you were arching your back, legs spread open as he began to descend further and further until he met the perfect spot. Him staring at your womanhood almost made you wish to close the distance between your thighs, but he didn’t allow it. In fact, he was quick to dive head-on into your sopping cunt, lapping the entrance with his tongue—teasing and exploring your walls, your insides, until you were screaming his name. “R-Raf—! Mhm…!”

“You taste so sweet,” he spoke under his breath, encircling his thumb on your sensitive bud before looking back at your slit, slightly spreading them apart to look at the exact hole he was about to enter. And he did. He didn’t hesitate one bit at positioning his fully erect manhood on your entrance, its tip soaked by the wetness of your core before he eventually slid himself right in. A series of curses were released by him, while as for you, the dulcet melody of your moans were just what he needed to hear. “Damn it, Y/N… You feel really good.”

“Ngh—! Y-You—aaah!” You could feel your body being dragged back and forth, your hips being jostled as he continued to sink himself into you. His pace started slow and sensual at first, relishing the way your bodies intertwined, moving together with a fluid grace. At the same time, his kisses were soft and sweet, exploring every inch of your collarbone, while your own nails clawed at his back in the same passion. You felt it—him, the tip of his member hitting your sensitive spot and sending you into a euphoric trance. Every time his cock kissed your cervix, you were a moaning mess, your legs shaking violently at the electrifying pleasure spreading all over your body. He was inside you, all of him. “Haaah!”

The act itself was a beautiful, raw expression of the desire that had been building between you. You moved together with a synchrony that transcended mere physicality knowing that it wasn’t just an act of sex, but an exchange of love.

As you reached the peak of your intimacy, the world outside ceased to exist. There was only the two of you, lost in a moment of pure, unadulterated passion. And when the waves of pleasure finally subsided, you lay together, wrapped in each other’s arms. The residues of Rafayel’s love for you remained in between your thighs, a visual proof of the passion he harbored for you.

Rafayel’s breath was heavy, but his body relaxed against yours. He held you close, his touch gentle now, with the intensity of the earlier moments shifting to tender intimacy. “Once the ship docks in New York,” he said in a soft whisper. “Come with me. I want to leave everything behind and start new with you. Let’s both figure it out, together.”

You nestled closer to him, feeling the warmth of his body and the steady beat of his heart against yours. At that moment, it was as if everything had fallen into place. “Together.”

On the night of April 14th, everything on the ship took a daunting turn.

Literally. But before you could get to that part, you were strolling the first-class decks at the time, hand-in-hand with Rafayel, as he escorted you to the exit.

“Must you really go back down there?” he asked softly, embracing you in his toned, protective arms. “Can’t you stay here with me? Just for a little while longer?”

You looked up at him, your heart aching at the thought of leaving him for a while. But you knew you had to honor the constraints of your position because the risk of discovery was too great to ignore. Especially for his part. “I wish I could stay,” you replied, pulling away to squeeze his hand. “But I can’t. I need to go back to steerage for now, and then we’ll find a way to meet again.”

“I’ll come to you, every day.” Rafayel acted like a stubborn kid as a frown played across his features. Yet, he still leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that lingered a little over a minute.

What interrupted your romantic moment was the sudden sound of shouting and panicked voices that erupted from the bow of the ship. The noise was chaotic, and it immediately turned into a cacophony of warnings and vigilance as the watchmen, officers, and quartermasters ran about, speaking jargons you could barely interpret. You both pulled apart, the intensity of the moment breaking as the shouts grew louder, more frantic. Something was dangerously off.

“What’s going on?” you asked, your voice laced with worry.

Rafayel, his expression now a mask of alarm, could only hold you closer. “I don’t know, but we need to find out.”

You didn’t need to be told. The shudder of the ship, the deafening screech against the starboard side, and the massive iceberg passing slowly by were all the signs you needed to understand the gravity of the situation.

The Titanic struck an iceberg.

“Aaah!”

“Watch out!”

“Rafayel.” You turned to your lover, the fear in your eyes mirrored by the shock and disbelief in his face. “I’m scared.”

“It’s okay.” He pulled you gently but urgently, soothing your worries by rubbing your back in comfort. “I don’t think it’s serious. I’m sure this ship’s made to withstand that much impact—”

“You saw it with your own eyes, Raf!” It was the irrational fear consuming you, leading you to overthink everything as you saw how the crew members and officers alike were running in every direction, their faces pale with fear. “The iceberg… We’re not safe. You know we aren’t.”

As you both stepped into the corridor, the commotion was unmistakable. And he himself knew he could not play the situation as something trivial. Because otherwise, the ship’s own crewmen wouldn’t have been as alarmed. It didn’t help that Rafayel also caught Mr. Andrews, the very man who designed the ship, clutching rolls of blueprints as he hurried to meet the captain.

“Mr. Andrews.” Rafayel stopped him before he could walk any further. “How serious is it? We saw the iceberg.”

The respectable man looked between you two, his eyes clouded with an apologetic haze. Though, staying calm appeared natural to him, only giving Rafayel a gentle pat on the shoulder and urging him to make his way to safety. “Make sure to wear your life jackets and secure yourselves a spot on the lifeboats available. And also,” he paused, swallowing hard. “Try not to cause panic to other passengers for now. All rationality is lost the moment fear strikes.”

While you and Rafayel hoped to hear a more reassuring answer, of words saying that the issue at hand wasn’t anything to be alarmed about, Mr. Andrews’ words were clear.

The ship was about to sink.

It was your decision to inform only the closest people you knew about the unsightly situation. But it was Rafayel who requested if you could both let Thomas know first, seeing as he simply couldn’t abandon his longtime friend. Despite their disagreements, he had been there for him in his artistic journey, and never not once gave up on supporting Rafayel’s dreams. He was family to him, one way or another, and that was why Rafayel insisted he had to know.

So, you did. Rafayel and you, hearts racing and hands intertwined, made your way back to his first-class suite, both determined to find Thomas and inform him of the dire situation. In your short walk, the stewards were already scrambling about, opening doors, shouting and instructing everyone to put on their life jackets.

“Everyone, please put your lifebelts on and come up to the deck!”

“Can you tell me what’s going on, please? I felt the ship shudder.”

“Madam, there is no cause for alarm. This is just a precaution. Now put your lifebelts on, please.”

Meanwhile, as you reached the door to Rafayel’s suite, you were met with an unexpected and unsettling audience. The Master at Arms, his security personnel, and Thomas stood in the hallway, their faces grim and serious. But it was Arielle who stood out, with the reason being…

“You!” Arielle’s voice immediately cut through the hubbub like a blade as she stormed up to you, her vibrant blue eyes electrifying you with her anger. Without a moment’s hesitation, she grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked you toward her. The stretch on your scalp was sharp, but the shock of her attack was what shook you to the core. “You wretched little thief!” she spat, her voice dripping with venom as she threw you onto the floor, kicking you, smacking you, and pulling your hair. “You lowly whore! Trying to seduce my fiancé and worm your way into his life!”

You winced, trying to free yourself from her grasp. “I-It hurts!”

“Arielle, stop! Stop hurting her!” Rafayel’s voice was fierce and desperate as he lunged to intervene, trying to wrench Arielle’s hand away from you, but to no avail. She was unstoppable. And his efforts were futile against her relentless aggression. “Enough! Let her go!”

“You slept with this whore?!” Arielle’s face twisted with rage as she sent a crisp slap to his face. The hurt. The betrayal. You could understand why she felt that way and you wanted to apologize, to beg on her knees not to pour her anger out on Rafayel, but she already turned to the officers and Thomas, her voice rising in a commanding tone. “Gentlemen, this woman has been sneaking into the first-class areas illegally! She’s been trying to lure in first-class men, including my fiancé. She should be sent down to steerage and locked up immediately. She’s a threat to the order of this ship!”

The officers, unsure of what to do, looked to Rafayel for guidance. He was just pulling you to him, protecting you in his arms, as he shot his fiancé a glare. “Arielle, enough, will you?! We have more pressing issues right now and we need to focus on that—”

“If you won’t do it, then I will cause a scene on this ship!” Arielle’s eyes narrowed as she watched him hold you close. “I’ll make a huge scandal out of this!”

The officers, now caught between their duty and Arielle’s demands, began to move toward you with a forceful stance. They were already firm with the decision to take you away, in spite of your resistance, as you looked at Rafayel for any sort of help.

“Come with us, miss!”

“N-No… Rafayel,” you pleaded, your voice trembling. “Help me. Please.”

“Don’t touch her!” Rafayel’s fiery gaze didn’t intimidate the officers, even as he tried to retrieve you back from their grasps. But Thomas had intervened, pulling his friend back, and ensuring he wouldn’t meddle any further. “Thomas, let me go—they’re taking Y/N away! She did nothing wrong! It was all me!”

The Master at Arms stepped in between, glancing at an enraged Arielle and a pitiful you. What did you expect? The rich were always favored, and the poor oppressed. You would never win against her in a tug of war. “We’ll send her back to where she belongs, Madam. You can rest easy now.”

“Nooo!”

The last thing you saw before being forced out of sight was Rafayel’s anguished face, pain and sorrow clinging into every line of his expression as he heard your screams, saw your tears, and felt your fear at being taken harshly away.

You knew, right at that moment, that this was only the beginning of an impending maritime disaster.

The cold, metal bars of the brig felt like a cage around your body and soul, confining you to the sterile environment below decks and reminding you exactly of just where you belonged—at the bottom. In your confinement, your breath came in shallow gasps as you heard the muffled commotion of the crew members outside, the frantic shouts, and the loud creaking of the ship. They had locked you in here, unjustly accused and abandoned, and now, trapped.

Your eyes darted toward the small porthole above, the glass fogging up with your breath. You could see the deep blue water sloshing against it, confirming your worst fears that the majestic Titanic was indeed sinking before your eyes.

“Help! Help me!” It would only be a matter of time until you’d drown in this confined space, and there was nothing you could do to stop it. There was no knight in shining armor like Rafayel ready to save you. Even if you screamed for help, your voice raw and desperate, there was still no response except the relentless sound of rushing water.

And speaking of, the icy water began to seep under the door, slowly flooding the room you were kept in like a prisoner. You could feel the coldness against your feet, then your legs, creeping higher with every passing minute. Or two. Or three.

“Damn it, it’s so cold!” The fear clawed at you, and your heart pounded in your chest as you continued to scream, your voice hoarse and breaking in the process. You cried and let your screaming voice echo through the confined space. But the water continued to rise, and still, no one came. “Help! Please… someone… anyone!”

In a couple minutes more, your body began to tremble, and a fusion of cold and fear overtook you as the water reached almost past your thighs. The panic only set in deeper, and your breathing became staggered as you struggled with an attack of anxiety. Anyone in your state would have passed out by now, surely. But you tried not to give up as you pounded on the door, hoping that someone would hear you. Or that God himself have mercy on you.

“...Please!” Yet, nothing changed. No other presence outside your door came to your aid. Your shoulders slumped at the thought, and you leaned back against the cold metal wall, the water now up to your chest. All you could do at that moment was close your eyes, a tear slipping down your cheek as you slowly accepted the inevitable. You were going to die here, alone in the dark, in a place that no one would ever find. “Please… help me.”

You took one last, shaky breath, feeling the coldness envelop your entire being. And while you had already given up on life, you thought about your mother and sister back home who were probably unaware of the tragedy that struck the ship you boarded. You wondered when they would hear news about the sinking of the ship. Perhaps in the morning? Perhaps another day more? You were haunted by the despair in their faces, the grief of losing a daughter and a sister, just when they thought that you would make it across the continent safe and sound.

A thought of Rafayel also crossed your mind—a bittersweet memory of his touch, his kiss, and the way he looked at you. A man who was merely a stranger to you before you boarded this ship, but now became the lover you would keep in your heart as the promise of forever finally came to an end. You hoped that, even if he had already abandoned you, he would be sent somewhere warm and safe, away from the glacial waters of the Atlantic where you would soon sink into as another dead body in the deep seabed.

Up on the first-class decks, the passengers were scrambling toward the lifeboats, their voices adding into the pandemonium as things were becoming clearer that the Titanic was about to be submerged. The officers barked orders, and women and children were ushered toward the boats, the urgency growing as they prevented the men—no matter the social class—from getting into the lifeboats.

Rafayel stood among the crowd, his eyes distant and unfocused, as if he were miles away. He didn’t even notice Arielle dragging his arm with a tight grip, her voice shrill with frustration as she argued with an officer. “Why can’t he come on the boat with me? He’s my fiancé!” she insisted, her face flushed with anger. “This is unacceptable! We are first-class passengers!”

“Women and children only, ma’am!” the officer replied firmly, already turning to help another passenger, ignoring her selfish, hubristic demands.

But the thing was, Rafayel hardly heard her nagging. His mind was elsewhere—back in the brig, where he knew you were locked up, alone and scared for your life. He could hear Thomas’s voice in his ear, the warning, the plea not to pursue you, to stay with his people, to secure his own safety. Selfish, all of them. It was all Rafayel ever thought about as he spaced out.

Thomas, sensing his hesitation, leaned closer and whispered urgently, “Rafayel, don’t be foolish. We can arrange a seat for you on the next lifeboat. Think about your future, your life! Your aunt Talia is waiting for you!”

Rafayel’s heartbeat slowed as he glanced at Thomas, then at Arielle, who still gripped his arm tightly. His eyes moved over the frightened faces of the people around him—the elites he had grown to resent, their fear and desperation laid bare, yet their arrogance and selfishness still overpowering even in the middle of a crisis.

“Are we going to be seated according to class?”

“I don’t want to sit with those stinky steerage people!”

He saw his own reflection in their panic-stricken eyes, and in that moment, he knew. He knew he couldn’t leave you to drown alone in the cold darkness. The thought of you trapped below, your face filled with fear, haunted him like a ghost who was seeking for justice. You didn’t deserve to be there.

You, the one person who had shown him what it meant to truly live, was more important to him than anything else in this cruel world.

Thus, without another word, he pulled free from Arielle’s grasp as soon as the officers were guiding her into the lifeboat. It was the right timing, and Rafayel calculated that perfectly in his head, knowing that Arielle would be stopped if she even dared to get off the boat and endangered the passengers and officers who were already secured in it.

“Rafayel!” Arielle shouted, her voice rising in disbelief as she tried to snatch his arm. “What are you doing?!”

“Madam, stay put!”

“Get your hands off me—Rafayel, come back! You bastard!”

He didn’t answer. He simply didn’t give a damn about her anymore. And he only turned, his legs moving with purpose, his heart pounding in his chest as he pushed through the crowd, ignoring the protests of those around him. He could hear Thomas calling after him, Arielle bursting into frustrated tears at seeing him escape, but their voices soon faded amidst the furor.

His mind was made up. Right at the beginning. He was going to find you, no matter what it took, no matter what happened to him. Rafayel knew he was running against time here, against the very odds of survival, but he didn’t care. No. His feet pounded against the deck, his breath coming in harsh bursts, as he made his way toward the lower decks.

He was coming for you. And nothing, not the cold, the water, nor the imminent doom of the Titanic, would stop him now.

The water was up to your waist now, freezing and relentless, biting into your skin with a cruel ferocity that made your entire body tremble. Your teeth chattered uncontrollably as you banged your fists against the locked door, your hands now raw and bruised because of it. Every breath felt like a knife in your lungs, and every exhale was a desperate sob. Pathetic. You felt weak, hopeless, with the cold sapping every bit of strength you had left. You were shaking, shivering, down to a point where you became numb.

I can’t think straight…

The water climbed higher, reaching your lower abdomen, then your stomach, and you felt the sorrow settle in. It was about time you gave up. Resting your forehead against the cold metal, closing your eyes, you let the tears slip down your cheeks being the only warm thing you could feel on your face.

This is how I’ll die….

No, not yet. Because suddenly, there was a loud crash—the sound of wood splintering and metal bending. You blinked, too disoriented to understand what was happening beyond the door that was forced open. A rush of water followed, and there he was.

There he goddamn was. Rafayel, soaked and breathless, his face clouded with fret and remorse.

“R… Rafayel?” you exhaled his name, eyes wide open, wondering if you had already died and this was nothing more than a hallucination.

But he brought you back to reality as he surged forward, pulling you into a desperate, breathless kiss, with lips that were cold but full of life, of urgency, of love. “I’m so sorry," he whispered against your lips, the apology written on his face was more than any words could describe. “I love you… I couldn’t leave you. I couldn’t.”

Tears pooled your eyes the same way the gelid waters filled the room, and you cupped his face, feeling the warmth of his skin against your cold fingers. “Y-You c-came back,” you whispered, your voice breaking with emotion as you spoke through gritted teeth. “I thought you—”

“I did. I’m here now. I’m sorry, Y/N. I love you, I’m so sorry.” He pressed his forehead against yours, his hands trembling as he embraced your body. “We need to go,” he said urgently, pulling you with him. You didn’t exactly have the leisure of time to have an emotional exchange right now. “Come on. Can you swim?”

“I can… a little.”

With that, you waded through the freezing water together, your legs numb and heavy as you fought against the strong currents. The corridors were eerily quiet, flooded with icy water that was quickly rising like it was filling up a tank. Had you been alone, without a man holding you in his arms, you would have been swept away by the harsh waves. Your body alone was already shaking from both the cold and the adrenaline coursing through your veins, but Rafayel held you tightly, guiding you through the flooded passages as he focused on looking for the way out. Honestly, you admired him. He was doing so much better at handling a situation like this than you, and that came from someone with a social standing like his. It was as though he had always navigated hardships, so used to dealing with different crises.

“Raf, I-I’m s-so cold!”

“I know. I’ll get us out of here, okay?”

Finally, you reached a ladder, and you forced yourself to keep moving, pushing your exhausted legs up the staircase despite the weight of your drenched clothes pulling you down. By the third-class gates, you were already panting, sore everywhere, when you saw a clatter between the crowd of people being held back by stewards.

You spotted Eliza, her face pale and tear-streaked. It was the first time you had seen her again since this morning, and this horrific way of reuniting with her wasn’t anything you saw coming. “They won’t let us up.” She burst into a sob. “They said we can’t pass through, not until the first-class people have filled the boats!”

Her words made Rafayel’s eyes flash with anger towards the stewards guarding the gates. “This is absurd! You can’t keep them like animals. They have the right to live!” He turned to the other men with a commanding presence. “Gentlemen, come on! Help me break down this gate!”

The men nodded, understanding that a first-class man like him genuinely wanted to help, and together they grabbed a wooden bench nearby and slammed it against the metal gate. Once, twice, and finally, with a loud crack, the gate burst open. Despite the protests of the stewards, the crowd surged forward, feeling nothing but relief as they flooded through the open passage where the freezing waters had yet to reach.

“Go!” Rafayel urged, pulling you along as you ran through the hallways together. You pushed through the panicked crowd, dodging falling debris and slippery floors, until you finally reached the deck. He picked up one of the discarded life jackets on the floor and quickly wrapped it around your frail body, the click of the straps securing you underneath. Before you could even process everything that was happening, you could already feel his lips being pressed on your forehead. “You’re okay. I’m here.”

“Rafayel.” You looked up at him, hands clutching into his shirt with your tearful, shiny eyes. “How are we going to make it?”

The night air alone was frigid, and the deck was too crowded with people. Somehow, in the middle of all the ensuing chaos, a group of men—the ship’s orchestra—were playing a symphony of melodies in the background. They held their instruments with complete disregard to the horrors of their surroundings, and your heart broke at the sight. Until the very end, they stuck to their duty of maintaining calm and peace for the passengers. Of playing music, performing for the sake of others.

Good luck to each of you, sirs.

Rafayel turned to you, tugging your hand. “You need to get on one of those boats,” was his firm insistence. “It’s your best chance.”

You scanned through the havoc, looking for a vacant lifeboat, but the crew was shouting ‘women and children only’. That was enough for you to immediately shake your head in response. “No, I’m not leaving you.”

“You have to,” he urged, his voice breaking. “I’ll be fine, I promise. Just go.”

“But—”

“Y/N, you need to listen to me, okay?” He was already pulling you towards one of the lifeboats, pushing through the crowd, to make way for you. “You need to get on that lifeboat. I’ll be okay. I… I have an arrangement with one of the other boats there. Really. I’ll come find you as soon as they rescue us.”

“No, I—”

“Officer, I have a lady here!” Rafayel announced, his hand carefully guiding you upward. At this hour, the ship was already tilted at an angle of around 5 to 10 degrees while into the evacuation process, so they still had the time and space to get more women into the boat. And as soon as the officer saw you, you were quickly pulled up, but your hands refused to let go of Rafayel’s. “It’s going to be okay, Y/N. I’ll meet you later.”

“Come on, ma’am. Get in the boat!”

As the pressuring eyes pierced through you, you reluctantly nodded and let go of his hand, swallowing back the tears as you climbed onto the lifeboat. But as you sat there, the arctic wind whipping against your face, you looked at the crying women and children around you. Their faces were draped by the anguish of seeing the men they were leaving behind—fathers, husbands, lovers, and sons. You looked back at Rafayel standing on the deck next to those men. And among them, his eyes were filled with love, of relief knowing that you were safe now like it was his only goal. You suddenly remembered the words you had told him not long ago, about figuring this life together.

You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t leave him.

With a burst of adrenaline, you leaped off the lifeboat and back onto the deck, nearly losing your footing and the railing hitting your stomach as you landed, but you didn’t mind it. You had to reunite with him.

“No!” You could hear Rafayel shouting while you ran toward him. “Goddamn… Y/N! Are you crazy?!”

You ran and ran, pushing past the people, carrying your heavy feet across the slippery floors until you finally met with Rafayel by the upper decks, panting heavily and feeling your legs wobble from the strenuous effort. “I can’t—I’m staying with you!”

Rafayel’s eyes were lachrymose as he saw you, catching you in his arms, holding you tight as lips passionately crashed into yours. “You’re so stupid, Y/N,” he murmured against your lips, though his voice was filled with such raw emotion. “Why did you do that?! You’re so stupid.”

“Maybe, I am,” you whispered back, hot tears falling from your eyes like waterfall. “But I’m not leaving you.”

You shared another kiss. A deeper kiss this time around, as you felt each other’s lips embracing the remaining warmth it could offer. It was at that time where you realized that you had never felt any kind of love that was nearly as pure as that.

And across the water, on another lifeboat that was already rowing away from the titled ship, Arielle watched the two of you with tears gushing down her face. Her maid tried to rub her back, seeing that your romantic interaction with her then-fiancé was a sight for sore eyes. Though the frustration igniting in Arielle’s veins was hidden under her curtain of clothes, her hands were trembling as she clung to the edge of the boat. She was cursing the two of you under her breath, and could feel her heart breaking apart as the distance between her and Rafayel grew wider, especially as the realization sank in that he would never be hers. Not now, not ever.

But you didn’t see her. She was completely out of the picture between the two lovers on the upper decks.

Because you only saw Rafayel, and he only saw you.

Contrary to the quiet of the sea, the screams around you were deafening.

The ship had tilted sharply by now, the deck at a steep angle, and every step urged you to fight against gravity. It was heavy, it definitely was. But you fought through it knowing that Rafayel’s hand was tightly intertwined with yours, his eyes scanning the rapidly flooding deck for any sign of a lifeboat, any hope of escape.

But there was none.

The lifeboats were all gone, already drifting far away into the dark waters of the Atlantic, leaving behind only the desperate and the doomed. A distress flare shot up into the sky, bursting into a bright, fleeting light before fading back into the cold, endless night. It illuminated the panic-stricken faces around you for a moment, then disappeared, swallowed by the darkness.

You could hear the officers yelling for the boats to come back, demanding that they weren’t even half-filled. You could hear passengers shrieking as some of them slipped through the tilted floors, their bodies hitting the obstructions with a loud bang. Prayers were sent out by the priest who was holding onto a railing, with the other believers clutching his hand as the ship continued its incline. Others had already given up on staying on the ship, jumping instead to the crisp waters of the ocean thinking that their life jackets would be enough to keep them alive and afloat for another hour.

Rafayel looked at you with a determined face, unfazed by the growing number of lost souls around him. “We need to get to the stern,” he urgently told you. “It’s our only choice.”

You nodded, your heart thumping loud and fast, and together you began to climb, pushing with your all might against the sharp incline of the deck. Water rushed in from all sides, pouring over the railings, swallowing everything in its path. But you wrestled against the pull, your muscles burning as you climbed upwards, gripping onto anything you could find—the rails, the sides of doors, anything to keep yourself from sliding back into the icy depths below.

“I’m falling—!”

“I got you.” Rafayel was right beside you, pulling you up when your strength faltered, guiding you through the path.

The ship groaned beneath you, the metal screaming in protest as it began to break apart, the sound like a giant beast roaring into the night. It was scary. God, it was the most frightening sound you had ever heard. But you kept moving, kept climbing, until finally, you reached the stern, the very back of the ship that rose high into the air above the freezing water.

“Quick. Cimb over!” Rafayel urged, helping you over the railing. “Hold on tight. No matter what happens, do not let go.”

You did as he said, your fingers gripping the cold, wet metal of the railing. It was getting more and more difficult for you to think straight, to think rational, as the temperature of your body dropped low. The stern was now almost vertical, towering above the rest of the ship that was disappearing into the dark, unforgiving sea, but Rafayel’s voice kept you steady and awake. He climbed over beside you, his face close to yours and the fog of his breath visible in the cold air.

“Th-This is where w-we first met,” you reminded him, your voice trembling from the subzero temperatures. “Right h-here… on the stern.”

He displayed a small forlorn smile. “And it’s the best thing that ever happened to me,” he replied softly, his voice carrying over the wind as he briefly pressed his lips onto yours. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Y/N. I couldn’t exchange this memory for the world.”

You felt tears sting your eyes, your chest tightening because of this heavily poignant scene. The ship shuddered violently, and you gripped the railing even tighter as Rafayel reached out, cupping your face with one hand, his thumb brushing away a tear that slipped down your cheek.

“I never thought I’d find someone like you,” he continued, mellow eyes staring straight into your soul, “You’ve shown me what it means to truly live, to feel, to love. I saw the most beautiful art in you.”

“I love you.” You swallowed hard, feeling the lump in your throat. You couldn’t even hear your voice anymore as the words trembled on your lips. “I love you so much.”

He leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead in return. “I love you, too. More than I ever thought possible. And I promise… after this night, you’ll be sleeping in a warm, comfortable bed. In my arms. Under a blanket. It doesn’t matter how, Y/N. As long as you’re safe. I won’t let go.”

“Raf—”

The ship groaned again, louder this time, and you felt it begin to shift beneath you, the stern rising even higher into the air. “Hold on tight!” Rafayel shouted over the roar, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you close to him. “Just hold on!”

“Aaah!”

“Haaaaah!”

The ship tilted further, and you clung to the railing with everything you had, your body pressed against his, locked between him and the metal railings. It was ironic, truly, how the cold Atlantic wind whipped around you, while the stars above flickered like distant, indifferent eyes as if the universe was seeing all of it unfold. The clear skies could only watch the disaster like a silent audience. While deep below, the ocean was a dark, churning mass, ready to swallow everything whole.

“I’ll never let go.” You held your breath and leaned your face close to your lover’s chest. “No matter what.”

“Together,” he promised. “Until the very end.”

And as the ship continued its descent into the icy abyss, you held on, holding each other close, refusing to let go. The ship was slowly dragging you and Rafayel down with it, and you could feel the brisk waters rush up around you, like a torrent of cold that bit into your skin and stole the breath from your lungs.

“Hold your breath in as long as you can!” Rafayel shouted, his voice muffled against the growling ocean. You tightened your grasp onto the railing, your hands numb and slipping, as the ship sank deeper and deeper into oblivion.

And then, with a sudden, violent pull, the ship disappeared beneath the surface, and you were plunged into the bone-chilling depths of the North Atlantic. You expected the cold to be immediate and shocking, like a thousand needles penetrating your skin and making you numb. Yet, in spite of the lack of sensation, you kicked and fought against the water, your lungs burning as you struggled to find the surface.

Need… to stay… alive, you thought. For him.

As soon as your head broke through the icy water, you gasped and choked on the cold air like a fish on the surface. Around you was a sight of horror—people flailing, gasping, some disappearing beneath the waves. Screams and cries filled the void, with their despair being the last horrifying things you had heard. You spun around, desperately searching for Rafayel, hoping that he was somewhere near. Safe. Alive.

Then you saw him—his pallid pale bobbing up and down among the waves, his eyes looking for yours among the throng of flailing passengers. Without second thought, you swam desperately toward him and longed to be embraced by his arms again. “R-Rafayel!”

“Y/N! A-Are you okay?” he asked, kissing your face over a million times that night.

You two waded through the agonizing pressures of the polar water, and you tugged at his hand, suggesting you couldn’t move any more than you have. The exhaustion, the lack of oxygen, the subzero temperatures were beginning to overcome you. You were freezing to death. “I can’t… a-anymore!”

“No, Y/N. You can do it. Come on, over there!” Rafayel shouted, pointing to a floating piece of debris—a wooden door bobbing nearby. He reached for your hand, guiding you toward it through the frigid water. “Climb up!”

With a tremendous effort, you managed to haul yourself onto the door even though your body was shaking uncontrollably from the cold. You reached out to Rafayel, pulling him toward the edge, but as he tried to climb up, the door tipped dangerously, threatening to submerge again. That was how he landed on a decision to leave it be.

“It’s okay,” Rafayel murmured, his voice weak but accepting. “You stay. Stay up there.”

He remained floating beside you, ensuring no one would try and push you off the door, while his lips turned blue and his face became pale. You could hardly even recognize the color of his eyes, nor his hair, nor his once rosy cheeks.

“Rafayel, p-please,” you begged in a raspy voice, desperately trying to pull your weak body up until he stopped you. “W-We’ll find another way.”

He shook his head, his eyes soft as he looked at you. His gaze was the only warm thing he could offer against the cold. “This… this is enough. Just stay there… please.”

Tears began to blur your vision, but they froze on your cheeks before they could even warm them. Still, you held his hand tightly, your fingers gripping his as if you could tether him to life itself. “All y-you did… since the d-day we met… was s-save my life.”

“A-And I’ll s-save you again,” he struggled to speak as his body shook from the cold, his jaws clacking with every shiver. “I’ll save you again a m-milion times, okay? Y-You will live, Y/N. This isn’t where y-you’re supposed to b-be.”

Holding his hand, you pressed a kiss on top of it. “I love you.”

“I love you.”

The watch on your left wrist said it was already past 2:00 am, yet time passed by in an excruciating crawl.

By this time, screams around you had long faded, replaced by the chilling silence of the dead and dying. You didn’t think there was anything more terrifying than the Titanic sinking, but this deadly silence was all and everything that would traumatize you for years to come.

Your fingers were already benumbed, the cold penetrating deep into your bones, but you didn’t let go of Rafayel’s hand as you held onto him and prayed for a miracle. While staring into the clear, starry skies, you imagined how your life would become after this night. Perhaps, once the boats come back to rescue you both, you could truly start fresh with him.

You could imagine Rafayel pursuing his passion for art by starting off as a small artist. You could imagine his paintings being celebrated again, and how you’d be by his side during his exhibits, proud of how far he had come without the help of anyone but himself.

You could imagine your own bit of success too, having the chance to perform at Broadway, even as a mere extra, and being able to bring your mother and sister with you to live in the beautiful New York City.

You could imagine all the beautiful kids you’d raise with Rafayel. Those mini carbon copies of his running around the house, playing around as carefree as their father.

“Rafayel?” you whispered after a long silence, turning to him and shaking his hand lightly. “Where do we go after this?”

But his eyes were closed now, his face unnaturally still, his body half-submerged in the freezing water. His skin had turned a pallid blue, his lips white and cracked. No… You shook him harder, panic rising in your chest as his face was as solid as a block of ice. “Rafayel!” you called out, your voice trembling at the suggestion of his current state. “Wake up! Please… wake up!”

Silence. Nothing but heartbreaking silence. The lack of response made you sob, but you still managed to pull his hand closer to your chest, feeling your heart being torn asunder as you looked at him. “No, no, no… please, no…” You clutched him desperately, feeling the weight of his cold, unmoving body against the wood. “Rafayel, please. Please. Open your eyes. P-Please… You said you’d n-never let go.”

Along with your quiet tears, the ocean around you had become lull as if a deathly silence fell over the waters. The shrieks and cries were no more, replaced by the soft lapping of the waves and the distant creaking of the lifeboats.

And the Titanic, once called the unsinkable ship, was nothing more than a myth.

If not for the faint voice carried over the water, you would have passed out. But someone was calling out, a beam of light flashing your way, forcing you to stay awake. You turned your head, blinking away tears, and saw a lifeboat finally coming back. After what seemed like eons, the crew shone their lights around, searching for survivors, hoping to save anyone at all.

But for the most part, they were too late.

“Over here!” you screamed, waving your hand frantically as your voice wasn’t loud enough for anyone to hear. “Please, help us!”

The beam of light turned toward you, and you heard the oars slicing through the water as the lifeboat approached. Relief may have flooded through you, but then you looked back at Rafayel, his face still and peaceful, like he was sleeping.

“Miss, let him go,” one of the men in the lifeboat carefully said, reaching out to you. “He’s gone… you have to let go.”

“No!” you protested, holding onto Rafayel’s hand tighter, eyes filling up with tears again. “I can’t. I can’t let him go.”

“Please, miss,” the man urged, his voice softening into a pained tone. “You have to let go… or you’ll go down with him.”

Your chest tightened with agony, every fiber of your being screaming to hold on. To never let go. You promised him. You made a vow to him that you would figure everything out together. But as you looked at Rafayel’s face, so serene in death, you knew he was already gone. He had left long before you could say goodbye.

Tears streamed down your face as you leaned down, pressing a final kiss to his cold, unresponsive lips. “I love you,” you whispered, voice breaking into a sob. “I’ll never forget about you.”

With trembling hands, you released your grip on his hand, watching as his body slowly slipped beneath the icy water, sinking into the heart of the ocean. Your heart shattered as you watched him disappear, Rafayel, the love of your life slipping away forever.

Strong hands soon pulled you up into the lifeboat, and you collapsed, your body numb and cold, but nothing compared to the emptiness in your chest. It was as though someone carved a massive hole in your chest, excavating your heart out, only to leave a hollow space. The men wrapped a blanket around you, their voices were barely registered in your mind as they asked if you were okay.

But you weren’t. You would never be the same again. You stared out into the endless, dark sea, where Rafayel had disappeared, knowing a piece of you had gone with him, lost forever in the cold, unforgiving waters of the Atlantic.

The room was quiet and still, filled with the soft light of the morning sun glowing through the windows. Meanwhile, you stood in front of the mirror, smoothing down your dress and your fingers trembling slightly as you adjusted the hem. The reflection staring back at you seemed almost foreign—older, wiser, yet with the same eyes that saw the tragic event that had happened in the years since that fateful night.

A soft knock on the door broke your reverie. Then, Zayne’s gentle and patient voice came from the other side. “Are you ready, love?” he asked, his tone careful, knowing this wasn’t easy for you. “We don’t have to do the interviews if you’re not feeling up to it. I’ll tell them you’ve changed your mind. No one can blame you.”

You turned around to meet his warm, olive eyes as he entered the room. His presence had always been a comforting, steady anchor in the storm that had been your life since the sinking. Beyond being your husband, he had been your rock, your safe harbor, ever since that day. He never pressured you, never pushed for more than you could give. He had simply been there, and over time, you had found solace in him.

“I’m okay,” you spoke almost inaudibly, though he could recognize the uncertainty in your voice, worried that you might not be able to go through an interview as a survivor of the most tragic maritime disaster in history. “I’m fine. I just… It’s surreal to me that it’s been ten years.”

Zayne nodded, coming closer and taking your hand in his, letting his thumb brush over your knuckles in a soothing motion. “I know,” he said softly. “But you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. If you do, I’ll be right by your side.”

You smiled faintly, the warmth of his hand reassuring you. But before you could respond, a younger voice suddenly cut through the room.

“Mom? Dad?” It was your son appearing in the doorway, his purple hair catching the light, and his eyes a striking kaleidoscope of indigo and magenta. “Can we go now?”

Your heart clenched as you looked at him—so young, so full of life, and yet a constant reminder of the man who had given him that life. The same man who had given you so much more than he ever realized.

“We’re coming, sweetheart,” you assured him, reaching out to smooth your son’s hair. He looked at you with a curious tilt of his head, and for a moment, you saw Rafayel’s mischievous grin, his playful personality shining through in the child you had brought into the world.

You exchanged a glance with Zayne, who offered a small, understanding smile. He had never asked about your traumatic past, about the love that you had lost to the cold depths of the Atlantic, because he knew that part of you would always belong to Rafayel. And he accepted that. He accepted you and loved you despite it.

Taking a deep breath, you stood up with a more determined mien. “Yes, we’re ready,” you said, more to yourself than to anyone else.

The world deserves to know who he was, what he did… and his story.

As the three of you walked out of the room, your son chattered excitedly, blissfully unaware of the history you were about to share to the world. But as you looked at him, you saw Rafayel’s spirit through his eyes. Instead of it being a haunting image, you felt warmth spreading through your chest.

Because Rafayel had given you so much more than a son—he had given you a story of a lifetime, one that was worth telling.

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