#or a refusal to see them outside of their ‘box’

[krisluxxee]

MARS SQUARE PLUTO SYNASTRY | ASTROLOGY SYNASTRY SERIES

this is an entertaining synastry combination to have with another person, at least to those on the outside looking in because believe me, others will notice this couple. The Pluto person in this relationship will have the most power however, the Mars person will die trying to have all the power. In extreme cases, death will be the outcome in some manner if the Mars person does not chill the hell out. Of course, Mars chilling out before it’s too late or they get their feelings hurt depends heavily on the sign Mars is placed in however, I’m not too hopeful. I usually have a lot to say about with synastry interpretations however, considering Mars and Pluto are co-ruled by Mars- which is fast moving, hot headed, ambitious, impatient, and determined the square this synastry presents happens QUICKLY. It’s quite simple. Think of buying tickets to a boxing or MMA fight and someone gets knocked out within minutes- that’s the vibe with this couple. The Mars person will get beat up the most in this dynamic but refuse to accept such a defeat because “who does the Pluto person think they are”. When we think of fighting, it’s a dangerous game because you never know if you’ll hit someone in the wrong place which can conclude in death, or an ending. With such said, the Mars person is extremely vulnerable, sensitive, and weak coming up against the Pluto person all of which emboldens the Mars person to prove otherwise, and I don’t see it ending well. Life is a square, in other words, life is challenging and then to come home to a person who challenges you furthermore. C’mon, it’s too much to bear though the Mars person refuses to accept this because there’s a point to prove here.

There’s always a point to prove therefore, pride is a major problem for the Mars person. If you’re listening or reading this, I’m sure your thinking “why am I only focusing on the Mars person?” trust, I am not but that’s the energy with dynamic. Mars will always make things about them being hurt, wounded, done wrong and ultimately the victim but simultaneously, fighting back. The quote, “don’t start nun, won’t be nun” comes to mind. The Mars person is always mad because the Pluto person is triggering them, then Mars start some shit and finds out quickly they can’t finish what they started. The Pluto person is not innocent in this dynamic however, I can say with confidence the Pluto person isn’t purposefully trying to enrage the Mars person. The Pluto person can just breathe and somehow the Mars person feels challenged, triggered or just mad. These two are attracted to each other because they both behold the same Martian energy, passion, drive and whatever else. However, this relationship is meant to challenge Mars to grow mentally, physically, emotionally and dare I say spiritually. Think of a boxer who wants to win all this fights but refuses to train, work out, get enough sleep, or maintain a healthy diet. Imagine failing to do all that is required to win, getting in the ring, and losing terribly and then blaming the ref, the coach and just everyone else for their loss except themselves.

This is how the Mars person acts in this relationship.

Pluto rules Scorpio, therefore, this implies that the Pluto person will not change, and, in this relationship, they’re not meant to, at least not in the same way the Mars person should. The Pluto person is the trainer, the coach, the example that the Mars person should follow, trust, and allow to take the lead in this synastry. However, the Mars person will have a problem with this by default. With all challenges, their meant to be overcome and only then will you see greatness! So do not think there’s no hope here though, I am not hopeful nor are others outside this synastry aspect – it’s possible. Back to my training example, the Pluto person is the trainer, manager, the guide, the advisor and if enough time elapses where there is no progress or change seen in the Mars person, you will find that the Pluto person gives up. The Pluto person giving up is the death of this dynamic.

So, as forementioned, if the Mars pushes or takes things too far to prove a point, the Pluto person will end things. Regardless, there’s an ending whether that’s due to violence or just an abrupt ending with no point of return. This point of no return is equivalent to ending one’s fighting career, going back to my fighter example. We have all witnessed or heard about an MMA or boxing match turning out so terribly that it ended one’s career due to physical damages that cannot be healed or fixed- hence, beyond repair.

The Mars person is always suspicious of the Pluto person so much so, the Mars person will create assumptions and then act on those assumptions. Think of “leaving before I’m left.” “Cheat before I get cheated on.” “Lie before getting lied to.” You get the point.

Some may think, why doesn't the Mars person just keep that same direct and bold energy to communicate to the Pluto person? Keep in mind, astrologically, Mars and Mercury- planet ruling communications and logical thought, do not get along. Mars is about that action, acting first and MIGHT think about later. The Pluto person in this synastry will force the Mars person to THINK but this occurs usually after the damage has been done.

The Pluto person will have a hard time making the decision to finally end things but that's the only " change" you will see or expect with the Pluto person. This synastry aspect is Moreso about the Mars person CHANGING and GROWING. The Mars person fights so hard to get all the attention and subconsciously " be the victim" but there will come a point when the Mars person is seen exactly as they are. . . THE PROBLEM. THE SQUARE.

[the-eclectic-wonderer]

For the character asks, Blanche. Questions 8, 10 & 12 😊

hiii friend!! thank you for the questions!! <3

8. What's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you despise?

Oh wow. This is a dangerous question, haha!

‘Despise' is a pretty strong word. I feel like the one thing I really can't stand is character assassination (although this is true for every character I like, to be honest). I'm not the authority on what makes Blanche Blanche, of course, but I have seen a few instances when it felt like people only saw the superficial parts of her and forgot about everything else, you know what I mean? Thankfully that's pretty rare around these parts though :)

There's one thing that's more specifically Blanche-related that's a pet-peeve of mine, and it’s the accent thing. I don't really like it when accents are explicitly written down in fanfic, and since Blanche is the one with the strongest accent in the cast, this happens to her sometimes. I just want to point out that this is not wrong per se, it's just a me thing! I prefer to 'hear’ the accent in my mind while I read — if I have to stop and parse the meaning of a sentence mid-action, it's harder for me to fully immerse myself in the story. I don't mind the occasional truncation of a 'g' at the end of a verb, or the odd 'y'all' in a phrase, but if every sentence is written like that it does get a bit hard for me 😅 once again though, this is just my personal preference, and I definitely don't despise the practice.

10. Could you be best friends with this character?

I'm actually not sure how to answer this! If we didn't know each other at all, I think we'd need to be in a situation where we have to spend some time together in order to become friends (like, idk, working together or something like that). We don't share lots of interests (appreciation for art aside), and her passion for men would definitely throw me off at the beginning, so I'd need a reason to spend time with her to get to know her! But we are more similar than we seem, so once I did get to know her better, I'd love to be her friend :) we'd probably drive each other crazy on some things, but I need someone to get me out of my comfort zone at times, and she'd probably benefit from having a more 'grounded' friend, in the same way she benefits from having Dorothy as a friend.

... of course, this is all assuming that she'd want to be my friend in the first place, which is not a given 😂 I'm probably not interesting or fun enough to convince her to give me a chance, but a gal can dream, you know?

12. What's a headcanon you have for this character?

Just one? :')

I've said it before on here, but I headcanon that she's a cover hog. It just makes sense to me! And, still related to sleep, I feel like this is basically canon, but she's a night owl. She's more active during the night, she sleeps in, and it takes her a while to wake up in the mornings.

She actually is knowledgeable about art -- but not necessarily about artists! I think she likely doesn't have a lot of formal education about art (and especially art history), and even if she did study anything related to it she doesn't strike me as an exceptional student overall, but she has a natural instinct for visual beauty -- she's great at things like recognizing which paintings were made with similar techniques or within the same artistic current, distinguishing the traits and characteristics of painters, identifying specific shades of colour, this kind of stuff. Show her a painting and she'll correctly tell you that it's a Van Gogh, how he painted it, the precise shades of colour he chose and why he chose them -- but she also doesn't know that he cut off his ear, you know?

She was a bit of a reckless driver, especially in her youth -- the kind who likes to hit the gas just a tad too much, who plays the music just a tad too loud. She likes acting larger than life, she likes having fun, and she likes attention, so this feels appropriate for her. I figure it probably wasn't noticeable because she rarely drove herself (she always had a gentleman at her side to drive her around), but she never really grew out of that particular trait -- until George's death. After that, I think any imprudence behind the wheel would evoke his accident in her mind, so by the time the Girls met her she had turned into a very conscientious driver.

Thank you, these were so much fun to answer!! I love love love talking about Blanche <3

[CHARA CTER ASK GAME!!! 💫]

[viti-ocs]

I love coming up with AUs that I'll never do anything with other than daydream about them, and maybe pin some related things to my OCs' pinterest boards

[elisamaza]

Pizza delivery drivers of Reddit, what are some of the craziest reasons people have ended up on the “no delivery list”?

gameryamen

I worked for a pizza place that was near a very large software company. Deliveries to the neighborhoods or offices where all the tech workers lived was usually pretty awesome because they'd tip rather well. But there was one apartment that started to become a concern for us drivers. The man ordering was always polite, always paid, always tipped $4, and he would have been a perfect customer. He'd order breadsticks and a salad twice a week, and sometimes he'd include a bottle of root beer. Except when he opened his door, you could see an alarming amount of our breadsticks boxes stacked everywhere inside. Not like a few on the counter and a couple by the trash, stacks and stacks of them. Even worse, it was only our boxes in there. He wasn't just ordering from us often, we were the only place he was getting food outside of work. Now, I've worked in some of those tech offices myself, I know that there's enough decent food options just hanging out in the break rooms that this guy was probably not malnourished, but the way his living space was a shrine of greasy cardboard was a clear sign that this guy didn't have a healthy relationship with our food. Our manager was a really cool dude though, and he heard the drivers joking about the boxes and asked a couple of us "Is this like a messy guy or a guy who needs help?" We agreed it was probably the latter. So on his day off, the manager went to the guys apartment with an envelope that had gift cards for several other restaurants that delivered in that area and chatted with him. Manager found out that the guy was an immigrant on a Visa who was struggling to find American food he liked, and too socially awkward to ask anyone. So he talked with him through a few menus and helped him with some recommendations. Then he helped the guy load all the old boxes into his truck to take to the dump, in exchange for a promise not to order from us more than once a week. For a little while, the manager had a note on the calendar showing the last time the guy had ordered, and a couple times he had to hold his ground and refuse the guy's order. But after that chat, I never saw the stacks of boxes again, and the guy would boast about the different meals he'd had.

what the fuck dude, this is so sweet.

[esleep]

i actually do kinda like delivering groceries on the side because it gives me such a unique cross-section of the community. i never know whose groceries im shopping for until i finish the delivery and see them/their home and it's like it adds more detail to the picture of who they are. the baby supplies going to the apartment that i know for a fact is one bedroom (they'll be moving soon - i bet they're apartment hunting, i hope they find a place). the new cat litter box, bowl, and kitten food going to the house covered in "i <3 my dog" paraphernalia (a kitten definitely showed up on the porch recently and made itself at home). the fairly healthy boring grocery order that includes an incongruous tub of candy-filled ice cream going to the home of an elderly woman with toddler toys in the yard (it's clearly for her grandkids, whom she sees often).

shopping for someone else's groceries is a fairly intimate thing. i've bought condoms and pregnancy tests, allergy medicine and nyquil, baby benadryl and teething gel, a huge pile of veggies paired with an equally huge pile of junk food, tampons and shampoo and closet organizers and ant traps and deodorizing shoe inserts and a million other little things that tell a million different stories in their endless combinations. one time someone had me buy one single green bean. i messaged them to confirm that's actually what they wanted, and they said yes - neither of them liked green beans very much, but they had a baby they were introducing to solid foods, and they wanted to let him try one to see if he liked them. another time i had someone request 50 fresh roma tomatoes - not for a restaurant, but for a person in an apartment. the kitchen behind them smelled like basil and garlic when they opened the door. another time i brought groceries to three elderly blind women who share a house. that was one of the few times i have ever broken my rule and gone inside a place i've delivered to, because they asked if i could place the grocery bags in a specific location in the kitchen for them to work on unloading and there was no way i was going to refuse helping.

i gripe about the poor tippers, but people can also be incredibly kind. one time i took shelter from a sudden vicious hailstorm inside an older lady's home in a trailer park, while i was in the middle of delivering her groceries. we both huddled just inside the door, watching in shock as golf-ball-sized hail swept through for about five minutes and then disappeared. she handed me an extra $10 bill on my way out the door.

when covid was at its deadliest, people would leave extra (often lysol-scented) cash tips and thank-you notes for me taped to the door or partially under the mat. i especially loved the clearly kid-drawn thank you notes with marker renderings of blobby people in masks, or trees, or rainbows. in summer of 2020 i delivered to a nice older couple who lived outside of town in the hills, and they insisted i take a huge double handful of extra disposable gloves and masks to wear while shopping - those were hard to find in stores at the time, but they wanted me to have some of their supply and wouldn't take no for an answer.

anyway. all this to say people are mostly good, or at least trying to be, despite my complaints.

[lauralot89]

Actual things that happen in the 1897 Dracula novel, without context:

A character has ominous nightmares and attributes them to eating too much paprika

Dracula first appears wearing a fake beard

The person he was trying to fool with the fake beard immediately realizes Dracula and Beard Guy are the same man, due to both having really firm handshakes

We are told parrots are immortal unless fatally wounded

A Texan cowboy opens fire on a bat flitting around a window, and lodges a bullet in the wall of an occupied room

A woman is called a polyandrist for receiving blood transfusions from multiple men

An incorrectly addressed telegram leads to two deaths, multiple druggings, and several children being assaulted

Dracula, while trying to maintain a low profile, takes a lovely trip to the zoo and freaks out the animals so badly that he gets mentioned in a newspaper article

The one character who knows anything about vampires spends a good two-thirds of the book refusing to talk about vampires

Dracula went to Satan's Witchcraft Academy and somehow this is only brought up in two throwaway lines

A character gets stuck inside a circle of communion wafer crumbs

A major plot point of the book is Dracula (who was said to be a brilliant scholar and has the strength of twenty mortal men) realizing he can move boxes without human help

Someone is referred to as "manifestly a prig of the first water"

Two characters have a hobby of reading train schedules

A hospital lets a mental patient escape to see what will happen

A character starts vomiting up feathers from eating whole birds

A doctor refuses to give a medical diagnosis and instead makes a speech about growing corn

Dracula impersonates another character just by wearing the same clothes, despite being taller and visibly much older. This deception is successful.

A character "cleans" a room by eating all the insects in it

Suddenly: rats. Thousands of them.

The heroes progress in their efforts through "the wonderful power of money," i.e., bribery

Dracula has three other vampires in his castle. Their relation to him is never explained, nor are any of them named.

A character insists his salvation depends on having a pet cat

Dracula is thwarted by flowers on more than one occasion

A group of vampires stand in the hall outside a man's bedroom, talking loudly about their plans to eat him. When he comes to the door to confront them, they run away laughing

Dracula wears an unfashionable hat and gets roasted for it

A group of Romanians encounter a disheveled, shouting man and, "seeing from his violent demeanour that he was English, they [give] him a ticket for the furthest station on the way thither that the train reached."

A boat crashes due to Dracula having the munchies

A wolf is thrown through a window and immediately runs off, confused and covered in glass

Dracula makes a bed

[jenoonej423]

pavlov and ponytails

NOT MY WORK all rights to hyucksie, she deactivated years ago but I managed to get a hold of my own personal copy of her work and noticed many users were looking for one so here it is <3

synopsis: it was the perfect combination: you (the girlfriend), jeno (the boyfriend), and a sexual twist on psychological conditioning. after some thorough but fun experimentation, you finally see the results you were hoping for: you can now get your boyfriend hard just by tying your hair up. 

“Pavlov and Ponytails” is copyright 2020 hyucksie, all rights reserved.

pairing: jeno x fem!reader ft. bff!haechan genre: smut, fluff, crack, established relationship, slice of life, college!au, rich kid!jeno

word count: 22k words lmfao

warnings: language, explicit detailed sex honestly the amount of smut in this i’m almost ashamed, some cringe fluff | smut specifications under the cut

smut warnings: mostly soft dom!jeno but also some hard dom!jeno, sex in various locations, lots of blowjobs (obviously) and generous use of spit (practical! because water is never a substitute for lube, my friends), dirty talk, heavy petting, degradation, fingering, edging, handjob, pussyjob, cumming in panties, blowjobs, spanking, dick slapping, deepthroating, hair pulling, face fucking, facials, cum feeding/eating, just lots and lots of cumplay you’ve been warned, overstimulation, unprotected sex, manhandling, exhibitionism, punishment sex, edging, biting, marking, thigh fucking, unprotected sex, facials, cumplay, creampie, vibrator, just the slightest bit of a daddy kink as in just one instance, jeno. yes jeno is a warning.

The day you moved in with Jeno, he refused to let you lift any of the heavy boxes. 

“But they’re my stuff,” you complained, “is this a fragile masculinity thing?” 

He had one arm reaching into the trunk when he looked back, met with the sight of your crossed arms and accusing frown. He spun round to face you, a glass bowl of chocolate coins in hand. It was the only thing left outside of the boxes, something you had stolen taken as remembrance from Donghyuck, your best friend and previous roommate in uni.

“This,” he stressed, pulling your arm and securing the bowl in your embrace, “is the only fragile thing around here.” He spun back to arrange the boxes left inside. “Think of it this way: you have a boyfriend who’s extremely grateful that you agreed to start living with him and his way of saying ‘thanks’ is by saving you the hassle and taking care of the heavy things.” He held two boxes stacked atop each other before setting them on the cart, facing you again. “Besides, you should know by now that I respect you too much to demean you like that,” he continued with a hand on his hip, head tilted to the side as he leaned closer, a skewed smile ghosting his lips. “Unless we’re in bed and you’re in that mood.” 

He was slowly closing the gap between you, and instinctively you stepped backwards before your ego caught up and rooted you in place. “Chicken shit,” you whispered. “You’re saying you’d only give it to me in bed?” He was so close that your only clue of his smirk growing into a wicked grin was the way his eyes shrunk into crescents.

And you’re saying you just got here but you already want me on every surface?” 

You scoffed despite the surprise painted on your face. “I didn’t say that!”

“Of course you didn’t,” he chuckled, “but I did and I think it’s a great idea.” His voice dived deep. “Just to prove how grateful I am to you.” His hands rested low on your waist. “And that my masculinity,” he whispered to your ear, “is anything but fragile.” 

There was no way you could have concealed the sharp shiver that cut through you. Your breath was stolen, muscles taut and frozen, and lips slightly parted when Jeno parted from you, regarding you with an amused smile. You watched as he gripped the handles of the cart, your gaze dripping onto the veins that ran down his arms… 

“Baby?” An absentminded huh? was all you managed. “Be a gentleman and open the door for me?” he said, clearly entertained by his own joke. 

You rolled your eyes but did his bidding nonetheless. You swung the door open and stretched an arm out in an exaggerated gesture of welcome, other arm still hugging the bowl of chocolate. “Ladies first!” you shouted, making him laugh loud and pinch your ear between his fingers before rolling the cart in with you in tow.

You were sprawled on the couch as Jeno went out for the last few boxes. You had to admit, you did end up pleased with his volunteer spirit. It allowed you to relax on your back, a hand reaching behind to the bowl you left on the end table, picking up yet another one of the circular treats. By now, there was a growing pile of the crumpled foil bits on your tummy as your eyes wandered, admiring the place.

It didn’t look like the man cave you expected it to be. Despite the sleekness of the minimal interior, the place seemed to radiate warmth from its walls. Like it was receiving you with a hug, happy that you were certainly, finally, here. Jeno told you his parents had signed it off to his name the day he turned legal, but he opted for the on-campus dormitories in university to avoid the 45-minute drive. Obviously, his family was well-off. It was good ammo for the rich-sheltered-kid trope you teased him with, but it was hardly even the surface to his many layers you’ve grown to love. On your part, you made sure that he knew you were in it for him and nothing else. That same conviction was what delayed you from moving in with him for so long, until today.

The timing was just right: you were having your third anniversary soon, your last year of uni was approaching faster than you’d like, and you were eventually gonna go your separate ways from Donghyuck (your best friend slash roommate) anyways, as he was spending the next semester at a specialized research center off-campus. It just made sense when Jeno whined for the nth time about the convenience of living together that you shrugged and said “Sure” so nonchalantly that he almost missed it. 

Dumb silence was followed by his repetitive “Seriously?” and then hours of clinging to your side like an overgrown koala, ditching your date in favor of crowding in your single bed, fantasizing about how you’ll spend the last summer break and the last year of college under the same roof.

You smiled at the memory, letting an arm dangle off the sofa as you traced lines with your finger on the spotless wooden floor beneath you. “What about mornings?” You asked back then. “You’ll have to be up early if you get any morning classes.” It was a small but genuine concern. Your boyfriend loved his sleep and set alarms for half an hour before class when he lived on-campus. 

He looked at you as if you were crazy and he’d been rising before dawn all his life, clutching your chin in his hand and rocking your face side to side. “I don’t think waking up is a problem if I’m waking up to you. Getting us out of bed is a wholly different question, though…”

Your heart was seizing just as Jeno returned, unloading the boxes. You were feeling playful, deep in that teasing mood that arose whenever you were brimming with attachment. “Babe, quick!” Without waiting for him to face your way, you catapulted the piece of chocolate from your hand into the air, going full speed in his direction. Jeno was fast, but only fast enough to catch the trinket in his hand after it bounced off his forehead. He stared at it for some moments, puzzled by the attack.

Oops.” Jeno lifted his gaze to find your coy smile. “Sorry, thank you, I love you!” You chimed, all in one breath. 

A warm sensation bloomed in his chest at the sight of you giggling so comfortably, looking so ‘at home’ at his home. No, not just his. It was yours. ‘Your home too,’ he thought, a match lighting up in his heart. ‘You’re home, too’ and suddenly his body was ablaze with affection for you.

The urge to kiss you breathless was itching at his bones but he put a hand back on the cart, wanting everything out of the way before he got his way with you. “One sec,” he turned on his heels, rushing to the door. 

“One!” You shouted after him. 

“Ten seconds!” He corrected, spurring more giggles to pour out of you. 

You counted in your head while you reached for another chocolate. By three, you’ve unwrapped the foil. Five, Jeno was running back in. Six, the thin piece dangled between your teeth.

And then you lost count, because suddenly your boyfriend was on top of you, his knee spreading your thighs apart as he slotted his lower body between you and pulled you in by the hips. His hand dipped to the back of your neck, lifting your face closer to his. You held your breath from the anticipation, and you nearly lost it when the tip of his tongue darted out to moisten his lips. 

He sank down, closing the distance between your faces. You expected the familiar brush of soft lips against yours as you shut your eyes, but you moaned at the cold graze of his teeth instead. Your eyes fluttered open, and you huffed when you realized he wound you up just to snatch the chocolate from your lips. He looked so delighted with himself it was almost too hard for you to maintain a scowl. 

“What?” He challenged between chews. 

“Asshole,” you muttered, “thought you were gonna kiss me.” You watched as he swallowed, eyes so focused on the bob of his Adam’s apple that you didn’t notice his hand on your neck lifting you up again, his smirk unwavering. 

“I am now.” 

Not a second later, his lips collided with yours. His hand cupped your jaw, strained breath escaping you when his thumb nudged at your chin and forced your lips to part against his, tipping you further into him like he was starved and desperate to taste all of you. You propped yourself higher on one elbow, chasing him with the same eagerness as your mouths moved in sync. His tongue delved past your lips and you moaned at the taste of chocolate that lingered on him. He was kissing you like an apology, like he was feeding the stolen sweetness back into you.

He broke away, giving you a chance to catch your breath. His hand dragged to the small of your back and pulled you towards him, giving you two gentle pecks on the lips once he had you upright. His palms settled on your ass, kneading at the clothed skin before lifting you up with him, adjusting to a more comfortable position with him sitting and you straddling his hips.

Despite you being on top, it was clear that you were under his control. This time, he wanted you slow. He drew you into him, your arms resting atop his shoulders as he ghosted another peck on your mouth, scarcely breaking away from you before swiping his tongue across your still-closed lips. You opened up to him instinctively, wanting to feel his mouth back on yours, to have him steal your breath, give it back, and take it from you again and again until your lungs knew nothing but him, him, him.

He indulged your silent wishes, molding your lips together and matching the slow pace of his hands rubbing up and down the sides of your thighs. You could have kissed him like that forever if it weren’t for the need to breathe, or the slip of soft gasps and whimpers, or the impatient heat between your legs that compelled your body to meld even closer to his, not knowing when you began to rock back and forth on his growing need, only knowing that you had to have more.

He groaned into the kiss, slipping both his hands into your back pockets and halting your lewd motions. You whined, attempting to resume your grinding, but his hand squeezing hard on your plump flesh called the last shot, the fleeting but sharp pain ripping a mewl from you and drawing you still.

“I’m starting to think you’re trying to get fucked on this couch.” You shuddered from his words and his voice, deep and swimming in the same lust you were drowning in. 

“Yeah? That would be a smart guess.”

“So you do want me on every available surface.” He smiled, planting a kiss to the corner of your lip. Despite wanting to tease you and make you wait, it somehow felt wrong for his lips to be away from your skin for too long. 

“Don’t be too sure…” you paused, kissing up his neck, “…I haven’t even seen the rooms yet.” He grunted when you sucked on the bolt of his jaw, eyes closing and head tilting back as he let you work your magic on him. 

“Fuck, baby. I promise I’ll show you around.” His breath hitched. “Promise I’ll fuck you in each one.” Hearing that sent heat rushing to your core, your head whirring over his lust-driven vows to give you exactly what you wanted and more. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? On this couch, the showers, the guest room, the kitchen…” Your toes curled in when he started to move you in his grip, the hands that kept you still now grinding you on him. “Even against the windows, right baby?” He whispered in your ear, tickling you with his breath before nibbling gently on the lobe. You keen from the sensation, picking up the pace of your hips until he held you firmly in place again, cutting off the momentum with his final words, “But right now, bedroom.”

You looked at him with scrunched eyebrows, patience already worn thin. “But I want you here,” you whined. “Want you now.” 

He only smiled at your eagerness, your desperation. “Not here baby.” 

“Why not?”

“Because,” he began, his hand landing on top of yours that was trying to lift his shirt off, “I want your first proper fucking here to be in our bed.” 

You breathed out a sound of appreciation despite how frustrated you felt beneath your clothes. “Jen,” your head rested on his shoulder as you drawled your words, “I love that you’re so sweet, but you don’t have to be sweet with me right now.” You lifted your gaze back to his eyes. “And this,” you detached your body from his, watching his confusion grow as you stood before him, “doesn’t have to be a proper fucking.”

He could only gape at you as you shoved your shorts off, not a hint of grace in your hurried, desperate motions. His eyes trained steady at the dark patch on your underwear, waiting as you neared and caged him between your knees again. You took his hand in yours, guiding his fingers to the pool of moisture in the fabric, making him groan at the feeling. “Shit, baby. You’re soaked through.”

“Mmm,” your delighted sounds began to pour out of you as you rutted onto his stretched fingers, the tips bumping enticingly on your clothed clit, “Jeno… need you to take care of me. Please.” The need was rising to a crescendo within you, your chest heaving for relief. You guide his hand again, using his fingers to draw the line of your slit through your panties and making a show of trying to sink down on them despite the thin barrier of clothing. “Just need you inside me, please. Any part of you.”

He inhaled through his teeth, moving his hand back to your front to rub at your clothed clit. “God, always too needy to wait.” He didn’t seem eager to wait either as he pushed the fabric to the side, his middle finger immediately running between your drooling folds, dipping just a little into you each time he went past your entrance. 

You must have been making the most unintelligent sounds, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You were too preoccupied trying to get your boyfriend to just stick his damned finger where you needed it, but he kept pulling his hand away each time you tried to fuck yourself on him. 

“Wanted to treat you like a princess but you go and act like a slut.” He spat the last word, punctuating his sentence with a stinging slap to your ass, the impact forcing you to sit down, your gasp breaking off into a needy moan as his finger finally breached inside of you. You were too drunk on the feeling to wait for his reaction. You closed your eyes, letting your cries spill freely as you began bouncing on his finger. 

You couldn’t see him, but his grunts were confirmation enough that he enjoyed the sight. “More,” you choked out. “Want more of you.” He didn’t deny you this time, a hand flying to your waist to slow you down as he re-entered you with both his middle and ring finger, giving you a few hard pumps before he curled the digits, grazing at your front walls. “Fuck,” you cried out, your arms flying out to the backrest of the couch to keep your legs from collapsing in. 

“You like that?” His fingers eased into the rhythm of pushing in and out of you, angling his hand just right so he keeps brushing against your sweet spot. 

“Yes! Like it so much, feels so good.” His other hand pulled on your scoop neckline, enough to expose the cups of your strapless bra. He tugged even that down, pulling until your bra was stuck mid-torso, your breasts spilled out, and the collar of your shirt ruined. He circled his tongue around your nipple and blew cold air on it, drawing a gasp from you before he took it in his mouth, giving it multiple short but rapid sucks and at times gently grazing it with the front of his teeth, pausing only to give your other nub the same dizzying attack. 

His digits kept pumping into you, going faster and harder while proof of your arousal kept oozing down his fingers. The wetness collected on his palm until he pushed his hand up against you, the heel rubbing on your clit, spreading your slick back onto your lips. “You’re making a mess on my hands, baby.” You couldn’t find any words to say back, littering the air with just your whimpers and the wet sounds of his digits fucking into you. 

You were shaking at the knees, your pitch going higher and the succession of small, gradually tightening clenches of your walls blared at him, all telltale signs that you were getting closer and closer and, “Fuck fuck fuck, please, oh my god, please!” You were already hanging on the precipice when he withdrew his fingers and mouth from your skin, snatching you back to the ground before you could plunge into the depths of white heat.

You sobbed, dropping your head to the crook of his neck, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt in protest. Chocolate and orgasms; it seemed your boyfriend was stealing everything from you today. You felt the small vibrations as he chuckled, trying to soothe your betrayed feelings with soft kisses to your shoulder and a hand rubbing your lower back. “Sorry,” he mumbled, “it’s not a proper fucking, but I still want you to cum on my cock.” 

You were appeased just enough with the promise of more. You lift your hips higher, helping him pull his pants and boxers down to free his erection. You wasted no time as you swiped your palm on his glistening tip, spreading his pre-cum as you glided your fist on his cock. You bowed closer to his cock, and Jeno groaned as he watched you push spit out of your mouth, landing it on his tip and gradually spreading it on his shaft with each pump of your hand. There was a trail of it left hanging from your lips, the clear liquid bridging your mouth to the head of his cock while you looked up at him with half-lidded eyes, hand tight around him, moving up and down in flicking motions.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he growled deep, a hand sneaking to the back of your neck and pulling you towards him, re-connecting your lips as the air around you grew thinner and hotter than ever. Your bare pussy was now hovering above his cock as you kept pumping him through the kiss, and it was taking every bit of restraint in you to keep it that way, imagining how easy it would be to just lower your hips and swallow him into your waiting heat.

He must have been thinking the same as you felt him buck into your touch, his tip pressing lightly on your slit, your gasp breaking the kiss. “Thought you wanted to fuck me on the bed first…” you mumbled. He replaced your hand with his, jerking himself off a few times as he pushed the fabric of your ruined panties further out to expose you even more. 

“You thought right.” He slid the head of his cock along your slit, prodding the tip against your hole ever so slightly before running it back to the front, rubbing it on your clit and then going back again. His other hand guided your hips down on him, watching with dark eyes as your folds spread around the girth of his cock, the wetness dribbling on his length inciting a growl from him. “Can you cum from just this, baby?” He began thrusting forward, his cock sandwiched between your pussy lips rubbing you all the right ways, leaving you devoid of intelligent vocabulary. 

“Mmm… ah! Fuck, yes, keep going.” He had an arm braced around you, keeping you upright while you grind on each other, your clit swollen and sensitive from the friction. You were both panting hard, speeding up as you were getting closer to your highs, but the burn in your thighs was getting too much to ignore. “Jen…” you managed to whine as you slowed down. He hummed in response, a hand reaching out to the messy hair on your face and tucking it behind your ear. The delicate gesture was so out of place from the carnal things he was doing to your body, and you keened at the swirl of feeling so loved and so ruined all at once.

You stopped your motions altogether and melted into his embrace. Your eyes were closed, forehead leaned against his as small squeaks slipped past your lips from his every thrust. His chest tightened with endearment, and you didn’t have to say anything as he picked up on your cue, holding you by the hips and ardently bringing pleasure to both of you. “Is my baby tired?” You moaned in his ear, blood rushing to his cock at the feeble sound. “S’okay. I’ll take you there. Make you feel so good.”

Jeno was always good with his promises. He positioned his tip against your clit, his face contorting in pleasure as he rubbed your most sensitive parts together. His hand sneaked to your pussy from behind, plunging his middle and ring finger into you and making you cry out from the added sensation of him pumping into you once again. Your hands were shaking as they reached down to his cock to stroke his shaft, everything a blur of sloppy hands and filthy squelching sounds.

His fingers were relentless, your walls sucking them so deep he was barely pulling them out of you anymore, driving into you harsh and rapid. Your engorged clit was throbbing, each circle of his tip gliding around it sending shockwaves through you. Your jaw hung loose, choked sobs pouring out of you, legs trembling as an intense heat unfurled within you. Jeno knew you were close, your walls lightly spasming around his digits. He kept his pace constant, his mouth kissing on your jaw, ready to catch you from below when you reach your peak.

“Fuckfuckfuck! You’re making me cum!” Your broken sobs drew a groan from him, “Fuck, I’m there, I’m there! Jeno!” Your whole body tenses up, spasming in time with your powerful orgasm. Jeno stops moving against you, the contraction of your walls pushing his fingers in and out of you without his guidance.

He didn’t take his digits out of you even after you’ve calmed down, keeping them buried deep as he started jerking himself with his other hand, occasionally bumping into your still sensitive clit, making you hiss. He looked so hot, so focused with his eyes looking directly into yours, eyebrows scrunched together, breathing ragged. His cock was rock hard, twitching in his hand, the tip an angry red. 

“Cum in my panties,” you rasped, barely thinking when you let the order slip out before adding, “please?” He moaned, voice higher than usual, muttering under his breath, 

“You’re so dirty for me today.” You smiled, knowing this kind of behavior wrecked him a hundred times over inside. You fixed your underwear, spreading the fabric below to cover as much of yourself as possible with his fingers still inside you. You pulled at the top hem, angling it down and showing your eagerness to catch every drop of his cum.

Your other hand reached down to his balls, fondling them gently, urging him to come undone. Your name and a flurry of curses tumbled out of him soon after, strangled noises escaping him as he came. His hips lurched with each shot of his load onto your exposed skin, the warmth dripping down and collecting at the bottom of your panties. You shuddered at the feeling, hitching a breath when he bit on your shoulder. His fingers scissored inside you, and you realized you’ve been clenching around them hard since he started cumming on you.

His teeth were replaced by his soft lips pressing wet kisses on your shoulder. His fingers slipped out of you slowly, your bodies gradually untensing as you basked in the calm after frenzied sex. You pressed a hand gently to his chest, watching its rise and fall grow steadier. 

When he lifted his head, your disheveled appearance brought a smile to his face. He kissed your chin, “I love you.” 

You kissed him back on the forehead, “Love you too.”

You had to break the tender moment, the feeling of your soiled underwear now less sexy and more uncomfortable against your skin. You tried to lift your thigh over to one side but unlike you, your boyfriend was clearly having a hard time moving on. His hands were on your waist, keeping you from moving, his eyes focused on your ruined panties. 

“Jen?” He hummed absentmindedly. “I need to clean up.” He was a little dazed as he looked up to you, his hands suddenly letting go as if he just realized he was caging you in. You tried standing, and you cringed from the sensitive and utterly wet feeling between your thighs. “Can you get me some undies from my suitcase?” You had your legs twisted slightly inwards, your stance awkward as you tried to keep the fluids from dripping out.

“I don’t know…” he pondered, “I kinda like the look of that.” You groaned at his response. Trickles of white were beginning to ooze from the edges of the fabric, and you knew if you didn’t handle it now there would be a bigger mess to take care of. 

“Jeno,” you whined, “please? I can’t move.” He only smiled wider at your predicament. “Ugh, why are you even so wound up…”

“Really? You don’t get why all I’m riled up thinking of you walking around full of my cum?” Well, when he puts it like that… 

“Okay, fine. Maybe I do get it.” You were careful not to show how his remark made goosebumps rise on the back of your neck. “Now get my underwear or get cumstains on your immaculate floor.”

He laughed at your threat but stood to fulfill your wishes, fixing himself up a little before going into the bedroom, coming back a minute later. You snatched the folded bundle in his hand, turning to the direction of the bathroom before a thought snagged in your head. You pivoted back to the couch, Jeno amused as he watched you try to lean over to the end table without walking.

“Gotcha,” you mumbled after struggling to fish through the clear bowl, holding a golden piece between your fingers. You faced him and threw the chocolate in the air, and it seems this time he’s learned his lesson, catching it easily in one hand. 

“Good boy!” You cooed, walking over to him carefully so you could ruffle his hair. He scrunched his nose at you, pretending to ward you off as he ate the confection. You huffed at his reaction, turning your back to him and waddling to the bathroom as he giggled behind you.

It was the habits developed since that day which led you down the weirdest, most preposterous mission of your life yet. When you realized what was happening, you swore to yourself that it was unintentional. It was just that the bowl of chocolate coins was always there. Sat within your reach, looking all convenient, plentiful, tempting. 

Every time Jeno would do you a little favor⁠ (the subtle ways he liked to take care of you like handing you the remote, getting you a glass of water from the kitchen, standing up to draw the curtains when he noticed that the midday sunlight was a little too harsh on your face⁠) it was all too easy for you to reach for a golden piece, tossing it his way or feeding it to him yourself, the treat paired with the various ways you liked to show how much you appreciate him.

Your rewarding system was quite generous, and a few days later you’ve almost exhausted the supply. Despite that, you still munched on the gold pieces as you binge watched The Big Bang Theory with Jeno. You were half-sat and snuggled up on the bed, his arm hugging round behind you, ending with his hand laying softly on your tummy. His head was tilted to the side, resting against yours. The only bit of affection you had to offer was your leg strewn over his, your arms cradling the clear bowl instead. 

You popped a piece in your mouth in time as one of the characters, Sheldon, offered the same to Penny. You giggled at the coincidence, shifting a little to your side before holding up the last piece from the bowl. “Chocolate?” Jeno chuckled at your offered mimicry, pushing your wrist down with his hand. “You sure?” 

There was a hint of conflict in the way he pursed his lips before asking you, “Do you need anything?” 

“Um, no.” Your eyebrows scrunched a bit from the untimely question. “Just you.” He smiled at your answer. His hand trailed from your stomach to your thigh, expressing his sentiments through a light squeeze. “This is the last piece, though. Sure you don’t want it?” His eyes darted between you and the chocolate. 

“If it’s the last one…” He took it gingerly from your fingers, lifting his hand from your thigh to remove the wrapper. “…then you can have it.” His hand squeezed your cheeks, making you jump a little as he quickly fed you the treat with his other hand, his finger brushing the inside of your puckered lips. You blinked at him, mouth still parted when his touch left you. “What? Not even a ‘thank you?’” He cocked his head in amusement, tempering your surprise into embarrassment as you pulled your gaze away.

You rolled your eyes although warmth still coated your cheeks. Jeno was always the affectionate kind, but that was only when the two of you were alone, free from any outward stares. Now that you lived together, it’s been three days of having you all to himself and subjecting you to the full extent of his mushy tendencies, as if making up for all the opportunities he lost to wandering eyes. 

Not once in the last three days has he failed to send your heart lurching to your ribs, but not once have you directly admitted to it either, refusing to be the one who’s always on the flustered end of the relationship. He’s just been more attentive to your needs, more shameless in expressing his feelings, and even more helpful than he was before, which was already a lot as it was. 

Like he was privy to your thoughts, he broke the silence with an “Are you feeling hungry? Iʼll go make ramyeon for us.” You nodded, perfectly aware that heʼd take your portion into account regardless of your answer. “Just in case you change your mind,” heʼd say. 

You shimmied onto his spot once he left the bedroom, burrowing your back into his side of the bed and bunching the covers up against you. “His butt’s so warm,” you thought, snickering to yourself.

Minutes into watching the episode alone, the apartment scenes weaved back into the story and your laughter wafted through the air as you watched the repetitive interaction between the two characters. Penny cleared up the table after eating, followed by “Chocolate?” from Sheldon, taking and eating it without a second thought. She sat on the couch, careful to keep Sheldon’s seat vacant, “Chocolate?” She excused herself to the hallway for a phone call, “Chocolate?” She caught herself from disrupting anime night, “Chocolate?” You giggled at the first few instances, but it grew weaker and weaker as an eerie feeling overcame you, and soon the fake sitcom laughter was left unaccompanied in your silence.

“I know what you’re doing,” Leonard told Sheldon. “You’re using chocolate as a positive reinforcement for what you consider correct behavior!” 

“Very good! Chocolate?” 

You gawked at the screen as an epiphany landed on you. Is that the reason for Jeno’s amplified devotion? “Chocolate?” You whisper-shouted to yourself, mind replaying all the times you tossed a sweet trinket his way, flickering between doubt and shock at the revelation. 

“Stop using my girlfriend as your lab rat!” Leonard whined. 

To your surprise, you answered a defensive “I’m not!” to the screen. “I’m not… right? Holy shit.” The discovery was like a douse of cold water and the longer you pondered on it the more it made sense, the more ideas blossomed in your mind, and you plunged deep into a world that was equal parts strange and full of curious, unexplored possibilities. 

You’re not given enough time to process it as you’re called out to the dining table. You carried the empty bowl with you, your bare feet dragging on the floor as you walked your way to your boyfriend whose back was turned to you. You propped the bowl at the end of the table and sat opposite him, his lips tugging upwards at the sight of you. He dug in rather enthusiastically, and after a few happy bites he took notice of your stillness. “Why aren’t you eating?” 

You sounded an oh at the question, broken from the jumbled thoughts still running about your head, and took a small sip. He frowned, grabbing the spoon from your hand. “Want me to feed you myself?” He said it like a threat, the beginnings of a skewed smile on his expression. 

Your nose scrunched at the suggestion, but you untensed as you considered using it as a chance test of sorts. You looked up to him with unsure eyes, clearing your throat. “That—I’d like that,” you mumbled, your gaze focused at the skin between his eyebrows. It was a trick you learned whenever you couldn’t look him in the eyes, something that’s been happening a lot lately. 

Pleasant surprise painted over his features, and he didn’t question your easy compliance. Soon enough his elbows were leaned on the table, and he was feeding you and eating alternately out of the same utensils. Getting spoonfed wasn’t as bad as you imagined, but what you couldn’t take was the proximity. His face was so near yours that you could see each of his eyelashes in the awkward intervals when both of you just chewed in silence. 

“Too close…” You gave him a weak push on the arm he was leaning on just as he was trying to give you the next bite. 

“I can go even closer—”

The dull thud of wood, metal screeching against tiles, and the sharp clang of silver was the background music to your surprise when Jeno leaned in even more. You had whacked at his hand and pushed your chair back, the silverware flying from his hand to the table before flopping to the floor. 

The sound of disapproving tuts pulled your gaze from the mess of soup and noodles on the floor, landing on the bright orange stain on your boyfriend’s shirt. An apology hung by the tip of your tongue, only to fizzle when you felt his thumb swipe on your cheek.

“Bad girl,” he mumbled as he wiped off the few drops that splashed onto you.

You kept shifting your glance around the dining area before gathering the wits to stand up and get a cleaning rag. Your stubborn refusal to look his way was enough for him to know that the feeding session was over, so he cleared up the ceramics as you took care of the mess. Once everything was spick and span again, you were ready to drown in the bedsheets and forget about how flustered you got at being called a bad girl, until the source of your embarrassment cleared his throat, calling your attention.

“Aren’t you forgetting something…?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Uh, I’m sorry?” you tried, the hint of a wince on your features as he chuckled at your reaction. 

“No…” His gaze whipped to the end of the table, face falling at the sight of the clear bowl being empty. “Oh.”

“Didn’t you say you wanted me to have the last piece?” The confidence swelled in you at the reminder that this was your little test, and his reaction might have just proved your hypothesis. 

“I did…” he mumbled, eyes not leaving the bowl, a little crease between his eyebrows and his lips set to a pout. You almost felt bad thinking he looked adorable like this, almost considered if you could have conditioned yourself into spoiling him with the chocolates. You brushed the thought off, heading to the fridge to get water for both of you. As the door swung back, something glinted in the corner of your eye, sandwiched between two eggs in the tray. Gold.

You had no idea how it got there, but you snatched it up, completely forgetting about the water. “Jen?” He looked up, lips still pouting. “Fetch!”��

It was comical, strangely caricature-like when he trapped the projectile chocolate in both hands, face lighting up as he held the gold circle in his palm. A weird feeling crept on your nerves as you watched him eat it, your mind playing little games on you as the image of him with a happy, wagging tail flashed before your eyes. 

You shook the thought away, walking over to him and wrapping your arms loosely around his waist. The embrace doesnʼt last, the wet feeling from the stain on his shirt making you back away. 

“You need to wash up,” you commented, nose scrunched. 

“This is your fault, you know.” 

“Yeah, and I said sorry.” He laughed, cupping your face in his hands. 

“Alright then. Wanna join me in the shower?” You slapped a hand to his chest, making him laugh even louder. “Right, fine. Iʼll have you in there someday, though. I promised every room, remember?” He wiggled his eyebrows, pressing a chaste kiss to your nose before making his way to the bedroom. 

You walked behind him, plopping onto the bed as he got ready for a shower. You waited for him to close the bathroom door before fishing your phone out. 

There was an urgent call you needed to make. 

“Hello, Peaches!” It only took two rings before you heard the familiar nickname greet you, Donghyuck’s teasing voice penetrating through the line. Hearing your best friend brought a smile to your face, a little disbelief coursing through you that you didnʼt talk a peep in the last three days. “How’s marital bliss?” The question stretched your smile even further. You used to get annoyed from how he always referred to you and Jeno as a married couple, but you were quite used to it now.

“It’s the worst.” Your tone dripped with faux exaggeration. “I do nothing all day but get smothered with love, attention, and food. A divorce might be in the works soon.”

“Sounds tough, but I’ll throw you the biggest bachelorette party post-divorce and get you drunk out of your wits you might just wake up married to me.”

You snorted. That sounded exactly like something he would do. “Funny, but bachelorette parties are for unmarried—” You halt your own words, analyzing the notions of his statement in your head. “Wait…. that actually makes more sense than tradition.”

“Right? I’m the genius everyone refuses to acknowledge.” You heard a clatter in the background, likely that he knocked something down with the animated hand gestures he always did.

“Anyway, how’s life?” you asked. “You haven’t burned anything down in my absence, have you?” He still had a couple weeks left before he moves out of the flat you used to share.

“I had to hold myself back from torching the sofa, you know? All those nights I had to feign ignorance when Jeno finger banged you under the blanket on movie nights,” he sighed. “If only the memory could go down in flames.”

Your jaw dropped at the confession. “You what—”

“Oh, the things you thought you got away with!” Your eyes only grew wider. You knew perfectly well about those things, alright. It made you feel a little guilty, but considering Donghyuck had his fun acting all mean towards your boyfriend most of the time, you thought it was only fair. “Don’t you remember? Magnolias, violets, freesias…”

The names of flowers seemed random and only sparked confusion. Hyuck suddenly sparked an interest for floral scents when you began university, although he could never for the life of him do any actual gardening. You remembered how he could always sense them though no one can, asking “Doesn’t it smell like carnations?” to both you and Jeno on the nights he came over—

Oh. 

“I was trying to send signals but who was I kidding? Neither of you could even come close to my wavelength,” he bragged.

You couldn’t stop the images that flashed through your head of all the quickies and hushed sexcapades, coating you in embarrassment as you realized that almost without fail, there was a mention of a flower from your best friend after every deed. 

“Hyuck! Couldn’t you have just told me like a normal person?”

“And act like a total cockblock? Jeno and I don’t always see eye to eye, but I wouldn’t do that to anyone. What’s good for me is I’ve collected enough blackmail material to ask for your firstborn,” he snickered. “Now tell me why did you decide to disturb my perfectly peaceful present? Wait, no, hold your thoughts. Did you notice my genius there? Alleviation.”

“What?” You’re pulled back to reality by the out-of-place word, not understanding what “alleviation” he was talking about. Was it some new kind of slang?

“The three p’s! Perfectly peaceful present. Uh-lee-vee-aye-shun. Geez, woman. Aren’t you supposed to complete 18 units of English for law admission?” You soaked in a few seconds of silence as you processed what he meant. 

“Hyuckie…” 

“What?” 

“Alliteration!” You barely got the word out before bursting into a fit of giggles. “You’re talking about alliteration!” Your laughter rang out uninhibited as you imagined the frozen look he would have on his face whenever he was flustered.

“Well! It’s not my area of expertise.”

“Right. Sure. Whatever,” you said in between snorts.

“I’m hanging up—”

“Wait, no! Iʼm in dire need of your expertise right now. There’s something I’m not quite sure about and I think you would know about it.” Your best friend loved to tease, but he never liked it when it was mutual. He was petty and you knew he would have dropped the call and not picked up for the rest of the evening if you didn’t suck up.

“I’m listening.”

“I might have done something involving Jeno and chocolate…” you trailed off, not sure how to introduce the situation directly.

“When you said ‘area of expertise,’ I thought you meant psychology, not some kinky shit—”

“No!” 

“—although neither is wrong—”

“Oh, shut up! I am referring to psychology.” You didn’t give him any more chances to derail the conversation, the events of earlier tumbling out of you quick and easy. Jeno, chocolate, big bang, positive reinforcement.

“That’s where my chocolates went? You bitch! Although I can’t say I’m surprised.” You shrugged at his reaction out of habit. “The show’s right for the most part. Positive reinforcement. It’s under a process called operant conditioning, wherein an association is formed between the behavior and the consequences of a behavior through positive or negative—”

“In English, maybe?” 

“I am speaking English. You just speak dumb.” Your eyebrows furrowed at the insult, ready to retort until he cut you off. “Anyway! Operant conditioning is rewarding or punishing to either reinforce or discourage certain behaviors. It’s a learned response and it’s voluntary. That’s what you think you did by bribing your kind boyfriend into becoming your slave over some cheap ass chocolate coins.”

You frowned at the explanation and his choice of words, but you expected just as much. “Great. Thanks for that perspective. Now I feel guilty, thanks.” It was his turn to laugh on the other line.

“It’s not that deep, Peaches! I bet Jeno’s just a soft dom who wants you to be his baby.” You heaved retching sounds into the air. “Serious! That boy’s an open book and I’ve been reading him since day one. Dom vibes all over. Has he asked you to call him Daddy yet?” The retching sounds intensified. “Even if you did somehow condition him, it’s nothing to fret over. We do that to children! They use it in schools. It’s a teaching technique and it’s normal. Plus, if you succeeded I would count it as a damn good feat. God knows I tried to get you to regularly wash the dishes with ice cream.”

You resonated with his point, but you had to sigh. “And here I was thinking you treated me so often out of the kindness in your heart.”

“Kindness and a heart? You ask too much of me,” he continued as you chuckled. “You know what would be really fun though? There’s another kind of conditioning. Classical conditioning. It trains involuntary response. There was this guy named Pavlov who did an experiment on dogs—he was a piece of shit, by the way—and what he did was he rang a bell every feeding time. Eventually the dogs would salivate with just the sound of that bell, even without the presence of food. They’ve equated the two stimuli, food and sound, to the same involuntary response.” You shaped an O with your lips in shades of understanding and amazement. “So what I’m saying is, since he seems to respond so easily, you should try Pavlov dogging your boyfriend.”

Your hand slapped the mattress as you shook your head. “No. Absolutely not.”

“Why not?” His voice was exasperated at your swift rejection.

“You just called this Pavlov guy a piece of shit and you want me to follow in his light?” 

“He was an animal abuser. I doubt youʼll be using any torture methods on little old Jeno, unless your few days in pleasure island have already turned you into some nasty freak—” 

“Wouldnʼt that be illegal? Sounds like it could be a tiny bit illegal,” you cut him off before he could interrogate further on your bedroom habits.

“Last time I checked, you’re the one who’s going into law school, but if I say youʼre in the clear then don’t worry. I got 99% on my ethics final, after all.”

You scoffed. “This must be the missing 1%, then.” 

He groaned into the call, letting out a prolonged sigh before pushing the agenda once more. “Just give it a good old fashioned try, you boring little sourpuss. I doubt Jeno would be too mad at all the oral heʼs gonna get.” Your thoughts froze over at that last sentence. 

“Wait, no, rewind. Oral?” 

“You didn’t think I was suggesting you do the bell thing, did you?” Your silence was the only answer you offered. “You absolute dum-dum. Of course I was suggesting something sexual!”

“Yeah. Right. Of course. Why would I think you would ever suggest otherwise,” you deadpanned. You were still in a bit of shock as the magnitude of his suggestion doubled down on you.

He hummed into the phone. “Do something like… playing the macarena each time you go down on him.”

“Are you mental?” You almost shrieked, toning it down midway as you remembered Jeno was showering just some meters away.

“It’s a marvelous idea! Like an alarm tone for his dick. Hit him with a ‘Dale a tu cuerpo alegría Macarena’ and Jeno junior is up and ready to dance!”

“God, I think I’m actually gonna be sick,” you grimaced, clutching your tummy for unseen effect.

“What do you suggest, then?” Hyuck challenged.

“Nothing! I’m not doing it.” You crossed your arms under your chest, sitting up on the bed.

“Pussy.”

“Nut case.”

“Wimp.”

“Loony!”

“I bet you’re just scared.” You scoffed at his drop of the magic word. “I bet your head game is too weak to make it happen, anyways.”

“Excuse me!” You huffed, about to defend yourself, but how does one do that on the topic of fellatio, of all things?

“Yes? Excuse you? What is it?” By the sing-songy tone of his voice, you just knew that he could sense your predicament. This was Donghyuck’s specialty, baiting you with bets. There was just something about being friends with the boy that naturally came with that childish competitive spirit, his snide arrogance only there to make matters worse.

“What are the stakes?” Your voice was uncharacteristically calm, almost unnerving.

“Glad you asked. See, you might have taken my chocolates but I guess you forgot something of yours.” You raised an eyebrow. You couldn’t have forgotten anything, you even had a checklist. “You know those two giant bags of dehydrated marshmallows you bought online? Are they even bags? They’re the size of sacks aren’t they? They arrived two days ago.”

“Oh my god.” Your heart dropped at the mention of the marshmallows. Lucky Charms are only valid for their marshmallows, and when you found out that 40 pounds of just the marshmallows were being sold online for a limited period, you made the quickest impulse purchase of your life. How could you forget? “They’re called marbits,” you whispered. Marshmallow bits.

“Oh your god indeed, and they can be called chalk bits for all I care. I’ve already opened one—”

“You did not!”

“—so stakes are on the one I left untouched. Unless, of course, your generosity wants to leave that to me too—”

“No. Deal. You’re on.”

His squealing laughter pierced through the speaker, making you hold the phone away from your ear. “Deal’s on what, though? How do you plan on Pavlov dogging the boyfriend?” 

You nibbled on the corner of your bottom lip, still a little intimidated by the concept of… Pavlov dogging, but you also couldn’t deny the feeling of excitement slowly bubbling in you. “I don’t know yet, but I’m certain it’s not gonna involve the macarena in any way possible.” You grimaced at the reminder of that scarring mental image.

“Bo-ring!” He genuinely yawned at the end of the word, and you were reminded of his screwed up sleeping schedule, likely that he hasn’t had a wink of rest yet.

“I’ll figure it out and tell you ASAP,” you promised. 

“You better. And I want full reports, detailed rundowns—”

“You’re disgusting.” Your nose scrunched at the implications.

“Of the progress, Peaches! What do you think of me? I’m purely academic on this, a professional researcher,” he insisted.

“Can’t believe I’m getting myself into this…” you muttered.

“You said the same thing when I bet you couldn’t get that popular biochem major’s number in our freshman year,” he said, “and look where you are now: in a loving, sexually fulfilling relationship with said biochem major for, what? Almost three years? You’re welcome, by the way.” You grumbled at the reminder. He wasn’t wrong, though. He just wouldn’t stop mentioning it every chance he got.

“Thank you, Hyuck. Meanwhile, get some sleep and do not touch the last bag of marbits.” He muttered his half-hearted assurances and exchanged goodbyes, and soon you were left to your own thoughts.

“What the hell did I just sign up for?” You’ve been pacing around the bedroom since the call dropped. Still, it had to be done. If not for shoving it on Donghyuck’s face, then for the marbits. And if not for the marbits… well, for your own curiosity. The most important thing was it had to be inconspicuous enough for Jeno to not notice. You didn’t know if self-awareness contributed to the effectiveness of conditioning, but you were enforcing this rule to save yourself the embarrassment of explaining the whole situation to Jeno. You walked in little uneven circles around the room until you stepped on something slippery, something silky. You looked down, and there was a shimmery purple peeking from under your toes. 

A scrunchie.

You picked it up, sliding it over your wrist then bunching your hair up in your hands, thinking it might help your brainstorming if your hair was out of the way—

“Wait. That’s it!” you whisper-yelled. The apple dropping on Newton’s head was the hair tie suffocating your wrist. Blowjobs and ponytails! It was subtle and it was perfect. You went back around the room in excited little hops, like Archimedes running naked through Syracuse shouting ‘Eureka!’ except your journey to the closed bathroom door was in silence. You leaned an ear against it, and it brought a sly smile to your face to hear the shower still running. You peeked at your left hand with the purple silk around it, bolstering your confidence as you turned the unlocked knob and entered quietly.

The door opened to a wide space of black tiles, a large built-in bathtub to the right. The sinks and mirrors were some feet before you, attached to the singular wall of white marble that stood in the middle of the room. The shower area was on the opposite side of the partition, and you walked barefoot and nimble towards it, stopping a few steps in front of the mirror as you contemplated whether to take your white shirt and booty shorts off. You decided in favor of leaving them on, wanting to give him a full show of you in wet clothes as you took care of him.

You stepped past the wall, into the area in front of the glass shower encasement where the tiles transitioned into a patch of white smooth decorative rocks. Jeno had his eyes closed with his back to the shower head, giving you a slightly clouded view of his nude front as you stood just outside the sliding door unbeknownst to him. Your eyes trailed along with the water caressing his skin, flowing down from the side of his face, his neck, the defined ridges of his abs, and downwards more until you’re met with a stroke of unexpected luck.

He was already hard, curved cock proudly pointing upwards.

The sight had you taken aback, startled and aroused, and in your daze your foot slipped a little on the rocks, the noise distinct against the sound of running water that alerted Jeno to open his eyes. He didn’t look surprised to find you in front of him, his expression slowly morphing into a smirk as he regarded you with half-lidded eyes.

“I was just thinking of you,” he said, not moving from where he stood.

“What about me?” you answered softly, stepping a little closer to the sliding door, eyes trained on his.

“About every which way I planned on ruining you tonight,” his lips tugged higher upwards, “and it seems you appeared right out of my imagination. Are you here to help me fulfill my promise?”

You didn’t answer, sliding the door open in front of you, a gust of warmth and humidity invading your atmosphere. You stepped inside, feet met with cold wet tiles, not bothering to shut the door behind you as you walked straight up to your boyfriend and caught his lips in yours in a soft kiss, your arms wrapped loosely around his neck. The warm water traveled from his bare chest down to your clothes, soaking you and making the fabric cling to your skin. His erection rubbed against you as you pressed closer to him, breaking the kiss as he groaned.

You slid down to your knees, hands dragging on his body, settling on the backs of his thighs. Jeno found it harder to breathe, the air going through his parted lips heavier as he drank in the sight below him. Your white shirt was soaked see through, hinting at the lace bra you had underneath as you stared at him with a wide-eyed, guileless expression.

You rubbed your palms up and down his thighs, breathing hard on purpose so he could feel your warm breath so close to his need. He placed his hands on top of yours, ceasing their motion as he nudged his hips a little, just enough to bump his tip against your moist lips.

“No teasing baby,” he whispered. “I’ve been dreaming of your pretty mouth for too long in here.”

You smiled innocently before ducking your head down to lick a stripe on the underside of his cock, from the base just until the ridge of his tip, careful not to touch his most sensitive part yet. He exhaled slowly from the warm, wet feel of the flat of your tongue, hitching abruptly when you took a ball in your mouth, suckling gently, drawing breathy grunts from him before you switched to the other one.

You sat back for a second, admiring his cock looking even stiffer than before, the veins wrapped around it bulging. Your core ached to have it buried in your walls, thighs squeezing together for some relief, but that’s not what you were here for right now. 

You pulled your hands to the front, and you’re greeted by the bright purple on your left hand again, smirk pulling at your lips. You wrapped both hands on his length, fists going back and forth as you twisted them in opposite directions, applying just the right pressure to make him lean an arm on the wall beside him, watching you with eyebrows scrunched and mouth dropped open.

His receptiveness made you smile wider, your grip growing firmer, a deep, strangled moan escaping him. You pressed a light, chaste kiss to his tip, and he immediately bucked his hips forward, trying to push past your tightly shut lips. You looked up gain, smiling as you shook your head no.

His tip was leaking pre-cum, and you stuck your tongue out as you kept your motions constant, watching it collect and drip down before you caught it on your wet muscle, moaning and licking your lips before poking your tongue against his tip, trying to taste more of the clear liquid while Jeno hissed and pushed harder against your tongue. 

You took mercy on him, pulling back to get ready for the main show. Your hands retreated to your hair, and you made sure to look him in the eyes as you twisted the scrunchie in smooth loops. Jeno smiled as he helped push the hair back from your face, but your hand flew to his wrist and pulled it in, holding his hand near your mouth as your tongue darted out to swirl around his index finger, and you giggled at the growl your lewd action incited.

You finally took him in your mouth, going halfway down his cock and bobbing back up and down again, your right hand pumping the rest of his length, your left massaging his balls. He let out a satisfied moan, his hand naturally moving to your bunched up hair and gripping it tight. 

You withdrew with a popping sound, giving him a couple of firm tugs before you cupped both hands under your chin, coating them in your spit. You spread your palms flat on either side of his cock and began gliding them in opposing directions. You felt his thighs quiver a bit, and that was when you swirled your tongue in circles around the head of his cock, the wet sounds accompanying the splash of water behind him. The pitch of his moans climbed higher, and you’re surprised to hear him whine when you took his tip into your hot mouth, hollowing your cheeks around it and sucking in continuous, slow intervals, accompanied by the persistent glide of your palms on him.

“Baby, fuck,” he panted. “My baby’s a goddamn pro. Always so good for me. Love you so fucking much.” The praise had you moaning around him, your mind reeling and your thighs squeezing tighter together. You removed your hands from his cock, grabbing instead at his ass, your fingers digging into his skin. You slid your mouth further and further down his length slowly until you had the entirety of him down your throat. Jeno kept cursing at the air as his cock remained lodged in you, moving only with small bobs of your head, his tip prodding so deep inside you repeatedly, coaxing fat tears to form at the corner of your eyes as you found it harder and harder to breathe.

One of your hands dropped to your core, rubbing your clit through your shorts as you moaned and gargled around your boyfriend’s cock. He started twitching in your mouth and he bucked into you involuntarily, making you swallow and gag around his length, drawing a growl out of him.

To your surprise, his hand tugged on your hair, your lips dragging on his length as he pulled you off. Your first response was to gasp for air, but soon you were whining and pouting, grabbing at his thighs and trying to pull him back closer to you. 

He bent down instead, pulling you up from under your arms until you were both standing. He tugged your shorts and underwear down together, and you lifted each foot up to help before he discarded both, landing with a wet splash behind him. He crouched down before you, pushed your thighs apart and lapped at your clit, his hands squeezing the backs of your thighs. 

Shrill whimpers slipped from your mouth as Jeno kept making out with your pussy, keening when he started fucking you with his middle finger. It wasn’t nearly enough, and you rocked against his face, his nose nudging at your clit. 

He pulled away from you after a few minutes, and before you could even complain his palm landed on your ass, making you gasp at the sharp contact, your body arching above him a little bit. Without warning, he stood up and lifted you by the hips, hoisting you on his shoulder high enough that your feet hovered above the floor, Jeno carrying you out of the shower. A confused squeak came out of you, but you wrapped your arms around his shoulder nonetheless, kissing on his neck.

“I’m fucking you on the bed,” he rasped. “I can get you wetter without all this water.” You didn’t contest, and you felt a little relieved because you were beginning to worry that the constant stream of hot shower was going to dry out his skin. 

By the time he’s walked you out to the bedroom, you’ve already managed to leave two lovebites on his jaw. You lacked the time to admire your handiwork as Jeno dropped you down the mattress, your back landing on the soft cotton sheets. He tugged the hem of your shirt upwards, and you held your hands up as he pulled the wet fabric off you. You began to unhook your bra, but he beat you to it with a simpler solution of ripping the flimsy number into two pieces from the front.

“Jeno!” They weren’t the sturdiest pair, but they were worth the aesthetic and you were not too happy to see them lying ruined on the floor.

“I’ll buy you a whole closet,” he whispered before circling his tongue around your nipple. Your soft cries poured out of you continuously as the licking and sucking grew more intense, but your hand pulled at his hair when you remembered something.

“Wait. Babe, the shower,” you recalled in between pants.

“What?” It was a response on autopilot, Jeno paying you no actual mind as he just dived for your other nipple, fingers playing with the one you forced him to abandon.

“The water’s still running.” There was no response from him, just the feeling of his fingers trailing down your stomach, inching to the inside of your thighs. “Jeno.” Your fingers pulled on his hair again, harder this time, but it elicited a reaction other than what you hoped for as he groaned on your nipple, its effect ricocheting on you as you whimpered at the sound.

“The water bill isn’t a problem, baby.” Your back arched off the bed as he slipped two fingers into you, your already wet heat making it too easy for him to pump into you fast. “Now will you just let me—”

“I’m not worried about your—ah, fuck!—about your fat wallet. I’m thinking of Mother Earth!” Despite your aching need, you steeled your nerves and clamped your thighs together tight, pushing his hand away while your own body screamed at you for your actions. 

He didn’t say anything as he looked at you with dark eyes, tongue poking at the inside of his cheek before he swiftly turned around, striding fast and aggravated as he headed back into the bathroom. His footsteps sounded heavy as he returned, and the look on his face told you that you were truly in for it tonight. He lifted your thighs up on his forearms, hooking onto them before he pulled your body to the foot of the bed and kneeled down the floor, his breath hot on your core.

“Just for that, I’m pulling at least five orgasms out of you tonight,” he declared before diving into you, your hands bunching up the sheets on either side of you, moans flying into the evening.

It was day seven of your determined “trials,” and Jeno was living his best life. Well, you both were, considering he was always more of a giver and liked to repay you five times over the mind blowing orgasms you gave him on the daily. Your hair tie collection was growing in size as well, buying new colors, shapes, sizes and patterns whenever the chance arose, not a day without one at the ready on your wrist. 

Today, however, you were off-schedule for his wake-up blowjob because something else came buzzing at the doorbell, shaking the two of you out of the sleepy haze from last night’s activities. Jeno was anchoring you down with his arm across your body, mumbling that “it’s probably just a package,” and that there was no need to get up because “they’ll just leave it out front.” Thank the deity that looked down on you that day and blessed you with just enough strength to drag the two of you out of bed, because that was no delivery man outside.

It was his mom.

Of course, after the initial surprise wore off you gave her an easy smile, hugging each other before you helped her with the heavy bags she had on both arms, Jeno in turn taking them from you as you all gathered inside.

She fixed the groceries and side dishes she brought along with her, surveying the fridge and pantry to make sure you were both running on actual nutrition and not “all those instant bags of MSG” her son so loved. While she went about her business, she mentioned how she had texted Jeno a few days ago about her pending visit, something you never heard of until today. You gave Jeno a tight smile, one that didn’t quite reach your eyes, and he picked up on your silent warning, quickly looking away and sparking conversation with his mom.

It’s not that you didn’t get along with his family. Oh no, you absolutely loved them and the feeling has been mutual since you were introduced on your first anniversary. But right now, with your hair a bird’s nest, your string top from the night before without even a bra on, you couldn’t wait for the privacy to give him a piece of your mind about the lack of a heads up. Maybe all that sex concentrated his blood down south and messed with his memory.

Lucky for him, his mom was a total sweetheart, her cheery countenance managing to fizzle out your irritation as she pulled out these huge photo albums from one of the bags. You giggled at his baby photos, his bum stark naked in half of them, the other half spotlighting the endearing eye smile he’s had since childhood. She was in the middle of another backstory, the one behind a photo of Jeno crying in what was apparently the set for a TV commercial, when her phone rang and interrupted her spirited narration.

“Your dad needs me for urgent business,” she explained after hanging up, flashing the whites of her eyes in jest at the last two words. Jeno was already walking to the door, about to grab the car keys off the hook.

“I’ll drive you—”

“Oh, don’t bother! He’s already parked out front.” She tipped her head towards you, giving you a knowing smile. “The men in this family are no good with giving advanced notices.” You grinned at her, shaking your head in solidarity.

Jeno’s gaze flitted to anywhere but on your person once you were alone again, but you didn’t do much damage other than playfully biting him on the arm. The encounter ended up giving you a fuzzy feeling inside, and you felt like you were able to bond with his mom on a deeper level. Relaxed. Comfortable. “Familiar,” you thought, mind lingering on how the word was rooted in “family.”

You began collecting the photobooks, stacking them on top of each other and placing them on the shelves in the living room. You looked into the bag they came from, checking if there was any more left inside, and you were greeted by a thin, rectangular box wrapped in dark emerald velvet. You picked it up, squinting at it before calling Jeno over. 

“Babe? I think your mom left this by mistake.” He looked over to you from the kitchen island where he was preparing two bowls of cereal, his half moons growing into wide circles as he registered what you were holding up in the air. “I think we should call her and—”

He ran over to you, taking the box in your hand and bolting away.

“Where the hell are you going!” You had no idea what was going on, but you quickly ran after him, realizing he was headed to the guest room. He was a good few steps ahead, but before he could close and lock the door on you, you stretched your arm out, wedging your hand through the gap. Your lapse in judgment swiftly cracked down on you, the pain shooting through your fingers as the door slammed just beneath your knuckles, tearing a pained cry from you as you clutched the hand to your chest, squatting on the floor.

“Shitshitshitshit! I’m so sorry baby, shit, I’m sorry.” Jeno flung the door back open when he heard you yelp, immediately rushing to your side, prying softly at your arm so he could take a look at your hurt. There was a linear mark that ran across your fingers, colored in a red that was gradually deepening in shade, the digits shaking as you felt the blood throb in that area. He winced at the sight, and he felt even worse knowing for certain it was going to leave tender bruises for days. He murmured apologies in between the most gentle kisses to your knuckles, his hand wiping at the couple of tears that escaped you.

You stayed like that for a few minutes before he asked, “Does it still hurt?” You shook your head no. “I’m sorry.” You shook your head again.

“It was a stupid move, not your fault,” you assured him, sniffling a little. He helped you up, holding and guiding you inside the room, sitting you down on the bed so carefully as if the injury wasn’t just on your fingers.

“Wait here.” Your eyes landed on the emerald box now strewn on the floor near the door as he walked out, returning some minutes later with an ice cloth and lightly pressing it to your knuckles. “What was that about?” you asked, taking the cold pack from his hand to hold it on your own. He followed the trail of your sight to the box in question, taking a deep breath before retrieving it. He sat down next to you and opened the box. 

It was a necklace, its chain a thin delicate silver, the big teardrop pendant a deep emerald like its container. It was the most elegant piece of jewelry you’ve ever seen, and you had to tear your gaze away before you could fall in love with it. You had to return it, after all.

“You should really call your mom. She’d probably get upset if she finds out it’s lost.” 

“It’s not hers.” Your eyebrows scrunched in, confused at his reply. “I mean, it was hers. It was also my grandma’s, and my great grandma’s.” He took it out of the box, the stone glinting as it reflected the sunlight from the windows. “And now it’s yours.”

You were still busy staring at the pendant that turned gently from where it hung, scarcely registering his answer until it hit you like a truck.

“Mine?” you asked with wide eyes.

A hand sheepishly scratched at the back of his neck. “It was supposed to be your anniversary gift. I asked mom to send it over, I didn’t know she would go here to bring it herself. Must have missed her text.” 

You gawked at him, still in disbelief that he was seriously handing over not only what must be of hefty price but also a family heirloom. You shoved his hand away from you. “You’re insane. I can’t take this. We have to give it back to your mom.” 

He didn’t heed your words, unclasping the latch on the necklace. “She sounded even happier than I was when I called her about it. Trust me, if anything’s gonna break her heart, it’ll be if she finds this back in her drawer.” He gathered your hair to one side. You don’t miss the way he gulped, fingers lingering on the bunched strands. 

“I understand how you’re feeling,” he continued. “You probably think it’s all going too fast, that I didn’t think this through, right? My grams got this on her first date, my mom within four months. Dad and pops probably gave it as something to prove their feelings, but this is different. We’re already solid, baby. The three years we’ve been in love is all the proof we need. 

I’ve been serious about you for so long now, and each passing day I only grow more and more certain. Whenever my heart isn’t racing because of you, it rests easy and content knowing that you’re around. So I’m giving you this,” the chain was cold against your skin as he latched it around your neck, “because I want you to know that I’m sure about you—about us. And although it holds promises for our love in a future so far ahead of us, it also holds all the love I’ve bottled up for you in the last three years.” He cupped your face in both hands, lifting your gaze up to look him in the eyes, “So would you please, please indulge me and just drink it all up?”

By this point, your heart was squeezing almost painfully in your chest. You were no stranger to his sweet gestures, but unveiled declarations of love? It was rare for him to directly voice out his feelings longer than an ‘I love you.’ It made you feel like you were floating, your lips trembling as you spoke, “Fine, you smooth fucker.” The words were strong, joking, but the slight shake to your voice was otherwise. “I’ll take your bribe.”

“Thank god.” You were greeted by his eye smile before he ghosted a kiss to the corner of your lips, sparking a trail of light kisses that stretched down to where the emerald rested against the skin of your chest, goosebumps chasing after his touch as your breath hitched in your throat.

“I want to give your present early too,” you whispered, pulling his gaze back to your eyes as he hummed in question. You dropped the ice bag on the floor, your good hand thumbing on the thin strap of your top before pulling it down slowly past your shoulder.

“But you’re hurt…” 

“It’s barely a scratch,” you fibbed, raising your other hand and bending the fingers. It was a little tender, but nothing too bad. He didn’t look convinced though, about to reach for the ice again before you captured his wrist in your hand. “Jeno… I want to love you right now, baby. Please? Wanna make you feel loved…” 

You pulled on the other strap and dragged the thin fabric downwards to bunch at your waist, your breasts bouncing as they were freed from the tugging, your nipples hard and aching to be touched. You leaned in to draw him into a kiss, but his hands smoothed on your jaw, holding you in place as his eyes searched into yours.

“If you’re doing this because… because you feel like you’re obliged to repay me or something—”

You cut him off by clashing your lips together, starting out rough and gradually easing into each other like a sigh of relief. You broke off for air, the worry on his brows still present although toned down. “You’re really talkative today, I noticed. We’ve never had this problem before…” you said, and it was true to an extent. Apart from first times he wanted to make special and that one drunken incident, you couldn’t recall a moment where Jeno hesitated or turned down a chance to have you. “I’m doing this, like always, because I love you,” you clasped your hands behind his neck, thumbs rubbing over his skin soothingly. “I love you every single day, but right now I’m filled to the brim and about to spill over so…” You leaned your face closer, lips barely brushing against his as you whispered, “…can you drink me all in?”

His eyes fluttered shut at the feel of your warm breath, your soft lips, obliging with feather-like presses of his closed mouth, gradually parting it open after each peck until it was as if a dam of desire and emotions ruptured in him and he had to pull you in as close as possible to shield you from the deluge, kissing like you were drowning and needed to share the oxygen in each other’s lungs to survive.

You were both a mess of gasps and pants when you broke apart. He pulled you to stand along with him, and he kneeled down to undress you, his usual callousness for clothes missing as he gently tugged every piece off you until there was nothing left hidden from his eyes. He went back to his feet, dragging his fingertips upwards from your legs to your sides as he did, and lifted you off the floor to lay you down on the bed. 

His eyes soaked you in as you lied before him, fully exposed. He’s stunned, gaze trained to the teardrop gem in the valley of your breasts, rising and falling with the heave of your chest. 

“Jeno…” Your whine tore him from the daze, seeing your knees bent up, thighs squeezed and rubbing together to ease some of the tension from your glistening core. You watched him bend down to the foot of the bed, picking something up that was out of your sight, but he was empty handed as he climbed to the bed, crawling closer, fully clothed and hovering above you. 

He supported himself on one arm bent above your head as he bowed into you, your bare body pressing on him as he kissed you deep, tongue stroking against yours, coaxing the sweetest sounds out of you. It was rhythmic and dance-like each time he dived into you, exploring you, and then resurfaced for air, pressing wet kisses on your face, neck, and shoulders, not a single second wasted without the touch of his lips on your skin. The heat rising in you was becoming unbearable, you needed him to do more, to touch you even more. Like he heard your silent plea, his other hand caressed the skin of your waist, and you jolted from the bed, breaking away from his lips, shivering. 

His fingertips were cold as ice, a reminder of the ice bag you left below flickering through your mind, the thought crumbling just as fast when his cold touch dragged to the inside of your thighs, grazing the sensitive skin up and down, your breaths coming out like stutters as they stop and start in reaction to the chilly feeling on your skin.

“J-jen…” Your whimpers were small, desperate, transitioning to a strangled gasp when he tapped tentatively on your clit, the sensation like a spark of electricity on the sensitive bud. Your moans poured out, core growing wetter and wetter as he rubbed your nub and sucked bruises onto your chest, surrounding the gem that you wore. The aching heat on your clit was thawing his fingers back to their warmth, and you keened as he replaced them with his thumb, his fingers easing into your velvet walls instead.

He pushed and pulled at an agonizing pace, and you bucked your hips trying to get him to speed up. He relented, pumping into you faster, his thumb nudging at your clit every time. He swallowed your frantic moans into a kiss, not slowing down when he felt your walls fluttering around his digits, allowing your first orgasm to crash on you easily.

He landed butterfly kisses on your hairline as you descended from the high, and you opened your eyes to find his lust-filled gaze on you, his pupils blown wide with want. You tugged at the bottom of his shirt, and he took the hint, lifting it off his torso, your hands quick to find purchase on the exposed skin, caressing the hard muscles that adorned it.

Begrudgingly, he had to pull away from your touch, getting off the bed to shed his lower garments. While he busied himself for a few seconds, you quickly shifted your weight on the bed, moving onto your knees and elbows, chest down and ass up in the air.

Jeno gulped when his eyes met your figure, all prepped and ready for him, the desire to take you slow and easy evaporating into something more primal and animalistic. His eyes focused on your waiting, soaked heat. He could have exploded the moment your hand reached from underneath you, your index and middle finger spreading your folds apart, a gush of moisture trickling down as you stretched yourself open for him, a needy moan of his name slipping past your lips.

He couldn’t help but groan, the blood rushing straight to his desire, his fist pumping on his painfully hard cock, spreading the pre-cum down on his shaft as he got on his knees on the bed, his other hand gripping onto you by the hip. He rubbed his tip on your slit a few times, gathering your slick on the head of his cock before slipping to the hilt into your waiting need, pushing a moan out of you both. 

He started out slow, hips rolling sensually in and out of you, every ridge and vein of his cock so pronounced to your walls at his laggard tempo. It was clear he was having a hard time restraining himself, his fingertips digging into your hip telling you just as much, so you wiggled against him, sinking lower into the mattress and stretching your arms out straight in front of you so your upper body was flat against the bed, your ass going higher and pressing onto him.

He grunted at your eagerness, thrusting harder into you, rocking you forwards on the bed. Your body arched even higher when he drilled into you from a downwards angle, his tip massaging the sensitive spot inside you with every roll of his hips. You cried obscenities into the air, your gaze lifted upwards, and your eyes trailed up your tense outstretched arms, landing on the thin black elastic on your wrist

The reminder brought a wicked grin to your face, and you placed a hand on top of his that was gripping on your hips, propping yourself up with your other hand on the mattress. You shifted on your knees until you were kneeling upright, movements careful to not to slip his entire length out of you just to plunge back down on his cock. 

His legs folded back as you sat on him, your ass nestled snugly against his pelvis, the new position eliciting a deep groan from him. His chest was flush to your back, cock buried in you as deep as he can get. Soft, wet kisses littered your right shoulder as his hands traveled to your breasts, cupping the mounds from underneath and giving them a firm squeeze as he bucked his hips into yours harshly, jolting both your bodies up from the mattress before slowly descending and jutting into you again, hard. Like rushing ocean waves that crashed violently against rocks, over and over. Like his body was the unyielding storm and it was wreaking havoc on every inch of you. 

Your scattered moans were a mess in the air above you, scattered, breathy, erratic. Jeno trails a hand to the front of your heat, the pads of his fingers drawing messy circles on your swollen clit. Your eyes shut at the simultaneous stimulation all over: his open mouthed kisses on your shoulder, his fingers rolling your nipple and rubbing at your clit, his rigid cock against your walls, slamming in fast and dragging out slow in repeated motion. 

It was so, so fucking good that you considered just letting him have his way with you, almost forgetting what you intended to do. Almost. You placed both hands on top of his and settled them on your hips. Wasting no time, Jeno used the leverage to lift your body up and down on his length. His pace only grew faster as he kept using you, fucking your body down on him.

“Jeno! Ah, babe, oh fuck, slow down.” He eased his grip on you, gradually playing down the tempo until he was just barely dragging you on his cock. He watched you from the back as your hands gathered your hair up into a loose ponytail, the motion smooth and delicate like a subdued kind of wonder in his eyes, and then you began bouncing on his length fast, clamping your walls around him on purpose.

“Fucking hell baby, you feel so good around me” he grunted, his fingertips jabbing into your skin but not interrupting your flow, letting you lead the pace. He bit his lip as he watched you sink onto his length, swallowing him and then pushing yourself back up, revealing your lips stretched and gripping his cock so tight. His eyes trailed up the skin of your bare back as you rode him faster, gaze going higher and higher until it landed on the loose tie on your hair, staring at the way it began slipping down from your feverish motions until it eventually landed on your back.

You stopped abruptly, whining “Put it back on me,” but Jeno didn’t answer. He was confused by your lack of motion, trying to lift you up in his grip until you slapped at his hands. “Tie my hair up for me.” He could practically hear the pout in your voice as he snatched the elastic from your back, groaning as you wiggled your hips on him.

You could feel his inexperience by how soft and wary his touch was, fumbling to gather your hair back. He’s probably never done it before, but he should know the motions by now from how often he’s seen you do it. He twisted the elastic twice, loose and sloppy, but it did the job. You smiled when his hands went back to your hips, and you resumed as if you never stopped, your pace relentless until you felt the hair tie slip down and you halted all action once more, whining for him to put it back on you again.

It was a loop of the same damned thing over and over, and you could feel his frustration by how quicker, how more careless he handled your hair each time. You were both getting edged by your stubbornness, and while it brought you amusement, it only gave him mirth that grew bigger and bigger until he couldn’t take it any longer. The next time the elastic fell, he tossed the wretched thing to the floor and bunched your hair up in his hand instead. You felt how hard he was gripping at your strands, stretching at your scalp as he angled your bodies higher off the mattress, kneeling you both up as he began thrusting into you himself.

Your body jostled forward at every lurch of his hips, the momentum stunted by his snug grip on your hair and an arm around your stomach. He used the constraint to pull your head back, exposing your neck to him, forcing a keen out of you as he bit and sucked on the delicate skin, leaving his marks on you.

Broken cries left you as his other hand fondled with your breast, gently tugging your nipple upwards in time with his thrusts. Your walls were beginning to contract around his cock, and before you could completely lose yourself on him, he slowed down and shifted you both on your sides. He embraced you tight against him, spooning as he resumed fucking into you, his tongue lapping at the bite marks he left on your neck, whispering sweet nothings against your skin.

“Babe… oh god, I‘m gonna cum,” you gasped.

“That’s my good girl,” He slipped his hand in front of you, massaging your clit to take you there faster, moans slipping out of you continuously. “Let go for me baby. I’m right here, I got you.”

“Fuck, Jeno—I love you baby, fuck!” you cried through your orgasm. Jeno didn’t stop thrusting, his fingers didn’t stop rubbing on your clit, making your whole body seize up with each contraction of your walls around him, milking around him until you felt his warmth spill into you, his grunts littering the air and his motions stilling save for his cock twitching as he painted your walls in white.

“I love you,” he whispered against your hair after releasing his hold on the strands. “Love my baby so much, always so good for me.” He showered you in praise and affection as he soothed a palm on your arm, rubbing softly on your skin, pressing innocent kisses to your neck.

Once you’ve filled your lungs back with air, you tapped on his hip behind you, signaling for him to pull out. You turned to face him on the bed, careful to clamp your thighs together so you don’t make a mess on the sheets.

He smiled contentedly at your tired and fucked out expression, his hand moving the hair away from your chest, revealing the necklace still clinging to your sweaty skin.

“I still think this is too much,” you rasped, holding the pendant between your fingers.

“Are you still thinking of giving it back after I fucked you in it?” You punched his arm, weak from all the effort exerted from your lovemaking. “Guess you’ll freak when I give you the matching earrings for our fourth anniversary, then.”

“Jen!” Your eyes widened at his off-handed comment.

“Be glad it isn’t the ring,” he smirked. “I’m saving that for the biggest occasion.”

You blinked, lips parted as you surveyed his expression, trying to figure out if he was being serious. You gathered your bearings quick enough, shaking your head at him and showing him the red marks still visible and a little darker on your hand.

“You did give me four other rings, though.”

He frowned at the reminder, taking your hand by the wrist and holding it above your head, concerned and a little annoyed that he almost forgot. “Keep these elevated,” he said, tone strict. You chuckled and left it at that, staring at his eyes that flitted over each of your features, licking his lips before he looked you in the eyes again.

“What if I told you we’re getting married after we graduate?” 

You were stunned for a second. You’ve never seriously talked about the possibility of that before. That was definitely too soon, and you were both too young, so you dodged the question with another of your own. “You’re that confident I’ll marry you?” You replaced your shocked expression for a teasing smirk, one which he returned easily.

“I’m really confident in my arms,” he began, making you squint at what seemed like a remark of vanity, “that I can just flip you over my shoulder and kidnap you to the altar if I must.” 

You giggled, lightly hitting his arm when the cute scene cropped up in your mind’s eye. When the laughter died down, your eyes gazed into his to find them swimming in sincerity and adoration. 

“Slow down there,” you whispered, the smile never leaving your lips. Every fiber in your being loved Lee Jeno, and it sent tingles through your skin and a pleasant kind of dizziness to think that he wanted to spend a lifetime loving you because you wanted it too, but you weren’t ready for wedding vows. You both had too much left to accomplish individually, and you wanted to chase those milestones together before settling down.

He didn’t push it, understanding that look in your eyes, pressing a kiss to your nose instead. “Our internships are starting soon,” he offered. “I’m gonna miss you when I’m back to spending my days with Jaemin in the lab.”

You rolled your eyes, but you were relieved at the shift in topic. “Babe, we literally live together now. We’ll still see each other everyday.” You pinched his ear between your fingers, making him scrunch his nose at you. “And I know you miss your friends, don’t even deny it. You sure you don’t want to invite them over for an anniversary party?”

He was quick to shake his head. “Nope, no way. I want you all to myself on that day.” He put an arm around you, pulling you in even closer as you giggled.

“Isn’t that how it is for you everyday?” He didn’t bother answering, nosing affectionately at the crown of your head instead. You interrupted his sappy mood when you felt a pang in your tummy, realizing neither of you have eaten anything yet. “What’s for breakfast?”

“Shit,” his touch retracted from you as he sat up abruptly.

“That doesn’t sound too appetizing…” you trailed off, raising an eyebrow at his strange actions.

“The cereal! It must be all soggy now,” he frowned, standing from the bed and abandoning you without a second thought.

“I want eggs, sunny side up!” You shouted at his retreating figure. He raised a thumbs up into the air and you smiled, contented at the thought of a future that held the same sight for all of your mornings.

“You’ve failed.” You rolled your eyes at Donghyuck’s dramatic line from the phone. 

It was D-1 before your anniversary, and your best friend was annoyed that you’ve never called him back for updates since your betting game commenced. You had just told him about the method you had chosen, of Pavlov and ponytails.

“On the contrary, I’m quite sure I’ve succeeded,” you noted with a self-assured smile, recalling all the times you’ve successfully been riling Jeno up the past few days with just a swish of your wrist on your hair, leaving him baffled as to why his sex drive has gone through the roof lately.

“But you have no evidence of that.” Donghyuck was right, but you scrunched your eyebrows at the unlikely feasibility of this requirement.

“How the hell am I supposed to provide evidence of that! You want my boyfriend’s dick pics?”

“Hell no!” You sneered at his high pitched denial. “If you actually stuck with our agreement and gave me regular progress reports, then we wouldn’t be having this problem.”

“You’re sick.”

“I’m a strict observer of the scientific method.”

You shook your head, just about done with his stubborn insistence. “You know what? You want proof? Fine.” You stood from the bed, walking off with the vigor of someone who’s about to win a horrific amount of marbits. “The codeword is orange.”

“The fuck are you on about?”

You smiled at his confusion. “When I say ‘orange,’ that means I just tied my hair up.” You stopped before the bedroom door, hand on the knob.

“Okay, and? Does Jeno shout back ‘lemon’ whenever he gets a stiffy?”

You rolled your eyes. “Just shut up and listen carefully, bitch.” You didn’t wait for his response, stuffing your phone in your pocket before opening the door and calling out, “Babe?”

“Yes baby?” You followed Jeno’s voice that rang from the kitchen, finding him pouring out a glass of water for himself before leaning against the counters, smiling at you. You gave him a bright smile of your own, silent as you neared him. He was probably expecting a hug and laid his cup down on the counter behind him, but he was surprised to see you sink down to your knees before him.

In three hard tugs, you’ve pulled his sweats and underwear down to set his soft cock free. Before anything else, you gathered your hair with both hands to one side of your neck, twisting it around but not tying it up just yet. Sure enough, his length twitched shortly after the action, but things weren’t going fast enough for you. You were motivated, sick as it may sound, by the thought of your best friend who was about to listen in on the filthy sounds of your victory.

“Babe, ah shit, what’s gotten into you?” You kept one hand wrapped around your hair as you began pumping him tight and fast in one hand, placing kitten licks on his tip, taking him into your mouth every now and then to get him nice and wet. There was no technique to it, no thought behind your actions as you just wanted him hard and ready fast. Once he was, you grinned up at his pleasured expression.

“Fuck my face.”

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, hopefully loud enough to conceal the squeak that came from your phone. He didn’t seem to notice, his hands moving to the sides of your face. “You sure baby?”

“As ever.” You gave him one last smile before dropping your jaw as wide as you can, sticking your tongue out. He drove into you slowly, and you had to do the work yourself to get around his hesitation, pushing forward until your nose was pressing against his skin. 

“Fucking shit. What did I do to deserve you?” He drew out and thrusted into you carefully, and you closed your eyes momentarily in frustration. “Just go hard on me damn it,” you thought, digging your nails into his ass cheeks to drive in your silent point. As if there was a telepathic line between you two, he did just that, picking up speed until he was fucking your mouth at a steady pace, the gargling sounds of your throat getting abused drifting into the atmosphere. 

Your eyes were stinging with tears but you powered through it until you ran out of breath, tapping rapidly against his thigh to let him know you needed a break. He withdrew from you, and your hands immediately flew to your hair. 

“Orange,” you rasped out. If he noticed your little codeword, it was all swept into the wind, forgotten as an even bigger surprise came out. You expected him to drill into you harder, absolutely lose himself and go berserk like he usually did when you tied your hair up, but you didn’t expect him to cum on sight as you put your hair into a ponytail. 

You were lucky when it came to reflexes, closing your eyes by instinct before he shot the first load onto your face. “Shit, baby, holy fuck, god fuck.” He was rambling, not making any sense as he kept pumping himself in his hand, no regard for you as he painted himself on your eyelids, cheeks, your mouth that was opened in shock. You stayed still, breath heaving as you took it like a champ, thick lines of his cum dripping on your skin, your tongue darting out to lick whatever it could reach.

“Baby, oh my god, sorry.” You couldn’t check to see if the apology looked sincere, waiting as he helped you clear the cum from your eyelids using his thumb, a surprised squeak coming out of you when you felt him push the digit into your mouth, making you suck it clean before he collected the rest of his cum and fed it all to you repeatedly.

He didn’t hesitate to bring you into a grateful kiss once he had most of your face cleaned, alternating between his ‘thank you’s’ and ‘sorry’s’ while his breathing was still recovering. You assured him it was alright and that you liked it, watching his ears tinge red from your admission before excusing yourself to the bathroom for a proper clean up.

You fished your phone out once you’ve locked the door behind you, checking the screen and smirking to find that the call was still active. “Better bring me my marbits in two days, sucker.” You laughed at the irony and dropped the call, not waiting to hear his reaction. Not like it mattered, your best friend made sure to blow up your phone just seconds apart.

Hyuck: FVCK YPU!!!!!
Hyuck: Did he CUM from you tying your hair up? That’s fifty shades of FUCKED UP
Hyuck: You actually done did it
Hyuck: That was DISGUSTING
Hyuck: But also kinda hot
Hyuck: But disgusting!
Hyuck: How the fuck am I supposed to eat oranges now
Hyuck: Never do that to me again
Hyuck: Unless…

You laughed to yourself, leaving everything on read.

Hyuck: Cocksucker. Enjoy your chalk bits. 
Hyuck: And your anniversary tomorrow too, I guess.

It was D-day. Three whole years of being Jeno’s girlfriend, and the thought still gave you whiplash whenever you realized how much time that actually was. 156 pages from your weekly calendar. 1,095 sunrises, times two for the sunsets. 26,280 hours, and you couldn’t be bothered with the math for minutes and seconds. There were countless ways to express how time has passed since you first said yes to each other, and all of that just went by in a blur.

Today seemed to have the same theme, a blur of kisses and sex from the moment you woke up and promises of an event-filled day. You were coaxed out of sleep by wet kisses to the inside of your thigh, the strands of your boyfriend’s hair rough against your skin as his hands kept you spread open, greeting you a “Good morning” and a “happy anniversary” from between your legs. He made quick work of you with his tongue and had you cumming twice before you tapped out. You wanted to take him inside you, but he was stubborn to deny your request, saying he didn’t want you sore so soon because he planned on fucking the daylights out of you tonight. You didn’t hate the idea, so you came to a compromise and had him fuck your tightly closed thighs instead, letting him cum all over your belly.

You managed to sweet talk him into divulging his plans for the day during your innocent absolutely-no-funny-business shower together, and now you were out on the main road in his car, on the way to the mall to buy you an evening dress on the spot for the fancy dinner he had on reservation for 9:00 p.m. The ride was quiet as you held hands, watching the stretch of road ahead of you. You looked over to your boyfriend, biting the nail of your other hand as you felt that he looked a little too peaceful for your tastes, an impish idea crossing your mind.

Though you already won the bet yesterday, the effects of your secret experiment were far from wearing off. You disentangled your hand from his, exaggerating your motions as you put your hair up to make sure he noticed from the corner of his eye. You smiled at his way when you heard an awkward clear of his throat, and from this setting there was no way he could have hidden the hard on tenting in his jeans. 

You pursed your lips to keep you from laughing, leaning over a little to have your hand palming at his jeans, his exhale coming out slow from the contact. The car went a little out of lane when you squeezed him and rubbed the outline of his length, making him hiss before quickly correcting the wheel.

“You want us to crash? Because that’s how you get a crash,” he warned, right hand holding your guilty wrist captive. You huffed but sat back to your seat in favor of road safety. It didn’t mean you couldn’t have your own fun, though. You sneaked a hand under your skirt, moaning softly as you rubbed yourself through the fabric of your panties.

“Babe.” His tone of voice was an order despite not actually saying anything. You decided to push his limits though, moaning a high pitched “Baby?” back at him. You smirked to find his jaw clenched hard, but your heart almost dropped when you saw the mall nearing, not expecting the trip to feel so short. You held your breath as he parked the car, wordlessly clicking your seatbelt off. You were surprised at how aggressively he pulled the handbrake up and pushed his seat as far back as he could, staring at him with wide eyes as he tapped his fingers on his lap.

“Come here,” he said in a low voice, the sound shooting straight to your core. You obeyed easily, struggling to straddle him in the cramped space.

“What happened to not wanting me sore?” you accused with a raised eyebrow.

“Fuck that, I’ll just kiss your pussy better tomorrow.” You giggled as he caught your lips in a rushed, frantic kiss, humping your clothed desires against each other.

“Does this count as ‘against the windows?’” you breathed out the question when the kiss broke off. He only gave you a confused look before he sneaked his hand underneath your blouse, kneading at your breasts from the cups of your bra. “He must have forgotten already,” you thought as you mewled from his rough touch. It was his checklist of promises: the bedroom, couch, showers, guest room, kitchen, and even against the windows. 

Your breath hitched when you felt his fingers shadowing on your clothed heat, aching to have him push your underwear to the side and take you then and there. Instead, he pressed a thumb to your clit quite harshly, taking you by surprise and making you retreat from the stimulation, and you both jumped as you accidentally backed into the steering wheel and a prolonged honk left the car.

“Shit,” he whispered, eyes widening to find a security guard in the vicinity walking towards your direction. The windows were tinted, but someone could still see what’s going on through the windshield if they came close enough. He helped lift you back up to your seat, and you fixed yourself up for any possible encounter. You both breathed a sigh of relief when he walked past you, but there was no way you were finishing what you started in there, so he turned off the engine and practically pulled you by the hand into the mall, muttering about “having you in the nearest shop with a changing room.”

Lady Luck was on his side as you found the perfect black dress with a sweetheart neckline in the second shop you entered. You gushed about how great it would look with the necklace he gave you, but Jeno was barely responsive as his one track mind had him pulling you to the back of the store, entering the section with a row of changing cubicles and rushing you into the nearest one to have his way with you, unsuccessfully muffling your sounds with his hand.

Three timid knocks rapped on the door once you finished the deed, accompanied by an equally timid voice. “Um, ma’am? You left it on the hanger… that dress you wanted for fitting?” You felt the blood drain from your face as you stared at your equally shocked boyfriend. 

You will never be able to show face in that dress shop again.

Those were the series of events that led you to right now: your moment of truth.

You put your hair down after the dress shop incident, electing to play it safe throughout the remainder of your time in public. Once you got home, however, you tied it back up again. It was unconscious, as the sun outside was glaring bright and the AC in the house hadn’t been turned on yet. You walked into the kitchen for a cold glass of water, but you were lifted onto one of the counters by a whiny, very apologetic looking boyfriend. 

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me today, baby… I think I’ve gotten too addicted to you,” he nosed at the crook of your neck, pressing his body on yours to let you know of the returned presence of his stiff need. You chuckled at his naivety, but the guilt crept up on you until you let everything spill out.

You, him, chocolates, scrunchies, and classical conditioning. 

Conveniently, you left out the part about the bet and your best friend being privy to all of it, and it was probably for the best because Jeno’s gaze was now hard and serious, his features stoic as his eyes bore into yours. Your heart was knocking hard on your ribcage, not because you were scared he might hurt you, but because you knew this look. You’ve only seen it a few times before, but the events that followed left you covered in bites, scratches, and bruises, his name seared into your throat and memory.

“You remember your colors?” You nodded slowly. He was talking about the safe word system you had agreed on for the rare moments this side of him slid out, the side of him you hadn’t seen in a while but still managed to make your heart race and your desire swell.

“Bedroom,” he muttered, head cocking to its direction, “and be undressed when I get there.”

You were swiftly on your feet, half-excited and half-nervous steps in beat with the thumping in your chest. Entering the room, you didn’t bother to close the door behind you, shedding off your clothes and folding them into a neat stack by the foot of the bed. You climbed up the mattress, sitting in the middle with your legs bent up to cover your chest, your chin resting on your knees as you stared at the open doorway, waiting.

Your punishment came walking in, and your breathing was stunted to find that he was already naked as you were. He had placed something on the bedside table, but you paid little attention as your eyes placed all focus on his angry, stiff cock jutted out in front of him. He stood back a few feet away from the bed before beckoning you over, and you slid down from the mattress onto your knees in front of him. He clutched your chin softly in one hand, stroking at your skin as he looked deep into your eyes.

“Sneaky little whore,” he spit out the words in a sneer, and his hand shoved his hold on you to the right only to clutch you right back. “And here I was thinking it was me who turned into some dirty freak, but it was you all along, hmm?” He stepped closer to your space, his hardness right in front of you. “My pretty slut always wants a hard cock ready to shove into her whenever she needs, hmm? Is that why you went this far?” You were stuck in a daze, staring at the rivulet of clear liquid that was beading at his tip until a slap to your cheek brought you back to your senses. “Answer me!” 

“Yes!” you cried, your eyes glistening along with your core, the stinging sensation bringing you more pleasure than you’d care to admit. 

He pouted teasingly at your pitiful expression, closing in the distance between your face and his tip. “Aww, poor baby. Do you want my hard cock now, too?” He slid it on the plane of your soft skin, smearing a line of precum on your cheek, your mouth opening by instinct to receive him. Instead, he pulled his cock back and slapped you with it before kneeling down to your level.

“You’re not getting it,” he whispered. “Not until you’re crying and begging me to slow down because your sweet little pussy can’t take any more, and once the sheets are soaked and you can’t feel your legs, that’s when I’ll finally fuck you dumb on my cock.” He said everything with a sweet smile on his eyes and lips, your mind collapsing in on itself as it battled between his innocent look and his filthy promises. “You’re gonna take all of it, aren’t you? You greedy fucking nympho.” You nodded, and his fingers carded into your hair before pulling on it hard. “That’s not a fucking answer.”

“Yes! G-give it to me, please.”

He released his hold on you, walking over to the bedside to pick up what he brought in earlier. Soon, he was back in front of you, holding a white device in his hands. “Do you know what this is?” You almost nodded before catching yourself, answering with a meek “yes.” It was a hitachi wand. “This was supposed to be a gift, but you decided to act like the cockslut you are, so now it’s your punishment.” 

You only managed to look up at him with wide eyes, the urge to rub your thighs together so strong but you didn’t dare, not while he was in this mood.

He was gentle with you again as he helped you up and walked you over to the bed. “Face down, ass up.” You did as you were told, climbing near the foot of the mattress, with only your rear raised up. “Spread your legs.” You heard the wand hum alive as you obliged, and you had to bite on your tongue to keep a moan from escaping. 

You lurched forward when he pressed the bulbous head of the toy onto your clit, but you were stopped by his arm hooking to your thigh. Moans and swears burst from you immediately, the vibrations strong and steady and pressed so hard against you. “I want you to count.” You barely registered Jeno’s voice in the midst of your pleasure. 

“Ahh!” you screamed out as his palm landed sharply on your ass. 

“I said count, you dumb slut.” His reprimand came with another stinging hit.

“T-two!” He began rubbing the wand into your folds, sloppy with your slick all over, and then another smack. “Three!” He pushed it back up to your engorged clit, setting the speed higher. “Fuckfuckfuck!” Your curses spilled in time with the spanking, and you received it three times over for missing count, crying fat tears as the spot grew red and throbbed with heat. 

He rubbed soothingly on the pained spot before detaching the toy from you and flipping you over to your back. He pushed you upwards on the bed, lying down on his chest before your wet core, spreading your thigh open with one hand and pressing the vibrator back on your clit with the other. You began rolling your hips, splitting your pussy lips apart on the head of the toy, your screams of pleasure filling the air.

“Is my whore about to cum?”

“Yes! Fuck yes! Gonna cum,” you dragged on the last word, your orgasm hitting you just then. Your thighs clamped shut around his arm that held the toy between them, and your lower body shook and lurched off the mattress, Jeno grazing the nails of his other hand around the skin of your abdomen. You’ve hardly come down from the high before your whole body was surging upwards again, the vibrations never ceasing in your heightened sensitivity.

“Fuck, shit, no! Stop!” His hand pressed down on your tummy as you tried to squirm away from him.

“Do I have to tie you down?” 

“Ahh, fuck, please! No!”

Your second orgasm washed over you, still riding on the coattails of your previous one, and your bent legs started bouncing involuntarily on your heels, your toes curling in at the added sensation of Jeno’s nails drawing lines on your skin.

You gasped for air when the vibrations ceased and Jeno threw the toy on the space beside you. He pulled your thighs in closer to him, and your break is short lived as he shoved three fingers into you at once, splitting your walls open.

“Gonna fuck you up, gonna absolutely fucking ruin you,” he promised, kicking off with a cruel speed, met with resistance from your tightness. “How are you supposed to take my cock like this? Your pathetic little pussy can’t even handle my fingers.”

You felt him slow down, and you mewled in protest. “N-no! Hah, ah, please! My pussy loves your fingers. Love it when your fingers fuck me loose. Don’t stop, please! Don’t stop.” He curled the digits upwards and wiggled them inside you, scratching at your sweet spot. 

“Fuck! Fuck! It’s here! Oh my god.” Your legs wrapped around his neck as you felt your third orgasm physically leave your body, the head you trapped between the crown of your thighs grunting below you, his nails lightly tracing on your skin again.

“You little cockslut,” he growled, “covering me in your dirty cum.” You yelped when he took his fingers out from you to land a firm slap on your clit, and your hips bucked into him as he began lapping up your juices. His tongue swirled around your oversensitive clit, and you couldn’t stop your hand from reaching down and pulling at his hair. Just for that, he let his teeth graze on your sensitive bud and you quickly retracted your touch at the warning.

His tongue is joined by his fingers again, fucking into you at a ruthless speed, the squelching sounds of your heat so loud in the mix of your moans and screams. Your hands pulled at your own scalp as your fourth orgasm knocked over, trying to focus on any sensation other than the uncontrollable, deliciously painful contractions of your pussy, the pain on your scalp not nearly enough for the task, Jeno’s fingernails on the inside of your thigh only making you tremble even more.

He allowed you a sliver of mercy, letting you catch your breath on the bed as he sat back, jerking himself to your body looking spent and ruined. After some minutes he picked you up in his arms and walked over to the far side of the room. He set you down on your feet as he yanked the curtains to one side, revealing the tall glass doors that led to the veranda on one side of the house, the side adjacent to the neighbors.

“This counts as ‘against the windows.’” He propped your arms up on the glass, your hard nipples rubbing against the cold surface, ragged breaths making a pulsing puff of white steam before your face and blocking the scene outside from your view, your skin tingling at the possibility of a stranger seeing you so fucked out and still about to get fucked some more.

You shuddered when Jeno rubbed his tip between your swollen lips. “Think you deserve my cock now, hmm?” Your body was screaming at you for a breather, but you wanted to please your man, wanted him to cum from the feeling of your abused wet pussy, so you answered by bucking your hips back into him.

He slipped inside you without any resistance now, your walls slick, velvety, and warm around him. He’s been roaring to go since you tied your damn hair up, and he wasn’t planning on taking it slow now, fucking into you hard and fast.

Your moans were weak and broken as he chased his own high from within you, and you didn’t have the strength left for any more screams when his hand reached to your clit to rub you near the edge once more. Your legs buckled repeatedly that if it weren’t for the glass, you wouldn’t have been able to take this fucking while standing.

You felt Jeno’s warm panting breaths against your ear, a moan slipping out of him every now and then. His hard dominating persona was slipping off as the pleasure caught up with him, kissing and licking at your neck. “Just one more baby. Cum one more time with me, can you do that?” You didn’t answer, your vision swimming before you. “Baby? What’s the color?”

You struggled to keep your eyes open as you rasped out, “Green.” With that, he flipped you around to face him, lifting you up with your back against the glass and wrapping your legs around him as he slotted himself back into you, going fast trying to drive you both off the edge.

“My baby’s gonna cum, right? My good girl’s gonna cum for me?” You felt his cock begin to twitch inside of you, and you pressed kisses on the tip of his nose.

“Wanna cum,” you whimpered, “gonna cum on daddy.”

His eyes squeezed shut at the slip of that word. He’s never heard you use it on him before, and fuck did it have an effect on him, his orgasm crashing down on him strong, the feeling of his hot cum shooting into you pushing you off the edge as well.

His legs grew weaker as he emptied his load in you, slowly sinking to his knees with you still wrapped around him. You stayed like that for god knows how long, your arms and legs around him, body exhausted and molded onto his like putty, his softening cock nestled in the mess he made between your thighs.

Once he felt strong enough, Jeno carried you back to the bed, just sitting on the edge as he cradled you in his arms, bouncing you softly on his lap as he waited for you to shift back to your senses, your head resting on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” was the first thing that came out of your lips once you found your breath. 

“Baby…” He shifted your bodies around, laying you down side by side facing each other. “It’s okay. I’m not angry at you.” He stroked your hair, smiling. “Well, just a little miffed. Now I finally understand why I’ve been having such a hard time recently.” You had to crack your own smile at the pun, breathing little laughs of appreciation. “Seriously! I thought something was wrong with me. I was considering a doctor’s appointment.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled again, although this time with the smile still painted on your face.

“There’s no need to apologize,” he insisted. “It’s actually kinda funny now that I know what’s been going on.” You only hummed in response, your eyes fluttering closed.

“Hey. Baby. You sleepy? It’s only four o’clock.” Jeno nudged gently at your cheek.

Your eyes remained closed as you answered, “You just fucked me boneless. I think I deserve a nap.”

“We have,” he peeked at the digital clock on the table behind you, “three hours and then I’m waking you up. It’s still our anniversary and I’m still taking you to dinner.”

“I said you just fucked me boneless. I don’t have the legs to go for dinner,” you whined.

“Don’t worry, I can always carry you on my back like a sack of potatoes.”

“Romantic.”

“Of course, it’s what you deserve.” He chuckled as he watched your lips part slightly, your breathing evening out as you drifted to sleep. “Happy three years, baby.”

You did, in fact, end up missing dinner. Jeno overestimated his own ability to overpower his love for sleep, and you ended up cuddling deep into the night, waking up in the dead silence of 1:00 a.m. and just going for another two rounds as there was nothing else to do. No one complained, though.

Hair up or hair down, Jeno was whipped either way when he woke up before you, the sunlight piercing through the curtains he forgot to draw back and landing on your face, making you look even more ethereal to him as you slept.

Seeing you first thing in the morning stirred a familiar riot in his chest, solidifying his dream, his ambition to have each day start out like this: with your peaceful, beautiful face before him. He had to tear his gaze away from you before his desires could escalate and stir a different kind of riot. He didn’t take it easy with you yesterday-last-night-this-morning, and he knew you were probably still aching and sore all over, so he was trying to think of all the unsexy thoughts to kill his oncoming boner. 

“Cute puppies. My little pony. Lee Donghyuck. Apoptosis or the death of the cell is characterized by its shrinkage, nuclear condensation, membrane—”

The mechanical chant in his head was disrupted by the feeling of your fingers smoothing his scrunched eyebrows. “You’re gonna give yourself wrinkles,” you greeted him, eyes only half open, smile beginning from one corner of your lip and slowly stretching out to the other.

Yeah. Jeno was completely, utterly whipped.

“Good morning,” he whispered, although the blinking digits told him it was already half past noon. “Come on, let’s eat.” He shook your shoulders gently just as your eyes began to close again, and you whined.

“Don’t wanna get up yet,” you complained. He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your forehead before he got up, deciding to cook something up and just bring it to you in bed. He was contemplating whether he needed to put clothes back on his nude self, and his answer came in the form of the doorbell buzzing.

He went out once fully dressed and opened the door to the guy who was just below My Little Pony on his boner killer scale.

“Donghyuck.”

“Jeno.”

The blonde stepped aside, allowing Donghyuck to come in with his hands full of… stuff.

“I see you’re still sporting the Chester McBadbat do,” Donghyuck commented, eyeing Jeno’s hair.

“I’ve no idea who that is, but I see you’re still unhinged as ever,” Jeno answered, gaze flitting between an impossible bag of marshmallows and a bouquet of assorted flowers.

“Babe?” Your voice floated through the hallway.

“Yeah?” Jeno replied.

“Yes, baby!” Donghyuck replied as well, but in a voice louder and more alive than Jeno’s, making the latter roll his eyes to the back of his head.

“Oh my god, Hyuckie!” Your footsteps tip-tapped on the wooden floor as you ran out to the receiving area and enveloped your best friend in a tight hug, making him drop the marshmallows but cling tight to the flowers.

“‘Don’t wanna get up’ my ass,” Jeno thought.

Donghyuck gave you a once over before saying, “Smells like orchids today.” Jeno looked at his bunch of flowers. Not a single orchid there, but he didn’t comment. He never did understand Donghyuck’s thing with flowers.

You snatched the flowers and marshmallows from him, giddy as you hopped away to the kitchen, both boys in tow behind you.

Three bowls of marbits, three glasses of orange juice, and the flowers watered in a new vase lay on the table you sat around.

“So, I’ve been thinking of growing my hair out. Whatchu think?” Hyuck asked. You were about to answer, but noticed he was looking at Jeno. Your boyfriend just shrugged in answer. “I think I will,” he continued as Jeno drank his orange juice. “Renjun said I’d look good with my hair tied up.” 

It was a few seconds of sputtering orange liquid and hacking coughs that ended with you rubbing soothingly on Jeno’s back while he stared blankly at an empty wall, your eyes glaring at Donghyuck’s direction.

“What! What’d I say?” He protested, a smirk on his lips. “Wait, I just noticed. Orange juice?”

[miirohs]

sugarcoated

pairing: Mob Boss!Baby Daddy!Lando Norris x Fem!Reader wc: 2.7k cw: violence (implied but not against the reader), emotional manipulation, reader is highkey tweaking, Norris is a touchy ass, slight yandere undertones, this aint healthy an: i keep forgetting my irls have my blog lowkey ive been scared of posting bc of my parents. also hey ladies whats up im back out of my flop era! miss me miss me now you gotta kiss me!

He was always lingering somewhere, no matter where you went.

It was like no matter where you ran, he would always find you. Quite frankly, you were sure that was half the appeal to him, he was a powerful man and he spared no expense in letting you know. 

Sometimes, it was the little flowers he left on your doorstep in pristine condition, small notes in semi legible handwriting tied to the stems. Other times, it was the faint smell of his perfume that lingered as he’d find himself in front of your door at odd hours of night, begging you to let him in, as if he’d been dying at the steps of your door.

And like a fool, you finally cracked, you did let him in. You were charmed, though there was no doubt it made you uneasy, he’d pacified you with his dazzling promises to take care of you, so what could’ve been the harm?

You didn’t see him again after that night. In fact, you hadn’t seen him for weeks afterwards, then the games started as soon as you moved.

You’d run, he’d show up, you’d run again. 

It was a cycle. There was no leaving the city anymore either, his forces scattered across every crook and nanny of the city. You’d sealed your own fate with just one hospital visit, deliverance of the exact news you’d prayed to not get as you sat with a test in your hands, two pink lines string back at you. 

You had no idea how you even made it home that night.

It was in your best interest not to move anymore, but you weren’t even sure how to move forward. Your wallet wasn’t entirely drained, but you were. Any chance of moving away was immediately stomped out, leaving you with no choice but to firm up against him and his sugar coated words.

It wasn’t long before he found out, and when he did, he made sure you knew. You couldn’t tell for your life how he felt though.

At first, it was minor things, baby items you didn’t recall ordering appearing at your door. You chalked it up to clerical error, but something nagged at you as you inspected them. Then, more expensive items started to appear, everything a new mother could dream of, but it made you uneasy.

Sometimes he’d come along with one of these gifts, standing outside the door as you peered at him through the eyehole. You never answered, with the hope that he'd leave you alone, hoping to dissuade him from anything further.

Then the biggest shock came along, sitting across from you on the counter, as if it’d been there the whole time. You had no time to question, let alone think about it upon seeing the small note attached to the box. 

I hope you’ll love the gift exactly how I did when I saw it, xoxo.

You knew exactly what a diamond ring implied. Yet, you couldn’t seem to wrap your head around why he would’ve sent it. The last thing he would’ve done was tie himself to you after trying so long to avoid you.

It’d been four days since the ring had appeared there, and you were simply hoping it was a fluke, no sign of him to back the ever present thought of the intrusion. 

You sat at the dining table, poking around your half-assed salad as you stared at the box. You could’ve sold it off, but there was no doubt someone would’ve found out and reported it back to him, leaving you to bear the brunt of his anger at your outright refusal. He’d never hurt you, but you saw everything in his actions.

The thought was more than enough to throw you off your meal, pushing away the plate with a pained sigh. Eating wasn’t the only thing that’d become harder in recent months, as working had left you with barely any time for yourself.

You were almost ready to doze off right there and then, had it not been for the series of sharp raps on the door, earning a grumble from you as you dragged yourself to the door with a mind full of insults to hurl at the person.

It hadn’t occurred to you to check who it was as you sleepily fiddled knob, only saved by the grace of the chain lock you’d forgotten to unlock.

“Hey there.”

Your blood froze, hazel eyes staring down through the crack of the door. There he was again, the devil himself, at your doorsteps as if he’d been waiting for you for a long time.

“Lando?” it came out as more of a whisper than anything else, voice cracking from a lack of proper use.

“It’s nice to see you too sweetheart,” He laughed, tilting his head at you to meet your eyes through the wide crack. 

There was a look in his eyes, although you couldn’t entirely decide if it was predatory or not as you averted your eyes, looking down at the handle of the door.

“What’s going on in there? Are you working late again? Though the doctor said it wasn’t good for you to be up this late with the baby on the way.”

You didn’t respond, trying to shut the door as subtly as you good, hitting something between the doorframe. Jitters ran down your spine when the door wouldn’t move further, looking down to see what it was. 

He’d wedged his shoe in between, the bastard. You looked back up, swallowing as he narrowed his eyes, the smile slipping off his face for moments to reveal thinly masked displeasure before disappearing entirely.

He knew what you were trying to do. You didn’t know if the guilt building up in your chest, or the possibility of what he could’ve done, scared you more. He’d never explicitly laid a hand on you, but the amount of torture was already enough as he lingered in your space.

“Someone has to keep the lights on,” You muttered, letting him nudge the door open. You were already fighting a losing battle, there was no way to keep him away but to hold him at an arm's length. That was how he’d gotten in the first time. He couldn’t fool you twice though.

“That’s why I've been sending you stuff, have you not gotten it?” He frowned. For a moment, it almost felt as if he were trying to be genuinely involved. You knew better.

You hesitated, looking back and forth between the chain lock and his face, though not much contemplating would be able to change the choice that’d already been made for you.

“No. I… donated it to some of the others at work. Needed it more than I did.”

There it was again, the indignancy in his eyes. 

“I got it for you though, was it not to your liking then?” His voice was eerily calm, but you knew exactly what it meant. Your hand instantly went up to the chain, almost as if it was moving on its own. Fear gripped at you. You had no idea what he was going to do next.

“So, you’re determined to be a single mother then? Do you know the kind of trouble it would get you and the baby into…” He raised his voice, pausing to see if you’d reconsidered.

Clearly a slight tremble in your hand was enough to convince him you’d finally stood down, a smirk gracing his already vicious face as you opened the door. You had no plan to, but it was hopeless to try and stand up without attracting attention, the last thing you wanted was for everyone to know what a shameless bastard he was.

“Just come inside please. Don’t let anyone see you any more.” You whispered, letting him through the threshold before you shut the door behind you.

“You’ve been busy, haven’t you? Just look at the state of your... apartment.” He shook his head, pushing at stray articles laying all over the floor with his foot, as if they were positively filthy. There were still boxes from your last move sitting around the living room, the only real piece of furniture unpacked being your bed and the table you were sitting at. 

You couldn’t help but be a little embarrassed as you walked into the kitchen, you’d never been this untidy before. It wasn’t any easier as Lando tailed you, only pausing outside the door frame, as if something stopped him from coming through.

“You should move from here. I don’t like this apartment, it’s in a sketchy part of town.”

“Well, I don't recall asking for your opinion, did i?”

You didn’t pay any mind to his poking, filling a random mug up as you stood at the sink before you shot back, standing in the dark of the kitchen as he walked away, presumably to shuffle through your personals again. You were thankful for a moment of silence though, head pounding from all that had happened today.

You stood there lost in thought, and he’d returned sooner rather than later, tone disapproving as he spoke to you once again.

“I wonder how on earth I'm supposed to convince you if this can’t stop you from trying to make it on your own.”

Only, he wasn’t at the doorway anymore, standing a little further back, waving a stack of letters to your face. The color of the envelopes, you immediately knew what the contents were.

Heat seemed to bloom across your face, rushing over to grab the letters from him. It was of no use, he could easily keep them out of your reach, but it didn’t stop you.

“Sweetheart, what happened to you? Looks like you’ve managed to stir up more trouble than you can handle, am i right?” You could hear the mock empathy in his voice, distorted by the rush of blood to your ears.

“You. You happened to me.” You hissed back at him, finally grabbing the papers and slinking backwards. There wasn’t any time to leaf through them, but the big bright red stamps were more than enough to drive you to tears when you saw them. But you couldn’t cry here. Not in front of him.

He didn’t respond to your remark, simply giving you a look of pity, watching with careful eyes as you tossed the pages back onto the table, taking your seat back. The tension was getting higher, only breaking when you finally looked at him, opening your mouth.

“You can’t just come in here, into my life,” you managed, voice quivering despite the resolution you’d come to, “And act like you own the place. You have no idea what I’m dealing with.”

“Don’t I?” Lando pushed himself off the opposing wall, getting closer. “I’m the one who’s been watching you struggle, I'm the one who’s trying to help you love.”

“And is this what help is then?” The thought tasted bitter. “Sending gifts isn’t helping, it’s… wrong.” 

Then adding in a whisper, “You know i can’t afford this.”

He paused, the righteous look he had faltering for a second. “You’re reading it all wrong. I’m just trying to provide for you and the baby, but you want to be stubborn. You won’t take my help, nor will you take my money.”

“I don’t want your money, please.” You begged mercifully, looking at him eye to eye since the first time he’d stepped through the door.

“Really?” He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching into a half-smile that sent chills through you. “You should be thanking me. Not many get the same kind of priority you’re getting right now. I’m only trying to make it easier.”

“I would never do it with your filthy money, how many have you run over just to make a paycheck?” You murmured, pausing at the look on his face.

“At least I can provide for myself. I won’t ever have to scrap the bottom of a tip jar only to fail to make rent.” He replied smoothly, eyes narrowing at your attempt to rebuke him.

The implication hung heavy in the air, and you clenched your fists, nails digging into your palm. “I… can’t.”

The silence seemed to stretch thinner, and you could feel the burn in your eyes as you looked down at your clasped hands. You couldn’t even really tell when the first tear slipped. It kept coming, and you couldn’t stop it. You knew he was right.

“Hey, hey, none of that.” He said slowly, getting down on one knee to meet your eyes, taking your hand in his. “I was out of line for that, wasn’t i?”

You shook your head, covering your mouth to stop the sobs from escaping. He seemed remorseful, running a thumb over your knuckles as he looked at you with a mix of pity and something foreign.  “I know I upset you, but I'm still offering you a chance here. I wanna set it right between us.”

You didn’t argue through the tears, and he seized the moment. “You can struggle all you want but I can provide everything you need. I can make the baby my heir, I can give you the life you deserve... all you have to do is say yes.”

“Say yes to what? Marrying you?” The words seem to slip out of your mouth mid sob, and a look of amusement crossed his face as you slapped a hand over your mouth.

“Exactly,” he replied, trademark grin spreading across his face. “Imagine it. A beautiful ceremony, a life together. You’d have someone by your side who can ensure nothing threatens you. You’d be safe and sound. The baby would be my successor, guaranteed.”

“I barely even know you. You don’t know me.” You whimpered as he played with your hand, too loving, too suffocating.

He moved closer to your lap this time, bringing his hand up to wipe the tears, soft and tender than you’d known him to be. “You don’t have to be strong all the time, and I know it feels like you don’t know me at all. This is a big decision.”

“It’s not just a decision, Lando. It’s my life.” You hiccuped, despairing clawing at your insides. “How do I know you won’t just leave when you’re bored of me?��

“Didn’t I promise to take care of you and the baby?” He gently cupped your face, tilting it up so you had no choice but to meet his eyes. “Look at me. You’re not alone in this. I’m here now, and I want to help.”

There was a flicker of recognition at his words at the back of your brain, raising voices of caution as you looked at him through glassy eyes. “And what if I can’t love you back like you want me to?”

Lando’s eyes darkened slightly, and he took your hands, pulling you closer. “You don’t have to love me right now. Just trust me.” His grip tightened, slightly painful as he held onto you. “Just let me show you what it means to be cherished.”

He leaned in, his lips almost brushing your ear, the movement making your breath hitch. “Let me in, stop thinking so hard.”

You could’ve stopped breathing, time slowing as he pushed the ring box into your lap.

He was never going to give you a choice, but what he said was ultimately true.

“Just think,” Lando urged as you squeezed your eyes shut, allowing him to play with your ring finger. “Think about what you could have.”

You’d never really realized how much his scent stuck till you until now, wrapping around you and lingering softly. A part of you was tempted to lean into him, to let him guide you into this new reality.

Even if you hadn’t made up your mind, he likely already had.

“Fine.”

Wordlessly, the cold metal slipped on the finger he’d been tracing moments before, bringing up your hand to kiss it.

“See? You’re already one step closer.” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

You could only look at him, dried tear tracks sticky against the sudden cold draft of the air.

“It’s a promise,” he said, his thumb brushing over the ring as if it had already tied you together. “I won’t let you go just like that.”

You shuddered. 

There was no escaping him now. You were tied to him.

A sugar coated nightmare, it seemed.

[bvidzsoo]

Obliviate Me

✩‧₊˚ Obliviate ⇄ to forget [Latin] ✩‧₊˚

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: dark!Park Seonghwa x female reader

✩‧₊˚ Warning: smut, addiction, ptsd, mentions of war, violence, fights ✩‧₊˚ Word count: 27.6k ✩‧₊˚ Rating: nsfw ✩‧₊˚ Genre: Harry Potter!au, set in the forties/Grindelwald's time, lovers to enemies!au, tragic love!au ✩‧₊˚ Summary: ✩‧₊˚ Grindelwald's reign holds everyone under terror, and you decide you want to join the right side and put an end to it. But the stars seem to refuse to align for you and your lover as you find yourselves on opposing teams. Will your love prevail, or will you succumb to the darkness? ✩‧₊˚

A/N: My lovelies, I...I am bawling my eyes out ngl, I can't believe I wrote this. Bring a box of tissues with you before you sit down reading, I am already forever sorry if I cause anyone any heartache<3 I have proofread this, but it's past 1am and you might still find mistakes, so I'm sorry about that! There's little time jumps in here, so for a quick clarification, after each divider you'll find them back in the current time (which is still in the forties!). I probably had a lot more things to say, but I forgot and I'm sleepy, so I'll settle for this much: there are probably some inaccuracies to the Harry Potter canon events as I took some creative liberty so yeah, keep that in mind when reading; also Mingi and MC aren't related, they just share the same surname! I poured my blood, sweat, and tears into this oneshot y'all (as into everything I write LOL), so I hope you enjoy! I appreciate all of your thoughts, so please leave feedback, I love reading them!<3 (special shotout to @hwasbbyg because somehow I always have you in mind when I'm writing something Seonghwa related <3) divider

            Times were dire, both in the Wizarding World and the Muggle World. Supremist leaders with atrocious views unleashed attack after attack upon innocent civilians, creating more destruction than victory. My heart broke daily reading the newspaper, both the muggle and wizard one. It made my blood boil that two men, so different yet similar upon closer view, would play God and decide what was wrong and right. Who was pure and who deserved to suffer. Nobody was perfect, nobody will ever be. I couldn’t just sit idly at home and be the housewife many women dreamed of becoming after graduating. I wanted to make a name for myself, I wished to become strong enough to save the innocent, to take their side and advocate for those who were too scared or weak to do so for themselves. That is why upon graduating from Hogwarts, I became an Auror. The training was harsh and demanding, but it wasn’t anything I wasn’t ready to bear if it meant it would lead to saving millions of lives. I was sick of all the spilled blood and wailing on the streets, I wished to see peace and serenity, to go to bed without the fear of never waking up again. Four years have passed since I have left the confines of Hogwarts, since I was forced to face the horrors of the outside world, to fend for myself, and to become someone. It was hard and terrifying, but for once, I felt complete. I felt happy with where I stood in my life, I was proud of who I had become. And I knew that as long as Grindelwald isn’t stopped, I shall not rest even for a second.

The auditorium was small in size and stuffed, the benches placed in a circular shape around a platform that had a table sitting on it and a chair. It was deep down on the second level, far away from the Auror’s offices, hidden between the women’s and men’s restrooms. The auditorium wasn’t meant to be easily found and it was only used when a situation had turned dire, when an emergency meeting just had to be called. I had chosen to sit towards the back of the auditorium, closer to the exit as the air felt stale and warm inside the stuffed room, at least thirty aurors squeezed together towards the front of the room. My throat felt parched and my palms were sweaty as I had them placed in front of me, leveling my breaths as Theseus Scamander, the Head of the Auror Office, stood tall on the platform, a forlorn look on his face. Anyone who had picked up the newspaper earlier this morning must’ve seen the devastating news of the destruction caused to the small and welcoming wizarding village, Apo’s Nook. There was nothing left of it, just the ashes of ghosts that would haunt the land and the smoking foundations of destroyed homes that would never flourish again.

I felt a lump in my throat as Theseus sighed long and loud, eyes surveying the auditorium. It was deadly silent in here, everyone was either too mad or sad to say anything. The time was barely nine in the morning and we knew we had a long day ahead of us. This meeting was a top-secret one, whatever was said inside this auditorium would be never allowed to leave the confines of these walls. Only the best of the best aurors were called in, no doubt for a mission that would be challenging both physically and mentally. It wouldn’t be my first special mission, yet I couldn’t help but feel dread for what was to come. A tiny voice in the back of my head tried to whisper warnings this morning while I was getting ready to come to work, my gut twisting nauseatingly and making me more restless than I usually was. Something would happen here today that I wouldn’t like, and I couldn’t do anything about it.

“Good morning, aurors.” Theseus’ voice rang loudly in the quiet room and I gulped, feeling sweat collect on my nape, under my hair. I didn’t want to get rid of my jacket, finding the warmth it provided comforting, but I was sweating too much. Careful, not to make any sound, I wrestled out of the satin fabric and placed it onto the table in front of me. My dress was thick to protect me from the merciless winter, and it reached just below my ankles as the front had a V-cut that stopped just above the valley of my breasts, “I assume you all know by now why you’ve been called here.”

There was a collective murmur of confirmation to Theseus’ question and I gulped, patting my forehead free of any perspiration, “What occurred in the early hours of today’s morning is—terrible and unforgivable.”

I couldn’t help but let my eyes run over the aurors as Theseus’ voice shook with raw emotion. He was just as affected by the news as everyone else in the room. I fiddled with my fingers as my eyes finally fell on a familiar person, the tiniest smile slipping onto my lips. It brought little comfort and assurance to see my former professor in a place where I was surrounded by fearless warriors who were mere strangers to me, but would soon become my trusted companions. The only other two aurors that I did become friends with throughout the four years of working here were Song Mingi and Jeong Yunho, partners in missions and other aspects of life, and I haven’t seen them in over a month now. They were alive, and as safe as possible, but they were far away from our home, in a land colder and far scarier than what London was at the moment. They were close to the German border, spying on Grindelwald’s men having infiltrated themselves amongst them. They were our precious informants, their jobs far more dangerous than ours at the moment. I couldn’t help but pray every night to a God that listened, that the two people I started cherishing in such a short time would return to me in one piece and alive.

“Grindelwald has destroyed another village,” Theseus’ words snapped me out of my thoughts as Professor Dumbledore turned his head, gaze finding mine, “wizards and witches were killed once again because they refused to join his dark cause. This cannot go on anymore, I won’t allow it.”

Professor Dumbledore bowed his head slightly in a nonverbal greeting before he turned his head, looking at Theseus with an unreadable expression on his face. I gulped and subconsciously reached for the pocket of my coat, feeling around for the plastic holder in the shape of a tube.

“I was given full permission to construct a team that will directly take out Grindelwald’s men until he’s left with nothing, until he’s alone and powerless.” Theseus leered, face contorted into fury, “I shall task you with bringing down these disgraces one by one, dead or alive, I do not care as long they cannot help Grindelwald anymore.”

My fingers tightened around the plastic, my head turning when I saw a man stand up with a heavy-looking folder in his hands approach Theseus, “We have gathered all the information we could about Grindelwald’s most important wizards and witches, they are our main target. I want you all to look at these photographs closely, commit them to memory as each one of you will be handed one to capture and bring forth to the court.”

I watched from the back of the auditorium as the man opened the folder and placed it down on a table in the front row, starting to hand out photograph after photograph. Knowing that I sat way too far in the back, I rose to my feet and swiftly took the plastic bottle from my pocket, slipping it between my breasts so that nobody would see it. Pushing my hands behind my back, I walked down a few stairs until I reached the row that had more wizards sitting in it, grabbing a photograph that wasn’t being looked at yet. The picture was in black and white, but the face of the witch was clear. Something in my stomach coiled as I recognized her being my peer at Hogwarts, just a year above myself, and a Slytherin like I had been too. The man sitting next to me looked at me with a questioning gaze, and I passed him the photograph as he handed me another one, this one of an older wizard who had a cunning look in his eyes as he held a cigar between his teeth. Something was unsettling about his gaze as I leaned against the side of the table, passing it along as another then another photograph passed through my grasp as I committed their faces to memory. Some of these pictures seemed to have been taken recently, right at Apo’s Nook before it went up in flames. My jaw clenched as the witch in the next photograph was grinning widely as if she was taunting us, and I accidentally passed it to the man next to me a bit too harshly as he gave me a concerned look. I ignored him and took a deep breath, fingers itching to hold onto the plastic bottle hidden between my breasts. The news this morning had been too shocking, and I had no choice but to take two pills instead of one. It wasn’t healthy, but I did force my breakfast down my throat in hopes that it wouldn’t make me feel ill if I doubled the dose.

The next photograph that was passed to me was flipped upside down, and I sighed as I braced myself for another unfamiliar face to commit to memory, except that when I flipped it, my whole body froze, blood going cold. I tried to gulp, but I couldn’t due to the lump in my throat. My lungs contracted, and I desperately tried not to gasp as my fingers dug into the fragile paper and I fought the urge to rip the photograph into shreds. I knew this would happen sooner than later, but I realized how completely unprepared I was for it. The wizard in the photograph was smiling widely, the photo not recent at all, his round eyes turning upwards at the corners, his front teeth on full display. His hair had been freshly cut before the photograph was taken, yet it still fell in his eyes as he failed to style it—he was talented at many things, yet he never quite learned how to tame his wild hair. I could feel my hands start to shake the longer I stared at the face of my first love, my heart beating so fast my ears started to ring. I struggled to breathe and I knew I was turning pale as my lips parted, a quiet gasp leaving through them. It was enough to alert the man sitting next to me as I felt his eyes on me, but my body couldn’t react to anything as I crumbled up the photograph, throwing it far away from myself. I heard my name being called and words that sounded like they were asking if I was alright, but my vision had started turning black from the lack of oxygen. The room was too small, too stuffy, too warm; I couldn’t breathe.

Hands still shaking, I gripped my dress and lifted it above my ankles as I abruptly turned around, eyes settling on the exit desperately as I felt my feet take me up the stairs, running as I extended my hand way before I have reached the door to grab the handle. My heart was in my throat and the ringing in my ears was as loud as a kettle’s whistle, and I yanked the door open with all the force I could muster up due to the tremor of my whole body. The air of the hallway hit me hard, making me gasp loudly as I slammed the door shut behind me, feeling tears prick at my dry eyes as I flung myself forward, hands cushioning my crash as I flew into the wall in front of me, forehead banging against it. I needed it, I needed something painful to shake me out of my borderline psychotic state. I couldn’t take another pill so soon, I really just shouldn’t. I bit my lower lip as I struggled to take deep breaths, the tremors of my body worsening as my hands curled into fists, forcing me to close my eyes. The ringing in my ears had started to subside, but my heart was still beating way too fast and my throat was too dry. I really couldn’t take another pill just yet; however, my right hand was reaching for the bottle without wasting another second as I uncapped it and grabbed two pills out of it, throwing them back as my eyebrows furrowed, struggling to gulp them down at once.

I stood desperately waiting for the downers to kick in, the thumping of my head subsiding as the ringing of my ears went away completely, the tremors of my body remaining, however. I felt my muscles trying to relax, not even having noticed how tense they had become, and I gulped as I turned around to press my back against the wall, groaning as my head fell back. My throat had started hurting, the pills having scrapped it, but I couldn’t care less as my frantic heartbeat had finally started slowing down. I heard the door of the auditorium open, and my eyes opened as I watched my former professor approach me with a concerned look on his face. He held a plastic cup that he extended towards me, and I took it eagerly, downing the cool water as it finally soothed the ache in my throat. I crumpled the plastic in my fist, sighing long as I looked at Professor Dumbledore, wondering what was going through his mind having seen me in such a hysterical state.

“War is harsh,” As if reading my thoughts, his eyes twinkled with that familiar warm glint, “it affects everyone differently. You’ve seen things no woman your age should have, but you are a talented auror, Miss Song. However, I fear you won’t be amongst us for much longer if you continue abusing those.”

I felt shame crawl up my body as the professor’s eyes fell on the bottle, and I quickly hid it behind my back, “I’m sorry.”

I felt like a little child that was being scolded for doing something bad as I averted my gaze away from Professor Dumbledore’s, and sniffed as I noticed my heartbeat had finally returned to its natural rhythm.

“How are your parents doing, Miss Song?” Professor Dumbledore’s voice was soft, and I shrugged looking up at him.

“They are scared, as is everyone else.” I sighed, biting my lower lip, “I have moved them to the Wizarding World in hopes of keeping them safe, but nowhere is safe anymore, Professor.”

“It’s saddening, indeed.” The professor nodded, sharing my feelings of sadness that were slowly turning into despair, “But I think you did the right thing. The Wizarding World might not be the safest place at the moment, but it is a lot safer than the Muggle World.”

It was reassuring to hear the approval of my much wiser and smarter professor, and for a second, I believed that I had done something right for the first time in a long time. No matter how many dark wizards and witches I have captured, I never truly felt accomplished. It wasn’t enough, because I knew I could do better if sent on even more missions, and finally, the chance to fulfill my selfish desires while proving myself to be good and useful to my superiors, had come.

“Are you feeling any better now, Miss Song?” The professor’s eyebrows raised as I quickly hid the bottle back between my breasts and nodded, squaring my shoulders back. There it was, the condescending look of deep thought crossing the professor’s face as he looked towards the ground, humming lowly, “When it comes to the matters of the heart, it’s a slippery and unsure territory, Miss Song. You might think you are prepared to face whoever and take them out, but if you haven’t completely let go of them, your heart will outrule your conscious, your rationality. Even if you have long released the feelings you had once harbored for them, your more rational side might stop you, might hold you back from delivering the final blow.”

I felt tears trying to prick at my eyes as they snapped up, boring into Professor Dumbledore’s as he had a sad smile on his lips, “It’s difficult to forget your first love, Miss Song, no matter how deeply they have wronged you.”

The tremors in my hands haven’t disappeared and wouldn’t go away today, but they halted for a second as I gulped, throat feeling dry again, “He chose his path consciously, as I have chosen mine. Our beliefs have never truly aligned, it was just wishful thinking on my side, Professor. Love, an emotion I do not feel towards him anymore, isn’t stronger than my rational mind. If I would have allowed my heart to lead me throughout my life, I would be by his side now, wallowing in self-misery and pity for all the lives I allowed perish.”

“I have recognized your passion the moment you sat on the stool on the night of the sorting, Miss Song, you’ve known from the very first moment what you wanted and how to get it. I fear I haven’t met a Slytherin as determined and stubborn as yourself, Miss Song—”

“Not even Tom Riddle, sir?”

The professor’s expression suddenly became leveled, warm smile turning into a rather forced one, “I fear I cannot compare you to Tom Riddle, Miss Song.”

I hummed and smiled, memories of the younger boy bashing the professor for even the smallest inconvenience returning. I had never figured out where their distaste came for each other, but as it wasn’t my business, I never prodded more than necessary. I fixed my hair and made sure the little bottle couldn’t be seen as I glanced past the professor, feeling calm enough to join the aurors again, “We should head inside before they deem me unfit for this task, I would hate to miss out on this one, Professor.”

“They cannot afford to lose an auror like you.” Professor Dumbledore chuckled with a thoughtful look on his face as he led us towards the door, opening it for me like the true gentleman he was. I thanked him quietly as I stepped through the threshold, the lump back in my throat as the room went silent at once, everyone turning around to watch me and the professor as we descended the stairs. I went to sit at my initial spot, but Professor Dumbledore gently grabbed my elbow and veered me towards his seat, a witch making a place for me as she had an understanding look on her face.

“Is everything alright, Miss Song?” Theseus asked once the professor and I had taken our seats, the curious eyes of the other Aurors still watching me. I gulped and placed my hands on my knees, trying to hide the tremor behind the desk so that nobody would see it.

“Yes, Mr. Scamander, my apologies for storming out like that.” My voice was leveled as I forced my face to relax, and an easy smile appeared on my lips, “I felt a little ill this morning, I suppose it returned suddenly.”

“Right,” Theseus hummed, a smile matching mine on his lips, “that is reassuring to hear; however, I do wish for a quick recovery should it get worse.”

“Thank you.” I bowed my head as my hands fisted my dress, my heart rate picking up again as I felt the witch next to me gently rub my back. I wasn’t fond of being touched by strangers, but I didn’t have the willpower to ask her to stop. Finally, seemingly content with my half-assed lie, the attention wasn’t on me anymore as everyone went back to conversing with each other. Theseus cleared his throat and walked towards our table, Professor Dumbledore gathering the photographs as they were scattered around on the desk.

“While you were taking a breather, Miss Song, I have informed your colleagues that each one of them will be assigned a dark wizard to survey and consequently take down whenever the Office seems fitting.” I tried to gulp, my throat going dry once again. The witch was still rubbing my back and her touch had started burning my skin through my dress, making me fidget with my hands as I released the grip I had on my dress. I knew this was coming, but I didn’t feel ready. If I could’ve, I would’ve downed the whole bottle of pills, not minding if I would have been the one in need of a funeral.

“I see, Mr. Scamander, who had been assigned to me?” I felt the professor’s eyes take me in carefully as if I were a ticking time bomb, and the hand of the witch was finally away from my body, her sigh too loud as Professor Dumbledore cleared his throat.

“Records say you have been peers with Park Seonghwa at Hogwarts, yes?” I failed to inhale air as my lungs contracted, my worst nightmare lay right in front of my eyes and ears, “Professor Dumbledore, could you confirm this for me?”

“Yes, Mr. Scamander, Miss Song and Mr. Park had been my students barely four years ago.” My eyes burned as I blinked them fast, scared that tears would flood them as my hands shook more, itching to grab the bottle even if for little reassurance. The sedatives weren’t working as they should have, I shouldn’t be so wired up and nervous still. I figured I should buy something stronger; the muggles were more lenient when handing out sedatives than the wizards if you knew how to put on your best act.

“Indeed,” My voice was emotionless, and I knew my face was unreadable as Theseus’ eyes narrowed, “I know Park Seonghwa, but just merely. He was a great student I often had to compete with for the first place in our year.”

The longer Theseus’ eyes bore into mine, the more prominent the soft prodding in my forehead became. I knew what he was doing, way too familiar with the feeling of having my mind invaded. He was searching for memories of Seonghwa and me, of anything that could prove I wasn’t lying and that our roots didn’t grow deeper than a surface-level acquittance. It was laughable how easy it was to veer Theseus around my mind, to trick him into seeing only what I wanted him to see. He wasn’t a born Legilimens, I could feel he was less strong than the likes of Tom Riddle, who was a born natural in his talent, and so, I knew Theseus wouldn’t figure out that I—in fact—was a born Occlumens, the will of my mind stronger than his surface-level talent. I watched as a satisfied expression settled on his features upon viewing the images I allowed him to see, like the brief snappy exchanges between Seonghwa and me when we were in class, trying to show off to the professors, or the duels where we loved to flaunt our skills, or the brief acknowledgments in the hallway when we so happened to pass by each other.

“Very well, Miss Song,” Theseus muttered and then slammed a photograph down in front of me, a much younger Seonghwa smiling mockingly at me, “I trust you to do your best and bring him to his downfall. Mr. Park is an important asset to Grindelwald’s army; we need him gone.”

“He shall be gone, then.”

1943

            The classroom was full of vigor as everyone pilled inside, rather excited to see what Professor Merrythought had up her sleeve for us today. She had promised a dueling class sooner than later, and, as we happened to be ahead on our curriculum in DADA class, we got permission from Headmaster Dippet to go ahead and transform our usual classroom into a dueling ring. This year, the Slytherins shared most of their classes with the Ravenclaws, the DADA class being one of them. I let my eyes run over the crowd of the gathering 6th-year Ravenclaws on the other side of the classroom, pressed up against the wall much like myself and my housemates. Despite the majority of students being in their 6th year, Professor Merrythought found it essential that all students above the age of fourteen learn how to duel due to the imminent threat looming above our heads, both in the Wizarding and Muggle World. Therefore, it came as no surprise that younger students were ushered inside by Professor Merrythought, who had a grin on her face. Finding the person I had been looking for in the crowd, on the other side of the classroom, a tiny smile made it onto my lips as I found him already looking at me attentively. His dark hair, once again, fell wildly around his head in curls that looked natural, framing his boyish features as his round eyes sparkled with excitement. I chuckled and felt more elated knowing that Seonghwa was here, the chance of getting paired up with him was rather high as we were the top students of our year.

“Miss Song.” I flinched at the sudden intrusive voice in my head, always taken aback when I was addressed telepathically. I looked away from Seonghwa, eyes falling onto the boy—who despite being younger, was a lot taller than me—was now standing next to me with a stoic expression, ice-cold blue eyes boring into my darker ones. I chuckled and pressed a hand against my chest, always impressed by his skills despite his younger age.

“Mr. Riddle.” I greeted back with a grin, the small prodding at my forehead proof that our telepathic connection worked both ways. It was rare that Tom allowed me inside his mind, and even then, he knew how to guide me around his thoughts to show me only what he wanted me to see—a skill he learned from me, rather quickly. He had a natural talent for learning and achieving accomplishments that wizards and witches older than him struggled to garnish. He was an admirable student and a force to reckon with, I was never too eager when he challenged me to a friendly duel under the pretext of gaining experience by dueling a student who was as outstanding as himself—in reality, he only wished to show off and torment me in the confines of the Room of Requirements when the two of us would head over to study.

“Now, children,” Professor Merrythought clapped her hands together as she walked between the parting crowd of students, everyone watching her curiously, “as you may know, Headmaster Dippet had granted us another dueling session, and I am beyond excited to teach you new tricks that may as well save your lives in the future. The rules are the same as always, no serious spells aimed to harm, and no maiming, Madam Gorsemoor has far more important tasks than to heal some children who didn’t take the rules seriously, yes?”

Everyone muttered a ‘yes’ at once, and Professor Merrythought had a pleased grin on her lips as she pulled her wide shoulders back, her golden eyes surveying the crowd, probably counting how many of us were here. Usually, no more than twenty students were allowed inside the classroom as Professor Merrythought wished to watch and help everyone, not just those few she noticed lacking in their skill, “Can someone tell me what we’ve learned in our last class?”

Several hands shoot up high in the air, mine included, and I felt compelled to look over to the Ravenclaws, not surprised at all to see Seonghwa’s arm high up in the air, shoulders pulled back to make him look taller. I stifled a chuckle and faced the front of the classroom again, feeling Tom’s questioning gaze on the back of my head, but I paid him no mind.

“Mr. Lovegood, perhaps?” Professor Merrythought pointed at the platinum blonde-haired wizard from Ravenclaw, who stood on his tiptoes, about to bounce up and down to gain the professor’s attention.

“Diffindo!” He exclaimed, cheeks flushing instantly as the students from his house snickered, the Slytherins remaining uninterested, “I mean, Diffindo and Relashio.”

“Very well, Mr. Lovegood, thank you.” Professor Merrythought hummed, eyes narrowing as she looked over the crowd once again, her eyes stopping on me as I offered her a small smile.

“I must remind you that Diffindo is a spell that brings great harm if not death to your opponent, and inside this classroom, we shall not use it against each other. And even outside of it, I advise you use it wisely and level-headed only if the occurrence calls for it—”

“Like—if it were for Grindelwald to attack us?!” A younger boy—from Ravenclaw—asked, heads turning in his direction as he yet had to grow a few inches.

“Yes, that’s the likely scenario I had in mind.” Professor Merrythought muttered pleased, nodding at the curious boy with big round eyes. He reminded me of Seonghwa when we had just started our journey at Hogwarts, always eager to learn more and curious about how everything around him worked. Since then, his nature remained but he learned how to control it, how to make it less obvious how big of a nerd he actually was. Some would say he tries to impersonate the ‘cool guy’ archetype, but I know him too well to believe those silly ‘rumors’, “Well, before we learn something new, I’d like to see a duel from our best duellists.”

I gulped, feeling eyes bore into the side of my head as I looked over to Seonghwa again, finding his eyes on me already once again. He was smirking, round eyes fierce as we both knew who Professor Merrythought would call to the front for a demonstration, “Miss Song, Mr. Park, would you grace us with your presence?”

I heard Tom chuckle behind me, unamused, no doubt having known we’d be the chosen ones for this task. It was rarely not us, even Seonghwa and I knew it. I patted down the front of my robe, dusting it off, then squared my shoulders as I made my way through the crowd, getting a few pats on the back from people who I was familiar with. I had grabbed my wand out of my pocket, and Seonghwa and I made it to the front of the class at the same time. His smirk had turned cheeky as he held his wand in his hands elegantly, twirling it playfully as I took a few steps backward and then adjusted my stance.

“Miss Song.” Seonghwa’s voice was deep, tone almost seductive, and I couldn’t help but grin and narrow my eyes at him.

“Mr. Park.” My tone was confident and full of assurance because I knew I would win this duel. I usually did. Seonghwa was very good at dueling, but I was better since I was faster and more agile. I was also a little more talented at wandless magic than he was, I found it amusing whenever he’d exercise next to me, growing frustrated with himself way too quickly. Professor Merrythought clapped her hands and stepped back as Seonghwa and I bowed to each other, wands gripped firmly in our hands as we took our stance for the duel. I zeroed in on Seonghwa only, focusing on the movements of his body, eyes boring into his as if I would read his mind—I could, but I knew he hated it, and what I hated more was when I made him hurt. Seonghwa stood alert, his dark eyes boring into mine, a curious glint in them, laced with mischief and anticipation as he was patiently waiting for me to make my first move. He usually wasn’t the one to attack first, and we both knew that. We’ve dueled each other many times already, we knew each other’s tricks and weakest points.

“Stupefy!” I exclaimed, throwing my hand out, my wand pulsing with power as a light blue zap quickly shot towards Seonghwa, who expertly threw up his defense wall, nulling my attack with a pleased expression. I chuckled under my breath and raised an eyebrow as I threw my next attack at him, “Flipendo!”

Seonghwa huffed as another jinx was thrown his way, raising his arm high as he cast another shield in front of his body, eyes narrowing as he realized I was trying to get him to fly to the other side of the classroom. I knew he was wary of injuring himself, and unless I teased him a little bit at the beginning of our duel, I knew he would try to go easy on me. But I didn’t want easy and friendly, I wanted him to have no mercy and fight as if we were in a real fight, against each other, with only one winner standing tall in the end.

“Stupefy!” Seonghwa exclaimed, the same light blue zap flying towards me, making me easily block his attack as I threw my arms up, casting an invisible shield. Unlike Seonghwa’s, mine remained blue and violet ripples the tell-tale sign that there was something in front of me. Seonghwa narrowed his eyes, calculating his next move as I sent a hot air charm his way, which he dodged skilfully, his black hair falling into his eyes. Seonghwa chuckled and twirled the strands behind his ear, graciously raising his hand, not even looking my way as suddenly electric blue flames came barrelling towards my shield, making the students in the classroom gasp in surprise, but also fear. Someone had started clapping hard, and I knew it was Professor Merrythought as she enjoyed the show the most out of everyone.

Seonghwa was smart, and so, he knew the blue flames would demolish my shield without hurting me, and I could hear Professor Merrythought explain just this to the students who watched us with even more excitement in their eyes. Deciding to not verbalize my next spell, I winked at Seonghwa as I made the hand movement that was required for the Waddiwasi spell, Seonghwa realized a moment too late as, suddenly, crumbled up parchments floated around me for a second, before propelling towards Seonghwa with force and speed that left him defenseless. Seonghwa gasped as he turned sideways, the little balls of parchment crashing against the side of his body without causing any damage—physical because his ego was probably bruised—and the students started laughing as Seonghwa hissed, facing me once again with piercing eyes. I grinned and curtsied teasingly, enjoying the way his cheeks had flushed from embarrassment, his grip tightening around his black wand. His lips didn’t move, but his hand did, and I narrowed my eyes as for a second nothing happened, and then I felt invisible ropes binding around my body, trying to immobilize me as my eyes widened in surprise.

“Emancipare!” I yelped the counterattack of Brachiabindo, the defensive spell Seonghwa had used, and felt the ropes instantly disappear from my body. Seonghwa huffed, running his fingers through his rich curls, looking frustrated as he walked a few steps closer. It wasn’t like him to lose his wits when we were dueling, and so, this was the first sign that told me something was bothering him as he couldn’t completely focus on the task at hand. But this was an exercise, a duel in which we had to demonstrate to the other students, so I pushed my worries aside and cast my next spell, “Fulgari!”

Much like Seonghwa’s spell, it was another one that bid your arms together, however, the ropes weren’t invisible anymore but red and thick, painful, as the charm tied your wrists together tightly. But Seonghwa knew how to counterattack it, and the ropes dropped midair as a white light was cast from his wand. Knowing that we didn’t have much time anymore and that Professor Merrythought was waiting for one of us to disarm the other, I acted quickly, “Expelliarmus!”

However, Seonghwa’s simultaneous attack was silent as it shot from his wand, and our spells clashed in the middle, exploding with a loud boom after they’d tangled up for a few seconds. I gasped as the force pushed me backward, almost making me stumble to the floor. The hem of my robe had caught in the heel of my boots, and as I tried to manage the issue, I felt my mind being prodded at. Not even having to concentrate on the action, my mind instantly blocked the intruder out, my mind’s barriers strong and stubborn, no matter how insistent the intruder became. I knew who it was, in this classroom only Tom Riddle was so talented enough to use Legilimens wandless and non-verbally, but he was least of my worries as Seonghwa’s glare was deep, mouth moving before I could register his words, “Relashio!”

I gasped as my wand was snapped out of my hand, clattering to the floor, making the students roar with claps and cheers, Professor Merrythought not even trying to calm them down as she walked towards Seonghwa and me. I gulped, feeling my cheeks tinge pink at the amateur mistake I had made, the fact even more embarrassing as I was disarmed by such a pathetic spell. But this is what a duel encompassed, and I took a deep breath and released it slowly as I felt Professor Merrythought’s hand on my shoulder, pulling me next to her as she had grabbed onto Seonghwa as well.

“Brilliant!” She exclaimed lips pulled into a huge grin, “Simply brilliant, my students! You will make such fine Aurors, the department will be blessed upon your arrival!”

I muttered a quiet thank you and bowed my head abashed, missing the cold look that crossed Seonghwa’s face upon hearing our professor’s words. Then, when the class had finally settled down, Seonghwa and I were ushered back to our previous spots, Professor Merrythought taking the lead as she started explaining the new spell we’d be learning today. I felt the uncomfortable prodding once again, and a little frustrated, I turned around and snapped at Tom without considering my actions first, “Stop it, Riddle!”

My exclamation thankfully wasn’t too loud, but it made a few heads turn our way. I gulped and averted my eyes flustered as Tom grinned, crossing his arms in front of his chest, “My apologies, but I failed to gain your attention any other way.”

“I am trying to pay attention to the new spell, Riddle,” I muttered as I faced the front of the classroom again, feeling the younger boy step closer as he loomed over my shoulders.

“But you already know it,” He muttered, voice devoid of any emotion and I just sighed, nodding and confirming his claim, “Well, then, let me offer you some friendly advice.”

“The Tom Riddle offering me some friendly advice?” I teased, looking over my shoulder with a chuckle, “So you finally admit that we’re friends?”

“Well,” Tom cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable, “if you think of us as friends, we shall be that, Y/N.”

Tom hadn’t been keen on addressing each other casually in public, but he’s been calling me by my name rather often lately, “And your advice is?”

“Ah, yes,” He cleared his throat again, leaning just a little bit closer to whisper in my ear, “use more non-verbal spells next time and maybe even wandless magic too, Park seems to struggle to defend those. And, try not to lose focus so easily, getting disarmed by Relashio out of all spells is rather embarrassing, Miss Song.”

I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms in front of my chest, watching Professor Merrythought’s wand as she drew the movement of the spell slowly for us to see, “Thank you for pointing out that Relashio isn’t even a disarming spell.”

It was rare to see any sort of positive reaction from Tom, but he snickered as I felt him take a step back to offer me more space as he was done with the conversation, “Meet me later in the Room of Requirements?”

But apparently, he wasn’t done with the telepathic conversation, “Yes, at the agreed-upon time, I won’t be late this time.”

“You better not be.” Tom’s voice sounded unimpressed in my mind and I rolled my eyes, hoping nobody saw it, “And tell your boyfriend to stop staring daggers at my head, I could disarm and harm him in just a few seconds—”

“Thank you, Tom, that’s enough.” I snapped, never too keen when he tried to bash Seonghwa and his skills—or lack of them as Tom had so often remarked, “And get out of my head, now.”

His chuckle was cut short as I raised the barrier once again, forcing Tom out of my mind. I knew it would be painful to him and I didn’t mind as lately he’s been trying to prod at my mind way too often. But being a born Occlumens came with its perks, no matter how much Tom tried to peek inside my head, he’d only be allowed inside as long as I let him. Having realized that he had some control issues, I didn’t let him know about that little piece of information, for my own peace of mind, really. Feeling like somebody was drilling holes into the side of my head, I looked over to the Ravenclaws, a little taken aback by the dark look in Seonghwa’s eyes and the sneer on his lips. He looked irritated, and as we made eye contact his expression hardened for a second before he looked away, ignoring me for the rest of the class. I had only sighed, paying attention to Professor Merrythought for the rest of the class.

            Once class was over everyone pilled outside quickly, eager for the short break before our next class would start. Wanting to speak to Seonghwa in private, I stayed back with the hopes that he’d do the same, but when Professor Merrythought noticed me and asked if I had wanted to speak to her, I realized it was just her, myself, and Lovegood in the classroom. I bid her farewell and then scurried outside, sighing long as I felt disappointed that Seonghwa had left without me even noticing it. He was mad at me, that was now certain, and we wouldn’t have the possibility to meet until dinner or our Prefect duties as this was the last class we shared today. I held the strap of my satchel bag tightly as I gnawed on my bottom lip, wondering whether I could use an excuse and search for him between my classes, when suddenly a classroom door was thrown open and I was harshly yanked to the left by my arm. I gasped as I stumbled, failing to keep up with the aggressive tugging, my back hitting a wall rather painfully as my heart had started racing, eyes widening as I felt warm lips pressing against mine. It took me a second to register what was happening.

I was face to face with Seonghwa, who had me pinned between himself and the wall, holding the side of my neck firmly with his right hand as his left one gripped my hip, fingers digging into the fabric of my uniform. His eyes were open and glaring at me despite his heated kiss, and it only made me flush more as I felt his tongue force itself between my lips while his fingers sneaked up towards my jaw, tilting my head up as he had to lean down, just slightly, due to our height difference. My heart hammered against my ribcage as the satchel bag fell from my shoulder, landing with a loud thud as I gripped his robe’s collar, the fabric a lot softer than mine. Seonghwa’s tongue lapped at mine fiercely, stealing my breath away as I felt his hand slip from my hip, trace the inside of my thigh as it slowly slipped underneath my knee-length skirt. I gasped and gently pushed him back, breathing hard as his right hand held my nape, fingernails pressing into my frail skin, “Seonghwa—”

“Did you have fun flirting with Riddle right in front of me?” His tone was harsh, voice raspier than usual, and I gulped, his hand slipping higher up underneath my skirt.

“Seonghwa, I wasn’t flirting with him.” My voice trembled as he leaned closer again, lips tracing the skin of my neck, feather-like, making goosebumps erupt all over my skin. My hands released the collar of his robe as they slipped higher up, circling his neck as my fingers got tangled in the wavy strands of his hair, “I’ve told you so many times that I’m not interested in him—”

“Well, you certainly don’t act like it.” I gasped as his sharp teeth sunk into the skin of my neck, making my stomach coil as his other hand stopped at my groin, caressing my flesh through my stockings, “I’m sick of seeing him prance around you like a lost puppy, my love.”

“He’s just a boy.” My eyebrows furrowed as Seonghwa’s head snapped up, a sneer on his face.

“Just a boy?” He scoffed and leaned incredibly close, lips brushing against mine as he spoke, “He’s barely one year younger than us, Y/N.”

Sighing loudly, I pressed a chaste kiss against his lips, seeing his eyes shake for a second, his anger dissipating slightly, “Yet I only see the little boy I guided to the Slytherin common room in his first year in him, my love, he’s nothing but like a brother to me.”

“He has no boundaries.” Seonghwa huffed, jaw clenching and unclenching as I kissed his cheek, right side and then left side, then pulled him slightly lower to kiss his forehead too. Seonghwa’s grip visibly softened, his finger rubbing circles into my hipbone under my skirt.

“I know how to put him in his place if he ever goes too far, which he has never done before.” I muttered reassuringly as I ran my fingers through his hair gently, knowing that he loved the ministration, “Abraxas is touchier than Tom will ever be, yet you make no scene when he’s with me.”

Seonghwa scoffed, gripping my chin as he tilted my head up again, “Because it’s clear he’s not interested in courting you, he’s touchy with everyone.”

I chuckled as I coaxed his lips towards mine, my eyes fluttering closed as Seonghwa’s lips gently, but firmly, pressed against mine, our lips playing a gentle dance as they moved at a calmer pace, following the other’s rhythm as I let Seonghwa take the lead, our lips slotting perfectly against each other. His breath hit my face as he nipped at my bottom lip, enjoying the way my lips chased after his again, capturing his bottom lip between mine as I felt his hand very slowly slip towards my crotch. I keened, pushing him back by the shoulders when he had started rubbing circles against my clothed core, “I need to get to the greenhouse, Hwa, we can’t do this now.”

“You can skip Herbology,” Seonghwa whispered as his lips brushed against my ear, I bit my bottom lip, eyes fluttering closed, “it’s not that important.”

Before I could succumb to the feeling of Seonghwa’s fingers teasing me, I gripped his wrist and pushed his hand away, blinking my eyes open, “I’m not going to skip classes because you want to have sex, Seonghwa. You can wait until tonight.”

“Yeah?” He grinned, round eyes glinting dangerously, “I can?”

“Unless you want to throw another jealous fit over the fact that I’ll be studying with Tom later on.” I mused and pursed my lips as Seonghwa’s expression hardened again. He was so easy to irk, his face hid nothing as I cocked an eyebrow in challenge at him.

“Right,” He muttered, clearing his throat, “You’ll be busy with Riddle this afternoon—”

“I’ll be busy perfecting my Legilimency, yes.” I raised my eyebrows at Seonghwa as he hummed and stepped back, detaching himself fully from me. I licked at my lips and ran my hands through my hair, trying to get rid of any knots that may have formed.

“Find me after you’re done patrolling, then,” Seonghwa adjusted his tie and then patted down his robe, “I won’t be coming to dinner tonight.”

“Something wrong?” I asked with furrowing eyebrows as I leaned down to pick up my satchel bag.

“No, I just need to catch up on some assignments, is all.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. I didn’t say anything as he caressed my cheek with his warm hand, “I love you.”

I smiled widely, turning my head lightly to press a kiss against his wrist, “I love you too, Hwa.”

            Despite the sun trying to shine some light on the dire streets of London, the ever-grey clouds were everlasting, casting a gloomy shadow over the streets and the people that ventured outside. Lately, it seemed to be safer to go out and enjoy the much-needed social interactions, but people were still wary of the imminent threat posing over their heads. You just never knew when the enemy would strike, making you look over your shoulder at any given moment. London wasn’t anymore what it used to be, but reconstructions have started and there seemed to be light at the end of the permeating dark tunnel.

My coffee’s steam reached my nose as I forgot of its existence, my eyes having fallen on two children who had their palms out and were timidly asking for money from the passerby people. My heart broke at the sight of such innocent lives having to suffer so much, unwanted scenarios clouding my mind. They could’ve lost their parents, or maybe they still had them, but the war made them homeless and this is was the best they could do. I hated how most people didn’t even cast a glance at the obviously suffering children, their clothes strewn in places, cheeks dirty with dust. They clung to each other, the boy taller by a head as he clutched the younger girl to his side, pulling her back when a postman paid them no mind as he barrelled down with his bicycle on the pavement. But before my anger could get the best of me, the bell to the small coffee shop chimed, and I looked over, heart settling at the familiarity of the man that was approaching my table. He wasn’t a coffee lover, not when we were mere teenagers, so I had ordered tea instead for him.

“Mr. Kim.” I smiled as I abandoned my cup and pushed my chair back, fighting the wide smile that tried to make it onto my lips. Kim Hongjoong and I haven’t been close during our days at Hogwarts, but due to a person that was present in both of our lives, we had the chance to share some fond memories. Hongjoong had always been a free spirit, unafraid to break rules here and there, trying to break free of the chains society placed on all of us. Even now, his hair was brushed back in an uncharacteristic way, the black ends tinged almost blonde. His clothes didn’t match in colour, his pants burgundy and his shirt a rather atrocious colour of yellow, the grey sweater thrown over it saving the outfit somewhat. His green coat was dark, and due to the colour of his pants, it made him look like a Christmas tree.

“Dear,” Hongjoong chuckled, his hug warm and comforting, arms circling my middle tightly, “are we back to being formal with each other now? Has it been that long since we left Hogwarts?”

I chuckled, arms tightening around him subconsciously as my chin pressed against his shoulder, eyes glazing over with sudden tears that took me off guard. I have missed the faces I have become familiar with at Hogwarts, the place where I was still innocent and in love with life, with the prospect of a bright future. A future that was now my present, neither bright nor innocent. I have never had many friends, keen on keeping to myself, and the life of an Auror made it hard to keep up with others. It was better for them; my field of work had no guarantee of me returning alive. And knowing that two of the people I considered my family, Mingi and Yunho, were first in line in harm’s way, made me prolong my hug with Hongjoong. It felt nice to be in a warm embrace for once.

“Four years and three months, more specifically.” I whispered as I reluctantly let go of Hongjoong, who gripped my bicep and gave it a reassuring squeeze before we both claimed our seats at the small round table.

“So, you’ve been counting,” Hongjoong muttered, looking down at his steaming hot tea, “as have I.”

I hummed, feeling a certain sad aura around Hongjoong as he carefully cradled the teacup in his hands, humming to himself as my eyes bore into the side of his head. I was curious of what was running through his mind, but entering it without his consent was a breech of privacy and the break of trust between the two of us. Picking his fragile mind apart would’ve been very easy. Finding what I was looking for would’ve taken only a few seconds and I could be on my merry way in no time, hunting down the man I was tasked to take out, but I was yearning for just a second of normalcy, for a second that could take me back to the past where I was happy, unafraid, in love.

“How is the Auror life, dear?” I smiled at the nickname, Hongjoong being the only person who’s ever addressed me so affectionately—besides my former lover, Seonghwa.

“Dangerous,” I sighed, raising my cup of coffee to take a small sip, “exhausting, and time consuming.”

“I’ve had to treat many Aurors since I’ve started working at St. Mungo’s, and each time I pray I do not come across you, dear.” Hongjoong’s expression was solemn, as if he was trying to repress memories that weren’t kind nor pleasant, “But you seem to be in great health, so I shall not worry so much anymore.”

I chuckled and placed the cup down, fingertips tracing the porcelain in order to keep my hands busy with something, “I’m rather agile, one of the best they have. But sometimes even I worry for my own safety, thank you for thinking of me so often, Hongjoongie.”

He smiled, reaching out to grab my wrist, “Sometimes I feel bad for the way things have ended between us—between the three of us, I mean.”

I gulped, the topic of Seonghwa inevitable anymore. But still, I tried to stall it for a little bit longer, trying to enjoy Hongjoong’s company for a little bit more before the real reason I was here would ruin our nostalgic reunion.

“Don’t fret on the past, Hongjoong, what’s lost is lost.” I gripped his hand with my right one, patting it gently, “How are the other nurses treating you at St. Mungo’s? I’ve heard there’s not many wizards working there.”

“The witches seem to love me,” Hongjoong chuckled, suddenly his cheeks red, “they praise me a lot and always fight on who gets to work with me. I’m treated nicely and they’ve accepted me rather quickly despite being a wizard.”

I gulped, knowing the tumultuous history of the Kim family, “And your parents?”

Hongjoong froze, eyebrows furrowing as he averted his eyes, “My mother is speaking to me again. My father…we know how he feels about me.”

“You’ve always done just fine without them,” I encouraged him, watching curiously as he grabbed my hand and flipped my palm upside down, “and if you need a friendly advice or just an evening spent drinking wine and reminiscing, you know were to find me, Hongjoongie.”

He chuckled, forefinger gingerly tracing the inside of my palm, making me shiver. It’s been long since someone had treated me so tenderly, ever since Yunho and Mingi have been sent onto their mission actually, “Have you cut yourself here?”

“Yes.” I answered surprised, “How did you know?”

“The skin is rougher here,” Hongjoong pressed his finger a little harder against where the cut was healed up, not even a trace of a scar, “Stop by St. Mungo’s when you have a little free time, I have the perfect potion to fix your skin. I’ve got quite the tricks up my sleeve now.”

As our eyes met, a beat of silence passed, then we both burst out in quiet giggles, pressing our hands against our mouths. Memories of all the failed potions made by Hongjoong resurfaced, most of those times Seonghwa or me being his test subjects. There were too few fingers on my hands to count the number of times Seonghwa, Hongjoong, and I had ended up in the Infirmary, on the brink of dying from dangerous toxins found in Hongjoong’s brews. And yet, we continued indulging in his shenanigans as he was too endearing to say ‘no’ to.

“I suppose you’ve stopped poisoning people now, right?” I raised an eyebrow, tone joking as Hongjoong bit his lower lip, cheeks flushing once again.

“No more failed experiments or potions that would send Slughorn up the wall if he were to know about them.” And once again, we started giggling behind our palms as Hongjoong seemed to finally loosen up, making me feel bad that I would soon deter the conversation to a delicate topic. But I didn’t have much time, I had to move fast if I wanted to catch Seonghwa when he least expected it.

“I suppose you meet all sorts of people at the hospital…” I trailed off as I grabbed my cup of coffee yet again and took a long sip, Hongjoong’s lips pursing as he traced the wooden design of the table.

“Yes, quite the personalities.” He mused, eyebrows raised slightly in question as I swallowed the coffee, biting my lower lip in hesitance.

“As a nurse your allegiances do not matter, you must save everyone—”

“That is correct.” Hongjoong’s tone had turned colder, his face losing its warm glow, a mask of indifference now replacing it. I sighed knowing that Hongjoong had probably caught on to where our conversation was headed now.

“I know you still keep in touch with Park Seonghwa.” I lowered my voice so nobody would hear us. Everyone knew who Grindelwald’s men were, I didn’t want to risk the chance of anyone overhearing our conversation, even if the coffee shop was only frequented by muggles. I chose this place for this specific reason, few wizards and witches ventured out into the heart of London, not keen of the life muggles lived here.

Hongjoong had frozen, jaw clenching as his cat-like eyes narrowed at me, “What does that have to do with me being a nurse at St. Mungo’s? Are you accusing me of something, Miss Song?”

I sighed, but I knew the jabbing was inevitable. Hongjoong had been very protective of Seonghwa even before our years at Hogwarts, “I am not accusing you of anything, I was just merely curious on who’s side you stand—”

“I stand on nobody’s side.” Hongjoong snapped, pushing his teacup far away from himself, glaring at it suspiciously. He must be wondering whether I had slipped Veritaserum in it, but I would never do that to him, “I stand on the side of the victims I must save, on the side of justice, and on the side that doesn’t harm but protects instead. Do you fathom there’s a side like that? One that does not harm, but only protects?”

“No.” I whispered, averting my eyes from Hongjoong’s intense gaze, visibly irritated, “We’re trying to do our best, I promise, but I cannot guarantee that innocent folk won’t be harmed in the process of stopping Grindelwald.”

“You’re just doing your job,” Hongjoong’s tone softened, “and so am I, and so is Seonghwa—”

“Seonghwa is killing innocent wizards and witches for a cause that is irrational, for a cause that aims to harm muggles that aren’t at fault for being the way that they are. This isn’t a job!” Hongjoong’s eyes widened as my voice gradually raised, never the type to lose my cool. My heart had started racing and I felt anxiety creeping up my chest, through my throat, making me chew on the inside of my cheeks. I scrapped at my hand, averting my eyes as Hongjoong’s stare became too much, making me feel like he was judging me. Maybe I have misjudged his character, maybe he is on Seonghwa’s side, after all.

“Y/N,” But his voice was soft and I felt his hand grip mine, gently stopping me from scratching my skin until it was raw and red, “I know how hard it was when you found out about Seonghwa’s ambitions and beliefs, and I know you still feel guilty and think you played a part in him becoming like this. But as someone who’s known him since he was a little boy, Seonghwa’s always dreamed of doing big things, of changing our world into the better. You couldn’t have stopped him even if you had known of his plans since early on—”

“Then help me.” I felt choked up as I looked at Hongjoong swiftly, eyes shaking as I gripped his hand. His eyebrows were furrowed and he gulped as my eyes glossed over, his words ringing through my ears. He was right, I have always felt guilty for not noticing the blatant signs of Seonghwa’s true beliefs. He’s never been kind to muggles at Hogwarts, he’s always made snide remarks about them, and he’s mentioned joining a cause one day that purified our Wizarding World. I thought he was simply aspiring to join the Ministry, like many others wanted. Instead, he decided to join the cause of a man who thought wizards were superior to muggles and wished to subdue them, and force them to live in fear for the rest of their lives, “I need to talk to Seonghwa, please tell me where he is. Hongjoongie, you’ll be helping a greater cause than yourself and even myself. I must find him and—”

“You’re an Auror, Y/N.” He cut me off sharply, yanking his hand out of my grip as he shook his head feverishly, “If you find him, then what? Will you interrogate him and lock him up in Azkaban for a few months until he gives in and admits to his mistakes? We both know that’s the last thing Seonghwa will do if he’s ever captured. You’ll kill him—”

“I won’t—”

“You’ll kill him, and I cannot set up my best friend for his death.” He snapped angrily, cheeks red as his eyes were tear-filled, “I cannot wrap my mind around the fact that you sought me out for such a feat. You should be ashamed of yourself, Miss Song, for even thinking that I would help you out with such an atrocious thing. I love Seonghwa more than anyone, you have deeply wounded me, Miss Song, I have expected more of you.”

“Hongjoong—” Heart breaking as he swiftly stood and left with a last piercing look, I slumped back in my chair and tried not to let the sob break through my lips, cheeks damp from the tears that fell down them. Yes, I have been a fool for seeking out Hongjoong, I knew he’d never give away Seonghwa’s location, but he was my first and last option in trying to find Seonghwa in a way that I could negotiate with him, try to deter him from his cause, save him from a harsh sentence. And I have failed, and now I’ll have to kill the man that I have never stopped loving.

Having lost my appetite for anything, I stood hastily and wore my dark coat, pulling on my gloves to protect my hands from the freezing air. I gathered my purse and clutched it tightly in my hands, storming out of the coffee shop as I felt around for my bonnet inside the purse. The heart of the city was buzzing with people as the hour was nearing noon, the loudness of it all irritating my ears as I tried to walk between the people to the closest Portkey leading to the Wizarding World. But just as I was about to cross the road, I felt a hesitant tug on my coat. Alarmed and ready to defend myself, I whirled around and searched for whoever had touched me, only to find the siblings looking up at me with pleading eyes. Tapping the tears off my cheeks quickly, I opened my purse and crouched down as I fetched the pastries I have bought earlier for breakfast.

“Have this,” I handed them to the little girl, who had a runny nose and whispered a ‘thank you’. I pushed around in search for the little muggle money I still had, and once I found it, I gave it to the boy who looked beyond grateful and even bowed his head in gratitude. Feeling helpless that I couldn’t do more for them, I grabbed the bonnet that I knew I wouldn’t wear again, and placed it onto the little girl’s head. It was big and it fell in her eyes, but she grinned as her brother tried to adjust it for her, making my heart swell, “Take care of each other.”

The two nodded with eyes glistening, and I gulped down the lump that’s formed in my throat and stood tall once again, hurrying away before I felt the overbearing need to break down in the middle of a muggle filled street. I would finish this mission even if I lost my life in the process of it, it didn’t matter, it didn’t matter because innocent children and innocent common folk were the one suffering the consequences of these tyrants that ruled over our worlds.

20th of December, 1943

             Slughorn’s Christmas parties were catalogued somewhat legendary and, thus, have always been talked about in the hallways of Hogwarts. Those who were invited mentioned it in excited exclamations and those who weren’t in whispers with envious tones. I had been part of the lucky few who got invited, being part of Slughorn’s Slug Club for a good two years now, and I couldn’t have been happier. These parties were perfect for mingling with socialites and people of importance in the Ministry and other fields that piqued your interest. I had been lucky enough to meet a few well-known Aurors tonight, but my utmost luck struck when, despite his drunken state, Professor Slughorn pulled me aside to introduce me Theseus Scamander, the Head of the Auror Office. The professor had rambled on about my abilities and how talented and knowledgeable I was in the Dark Arts, painting me as a very talented duellist to Mr. Scamander. He had been eager to listen to his former professor, giving me knowing glances and a dashing smile. I couldn’t help but blush a little, the Fire Whiskey I had—secretly—drunk with Abraxas getting the best of me. Unable to hide his amused smile anymore, Theseus had excused us with the pretext that we’d head over to the delicious candy bar and serve ourselves with chocolate frogs, to which our professor couldn’t object as, he, himself loved it.

“He’s quite the talker, isn’t he?” Theseus laughed as he gently guided me through the crowd of students and outsiders, his hand holding my gloved elbow. My dress was modest, adorning the emerald green of my house that I wore proudly. The neckline was a sweetheart design, sleeveless, and the upper part of the dress was moulded tightly against my body, a silvery fabric creating the illusion of a belt around my waist. From the waist, it flowed down to my ankles in a simple A-line, highlighting my long legs. I had a thin, sheer, shawl around my shoulders—but I have abandoned that at the dinner table as it had started annoying me—and instead wore my silvery satin gloves that reached just above my elbows.

“He certainly let’s go of himself when alcohol is involved.” I said quietly, earning a chuckle from Theseus as we reached the candy bar. It was hard to choose just one delicacy as the table was littered with at least fifteen types of desserts, and I watched as Theseus grabbed a plate rather eagerly.

“I couldn’t wait for the annual Christmas party back when I was a student here,” Theseus said as he started placing different delicacies on his plate, “the dessert was the best part of the night—apart from the Fire Whiskey.”

He glanced at me briefly and winked cheekily, making me chuckle as I averted my eyes with a shy blush on my cheeks. He chose a rose shaped tart that was filled with marzipan, and it reminded me of Seonghwa as it was his favourite dessert. Wondering where he was—since he had disappeared around half an hour ago—I searched the crowd while Theseus was busy filling his plate.

“Is it you who wants to be an Auror, or are your professors pushing you towards this job?” Theseus’ question earned my attention as I looked back at him, unsuccessful in my mission of finding Seonghwa.

“It is me.” I answered with a smile, fiddling with my fingers nervously, “I hate injustice, and I hate seeing our world get torn apart as Grindelwald is trying to ruin us. I want to help in stopping him, I want to be a figure that others can entrust their lives to. I want to protect the innocent, and I am not scared to sacrifice myself for others. And when he’ll finally be stopped, I will continue dedicating my life to help the right cause.”

Theseus hummed, his eyes softening as they quickly took in my form, a pleased look crossing his features, “You sound quite determined, and you look tough too. I have spoken to Professor Merrythought about any student she deemed fit for the role of an Auror, and I am positive she talked about you for almost an hour, Miss Song.”

I gulped, feeling warmth spread through my chest in happiness that I had been praised so extensively by my professor to a very important and prominent person in the Ministry, “I’ve still got two years until I graduate, but I hope to join you as soon as possible.”

“I cannot wait for that day to come, Miss Song.” Theseus grinned, grabbing the rose dessert, “I can already tell you’ll be great; you sort of remind me of myself, actually.”

“I do?” I asked with a surprised tone, feeling my smile get even bigger.

“Indeed.” Theseus hummed and then took a bite of the rose as I tried to contain my glee, my mouth hurting from smiling so widely. Suddenly, there was a presence next to me, and I felt a hand gently grip my shoulder, the hold familiar but rather cold. I turned my head and was met with Tom’s piercing-blue cold eyes looking down at me impassively.

“Mr. Scamander.” He greeted the Auror with a tight smile on his lips.

“Mr. Riddle.” Theseus was in the middle of chewing his dessert, but he quickly forced it down his throat and shook Tom’s hand.

“Do you mind if I steal Miss Song for a dance?” Tom’s voice was suddenly light, dripping with sweetness as his face morphed into a warm smile, “Have I interrupted an important conversation?”

“I have said what I wanted to Miss Song, if she wishes so, you can steal her for a dance.” Theseus winked, our gazes meeting as suddenly his thoughts flooded my mind. For a powerful Auror like him, it took me off guard to find his mind so defenceless. Perhaps he didn’t see a reason to guard his thoughts in the confines of Hogwarts, and before I could correct him that there was nothing between Tom and myself—as Theseus’ thoughts claimed—I was already whirled around and guided towards the crowded dance floor. The orchestra played a nice tune, slow but not to the point all you could do was step left and right. Tom placed his hand on the middle of my back as he held my hand in his other one, a respectable distance between our bodies as he started leading.

“Any reason you wanted to dance with me?” I asked with narrowed eyes, knowing for a fact that Tom never danced. He hated dancing or standing as close to somebody as we were stood right now.

“Hmm,” He hummed, his tone low and his voice pleasant to the ears as he spoke up again, “you looked like you needed a little saving.”

“Speaking to Mr. Scamander was pleasant,” I shrugged, holding onto Tom’s shoulder tighter as we narrowly avoided a drunken couple, “You could’ve tried to save me when I was talking to Professor Slughorn and the spouses that work at St. Mungo’s, instead. They are weird.”

“They are peculiar people, indeed.” Tom muttered, eyes falling on my face, “But they are incredibly smart and good assets to a team.”

“What team?” I asked confused, eyebrows furrowing. Tom was leading us out of the crowded dance floor, thankfully, more towards the side where we’d have more space and wouldn’t have to avoid every second drunken couple. A platinum blonde hair popped up in the crowd not far from us, and I stifled a laugh as Abraxas tried not to topple over as he was led towards the exit by his date.

“Well,” Tom started, eyebrows lightly furrowing as he mused over his words, like he didn’t know how to formulate his next words. That was unexpected from Tom as he was a good speaker, and an intelligent person, “let’s put it this way. You build an army of people that are magically gifted, but smart too, and you lead them to victory.”

“Why would you need this army?” I asked as I grew even more confused, “Are you talking about Grindelwald?”

“We can take him as an example, yes.” Tom chuckled, a smirk pulling at his lips as our eyes bore into each other’s, making me wonder for a split second if he was hiding something from me, “The people he has on his side aren’t just strong and powerful wizards and witches who excel at magic, they are also intelligent and strategize with him, leading him towards victory—”

“You think Grindelwald will prosper in this war?” I asked, feeling myself irked at such vile thoughts. Grindelwald wouldn’t win, I would become an Auror just to make sure of it.

“No, of course not.” Tom whispered, an easy smile adorning his lips and I felt his fingers gently rub against my knuckles. I sighed and looked away, surveying the crowd in hopes that I would finally find my lover. I missed him, I wanted to be by his side and dance with him, “Are you enjoying yourself?”

“Of course.” I chuckled, but my eyes were still searching the crowd as Tom cleared his throat, turning us around so that I was facing the exit now. My eyes stopped on the familiar form of my lover, and my eyebrows furrowed in wonder as I realized Seonghwa was speaking to Rabastan Lestrange and his parents, “Are you?”

“I hate these events, actually, even the Slug Club, but if I wish to remain in the graces of our daft professor, I must—”

“I am really sorry for cutting you off like this, Tom.” I released my hold on Tom and took a step back, eyes hastily falling back on the Slytherin boy, “But I’ve finally found my lover, I hope you don’t mind.”

“Right,” Tom’s expression faltered, then returned to being cold as he nodded towards Seonghwa, “I’ll see you around. But, Y/N, did you know Park and Lestrange have been acquittances for quite a while now?”

My eyebrows furrowed as I bit my lower lip, wondering if Seonghwa had ever mention Lestrange to me, “Of course, there are no secrets between Seonghwa and I.”

I felt the slight prodding at my mind, but Tom got nowhere near my thoughts as I have carefully guarded them all night. I bowed my head slightly before I walked away from the dance floor, nearing my lover and the Lestrange family with a soft smile on my lips. Rabastan was the first one to notice me, and he loudly cleared his throat, eyes jumping between Seonghwa and my approaching form. Seonghwa stiffened and I tried to mask my confusion as I stood next to my lover, “Good evening.”

“Good evening, Miss…?” Rabastan’s father was a gruff man, scary-looking, and rather unfriendly as his voice was harsh.

“Song, Song Y/N.” I answered and offered him my hand before I greeted his wife, who looked stoic and glared at me viciously. But I remained unphased as I continued smiling.

“Song,” She muttered, eyes narrowing as she shared a glance with her husband, “your parents are quite prominent figures in the Ministry, aren’t they?”

“Yes.” I answered, not keen of talking about my parents. It was always about them, never about me. They’ve made their own reputation already, I wanted to make one for myself.

“Y/N is just as brilliant as her parents, if not more.” Seonghwa mused with a warm tone, lips pulled into a dashing smile as I felt his arm sneak around my middle and gently pull me into his side. My muscles softened as his familiar warmth and cologne embraced my being, making me look up at him with a small grin. Rabastan’s parents exchanged a glance as their son cleared his throat again, looking rather awkward.

“And you make a pair, I assume.” Rabastan’s father quirked an eyebrow, not looking very impressed by the prospect. Before I could answer, Seonghwa hummed lowly and I felt his fingers flex against my hips in a quiet request to remain silent. I bit my bottom lip, but adhered to his request.

“Yes, Miss Song and I had been quite the academic rivals, but I suppose in our fifth year we found common ground and discovered together we are more powerful, our knowledge forever expanding.” Seonghwa’s answer made my eyebrows furrow as I turned my head to look at him with a questioning gaze, but he continued looking at the Lestranges, who seemed pleased with his answer.

“Well, yes, she is a Slytherin like our son,” Rabastan’s mother said with a chuckle that was filled with vice, “but she might take after her parents, after all.”

Fed up with the cryptic conversation, I chuckled and flashed the Rabastans an apologetic smile before I cradled Seonghwa’s cheek in my hand and turned his head to face me, “May we dance? You’ve neglected me the whole night, my love.”

“My apologies,” Seonghwa hummed and kissed my wrist as I let my hand fall from his face, the two of us looking back at the Lestranges, “It was a pleasure talking to you and meeting you Mr. and Mrs. Lestrange, I shall see you around—hopefully.”

They nodded wordlessly as Rabastan bid us farewell, and I intertwined my fingers with Seonghwa’s as I led us back to the dance floor, the crowd a little more dispersed now than it has been when I was dancing with Tom. The orchestra now had started playing slow tunes, all the dancing couples swaying gently to the music. I sighed as I felt Seonghwa’s arms slip around my hips to pull me close in, my arms circling his shoulders as our bodies flushed together, my nerves and muscles easing at the familiar press of his body against mine. Seonghwa’s round eyes had a warm glow in them, his cherry-like lips pulled into a soft smile. I chuckled and fought the muscles in my body yearning to press a kiss against his lips, and instead let my eyes travel down to the early Christmas gift I had given him earlier this morning. Seonghwa and I would be going home tomorrow, meaning that we wouldn’t spend the holidays together like last year, when Hongjoong, his best friend, decided to stay at Hogwarts due to his horrible parents and Seonghwa and I decided to stay too, to keep him company. It was one of the best Christmases I have ever had.

My gift was something small, a thin silver chain necklace with a small star pendant hanging on it, representing the way I viewed Seonghwa. He was bright and beautiful, always glimmering in the darkness and guiding me through my hardships, helping me sparkle as bright as him. He was an inspiration and so easily lovable that sometimes I felt like I fell for him over and over again each day.

“I had no idea you knew Rabastan Lestrange?” I raised an eyebrow as Seonghwa sighed, our moves smooth as he twirled us around.

“Barely.” He muttered, dipping his head low, his breath fanning my face, “Did Professor Slughorn introduce you to Theseus Scamander? I saw you talking to him.”

“He did!” I beamed, Seonghwa’s eyes creasing as he smiled back at me, “I am so happy I met him tonight, he said he cannot wait for me to join the Auror’s Office.”

“Is that so?” Seonghwa hummed, making my eyebrows furrow in confusion. He didn’t look too eager, but he chuckled upon seeing my reaction, it didn’t sound amused, “With how eager Riddle was to whisk you away for a dance, I figured you couldn’t talk much to Mr. Scamander.”

“Seonghwa,” I sighed, interlacing my fingers around his neck as I tilted my head back, “can we not do this here? Can we just not talk about Tom for one second?”

“How can I not talk about Riddle when he’s openly trying to court my partner—”

“Seonghwa.” I snapped quietly as I didn’t want anyone to overhear our useless argument, “Tom hates every female that breaths around him withing a meter radius, can you please for the love of Merlin stop this nonsense?!”

“I cannot.” He hissed, eyes narrowing as our steps faltered, “You fail to see the issue at hand, Y/N, he hates every female but you. And I cannot stand that—”

“Why are you so jealous when I have never given you a reason to be?” I cut him off, eyebrows furrowing in annoyance.

“Because you’re mine and I cannot fathom losing you, I just—”

“Park Seonghwa.” I sighed, cupping his cheeks as I shook my head at him, “You are the love of my life, I have never loved anyone before you and I will never love anyone else but you. I don’t want anyone else that isn’t you, and I will never do. You are my star and the reason I live for, and I trust you with my whole being and have given all of myself to you. Sometimes—I just wish you trusted me as much as I trust you. When you act like this, you make me feel guilty and bad, like I don’t deserve your love and you.”

Seonghwa’s bottom lip was between his teeth and he released a long sigh as his hands sneaked back to grip my hips, “Only Merlin know how much I love you, Y/N, how much faith I have in you, and just how much I trust you. It’s this irrational fear that I will lose you if I make a wrong move that makes me act like this. I don’t even care about Riddle—or anyone else—if I have one fear, it’s that of losing the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I might be your star, but a star cannot shine without darkness. I need you, promise me you’ll stay by my side no matter what.”

“I promise to forever stay by your side, Hwa.”

            Hongjoong was a good friend to Seonghwa, righteous, and ferociously protective. But even Hongjoong could tell apart right from wrong, unlike Seonghwa. And when I had gotten home after meeting him at the coffee shop, in the haste of searching for my yellow bottle of pills as my hands had started trembling once again, I found a small rolled up paper nestled between the white tablets. Eager to swallow the sedatives, I held the paper carefully, and after downing two tablets, I unrolled the paper, eyebrows furrowing when I realized it was an address to a fancy place in high-end London, where socialites mingled to their hearts wishes—both muggles, wizards, and witches alike. Hongjoong would never help me in taking down his best friend, but he also knew I was offering his best friend the easy way out this time. I would let him flee if he promises to never show himself around Grindelwald—I would do that because it’s Seonghwa. Because I cannot imagine a life without him even if he’s not by my side, just the thought of knowing he’s out there breathing and living keeps me going.

The casino Hongjoong had given me the address of was fancy and elite, only those who had an invite could enter. But I had connections, getting in was the easiest part. And perhaps, feeling nostalgic after having seen Hongjoong, I yearned to see more familiar faces that reminded me of my innocent childhood, familiar faces that could help me forget that I haven’t heard from Mingi and Yunho in a week. They were alive, that much we knew, but we had no idea if they had been discovered or injured, or if they have gone low-key in order to have even fewer chances of compromising their mission. Nonetheless, when I sent an owl to an old-time friend, I did not expect to receive an answer this eager, at least not from this particular person. Having taken my time to tidy up and make myself presentable, I slipped my bottle of pills inside my purse, knowing that there were great chances I would be seeing Seonghwa tonight—that was the whole point of me going to the casino. I was restless all day long and I had probably already taken too many of them, but the tremors of my hands never once stopped, and I could feel my heart race all day long. It was unsettling, but I knew there was nothing more I could do about it but slip the bottle in my purse and pray to Merlin for a successful mission. If I managed to get Seonghwa on my side tonight, much would change—the war would change.

There was a light smog in the air of London as I neared the casino, the evening breeze pleasant for once as the cobblestones were slippery from the previous rain. There was a light drizzle in the air still, but the invisible shield I had casted around myself to protect me from it was doing its job fairly well to keep me dry. My fur coat kept me warm as the nature of my dress was more daring tonight, attention grabbing on purpose. As I neared the entrance of the casino, lit up brightly and bustling with ladies and gentlemen that had bright smiles on their faces, I noticed a tall figure looming to the side in the darker corner of the street. Heartbeat halting, I hurried my steps as I clutched the invitation tighter in my hands, eager to see the man’s face from up-close. It’s been a few years since we’ve seen each other, I didn’t think he’d actually join me tonight. I knew he had his own ambitions, what those were exactly, I couldn’t tell. He’s always been secretive, but he’s made quite the reputation for himself after finishing Hogwarts. He was a young promising man, eager to chase after his desires.

“Miss Song!” His voice had gotten deeper over the years, but remained as velvety as always. My lips pulled into a smile as I was finally close enough to see his face clearly, and I was taken aback by the obvious changes the years have brought to his once youthful face. His eyes were still as bright and blue, perhaps even icier than they used to be, but his cheekbones had become hollower, skin ashier. He looked good, but he looked ghastly.

“Mr. Riddle.” I came to a stop in front of him with a big smile on my face, and was taken aback by the arms that have wrapped around me in a hug. Tom had always hated physical contact, I wondered if the passing of years had changed that, “You’ve changed. A lot.”

“Hopefully in a good way.” He chuckled as he released me, smirking dashingly at me. I would be lying if I said my heart didn’t skip a beat. I chuckled and shook my head, taking in his even taller, but lanky, form.

“I suppose yes,” I hummed, realizing that there were no traces of the young boy I have once viewed as perhaps my little brother, “You’ve grown taller, I didn’t think that was possible.”

Tom and I chuckled at the same time as he reached out again, squeezing my lower arm, “And you look stronger than ever.”

I hummed and tried to hide the way my tremors only worsened at his words, wanting to tell him that I was on the brink of falling apart every day. I wasn’t strong, I was far from being strong, I just refused to give in to the darkness until I have fulfilled my purpose, then I could finally let go. Give in to whatever madness threatened to pull my thoughts to an everlasting field of blackness, the stars absent from the night sky. Stars that have long abandoned me, left me alone to fend for myself, to figure things out without a guiding light.

“Let’s head inside, I’m beginning to feel cold.” I muttered as Tom hummed, offering his arm for me to take as he confidently waltzed us towards the entrance, the bouncer smiling at us pleasantly as I handed over our invitation. It seems that he already knew Tom, who, it turns out, frequents this casino rather often. The question was on the tip of my tongue, whether he sees Seonghwa here often or not, but I didn’t want to know. It was better not to know. I couldn’t start questioning Tom’s morality right now, I had to stay focused on the task at hand, which was finding Seonghwa and trying to coerce him onto my side.

            The place was buzzing with all sorts of people, all seemingly eager to socialize and make lasting connections. The interior of the casino was vast and covered in red and black décor, giving it a sultry but eloquent touch. We had barely walked in when our coats and purses were taken to a garderobe for safe keeping. And before Tom could explain much about the place and the type of events that were held here, we were swarmed by quite a few wizards and witches, all very keen of talking to Tom, of holding his attention for more than five minutes. It seems like that hasn’t changed since Hogwarts.

I remained by his side and smiled, only spoke up when I was addressed to as I was too busy searching the room—the crowd—for the familiar face that I was here in the first place. I had opted to wear a long-sleeved dress as it was still cold outside, the velvet fabric feeling soft against my skin, keeping me perhaps too warm inside the parched room. The neckline of it was a deeper cut, just shy of stopping at the swell of my breasts, and I had decorated my long neck with emeralds that glinted prettily under the light. The dress was long, I had to be careful not to step on it with the heel of my high heels, and it was a poison green, tricky as under the light it glimmered green, however, otherwise it appeared black. I had pulled my hair away from my face and curled the strands, letting them fall free against my back as simple emerald earrings decorated my ears.

I was itching to hold onto something as I tried not to fidget with my hands, preferably to feel the comforting weight of the bottle of pills, but as they were hidden away in my purse, the only reassurance that I wasn’t completely defenceless lay hidden under my long dress, strapped against my shin was my wand. Over the years, I have learned to excel in wandless magic completely, but just knowing that I had my wand on me helped ease my nervous heartbeat. My eyes never stopped surveying the crowd, waiting to spot those round eyes and cherry-red lips.

“Aren’t you the Songs’ daughter, my dear?” I felt a lady gently touch my arm in order to grab my attention, and I averted my eyes from the back of a man who seemed to have a form similar to Seonghwa’s.

“I am.” I answered the older lady with a pleasant smile, trying to seem cordial despite my nerves.

“Oh, you are gorgeous.” She whispered, fingering the velvet sleeve of my dress, lips pursed, “You were a Slytherin, yes?”

“Yes.” I hummed, glancing side ways at Tom, wondering whether he could save me from this stranger, but he was busy speaking to who seemed to be the lady’s husband, “Does that matter?”

“Well, Slytherins are highly regarded in our society, we are prestige, you know?” The old lady smirked, and I gently pulled my hands behind my back, feeling uncomfortable that she wouldn’t stop touching my dress.

“I wouldn’t call ourselves prestige when most from our house turn towards the usage of the Dark Arts in inconvenient and illegal ways.” I grumbled, trying to hide my distaste as the older lady chuckled, eyes narrowing at me.

“So, you seem to share your parents’ beliefs, after all.” I heaved a long sigh, looking at the lady with a pressing glare. It was always about my parents, about sharing their beliefs. I was fed up with hearing that over and over again. What did people expect of me? To follow the ‘path’ of other Slytherins and join dark causes? Why did everyone have prejudices of us? And most of all, why did everyone assume all Slytherins were evil and would turn against what was right to do?

“My parents are mighty people and proud of their legacy.” My voice was harsh as I squared my shoulders back, the older lady’s eyes slightly widened, “My mother was a Hufflepuff and she raised me with compassion and fierce love that taught me how to differentiate wrong from right. My father was a Ravenclaw that is beyond wise his years and values knowledge above anything else, he taught me that there is no reason to live if you don’t learn constantly, if you don’t find a passion that you excel in. Excuse me if I find no joy in slaying those innocents around me, if I don’t enjoy tea parties organized to discuss who would and who wouldn’t live another day. You, and everyone else, should know basic human decency and stop playing the Gods you’ll never be. I am Slytherin proud of my heritage, and Merlin be damned if I let another one look down on me because of my parents, who have achieved things far beyond your capability in this fragile life that we live. So, if you happen to have a problem with me, or the fact that I am a Song, please, speak to be bluntly and not in riddles.”

The older lady’s mouth hung open in shock, and we have earned the attention of Tom and the man he was talking to, the two looking just as taken aback as the lady. Well, Tom didn’t look that much surprised, his frown told me of his distaste towards my words, and the swift glare sent my way signalled to me to shut up. But I didn’t want to, my nerves were on a high and if one more person mentions my parents and the fact that I am the ‘Songs’ daughter’, I shall repeat my speech proud and loud for the whole room to hear. It wasn’t hard to guess that it was infested with Grindelwald’s people, and my stomach churned as I felt Tom’s fingers sneak around my wrist, holding it so firmly I almost winced in pain.

“She’s opiniated.” Is what the old man said at last, eyes narrowed as he pulled his wife closer into his side, “Is this who you’ve looked up to at Hogwarts? The woman you’ve mentioned before?”

My breath stilled as I looked at Tom confused, feeling suddenly uncomfortable as I tried to untangle his fingers from my wrist but he wasn’t letting go. Was Seonghwa right all along? Was Tom trying to veer me away from Seonghwa while we were at Hogwarts? Had I been actually blind to Tom’s advances? But that mustn’t have been possible, I’ve heard Tom say multiple times that he wasn’t capable of feeling love for anyone, nor was he interested in maintaining any relationships, not even friendships.

“I apologize for her harsh words,” Tom bowed his head humbly, making my eyebrows furrow, “in her field of work she must be blunt and unfiltered, sometimes that slips into her everyday life too.”

I grit my teeth, but remained silent as the older man chuckled, eyes twinkling as he took me in. My face was a mask of impassiveness despite the urge to jinx both him and his wife. Deciding that I didn’t want to partake in this wretched conversation anymore, I turned my head and allowed my eyes to survey the crowd again. I heard Tom’s voice, but I paid no mind to what words were said. I knew the older couple walked away with a laugh on their lips, and I felt Tom’s eyes piercing the side of my head, but I was frozen. My tremors returned in the worst way, making my arms tremble as I tried to gulp but my throat felt dry, eyes glassing over the longer I looked at the familiar, yet so foreign face of my once lover. He was far from us, in the heart of the crowd as he tipped his head back, lips pulled into a charming smile as he laughed. The sound was swallowed by the cacophony created by the conversing people and the playing orchestra, yet I could hear its warm timbre as if he were right next to me.

He had also changed, became less boyish looking and turned sharper in angles he didn’t have before. His jaw was sharp and his nose tall, his round eyes void of the softness I was so used to receiving from him. His cheekbones were more defined than before, his cheeks having lost the baby fat I so loved pinching, and his black hair was longer than I have ever seen it before, framing his face, falling onto his forehead as his bangs were styled carefully. Gone were his wild curls that he always struggled to keep in one place. Park Seonghwa has changed since the last time I’ve seen him, and I was afraid I couldn’t recognize him anymore. Had Grindelwald stolen away even the last remnants of my lover?

“I can’t breathe.” I croaked out as I held onto my middle, my muscles so tense I was in pain as I tried not to double over and empty the contents of my stomach. I needed my pills, I had to take them before I would cause a scene. Suddenly, as Seonghwa’s eyebrows furrowed and his eyes turned sharp, vigilante, and found mine, Tom obscured my view of him, eyebrows furrowed in concern, yet I couldn’t actually see the concern in his eyes, or on his face.

“Let’s head over to the bar,” He said quietly, grabbing my hand and stopping the absent-minded scratching I had started doing, “water will do you good.”

I hummed, unable to will my legs to move, and felt thankful when Tom gently coerced me towards the bar, nestling my arm in his as he pulled me into his side, his cologne foreign. There was nothing comforting about his presence, unlike how Hongjoong’s had been, and I struggled to regulate my breathing and frantic heartbeats, telling myself that I was here on a mission and that I had to place aside any feelings I felt towards Seonghwa. I couldn’t compromise my mission this way, I was here to offer Seonghwa a way out. If I wasn’t able to keep it together for just one night, then why was I even here?

Too wrapped up in my mind, I didn’t hear Tom speak to the bartender, nor did I see the glass of water that was placed in front of me until Tom poked my trembling hands and pushed the glass towards me. I quickly took it and gulped down the cool water in a few sips, thankful that the ache in my throat was finally soothed. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath as I placed the glass back onto the surface of the bar, willing my muscles to loosen up as I licked my lips, Tom’s pressing stare becoming irritating. I exhaled slowly and opened my eyes, glancing over to Tom, voice raspy as I spoke up, “Thank you.”

“I’m here for you.” Tom muttered, grabbing my hand and making the hairs stand on my arms as I didn’t want to be touched. But I said nothing as I gulped and nodded once, focusing on my trembling hands as I knew Tom had noticed them, his eyes straying towards them. If only I could fetch my purse to take just one pill, it would help a lot right now. I sighed and had started pulling my hand away from Tom’s just as a person appeared right next to Tom, lean body leaning against the bar as his eyes were cold, narrow, and piercing.

“Good evening.” He spoke up upon making eye contact with me, and I forgot how to breathe all over again, “Miss Song, Mr. Riddle.”

“Mr. Park.” My voice was a mere whisper as our eyes bore into each other, mine desperately searching for a semblance of the man I used to love. But it was gone, innocence and youth long ripped from him, now only a shell of the dorky and geeky boy that used to recite poems to me that he found in muggle books. It broke my heart; it made me mad—it made my hands tremble even worse.

“Oh, and who are these?” A very thick accented female voice spoke up, her dark red lips pulled into a pleasant and friendly smile as her eyes rivalled Tom’s blueness. I gulped, eyes straying from her onto Seonghwa as he looked down at her, his expression softening as he placed an arm around her middle. I didn’t allow myself to feel anything upon seeing that as my eyes snapped back up to Seonghwa’s face, waiting for his next move.

“Old acquittances from Hogwarts.” He said easily, flashing the woman a quick fake smile, “This is Rhaena, she went to Beauxbatons.”

“Pleased to meet you!” Her French accent was irritating as she extended her hand to shake, eyes stalling on Tom for a second too long. I bit the insides of my cheeks, trying to reign in my scowl as Tom elegantly pressed a kiss against her knuckles, smirking at her with a charming gaze.

“My name is Song Y/N.” I introduced myself confidently once it was my turn to shake her hand, my handshake firm and perhaps too strong as Rhaena winced while my eyes landed on Seonghwa, my own lips pulling into an unamused smirk, “I must admit being introduced as mere acquittances leaves me with a distaste I didn’t think I’d harbour towards you, Mr. Park.”

Tom laughed loudly, watching Seonghwa with a challenging look as Rhaena turned and looked back at him with a quirk to her eyebrow, “My memories must be murky, my apologies, it’s been long since we’ve last seen each other, Miss Song. But I see you continue entertaining your old admirers—”

“Admirer is a strong word,” Tom cut him off with a chuckle, but it was far from being friendly as he glared at Seonghwa, “I merely admire Miss Song’s working etiquette, always have, ever since our time at Hogwarts, I suppose. Is it such a crime to look up to a strong, ambitious, and independent woman?”

I could see the spark of interest in Rhaena’s eyes the longer Tom talked, and it irked me. If she was with Seonghwa, why was she so openly interested in other men? Did Seonghwa not see? Did he not care? Seonghwa deserved better than a woman who couldn’t remain loyal to him.

“Ambitious with foolish ideas—” Before Seonghwa could finish his jab and break my heart more than it was already, Rhaena interjected, smiling widely at Tom. I knew he wasn’t interested in her, but it was scary how well he played his act of looking interested in the eager woman.

“I have always loved a man who is able to recognize the power his partner holds and worship her like a queen.” Rhaena’s lips pulled into a suggestive smirk as she licked her lips, eyes raking over Tom’s body, making me feel uncomfortable as I eyed the two. Tom chuckled under his breath but I noticed the way his jaw clenched and unclenched.

“You’re too daring for me, Miss Rhaena.” Tom settled with saying, making the French woman pout as she suddenly pressed herself to Seonghwa’s side, who was glaring at Tom’s blatant rejection.

“And Miss Song isn’t?” Seonghwa’s lips pulled into a vicious smile, face contorting into something sinister as he continued with an air of insignificance, “After all, Aurors take great pride in their work and never place anyone above themselves.”

“Miss Song knows the distinction between her personal life and her work.” Tom snapped back, grabbing the sleeve of my dress when I started shuffling on my feet, feeling uncomfortable by the exchange. I felt a little prodding in my mind and as I glanced at Tom, he was already looking at me with a frown. I nonverbally reassured him that I was okay, and finally admitted to him that I was here on a mission. He understood quickly and didn’t ask questions, only stated that he’d help me with whatever.

“So, you two are married, then? Rhaena kept on antagonizing us as our telepathic conversation was broken, and my eyebrows furrowed as I scoffed.

“Tom is an old friend that I have always been fond of, are you married to Seonghwa?” Perhaps my tone was too snappy, perhaps my words gave away too much. I gulped, realizing that my emotions were getting the best of me, making me ponder again whether I should just go ask for my purse to take another pill. Things were going horribly; this isn’t what I had planned for the night.

“No.” It was Seonghwa who answered, voice deep and laced with anger, “What are you doing here, Miss Song? I haven’t seen you at the casino before.”

“I’m here to accompany Tom as he’s told me he’s been feeling rather lonely on his visits to the casino.” I plastered on a fake smile, levelling my voice so that they wouldn’t be able to tell that I was lying. Even Tom seemed to be surprised as he hummed next to me in confirmation of said lie, tilting his head as he looked at Seonghwa challengingly, “It’s a nice break from my work that you seem to know so much of, Mr. Park.”

But Rhaena seemed to be stuck on a different part of the conversation, “Mr. Riddle, would you like to be my first dance partner of the night?”

I stiffened as Tom chuckled, giving me a quick glance before he nodded and extended his hand for Rhaena to take. She batted her eyelashes at him and pursed her lips as she waved at Seonghwa, walking off with Tom towards the dance floor. I gulped, eyes stuck onto them as I subconsciously started rubbing my left hand, nails digging into my skin painfully, scratching the skin as it left marks. My heart had started hammering against my chest, and I couldn’t face Seonghwa as I felt his piercing gaze bore into the side of my head. I knew why I was here; I knew what I wanted to say to him, but his hostile attitude wasn’t something I had expected, and now I felt like I needed to rethink and reformulate everything I had wanted to say to him.

Jumping at the sudden warm touch against my hand, I faced Seonghwa with wide eyes as he squeezed my fingers, stopping me from scratching my skin up more. My eyebrows furrowed as my hand tingled, leaving my throat dry once again as Seonghwa’s expression was blank, his round eyes having lost their beautiful and warm glimmer.

“Will you dance with me?” His voice was quiet, tone almost dejected, and I gulped as I nodded wordlessly. He didn’t release my hand, instead, he intertwined his fingers with mine as he led the way towards the dancing crowd, making my insides churn at the familiar feel of his larger palm pressing against my small one.

For a second, I felt like a teenager back at Hogwarts, dancing with Seonghwa under the moonlight to a melody that he so often hummed. But the bodies that nearly collided into mine did a good job of helping me repress the memory to stay level-headed, and instead, I straightened my back and finally remembered what I was taught when I was training to become an Auror. The mission was my number one priority now, and so, I repressed all emotions and slipped a neutral expression onto my face as Seonghwa stopped in the middle of the crowd and turned around to face me. He raised our intertwined hands and yanked me towards himself, taking me off guard as I stumbled into his body. He swiftly grabbed onto my hip and I steadied myself as I held onto his shoulder, turning my head away to gaze over it as Seonghwa’s eyes landed on my face. My heart was hammering against my ribcage, skin burning everywhere it touched Seonghwa’s.

It felt familiar being in his hold, warm and comforting, yet his body was tense and on-alert. Seonghwa was a smart man, he knew if I was here, other Aurors might be too, he was on the look-out in case he needed to flee. My body was tense too, but for different reasons. I was trying not to give in to the yearning of my consciousness after the warm body that I knew so well, the embrace that made me feel like the luckiest person on the planet, the lips that ignited my skin on fire wherever they touched. I have missed Seonghwa so much that sometimes I wondered if my impeding madness was imposed upon me by our separation.

“It’s unexpected seeing you here.” Seonghwa muttered carefully, voice void of the previous hostility. I gulped and nodded, having to agree with him.

“I was curious of this place.” That wasn’t a total lie, and Seonghwa could tell. I felt his finger graze against my knuckles, gently rubbing them, but I ignored it for my peace of mind—which I was already struggling with.

“And how do you like it?”

“It’s too pompous, fake, prestigious.”

“People are here to make beneficial connections, of course it’s fake.” Seonghwa’s voice had dropped low so that nobody but me would hear him. I hummed, licking my lips as I felt him pull me more into himself as we danced around in a small circle, his familiar cologne making my head spin. Even after all these years, he looked and felt like the Seonghwa I once fell in love with.

“Your hair is long now.” I had no idea why I said that but I couldn’t take it back now, and Seonghwa’s steps stuttered for a second, making me step on my dress.

“I’ve always liked it better like this,” He said once he cleared his throat, “I kept it short because my parents didn’t like it.”

“I know.” I whispered and closed my eyes, giving in to my body’s cravings as I felt Seonghwa’s hand slip lower, press firmly against my lower back as our bodies flushed together, making me let out a stuttered breath.

“And your parents, are they well?” I felt bile rise up in my throat upon the question that left his mouth. He knew about them, of course he did, it was his people who sent them into hiding. My parents had played an enormous part in discovering the identity of Grindelwald’s men and their hideout. Of course, they were being hunted by Grindelwald now. I wasn’t safe either, but I was an Auror now, a talented one, Grindelwald wouldn’t waste his time on somebody who could very well defend themselves against him and his army. At least, not yet. I’m sure my time will come too.

“You’re being a hypocrite right now, Seonghwa.” I snapped, hearing him heave a sigh.

“They’ve always been kind to me, I do not wish mal-intent towards them—”

“And towards others?” I snapped, eyebrows furrowed as I pulled my head back to be able to look him in the eyes, “Towards all the innocent lives Grindelwald has taken—you have taken?!”

Seonghwa gulped, jaw clenching as his eyes narrowed, “There’s nothing innocent about being oppressed and having to hide our true nature while those mudbloods continue living their lives carefree and in peace.”

“Mudbloods.” I whispered, shaking my head in disappointment at Seonghwa, “You’re a half-blood, Seonghwa—”

“Enough.” Seonghwa snapped, his grip on my hand turning just a little painful, “I do not want to hear whatever you have to say—”

“Well, that is hilarious, Seonghwa.” I chuckled humourless, eyes narrowing at him in annoyance, “You cannot silence me, you cannot tell me what to do.”

“I can silence you,” He gulped, eyebrows furrowing, “for forever, if I want to.”

I froze, feeling a chill run down my spine, and then I just chuckled. I raised my eyebrows at him, looking him in the eyes challengingly, “Like you’ve silenced all those unassuming folk living in those village you burned to a crisp?!”

Seonghwa’s face contorted in anger, his round eyes narrowing as they stared me down fiercely, a dangerous glint in them, “What had to be done was done. They refused to join our cause.”

“A cause that is wrong and harms others, Seonghwa.” My voice raised slightly as I had lost my patience, our faces leaning in close as we both breathed through our noses harshly, glaring down each other, “You’ve done so many atrocities that you’re afraid to face the repercussions, isn’t it? It’s still not late, Seonghwa, if you come with me tonight, I can make things less painful for you. I can convince the officials to lessen your sentence, I can make them reason with you. If you say you regret everything you’ve done and that you will strive to fix your mistake, they will—”

“I will never do that.” Seonghwa hissed and I felt his breath fan my face, “I stand by what I believe in, I stand by what I have done, Y/N. You are on the wrong side, and you all will pay.”

Body shaking from both anger and anxiety, I tried to inhale deeply and exhale, but my throat felt restricted, and the longer I remained in Seonghwa’s arms the more choked up I would feel. I needed to get away, to get away from the man that didn’t resemble my once lover. This wasn’t the Seonghwa I had fallen in love with, this was—a monster standing in front of me. I bit my lower lip, feeling them tremble as I tried to supress the desperate need to cry, I wouldn’t do it. Not here, not in front of him, not ever again. I have cried enough because of him.

Feeling unsafe and cold in his arms, I tried to detach myself from Seonghwa, but his hold only tightened as his eyebrows further furrowed, looking like he was fighting with himself, a turmoil going on inside his mind. My blood froze over when my eyes slipped from his face, falling onto the necklace that sat against his black shirt, sparkling underneath the dim lights. It was the star necklace I had gifted him. Shaking my head, I looked back up in his eyes, grabbing onto the collar of his vest as Seonghwa’s arms held me in a firm embrace, fingers pressing painfully so into my lower back, “Seonghwa.”

And when his eyes shook, I knew he had lost control over himself, over his emotions, over his mind. I felt my eyes fill with tears for breaking even the little trust that’s remained between the two of us as our eyes bled into each other, making it easy for me to push through his fragile mind’s barriers. It was frightening how dark his thoughts were, revolving around murder and strategies of taking down even more people, of converting even more wizards and witches for their ‘greater’ cause. It was terrifying how good of a manipulator Grindelwald was, the fatherly look in his eyes when he looked at Seonghwa, the praises that left his mouth addicting—the complete opposite of Seonghwa’s muggle father who would never understand our world. I felt a small resistance trying to build itself back up in his mind, but I was stronger—Tom’s lessons at Hogwarts had paid off, the Auror training only making my acquired skills stronger—and so, I pushed forward, searching for anything that would be of use for future purposes.

In my search, I stumbled past sleepless nights spent staring up at the ceiling, of tear-filled eyes and salty cheeks as a familiar man cradled Seonghwa to his chest, shushing him and reassuring him of a bright ending. I heard broken whispers of my name as he’d wake up in a cold sweat from a nightmare, of lustful touches that were turned down in a haste at last, and ear-piercing shouts that sent everything tumbling to the ground, shattering. And then, painfilled screams and pleas for mercy, people on their knees crying, mothers cradling their children to their chests as their houses burned down and—a piece of parchment that would’ve been blank if it wasn’t for the name of the town scribbled down on it, Grindelwald’s harsh voice commanding my once lover to make everyone perish, nobody spared. He didn’t need anyone on his side from that village, he wanted revenge. Revenge on my parents and on everyone who’s ever tried to mislead him and take him down. Mingi. Yunho.

Seonghwa and I gasped loudly as he finally managed to push me out of his mind, not that I wanted to see anything beyond this. I have seen everything I needed. I had to alert the aurors of the attack Grindelwald had planned on our hideout. My heart raced in fear for my loved ones, and suddenly, I became aware of the hands holding my arms painfully, making me hiss out in pain as I looked up at Seonghwa’s face, feeling my heart still as his eyes were filled with tears, shaking, mouth agape as he looked speechless. I knew he’d hate me for invading his mind without permission, but I had to do it. Our trust in each other has been long broken; I was doing this for the greater good. Seonghwa wouldn’t understand, but he didn’t have to. Despite being a monster, he did something good, he contributed to saving hundreds of lives by weakening his mental barrier.

“You-you—” His voice was shaky as his eyebrows furrowed, body starting to shake from anger, “how could you?!”

“You made me do this, Seonghwa.” I gulped, jumping when he grabbed my nape painfully so, yanking our heads so close to each other that our lips brushed together. I felt my knees grow weak, it would be so easy to press my lips against his now, to feel the soft and plush skin against mine, to devour him and taste him. He’s always felt like home, but would he still feel like it? “You gave me no choice, Seonghwa.”

He scoffed, sneering at me as I whimpered when his fingernails dug into the sensitive skin of my neck, “You’re a monster, they’ve turned you into a monster.”

“As they have with you.” I whispered, biting the inside of my cheek to stop myself from crying, to keep myself from surrendering to Seonghwa completely. Seonghwa huffed, looking like he couldn’t believe what I have just said, eyes falling onto my lips as I tilted my head back, hands smoothing against his chest as my fingers ached from griping onto his vest so tightly. And my eyelashes threatened to flutter closed when Seonghwa angled his head just a little lower, his plump lips slotted perfectly against mine if one of us were to just tip our heads even the slightest forward.

But we were monsters to each other, the bogeyman of each other’s stories.

 1943

            I was close to finishing my patrolling duties, the Astronomy Tower my last stop before I could head back to the Slytherin common room and catch up on some much-needed sleep. Our examinations for the end of the year were nearing, more notedly, we only had one more week to catch up on every lesson before we’d be subjected to the long week of finals. It was stressful and I barely had any time for anything besides studying, so, much like others, I was cooped up in the library, scribbling down any necessary information that I might’ve missed during classes. Seonghwa and I only met up when we’d have breakfast, lunch, and dinner in the dining hall—unless one of us decided to skip due to not having studied enough that day. But that was alright, we both valued our studies and grades above all and, besides, we left little messages for each other in hidden places that we knew the other would patrol in the evenings after curfew.

The steps to the Astronomy Tower were steep and made of thick concrete, I pressed my palm against the stone wall for guidance and to feel safer as I was headed up to the tower. I had a slight fear of heights, which wasn’t too handy when I had to fly on a broom, hence why I never even considered playing Quidditch despite finding it cool and entertaining. Hongjoong could’ve probably brewed me a potion that made my fear halt but then again, I don’t know how smart it would have been to trust Hongjoong with even the simplest potions. He loved experimenting, and I had been on the receiving end of his failed brews one too many times. I am sure Madam Gorsemoor, herself, will banish me from this school if I turn up with an aching tummy to her Infirmary one more time.

I was panting by the time I reached the top of the stairs, all I had to do was round the corner and peek around it, then I could bolt back down to the Slytherin dormitories. However, just as I was about to do that, I heard hushed voices echoing around the stone walls. I couldn’t tell exactly what was being said as the voices were low, nonetheless, I did have to interrupt whatever was going on as I was a Prefect—I would even need to deduct house points if these were students and not professors. Squaring my shoulders and straightening my back to look more menacing than I actually was—with hopes of scaring off the students—I power-walked around the corner, only to freeze in the next second. Seonghwa stood leaning against the railing of the terrace, the wind howling loudly without the walls protecting us, and he was speaking to Rabastan Lestrange. My eyebrows furrowed as I noticed another figure sitting down, feet dangling over the ledge as he was leaned back on his hands, gazing up at the bright starry night sky, Hongjoong.

I didn’t understand what was happening, and I gulped as I carefully hid back around the corner, grateful that the three boys hadn’t noticed me. I peeked my head around the stone wall, still, and cast a wandless eavesdropping spell, Seonghwa and Rabastan’s voices suddenly tangible to my ears.

“So, what you’re saying is that your parents got everything ready for us?” Seonghwa’s usually warm voice lacked emotion now, and I could see that his eyebrows were slightly furrowed.

“Yes, all we have to do is give them the go.” Rabastan’s voice was harsh much like his father’s, and my eyebrows furrowed even more as I felt more confused than ever. What was this about and how did Seonghwa know Rabastan? What even was the purpose of this meeting after curfew? Was it worth it for Rabastan and Hongjoong to get caught and have house points reduced?

“But are you certain we’ve got enough people on the inside?” Seonghwa pressed on, sounding stressed, “Out of twenty-five people I have talked to, only ten wanted to join the cause.”

“Is he one of them?” Rabastan scoffed, tilting his head in Hongjoong’s direction as he remained ignorant of the two. I chewed on my bottom lip as Seonghwa glanced back at his best friend then shook his head slightly.

“Don’t worry about him,” Seonghwa muttered and Hongjoong gave him a lopsided smirk and a wink. Rabastan looked disgusted as he averted his eyes, glaring at Seonghwa now.

“If Grindelwald arrives and marches inside the school, we need to have enough students on his side to defend against the other fools, Park.” Rabastan hissed and my eyes widened, a tiny gasp slipping past my lips in shock, “He’s been planning this for way too long for you to mess it up—”

“And I have been planning alongside him just as much, Lestrange.” Seonghwa leered as he got all up in Rabastan’s face, his face contorted in anger. I had never seen Seonghwa look like that, I couldn’t believe this was real, that my Seonghwa was saying such things. What did he mean he’s been planning alongside him—alongside Grindelwald?! Was Seonghwa doing bad things behind my back? There had to be an explanation to all of this, this can only be a sick joke. Before I could react, Hongjoong tipped his head back, looking rather bored until we made eye contact. His eyes widened instantly and his mouth fell open as he struggled to scramble up as I shook my head at him ‘no’, but it was already too late.

“Seonghwa!” He hissed, and I watched as my lover looked over to his best friend with an irked expression on his face until he followed Hongjoong’s line of sight, our eyes meeting. I gasped, my heart racing in my chest as I whirled around and took off running, waving off the spell I had cast. I held onto the railing tightly as I tried to make my way fast down the stairs, struggling not to stumble and accidentally fall as I heard hurried footsteps echo behind me, laboured breaths leaving the person’s mouth. I didn’t dare look back to see who was following after me, but if they weren’t casting jinxes my way it meant that I was somewhat safe. At least as long as they didn’t reach the end of the staircase. The winding stairs seemed to suddenly never end as the wind howled in the distance the closer I got to the bottom, to the wooden door that was ajar as I had left it like that, the key to the door sitting in my pocket.

My lungs heaved for air as I finally reached the last stone step, letting go of the railing as I ran for the wooden door, screaming in fright when I felt a hand wrap around my bicep and yank me back before I could leave. I was whirled around and pushed against the door as I frantically tried to fight off the hands gripping my arms now.

“Y/N, it’s me.” The breathy voice was gentle, “My love, it’s Seonghwa.”

But that wasn’t comforting to hear anymore as my head snapped up, wide eyes staring at Seonghwa’s worried face. I gulped and gripped his forearms, pulling him closer towards me as our chests rose and fell quickly, “Explain.”

Seonghwa’s face blanched, skin paling as he gulped, his grip softening against my biceps, “I—what you heard isn’t—my love, let’s stay level-headed—”

“Is it true?” I snapped, jaw clenching as I couldn’t stand to hear him stutter, “What Lestrange has said, is it true, Seonghwa?!”

“Calm down first—”

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” I screamed and fought his grip off, pushing him away from me. My hands had started trembling as I stared at him with disgust, trying to make sense of everything, “It is true?! Are you on-on Grindelwald’s side?!”

“Y/N,” Seonghwa froze, his expression suddenly faltering as he looked past me, at the wooden door, “Yes—Yes, I am.”

I felt my heart clench as tears flooded my eyes in an instant, and I was gripping Seonghwa’s shirt in a flash, yanking him down to be eye-level with me, “Tell me you’re lying. Look me in the eyes.”

Seonghwa’s jaw clenched and unclenched as he licked his lips, struggling to take a long breath as his eyes fell on my face, searching for something that he didn’t find as suddenly he looked resigned, “It’s not a lie, my love, I have chosen to support Grindelwald’s cause. We’ve been forced to suffer for too long, shunned into hiding while those creatures do as they please, while they live the lives we are supposed to live.”

I shuddered at his words and released him as if he had burned me, hugging my arms around my middle as I bit my bottom lip, a few tears having escaped my eyes, “You were there. At Lucy’s funeral, you were there, Seonghwa. She died because of Grindelwald. Her entire family—eradicated, burned down, because she was an innocent Muggle.”

Seonghwa’s eyes were filled with tears too as I had started crying now, hands shaking even more as I tried to wipe my cheeks dry, but the tears just kept flowing, “I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?!” I snapped, voice shaking from the betrayal I was feeling, from anger, and from feeling like my heart’s been ripped out, “How could you look me in the eyes every single day, touch me, when you’ve been going behind my back and plotting such atrocious thing, Seonghwa?!”

“I wanted to tell you but you—you—” I took a step back as Seonghwa tried to reach out for me, watching the hurt expression on his face due to my rejection, “I knew you’d react like this; I just couldn’t tell you. You’d—ruin our plans.”

It felt like a punch to the gut hearing the love of my life say those things and I laughed, body shaking in despair and pain that this is the side my lover had chosen. The man I thought I would marry one day, give children to, grow old with. Yet here he stood in front of me, with tears streaming down his face—an abomination, just a mere shell of what he used to be, “Your father is a muggle, Hwa.”

His jaw clenched and he swiftly wiped his tears off his cheeks, taking deep breaths to calm himself down, “And he’s never been good to me.”

I gulped as I closed my eyes and willed my muscles to ease up a bit so that I could move again. I brushed my hair back as I blinked my eyes open, a little blurry from the tears that still threatened to spill out, but I sucked it up and nodded, ignoring my heart that was crying out for my mind to stop, not to say the words that would leave my lips soon, “Goodbye, Mr. Park.”

“What?” Seonghwa’s eyebrows furrowed as I grabbed the door handle behind me and bowed my head respectfully.

“Finish your Prefect duties and go back to your dormitory.” My voice was devoid of any emotion as I yanked the wooden door open behind myself, mind numb and silent for once, “I shall do the same, I won’t report this to Headmaster Dippet just yet.”

“Y/N, what are you—”

“I believe it’s Miss Song to you, Mr. Park.”

Seonghwa’s eyes widened as I stepped outside, hands trembling beyond normal as I had started feeling faint, “Y/N, no. No, you cannot leave me, I don’t—I cannot—please, Y/N, my love, please don’t. I cannot live without you, Y/N—”

The wooden door was loud as it slammed shut in my face, making my knees go weak as I tumbled to the floor, gasping for air as my whole chest felt on fire, tears wetting my cheeks before I could even try to stop them from escaping. The gut-wrenching sob that rippled through the hallway despite the wooden door that separated us made my skin crawl, my heart screaming at me to go back and take back everything I’d said to Seonghwa, but my mind knew what was right. My mind knew there was no further future for us, for Seonghwa.

He had chosen his path, and I have chosen mine.

            Like many knew, my work etiquette was beyond pristine and precise. I valued my missions above anything else, and so, I had wasted no time in reporting back to the Auror’s Office—to Theseus Scamander—about what I had found out at the casino. The attack that Grindelwald’s men—Seonghwa—was tasked to lead to avenge their leader. I could only hope that I was on time, that they hadn’t gotten to the village just yet, but with Seonghwa knowing that I had discovered their plans, it was probable that I was either too late, or they wouldn’t attack anymore. Either way, I was compromised and I needed to move, to go into hiding at one of our safe houses. I had requested to be placed close to Yunho and Mingi, in hopes that I could finally find them and speak to them. I missed them gravely, and slowly I had started feeling crazy without their safe and comforting presence around me.

But my mission wasn’t over yet, due to the weight of Seonghwa’s own mission, now I was tasked with killing him. It was a straight-up order, nothing could change their minds. Even if Seonghwa apologized and begged, they wouldn’t forgive him. In their eyes, he deserved to die—and I knew this. He did deserve to die, but I couldn’t ignore the growing lump in my throat and the coil of my stomach any time I tried to come up with a plan to lure him towards me. I was a trained professional, and I was tasked to kill a man. It would have been like second nature if said main wasn’t Seonghwa. I didn’t know how to proceed just yet, but I knew upon seeing Mingi and Yunho I would find solace in their presence and inspiration in their ideas. But one thing was certain, I would never be able to face Hongjoong again if my mission was successful.

I had woken up early in the morning to pack away my most important belongings, stuffing old polaroids deep into my satchel bag—the same one I had used at Hogwarts. At times when I felt nostalgic and missed the good old times, I would flip through the moving polaroids that had been taken at Hogwarts, many of them of Seonghwa and I, or of Seonghwa, Hongjoong, and I. Despite Yunho and Mingi having entered my life recently—three years ago, more specifically—the pictures of the three of us belonged in the same pile. Those two were like the brothers I never had.

I had taken my time to venture into the Muggle World and buy enough pills to last me three months in case I had to hide for a longer period of time, and I was already tempted to abuse the prescribed amount as I placed the third bottle away in my satchel bag, zipping it closed and placing it down onto the floor, next to my other bags. Now all I had to do was wait for the official that would fetch me and Apparate me to the safe house. Only a select few knew of its location, and I would be granted permission only once we have arrived to it. It didn’t help either that last night I was plagued with nightmares, the lack of sleep and the pills I had taken earlier this morning made me feel drowsy now, making me contemplate if taking a nap right now was smart or not. But I felt too restless to sleep, and thus, I couldn’t stop pacing around my main hallway, chewing away at my bottom lip. I was thinking of ways that I could deal with Seonghwa, desperately trying to find a way out in which he remained alive, when there were three firm knocks at my front door. I released a stressed sigh, grateful that the official was finally here and that I wouldn’t have to think about my issues for a little while.

I hurried over to the door, unlocking it quickly and yanking it open, freezing in surprise. The black cloaked figure was tall, head leaning down and obscured by a hood, making me wonder if the Ministry had changed up their customs and forgot to update me about them. But then, the person raised their head just until I could see their eyes, and I froze. Round eyes were narrowed into a ferocious glare and I gasped as I went to slam the door shut, fear striking my whole body as Seonghwa threw himself against my front door, pushing with all of his force to throw it open. I hissed as I leaned against the door heavily, refusing to give up, but Seonghwa gave it an aggressive push and I was sent tumbling back as I crashed into the round table placed in the middle of the hallway. He pushed the door open with his foot and unclipped his cloak from around his shoulders as he elegantly stepped inside, eyes cautiously glancing around, surveying the place. Perhaps he was looking to make sure I was alone.

I quickly snapped out of my initial shock and pushed off the table, heart beating fast as I ran around the table, going to fetch my wand which was placed atop the fireplace, but suddenly I felt my feet tangle together, sending me face first down onto the floor. I groaned as I narrowly avoided banging my head against the surface and rolled onto my back as I heard footsteps quickly approach. Staring up at Seonghwa wide eyed, his wand pointed at me, I narrowed my eyes and watched as the wand flew out of his hand at my non-verbal spell. His jaw clenched and I quickly jumped up to my feet, eyeing his wand, contemplating whether I should grab his instead as I knew he was never too good at wandless magic. I could only hope that was still true.

But as I lunged towards his wand, which had rolled underneath the table, Seonghwa lunged for me, arms wrapping around me and tackling me onto the table. I gasped as I collided against the surface painfully so, my shoulder digging into the sturdy wood as Seonghwa pressed my cheek with his hand against the surface without mercy.

“You’ve got a nice little cottage for yourself, Miss Song.” He sneered leaning down, “A little too daring for my taste. You didn’t even have wards set up.”

I huffed and grabbed his wrist with my left hand, which wasn’t trapped underneath my body, and yanked his hand off my face, kicking his shin hard with my leg, “I fear no one, Mr. Park. One doesn’t need wards when they live on the edge a Wizarding and Muggle town.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, my love.” I gulped at the once endearing nickname, and trashed around until Seonghwa’s hold loosened, “You made tracking you so easy.”

I chuckled as I finally wrestled my way out from underneath Seonghwa, “Perhaps I wanted to be found, my love, perhaps you just willingly walked into my trap, Hwa.”

Seonghwa froze for a second, face falling as I smirked and jumped up, hand curling around his neck as I threw him into the wall behind him, making him gasp at the sheer force I had used. I had never fought physically against Seonghwa, we had only duelled at Hogwarts. He had no idea what I was capable of in hand-to-hand combat. But I also had no idea how he fought, and I was certainly taken aback when I felt his knee raise into my stomach, making me suck in a sharp breath of air. My hand left his neck as I doubled over, fighting the urge to vomit as Seonghwa looked down at me with a dark look in his eyes. I felt fingers card through my hair and my head was yanked back as I groaned, looking up into his eyes with venom.

“You’re rather unprepared for someone who’s just lured me into their trap.” Seonghwa leered, leaning down, but before he could get too close, I stomped on his foot harshly, making him cry out as he let go of me, pushing me to the side. Regaining my balance, I dashed towards the fireplace to retrieve my wand and I heard hurried movement behind myself as well as we both turned around at the same time, wands held in each other’s direction threateningly. Neither of us moved nor spoke, our eyes boring into each other’s to see who would make the first attack. Based on experience, Seonghwa wouldn’t attack first, he would wait for me to do that, but I suppose times have changed us as I was forced to dodge an attack that almost made my fireplace explode into pieces. My eyes widened at the aggressive nature of Seonghwa’s attack and decided to return the energy. If he wanted to play dirty and use non-verbal magic, I could certainly match his energy.

I sent a Stupefy his way and watched in satisfaction as it took him off guard and sent him flying into the wall, breaking the small shoe rack that I have mounted myself. I smirked at Seonghwa, tilting my head with a challenging glint in my eyes, until I suddenly lost my footing again. It had seemed like he was fond of the spell. Seonghwa looked slightly dazed as I tried to regain my bearings, my head having hit the floor a little hard this time, but the duel must go on, I have gone through far worse things compared to this.

Sharp icy arrows were shot towards me as I scrambled backward, raising an invisible shield with my left hand as I sent blue fireballs towards Seonghwa using wandless magic. His eyebrows furrowed as he raised his own shield last minute, looking taken aback that I could use my magic so sharply while utilizing three methods at once. I knew he couldn’t when his eyes hardened again, giving me time to finally stand up and continue my attack with a spell that had birds materializing and diving for Seonghwa. He yelped and shielded himself, his barrier broken by the bird’s beaks as I shot another Stupefy at him, which he barely avoided as it crashed into the portraits hung onto the wall, sending them crashing to the floor.

I knew his next move before he even did it—I didn’t need to read his mind to know—as I raised another shield, dodging his strong Stupefy as it shattered my spell quite instantly. This duel felt childlike, as if we were testing each other’s patience, wanting to see who would give in first. It almost felt petty, like he was only teasing me because he was so certain that he’d win. I could count on my fingers how often he had beat me in a duel, and I knew for a fact that he still wasn’t better than me. Fed up with our useless fight, I decided to put an end to it as my eyes hardened, Seonghwa’s eyes narrowing upon seeing my expression. But before I could yell out Expelliarmus, I felt my right hand burn, the wand so hot that I had no choice but to drop it as I gasped, the tremors of my hands worsening as I looked back up at Seonghwa. He was smirking, thinking he had won the duel, but I raised my left hand and screamed, “Expelliarmus!”

He didn’t expect me not to give in right away, and so, his wand flew out of his hand as I whirled it against the wall, hearing a crack. My breath halted in my throat as my eyes widened in horror, watching as Seonghwa’s broken wand fell to the floor, his jaw falling open as he flinched. The apology was on the tip of my tongue, but the pure rage that had encompassed Seonghwa’s face made me shiver, and I dashed for the front door, trying to escape before his wrath could reach me. But had I miscalculated our distance, and as I grabbed the handle and tried to open the door, I felt a warm presence behind myself as the door was slammed back shut, my breathing loud in the silent room as my heart had started beating fast.

I was frozen, too afraid to move as I didn’t know what Seonghwa would do now. The man that stood behind me, stopping me from fleeing, was somebody I didn’t know. I could hear Seonghwa trying to level his breaths as his palm remained pressing against the door, his arm brushing against my hair. I tried to calculate my next move, work out what would be the smartest thing to do next, but his proximity made it hard to focus. I had seen him barely two days ago and his touch was still fresh in my mind, haunting my every waking moment, making me crave him like never before.

“Where’s Riddle when you need him, huh?” Seonghwa’s tone was poisonous, laced with hatred as I tensed, eyebrows furrowing.

“I don’t need Riddle,” I hissed, jaw clenching as my grip tightened around the handle, “I can protect myself; I don’t need anyone.”

“One would assume he’d be running here to save you like the lost puppy he was following you around at Hogwarts—”

“Tom has no part in my life!” My voice raised as I grew angrier, whirling around to face Seonghwa. I faltered for a second, finding him too close for comfort as he glared down at me, a dangerous glimmer in his eyes as I gulped, “I only used him to get an invite to the casino because I heard he goes there often—like you.”

Seonghwa’s careful mask cracked for a second as his eyebrows twitched, almost turning into a frown, but he caught himself and smirked instead, leaning down, “You think you can fool me with your pathetic lies?”

“Want me to show you?” I raised an eyebrow challengingly, knowing that it would only make Seonghwa angrier as he detested Legillimency, especially after I have used it on him at the casino.

He scoffed, leaning down closer to my face, “I should’ve killed you on the spot two nights ago—”

“Yet you didn’t,” I breathed out with a scoff, “like I haven’t told anyone about you and Lestrange’s stupid plan of bringing Grindelwald inside Hogwarts.”

“It wasn’t stupid—”

“You failed.”

“Because Riddle caused a scene, as always.” Seonghwa hissed, and I jumped when his fist made contact with the door above my head, making me melt back into the sturdy door, heart racing all over again, “I would’ve killed him a long time ago if Grindelwald hadn’t seen potential in him.”

Dread washed over me as I felt my stomach drop, “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t worry,” Seonghwa leered, tilting his head to the side as his glare made me feel sick to my stomach. He’s never looked at me like that, with so much venom and hatred, “your little lover refused his offer and Grindelwald decided to let him live for a little longer.”

“He’s not my lover.” I snapped, chest rising and falling quickly once again as I started getting angry. When would he understand that I could never look at Tom the way he thinks I did, “I have never harboured any romantic feelings towards Tom—I don’t even understand how my personal life is any of your business. You don’t see me talking ill of Rhaena or questioning her motives with you, Seonghwa.”

He paused as he gulped loudly, his hand slipping lower on the door until it was right next to my head, his wrist brushing against my cheekbone, “Rhaena is someone I work with, it’s all professional.”

“I do not care, Seonghwa.”

“You don’t, right.”

I gulped as suddenly an uncertain look crossed Seonghwa’s features, his eyes momentarily softening as I felt my whole body tingle as he stepped closer, his clothes brushing against mine. I felt my mouth go dry as my eyes roamed his face, palms turning into fists as I felt the sudden urge to reach out to him and touch him. Seonghwa placed his other hand against the door too, caging me in between himself and the sturdy surface. His eyebrows furrowed as his dark eyes bore into mine, bangs slightly obscuring his beautiful eyes as he exhaled slowly, closing the distance between our bodies. I shuddered and tilted my head back as he straightened up, my eyes landing on his plush lips as he parted them, tongue poking out to lick his dry lips. My whole body was buzzing as my eyebrows furrowed, my heart and mind fighting a never-ending battle as I couldn’t contain myself anymore and reached up, fingers reluctantly touching his cheek.

I wasn’t certain if he’d let me as his eyebrows furrowed even more, obvious that he was also struggling to make up his mind. But at last, I decided to be brave and cupped his warm cheek, my hand trembling against his soft skin. Seonghwa gasped quietly as his eyes widened, searching my gaze before his eyes fluttered shut, bringing tears into my eyes. I so desperately wanted to be engulfed by his familiar embrace, the warmth of his safe hug, the feeling of belonging, something I haven’t felt ever since we parted ways. Then, just slightly, as my fingers have started tracing his cheekbone, he turned his head and pressed a firm kiss against my wrist, alighting a vicious fire in my body.

“Seonghwa.” I had barely finished whispering his name when my lips were muffled by his, the familiarity of them making me moan as I threw my arms around his shoulders, clinging to him with desperation. Seonghwa inhaled loudly as he gripped my hips and flushed our bodies together to the point you couldn’t tell where he started and where I ended, and I pushed up on my tiptoes to better kiss him. His pace was sloppy and desperate as I returned the aggressivity of his own lips, fingers tangling in his dark and long locks, pulling on the strands and making him groan in the back of his throat. He leaned down and I felt his hands travel to my thighs, and I jumped before he could signal for me to, legs wrapping around his hips firmly as he pressed me back up against the sturdy door, moaning against my mouth when I finally parted my lips for his tongue to explore. He tasted like the old Seonghwa, he smelled like the old Seonghwa, he even felt like the old Seonghwa.

His body had gotten sturdier, stronger, and yet despite the desperate way he clung to me, fingers pressing into my cheeks or grabbing at my neck, he remained mindful of hurting me, of being gentle even in our desperation to feel each other, to love each other. His tongue lapped at mine eagerly, sucking my bottom lip between his teeth when he pulled back for a scarce breather, making me chase after his lips again as I couldn’t let go of him just yet. Our lips were swollen and covered in our mixed saliva, but I couldn’t care less as finally my thoughts were silent, my body and mind only focusing on Seonghwa. He gripped the back of my thighs and I made sure to hold onto him tighter as he pulled me off the door and started walking aimlessly around my cottage, having to pull away from my lips just slightly so that I could give him directions towards my bedroom.

Our clothes were quick to come off, even before we made it to the bedroom, and I found his once flawless skin now littered with scars, bringing tears to my eyes as he shuddered when I gently traced them with my fingertips. My body wasn’t perfect either, but it definitely harboured less scars than his, and it made me wonder just how many times he’s been in harms way with no guarantee that he’ll make it out alive. Before I could cry, Seonghwa’s lips were pressing against my cheeks, my forehead, my eyes, my nose, my jaw and chin, at last finding my lips as I was guided backwards onto the bed, pressing me down gently as he wasted no time getting on top of me. Despite the passing of time and being away from each other for four years, our bodies seemed to still know the other, our minds remembering every little thing that made the other tick, and it felt natural as we were guided by pure lust and desire for each other.

I had tried to remain composed and focused on Seonghwa, to give back just as much as I was receiving, but when he had settled between my legs, lips pressing feather-like kisses against my thighs until he drove me crazy and had me begging for more, I was a gone woman only able to focus on the immense pleasure his long tongue and plush lips brought, his fingers helping out when it wasn’t enough anymore. When my fingers yanked on his hair so hard that it made him whine, tongue lapping at my juices even faster, making me writ around until he held me down by the hips, Seonghwa knew I was close to unravelling, to coming undone on nothing but his tongue and fingers. But he pulled back, he always did, because he wanted to fill me up, to make me scream his name while I came undone on his dick. His lips kissed all the way up to my lips as I whispered his name over and over again, scratching down his back with my long nails, legs hooking around his hips as he wouldn’t lay on me just yet, tongue tangling with mine and making me taste myself as I reached down between us, grabbing his twitching member.

Seonghwa froze, moaning against my mouth as his eyebrows furrowed, rutting against my palm as I jerked my hand faster, until he was begging me to stop because he didn’t want to finish like this. And I did, I cradled his face in my hands as our eyes bore into each other’s, his dick finally lined up with my entrance as he slowly pushed inside, holding himself up by the forearms. It was painful, it was bittersweet, and it was the most pleasure I have felt in years, all in the arms of the man I had once loved—I still loved. My mouth had fallen open as I hissed in pain, eyebrows furrowing and eyes falling shut as Seonghwa kissed my wrists, whispering reassuring words, understanding that I haven’t done this since we went our separate ways.

But I didn’t need much to get accustomed to the once familiar feel of his dick splitting me open, stretching me out and making me feel filled to the brim, the only thought on my mind being him, Seonghwa. And I tried to swallow the noises that wanted to tear through my throat, but the harder Seonghwa slammed back in, the faster his hips thrust, I could only moan and whine, call out his name repeatedly as he fondled my breasts and made my back arch, hitting my sensitive spot over and over again. I grabbed onto his arms for leverage as he sat back on his heels, holding my hips up tightly as he pulled me down on each thrust to meet him halfway, making me curse out loudly as my stomach had started coiling, the pleasure building up until I couldn’t bear with it anymore.

“Seonghwa.” His name was nothing but a broken whisper as I bit my bottom lip, opening my arms, knowing that he’d understand my request. And he did, because he pressed himself completely against me, my arms going underneath his to hug him tightly as my fingernails pressed into his shoulder blades once again, painfully so, making Seonghwa hiss in pain and pleasure at the same time. He buried his head in my neck as he was panting, hips jerking messily as he was nearing his own undoing, much like I was. Our bodies were covered in a thin layer of sweat, chasing our own orgasms as Seonghwa’s right hand lowered between our bodies and started quickly rubbing my bundle of nerves, making me throw my head back and come undone in just a few seconds. His name left my lips like a mantra as I felt tears spring into my eyes from the overwhelming pleasure, body trembling as he stilled, and then I felt hot liquid spill inside me as he lazily continued to move his hips, making my body ache as it all felt too much.

“My love.” His lips brushed against my ear with one final thrust and then he stilled, body going lax as I was panting hard, trying to swallow but my throat felt parched. Seonghwa muttered something against the skin of my neck but I didn’t understand, and I turned my head to press kisses against his hair, his shoulder blade, and ultimately his lips when he raised his head. I instantly felt cold and like I was missing something as he rolled over and pulled out, his chest rising and falling just as frantically as mine. My heart was beating so fast that it felt like a vein would pop in my forehead and I felt Seonghwa’s fingers intertwine with mine. I gulped and looked over, finding nothing but a pained expression on his face and eyes that were overflowing with tears. I couldn’t hold it back in anymore, and let mine fall free as Seonghwa sniffed loudly, his beautiful black hair strewn across my pillow, the cloudy weather casting my bedroom in a dim light.

“I love you, Y/N,” Seonghwa’s voice was raspy and it trembled as he pressed a long-lasting kiss against my knuckles, “I love you so much, my love.”

I bit my bottom lip to fight the sob that threatened to rip through my throat and nodded, bringing our hands up to my cheek to nuzzle it against Seonghwa’s skin, “I love you too, Hwa, always have. Always will.”

But we weren’t meant to be since we were on opposing sides. And we both knew that as our tears stopped flowing, our fingers going numb from how tightly we held onto each other. Seonghwa sighed then released my hand reluctantly, making me bite back a whine as he sat up, running his fingers through his hair. Before he could get off my bed, I sat up hurriedly and threw my arms around him, letting out a long exhale as he returned the embrace, cradling my head against his naked chest. I wanted to grow old with him, I wanted to have children that would gift us grandchildren, I wanted us to never be separated again. And maybe Seonghwa wanted that too because his whole body trembled as we somehow found the strength to separate from each other, eyes yearning for something we’d never have.

I watched as he rolled over, then sat on the edge of my bed as I pulled my knees up to my chest, hugging my bare legs, looking for even the smallest comfort now that I knew I would let him leave, just this once. This was our final goodbye, the closure we never got. Once Seonghwa was out of my cottage, we’d play our parts, we’d be the enemies everyone thought we were. I was ready, and perhaps he was ready to. An easy smile settled on my lips as I watched Seonghwa lean down and fetch something, his back muscles tensing as he glanced back over his shoulder. My eyebrows furrowed upon the solemn look on his face and I went rigid as he turned his torso around, my own wand pointed at me. His voice was resigned, a whisper, pained.

“Obliviate.”

1944

            The train came to a screeching halt as we neared the next village, sending me back in my seat as I stared out the window, feeling bored as I knew nobody who shared the compartment with me. But that’s how it is when you don’t have friends of your own. It was alright, I had always done just fine on my own. As the train stopped and the doors opened, I watched the students who lived in this village get off, pulling their heavy luggage after themselves, greeted by their families who couldn’t wait for them to return home for the summer holiday. My chin was resting in my palm as I pursed my lips, finding it hard to enjoy my last train ride back home, never to return to Hogwarts. There was an ache in my chest that grew the longer I stared out the window, the longer I stared at the messy black-haired boy that had stopped close to the edge of the platform, gazing inside the train, dark and soft eyes landing on me unmistakably.

I gulped, feeling my heartbeat pick up the longer our gazes remained connected, confused by the ache in my chest that only got worse the longer we looked at each other. My eyebrows furrowed as I felt this sudden urge to reach out to him, to get off the train and run into his arms, to breathe in his familiar scent and feel his plush lips press against my skin, and his low voice whisper reassuring words into my ears. I didn’t know why I felt like that, I couldn’t explain the yearning of my own body as the boy’s once familiar face became hazy, unclear. No matter how hard I tried to look, I couldn’t see his features clearly. I couldn’t remember his name.

He became a murky memory in the back of my mind as the train whistled, signalling its departure, and as we took off, I felt the lurch of my heart and the coil of my stomach worsen as I jumped up from my seat, pulling the window open and scaring those sitting in the compartment with me. I looked out the window, head leaning outside as my eyebrows furrowed, the name of the boy on the tip of my tongue as I desperately tried to cry out his name—but I didn’t know what it was. I didn’t know who he was. The alarmed cries of the people who rode with me snapped me out of my unexplainable actions, and I settled back into my seat feeling confused and embarrassed as I apologized.

I couldn’t tell anymore why my heart ached like I had loved someone with my whole being, with my soul, like I had sworn to remain by their side forever and even beyond. It confused me as to why I wanted to sob and scream after a boy that once was my guiding light in the darkness, my star. A face once familiar now became just the whisper of a distant memory that I couldn’t put my finger on, a nostalgic ache of a love that felt real, yet intangible.

The stars couldn’t shine bright without their darkness.

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[reasonsforhope]

"Abby Allen has no problem with her neighbours peering over her luxuriant hedges to see what she is up to on her farm.

For years she has been carrying out ad hoc experiments with wildlife and farming techniques; in her lush Devon fields native cattle graze alongside 400-year-old hedgerows, with birds and butterflies enjoying the species-rich pasture.

Under the environmental land management scheme (ELMS), introduced by the government in 2021, those experiments were finally being funded. “We have a neighbour who has always been more of an intensive farmer,” she says, but he is now considering leaving fields unploughed to help the soil. “It genuinely is having such a huge impact in changing people’s mindsets who traditionally would never have thought about farming in this way.”

The new nature payments scheme followed the UK’s exit from the EU, when the government decided to scrap the common agricultural payments scheme, which gave a flat subsidy dependent on the number of acres a farmer managed. In its place came ELMS, which pays farmers for things such as planting hedges, sowing wildflowers for birds to feed on and leaving corners of their land wild for nature.

But these schemes are now at threat of defunding, as the Labour government has refused to commit to the £2.4bn a year spending pot put in place by the previous Conservative government. With spending tight and the chancellor, Rachel Reeves, cutting back on infrastructure and hinting at tax rises, a cut to the ELMS scheme may be on her list.

However, government data released last week found the schemes were working to tentatively bring nature back to England’s farmland. Butterflies, bees and bats are among the wildlife being boosted by ELMS, with birds among the chief beneficiaries, particularly ones that largely feed on invertebrates. An average of 25% more breeding birds were found in areas utilising the eco-friendly schemes.

...there are also farmers who welcome the schemes. Allen says the ELMS has helped her farm provide data and funds to expand and improve the good things they were doing for nature. “Some of the money available around things like soil testing and monitoring – instead of us going ‘we think these are the right things to do and providing these benefits,’ we can now measure it. The exciting thing now is there is money available to measure and monitor and kind of prove that you’re doing the right things. And so then you can find appropriate funding to do more of that.”

Allen, who is in the Nature Friendly Farming Network, manages a network of farms in England, most of which are using the ELMS. This includes chicken farms where the poultry spend their life outside rather than in sheds and other regenerative livestock businesses...

Mark Spencer was an environment minister until 2024 when he lost his seat, but now spends more time in the fields admiring the fruits of his and his family’s labour. He says that a few years of nature-friendly agriculture has restored lapwings and owls.

“On the farm, I haven’t seen lapwings in any number for what feels like a whole generation. You know, as a kid, when I was in my early teens, you’d see lapwings. We used to call them peewits. We’d see them all the time, and they sort of disappeared.

“But then, me and my neighbours changed the way we did cropping, left space in the fields for them to nest, and suddenly they returned. You need to have a piece of land where you’re not having mechanical machinery go over it on a regular basis, because otherwise you destroy the nest. We’ve also got baby owls in our owl box now for the first time in 15 years. They look mega, to be honest, these little owls, little balls of fluff. It is rewarding.”"

-via The Guardian, August 23, 2024

[housetargaryenloyalist]

Oh So Sweet

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x reader

Summary: Although married off at age three and ten and sent away from Kings Landing, you never forgot your first love.

Word count: 2.7K

Content warnings: Bad parenting? Some self doubt and sadness, and also fluffy flufness.

Little author's note/disclaimer: (feel free to skip this)

I haven't written anything properly in years, which means I am very very very rusty. I essentially wrote this as bit of challenge to myself and I know it is not my greatest work, but I'm still proud of it.

So I hope you will like this! Feedback is welcomed and very appreciated <3

Happy reading!

Six years, that is how long you had been gone from King’s Landing and now you were back to celebrate Jacaerys Velaryon’s 20th name day. You had come as a representative from your husband’s house. He was currently indisposed due to some nasty fever and was too unwell to make the journey, and although you wouldn't admit it aloud you were all too happy to journey alone. Eager to see the man again whom you had loved since childhood.

Your husband was an insufferable swine four times your senior who had essentially trapped you in his estate after your marriage. Not allowing you to leave unless he were to breathe down your neck, it infuriated you.

However this specific name day celebration invitation had urged you specifically to attend, therefore you could not refuse or you would risk the fury of the royal household. Their fury was not one you wished to invoke.

Although it had been six years it felt as though little had changed in the Red Keep, much still looked the same. The same Targaryen heraldry hung the walls and decorated the castle, reminding you with every step you took to whom this place belonged. In case you forgot the dragons screeches outside. Years ago your father had been a member of Viserys I’s small council and had taken your mother and you with him to reside in the Red Keep.

It had allowed you to grow up with the royal children, and in that time you had grown partially fascinated with the eldest son of princess Rhaenyra. You had grown so close to him, the both of you were practically inseparable. Close in age and proximity, it was no wonder you were such good friends. He would take you to see Vermax and promise to take you flying to wherever you wanted to go. Every time he would train, he wanted you there and every time he won, he wanted you to be the first to congratulate him. You told him legends and stories of heroes and warriors of old. 

On your tenth name day the two of you had snuck out of the party to the Godswood, it is there under the glowing moon you were discussing the future when Jacaerys had let something slip. “I want to marry you,” he had whispered in a soft voice, almost as if he hadn’t meant to speak it out loud. In response you took his hand in yours as you whispered back “I want that too.”

By the time you were three and ten your mother had discussed a potential engagement between your two houses with Rhaenyra, who hadn’t seemed opposed to it. However, this discussion between the two of them had angered your father. He didn’t want his only daughter to marry a, what in his eyes looked like, a “bastard”. It prompted him to marry you off as soon as possible.Not even two months later you were wed to some lord in the Reach far away from King's landing. It was a sad ceremony and it resulted in a sad marriage.

Early in the evening a knock at your door roused you from your sleep, the handmaidens from earlier had come back to help you get ready. They carried several boxes each revealing a different dress, in various different shades.

“What are these?” You asked as you examined the fabrics up close, they all looked to be of highest quality but you recognised none of them, they were not gowns you had taken with you.

“Courtesy from prince Jacaerys my lady,” one of the handmaidens replied, her answer leaving you shocked. Jacaerys bought you these gowns? Your heart fluttered at the thought and you couldn’t keep your smile at bay. You looked through the many options, there were dresses in shades of purple, pink, red, green.

There was even a gown in the signature black and red of the Targaryen’s, no doubt intentional from him. After a while you settled on one, the fabric feeling soft against your fingers and you had a feeling Jacaerys would be pleased with your choice.

“I choose this one.” You turned to your handmaidens, they nodded and helped you with undressing and then helped you put on the new gown. Afterwards you sat at your vanity as one of the handmaidens did your hair and the others put the other gowns back into their respective boxes. It didn’t take long before you were ready, your hair beautifully done and all the gowns put away, meaning it was now time to make your way to the throne room to join the others in the celebrations. 

The throne room looked amazing, there were tables laid out with food and wine, a large chandelier illuminating the room alongside the various candle holders. Nobles from all over Westeros were gathered here today and were mingling amongst each other. You hadn’t seen a scene so grand since the wedding of prince Aegon to princess Helaena, and even then it had not been so grand. Your arrival was announced by a courtier and as you descended the stairs you looked to the Iron throne.

Rhaenyra Targaryen sat on the throne looking as regal as you remembered her, on her left stood Alicent Hightower with her three children. You were slightly surprised the four of them attended the celebrations especially after the usurpation attempt. Although it was a short lived attempt it was still a shock for the entire realm and you were relieved to see that they all seemed to be on decent terms with each other.

King-consort Daemon stood on the right side of the queen alongside his two daughters and his two youngest stepsons. You almost didn’t recognize Joffrey, he had been so very young when you last saw him, too young for him to remember. With a pang to your heart you made your way to where they served wine and asked for a cup.

The servant handed you your cup and as you were taking your first sip the crow dispersed, the servant who had just a few moments ago announced your arrival now announced the arrival of the guest of honour. “Prince Jacaerys Velaryon of House Velaryon and House Targaryen, heir to the Iron Throne.” Your eyes immediately darted up to where he stood and as you laid your eyes upon him, your breath left you. 

Jacaerys Velaryon stood in the entrance to the throne room dorning targaryen red and black, standing tall and proud. His brown curls framing his face and making him look all the more handsome. You watched him make his way through the crowd as applause followed, echoing in the large room. You felt your lungs constrict, he looked so handsome, he looked even better than how you had imagined him all these years.

It almost felt as though the Gods were taunting you. It felt unfair, so so unfair. You drank more of the wine, letting the alcohol flow through you in an effort to feel more at ease. However it had much the opposite effect.

The crown prince gave a short speech in which he thanked everyone for coming and wished everyone a pleasant evening. For a short moment you could have sworn your eyes locked but you could not be sure.

Soon the crowd made way for the crown prince and Baela Targaryen, who were going to be the first to dance as was custom. You knew it was illogical but a bitter part of you thought that it should have been you, you in his arms dancing and laughing. It should have been you standing by his side, touching his arm, caressing his face.

You drank more of your wine, before long your cup was empty and the dance had ended with applause from the attendees. The band started a new number as the prince and princess disappeared in the crowd, other dancers swarmed the floor and you felt it to be in your best interest to find some fresh air. No one was paying attention to you as you slipped through the doors, at least, that’s what you thought. 

There was a small balcony not far from the throne room, it overlooked the water and the crashing waves hid any sound from the party. You leaned against the rails as you tried to hold back tears. All these years being locked away in an estate of a man you didn’t love, with no one to keep you company.

Just for you to return to where you had longed to be and feel equally out of place. It hurt, it hurt a lot. The angry waves crashing against the shore mimicked your own frustration, you were so engrossed in watching the waves and their endless assault against the shore, you did not hear the footsteps approaching. 

“I hope you’re not planning on jumping.”

You turned around faster than light could reach earth, the voice sounded so familiar yet deeper and more mature. Your breath caught in your throat

“Jace?” You whispered to the man in front of you, convinced you were dreaming. He looked even more magnificent up close, full lips and strong brows and fair skin. Jacaerys smiled at you before stepping closer. “Yes Y/n,” his hand reached out to touch your cheek and you instinctively leaned into the touch, closing your eyes. “It’s me.”

His hand wiped away the tear that escaped your eye, and as you opened your eyes again he stood so much closer. “I missed you,” you spoke as he stepped closer. “I missed you too.” His arms encircled you and you were pulled in a strong embrace “I missed you so much.”

He buried his face in your hair as he cradled you against his frame. You stood there for a while, clinging to him as though he were to disappear if you let go. The waves continued to crash against the shore, the nobles continued dancing and the music kept playing, regardless of everything at that moment it felt as though time stood still, just for the two of you.

However, you knew this wasn’t appropriate. If anyone saw you two, it would damage both your reputations, yours more than his. You retreated your hand and put it on his chest, intent on pushing him away, although you knew it would be futile.

It was you who pulled away first, although you couldn't go far. Jacaerys’ training paid off because you could not escape his arms even if you had earnestly tried. You looked into his eyes, now it was your turn to cradle his face. He turned his face slightly sideways before planting a soft kiss to your palm, a content smile gracing his face.

“We can’t Jace.” His eyes opened as pressed you closer to him. “Why not?” “It’s improper.” He laughed in response. “Why?” You slapped his chest softly  in jest, and looked at him. “Because I’m married, Jace, so we really really shouldn’t continue.” Instead of pulling away as well, he cupped your face and lowered his own face so he could look deep into your eyes.

 “I don’t care,” was all he said before his lips met yours. It felt odd to be finally kissing the man you had pined after for so long, it felt like a gift from the heavens, and it was gift you were going to cherish forevermore.

He left your lips briefly to whisper something only for you to hear, “I love you.” Before you could respond, his lips went back to yours and his hands cradled your face to prevent you from leaving. The kiss was sweet, sweeter than anything on this earth. Sweeter than the cakes in the banquet hall, sweeter than any fruit you had ever tasted. It was so sweet, you knew you would be addicted before long.

His hands left your face and travelled down to your back, pulling you closer to him. The kiss felt heavenly, his lips soft against your own, it was like life was brought back into you. You kissed back with vigour, your hands reaching for his neck where they crossed over one another.

Jace was quick to deepen the kiss, tugging you closer to him as if he was planning on devouring you. Your heart was racing a mile per minute, and you couldn’t help but let your hands travel. On instinct they found their way into his soft, brown curls. A soft moan escaped him as you lightly tugged on the curls, at this you smiled. In response Jace gathered your skirts and hoisted you up so you were seated on the balcony, your legs crossed behind his back on instinct. His hands travelled up and down your sides, almost tugging at the fabric so hard it would rip.

You pushed against his chest when it felt as though you were going to pass out, you needed to breathe as did he. He parted to let you breathe, and he let his head fall to your forehead. A bright smile on his face as his chest fell up and down in quick succession, mirroring your own. It was he who broke the silence between the two of you after a few moments. 

“Never leave again,” he whispered as he started trailing kisses from your cheeks to your neck, and as you opened your mouth to reply, he sucked on a specifically sensitive spot on your neck. A moan escaped your lips as a result and you could feel his smile widen against your skin. You giggled softly, “I won’t.”

He continued to lavish your neck with kisses as he did so, you could hear loud footsteps approaching, and a variety voices talking over one another. If they passed by and saw you in this position with the heir to the throne, you didn’t want to think about what was to ensue. 

“Jace-” your hands tugged on his hair, which resulted in a gorgeous moan escaping his beautiful lips -” Jace, we should stop,” you said, hand caressing the curls you had tugged on. He grumbled before raising his head, and you let your hands fall to his shoulders. “Why do you want to stop,” he asked, “did I do something wrong?”

You shook your head, “We’re too exposed, anyone could walk in on us.” You glanced to the hallway and now it seemed that Jacaerys heard the same voices that you had heard moments prior, however now they were growing ever closer. He helped you down from your position and straightened his tunic.

“We should continue this elsewhere.” At this you let out a giggle, “bold of you to assume we will continue.” The puppy eyes he threw at you in response were enough to make almost any person swoon and fall for his ploy, but you needed to remain strong. “Jace I’m serious, I am married, continuing this would be most unwise.”

He took your hand in his, and looked you in the eyes, “I promise you this." His thumb stroked over your knuckles as he continued, "I will have your marriage annulled. I will beg my mother to do it and then-” he placed your hands on his chest, ”then we can marry, as was always the plan.” You smiled at him and softly caressed his chest. “I would like that.”

The voices in the distance disappeared and emboldened you to give him a small peck. “I should return to my room now.” He nodded in return, “I shall escort you.” You shook your head with a smile. “You should entertain your guests. They will wonder where you are.” He sighed, because he knew you were right. “Very well then. I shall see you on the morrow.” You smiled and nodded before departing to your chambers.

Once at your chambers you noticed something sitting on your vanity, a small raven scroll. Upon closer inspection it appeared the letter was sealed with the crest of your husband’s house. You opened the scroll and dropped it as soon as you read its content. You followed to scroll in its descent on the floor, shocked breaths falling from your lips. The content from the scroll laid bare for all to see. 

Dear lady Y/n

It is with great sadness that we inform you that your husband has succumbed to his fever, passing away in the late hours of yesterday eve. We pray for you well being and eagerly await your return.

With regards

Maester Tansen

[tealvenetianmask]

Inevitable Social Class Take/Why Ghostfuckers Solidified My Need for Blitz to Be "Just an Imp"

There's been discourse since . . . before I ever watched Helluva Boss, on whether Blitz might be half or one quarter incubus, based on a family portrait where his mother, Tilla, looks unusually tall, and her horns lack the thin white stripes usually seen on female imp horns, making them look more like succubus horns. After Ghostfuckers, where Tilla appeared with the stripes on her horns, people are saying that the theory is unlikely. I say GOOD.

Now, let me solidify before I get into this that it's not that I think hybrid imps in Hell aren't also looked down on or treated like shit (look at Striker and the number Hell's society has done on him). It's that Blitz being an incubus hybrid would suggest that he has magical powers of a sort, and that takes away a bit from what I think is so awesome about him.

He has no powers. Only his skill, creativity, spontaneity, optimism, intelligence, and heart. What he does, and what he is at his core, utterly disproves Hell's prejudices about imps and their "purpose."

In the flashback to the time when Blitz and Millie met, Millie flat-out refuses to believe that Blitz works for himself. Because imps work for demons higher in Hell's hierarchy-- it's how the society works.

Blitz could so easily present himself as an exception here (special parentage or no), but instead he presents his worldview as an alternative to what he and Millie have both been taught. Essentially: I can do it. So WE can do it. SO LET'S CHANGE OUR WORLD.

Later, he gives Millie a pep talk that solidifies this worthiness idea.

The idea is really deeply ingrained . . . yikes. But Blitz will have none of it.

And that's what makes him special. Not that he's better than anyone else. The way that he can see beyond prescribed roles and defy society's expectations. And help others see themselves as worthy of doing this too!

Also. ALSO Blitz says he's as fuckable and business savy as any succubus. Which one COULD argue means he's similar to them or has some of their powers. OR it's essentially "I can do what they do without their powers hahaha FUCK LIMITATIONS." (The second is the more empowering option in my opinion.)

He's breaking down society's prejudices one imp assassin at a time! Would this be possible if Blitz were a hybrid and had special powers? Sure. But I definitely think it's more powerful FOR MILLIE without that. If Blitz can be this capable and confident, so can she.

Okay-- that brings us to the final confrontation with Rolando. This guy seems to really buy into Hell's typical attitude toward imps.

Thematically, he's throwing the typical prejudices at them and using his "higher demon" powers to intimidate and seemingly easily defeat them.x

But what defeats him?

Millie's confidence that Blitz inspired, that she believes at her very core, even if she still carries some insecurities.

And Blitz . . . well . . . thinking outside the box and dropping the vacuum cleaner ghostsucker thing in the pool.

Rolando gives Blitz a look like "nice display of confidence- you've got nothing."

And Blitz notices something he can use . . .

And frankly obliterates the guy.

So what's the antidote to the racism and social class issues in Hell? Well they'll probably be around for some time, just like the ones in our society. But they can be challenged for now by the gang just being their fantastic selves- Millie being strong and self-assured, and Blitz being innovative in the moment. And Loona and Moxxie doing SOMETHING when they come back into action. xD

And all of them believing that they're worthy.

[vivwritesfics]

(Oh My God) They Were Roommates

Chapter Six - Netflix and...

Lando Norris and Y/N L/N were teammates. Tension had been between from the minute they started driving together and, when it only got worse, McLaren CEO Zac Brown decides there's only one solution: Have them live together.

1.2K

Warnings: Smut, eating out, fingering, lingerie

Series Masterlist

The package arrived on a Wednesday. The delivery driver left placed the box outside of their door and knocked before walking away, leaving it there.

Lando opened the door. He looked down at the package, at the name written on the top of the box, and brought it inside. There was nothing he had to be suspicious about with the box as he left it outside of his roommates bedroom.

"Package!" He shouted as he knocked on her bedroom door.

Y/N waited for him to walk away before she opened the door and pulled the box inside. She shut the door and placed the box on the bed, using a pair of scissors to open it.

Inside of that package were several smaller packages. There were see through bags full of lingerie and more. Sex toys, new vibrators and a dildo. It wasn't her that ordered it, it was her friend. It was her solution for the 'Lando Problem' as they had started calling it.

She tried on a new set of lingerie, keeping it on as she pulled on her pyjama shorts and hoodie once again. Y/N pushed the box under her bed and left her room.

Knocking on Lando's bedroom door, she waited for permission to walk in. Lando shouted a 'come in!' and Y/N walked in, leaning against the doorframe.

Things had been incredibly uncomfortable since she had sucked him off. She was avoiding him once again, eating late at night and ducking out for training when Lando was gaming or streaming, door to his bedroom shut.

But she was done with that now. She wanted his attention now.

Lando didn't look away from his game, from fifa, as she began speaking to him. "Wanna watch a movie?" She asked, his voice somewhat sweet.

"Sure," Lando answered as his players ran down the pitch. But then he kept talking, just not to her. Y/N stayed in the room as she listened to him, tried to work out what was happening, who he was talking to. So, she pulled his headset from his head and placed it on her own.

Max Verstappens voice came through, loud and clear. "Oh, hey Max," she said as she watched them play.

"Oh my god it's Y/N," Max said, sounding surprised. "I completely forgot you lived together. Can you give me back to Lando?"

She placed the headset back on Lando's head and walked out of the room. She got herself something to drink and settled on the sofa, television on in front of her while she waited for Lando.

Maybe he was making a point, making her wait like that. But Y/N sat on the sofa, covered up by a blanket with the television on. Lando made her wait for half an hour before he emerged from his room.

"What're we watching?" He asked as he sat beside her.

She shrugged her shoulders and turned on the first movie she came to on Netflix. It didn't have to be good; they hopefully weren't going to be watching it for very long.

Ten minutes into the video, Y/N threw off her blanket, muttering something about being too hot. Her loose shorts had ridden up, revealing the lace beneath.

He didn't notice it at first. When he looked down at his phone he spotted the lacy blue beneath the grey of her shorts. Suddenly Lando couldn't look away, couldn't pull his eyes away from it.

Y/N was hyper aware of it, of the way he was staring at her lingerie. Her fingers wrapped around the waistband of her shorts and pulled them up slightly, showing off more.

Suddenly Lando looked up, meeting her gaze. He breathed in, refusing to pull his eyes away. She bit her lip as she grabbed the hem of her hoodie and pulled it up over her head. When she threw it to the side and looked at him again, he was still staring at her.

His eyes travelled down for just a second, but they quickly returned to her face. "Take the shorts off," he said and Y/N stood up. She pushed the shorts down her legs, letting them fall to the floor.

Lando didn't hesitate to reach towards her, his hands settling on her waist as he pulled her closer. He looked at her face, into her eyes as his fingers danced under the waistband of her panties, hands still holding her hips.

"Are you okay with this?" He asked, mirroring what she had said to him just days before.

She nodded her head and Lando withdrew his hands. He felt her through her panties, felt just how wet she was. He couldn't hide his grin as he pulled down her panties, let her step out of them and put them in his pocket.

He looked at her as he took her leg and placed it on the sofa. Still looking into her eyes he kissed the inside of her leg. She could have melted into a puddle then and there. The way he was looking at her as he kissed her thigh was too sweet, too loving for what was about to happen.

He kissed her again, closer to where she needed him. "Lan," she squeaked, reaching for his hair.

Lando gave her a sly grin before he dove in, licking and sucking at her skin. He pushed his tongue through her folds and she let out an almighty moan, her head thrown back as her fingers laced through his brown strands of hair.

Lando took this as an encouraging sign and kept going. He had his arms wrapped around her, hands holding her ass in a way that suggested he was trying to pull her closer.

"Holy fuck, Lan!" She cried as he sucked on her clit. The feeling was euphoric, her legs shaking as he brought her closer to the edge.

His attention moved to her hole. He licked over it, letting go of her ass to bring her fingers up to her.

He ran his fingers through her folds, gathering a mixture of his spit and her slick. Lando made sure he was looking down at her as he put his fingers into his mouth, licking her off of his skin. It was a taste he'd never get bored of.

He sucked her clit again as he pushed his fingers through her folds, pushing his finger inside of her. She suddenly pushed against him, grinding down onto his hand.

Lando sat back and let her work. "Another," she rasped and Lando added a second finger. She only rode him harder, bringing herself to a shaking orgasm.

He kept her going through her orgasm, letting her ride it out. When she was finished, Lando pulled away from her. He kept a hold of her ass, pulling her on top of his lap.

Lando brushed her hair away from her face. Her chest was heaving as she sat on top of him, facing him with her arms wrapped around his neck.

She leaned in closer, testing the waters as he went to kiss him.

Lando kissed her back with desperation.

Taglist (CLOSED): @biancathecool @hollie911 @topguncultleader @annispamz @carlossainzwho @spideybv28 @wherethefuckisthething @fangirl125reader @minkyungseokie @marialovesf1 @kitixie @i-wish-this-was-me @bborra @formula1mount @charlotte1697 @formulaal @eviethetheatrefreak @lordpercivalcharles @venisvendetta @marie0v @tbsloneely @laur20a23 @formulas-bitch @cmleitora @marvelavengers000 @gills-lounge @andydrysdalerogers @demipatterns @holy-macncheese-balls @jule239 @aexitizen-ln4 @landosgirlxoxo @allinestarr @starmanv @st0rmzi3 @random-human02 @nocoolusernamesavailable-blog @happymeal777 @ashy-kit @juniper-july19 @im-an-overthinker @haylenxx @kapsylia @prettiest-at-the-party @urfavnoirette @norassimpingzone @thehufflepuffavenger1 @taintet @amorydsmt @hi00000234567 @iamkaku @maxv33rstappen @noneofyourfbusinessworld @thatsusbitch @izzy-marvel @carqueensworld

[xxlady-lunaxx]

Unspoken affection | {SaneGiyuu}

Theme: FLUFF

Note: i, for the first time, will see if I can try writing this as if it wasn't a oneshot meaning they won't already like each other bc it'll end up like 3 words if they do

A sprinkle of ObaMitsu

I started this Feb. 23, apparently 😭 mar.29 when i finished ;;

×××

Giyuu had been one of the first Hashira. The third, in fact. After Tengen and Gyomei.

He gotten along well with them, although... 'getting along' were relative words. More so, they tolerated each other. Giyuu didn't really talk much, opted to stay silent. Gyomei was comfortable with that and Tengen appeared not to mind because, though he was very talkative, he preferred when it was quieter as his hearing was sensitive.

So, Giyuu got along with the Hashira, mostly. Kanae came along sometime later. She was very cheerful and the polar opposite of Giyuu, but she was kind and didn't mind his quietness. He found that he didn't mind her presence much, albeit he still acted the same.

And then Sanemi arrived.

He was like the disruption of the peace created within the Hashira. It was irritating.

When he went to his first meeting, he had erupted in anger at Kagaya and had been shouting at him. It was loud. And then, after the meeting had ended, the other Hashira had berated him for this. 

Giyuu had stood by the side, deciding not to meddle with Sanemi. If he was always going to be an... explosive pomeranian, Giyuu should steer clear from this man.

Which was what he did. Mostly.

But it became obvious that it wouldn't be very easy when Sanemi decided to start bothering Giyuu, pestering him about being so quiet and unanswering. Normally, Giyuu would've ignored these irksome questions, but Sanemi was annoyingly persistant. And so, so very loud. Which was why he worked up the courage to respond, only to be talked over. 

And thus began Giyuu's hate for Sanemi. 

×××

When Sanemi had first become a Hashira, he had found himself in an almost feverish state. He was constantly tired and worked almost like a robot, doing things as if he had been programmed to. There were few times he felt like he could escape that, feel actually human again.

He found anger was a nice fuel of humanity to him, so he took it out on others, reveling at the feeling of temporary normalcy that came with it. It went away quickly and silence often brought back his numb, robotic state back, so he snapped at nearly everybody, making himself rather loathed personality-wise.

He didn't mind, not really. The only person he could care about what they thought of him was Masachika. And he was dead. So it really did not matter.

There was one Hashira whom he had decided to bother more than the others. Giyuu Tomioka, the Water Hashira. He was a really quiet person, rarely responding or speaking unless necessary. Because of Giyuu's ignorance, Sanemi found himself hovering around him more, feeling almost refreshed when immediate mirrored anger wasn't repelled back at him. It was annoying, of course. But annoyance meant he could feel. And feeling meant being... as okay as he could be.

Giyuu spoke only a couple times to him in response. Four, to be exact. His voice was quiet and collected, but a hint of irritation could be detected if you really paid attention. He was an interesting person, so full of mysteries and so closed off. Something else, besides his unbroken silence, drew Sanemi in. Like an old box in the far corner of the house, waiting to be opened and explored, except nobody was allowed to open it. Nobody was willing to, either. As if afraid something horrid would come out. Albeit it looked innocent on the outside, there was the small chance it would be filled with something terrible. To the point that even the box itself feared it's own being and refused to open up.

But Sanemi was curious.

Time flew on as usual—it never did stop, not for anyone or anything—and Sanemi grew less mechanical, more human. He found himself able to make skips in his usual schedule, able to live a bit more freely, despite his tightly programmed daily life.

He would use his occasional free time to wander around. He rarely actually spoke to anyone, only giving or following orders, occasionally engaging in small talk with some of the Hashira. But other than that, he kept to himself.

He was curious about Giyuu, however, which brought a bit of searching into his free time.

He would walk around, down random paths, looking for new places. Giyuu was one of the few Hashira's houses whom nobody knew where it was. Kanae's was free for anyone's knowledge, given that it was used for nursing people back to health often. Tengen invited the Hashira to his house from now and then, Kyojuro—who had become a Hashira recently—wasn't closed off about sharing and, though he didn't display it to the world, he did tell people if they asked.

Even Sanemi's, a select few knew.

But Giyuu's.

Giyuu's was only known to his crow, at this point, as he usually declined giving the knowledge to anyone. And something about that was peculiar to Sanemi. Like, what if there was an emergency? Would Giyuu simply live with the fact that whatever could happen might happen because nobody knew where he lived?

Although, it wasn't the worst thing possible, it was just something that set Giyuu aside from the others.

There was a lot that separated the Hashira from each other, of course. But Giyuu had something else that just... caught Sanemi's eye. Over and over again.

×××

Giyuu found himself growing more and more distant with the Hashira with each passing day. They already kept to themselves mostly, none of their schedules really overlapping, so it wasn't much different. But he started to avoid more so than mind his own business.

As the years past, more Hashira joined. Giyuu didn't feel connected to them, didn't feel like he could be like any of them. It was noticeable. And some of the Hashira tried to include him.

Although, include was a relative word. Some of them were kinder with it, but there were obviously those who were more... forceful. Like Sanemi.

Sanemi was, and had been since the day he'd became a Hashira, one of the most—or the most—irritating Hashira. He seemed apt to making Giyuu's life feel like that of a rat being chased by a cat, but not as life-threatening. Unless you counted going insane as life threatening. 

One day, Sanemi had gone up to Giyuu—somehow having found him as he finished training somewhere in the clearing of a forest.

"Oi, Tomioka," he shouted, over the rush of water. There was a river, a loud one at that, that cut through the forest and skimmed along the edge of the field that Giyuu had found.

Giyuu turned. The weather was hot, so he had taken off the top of his uniform, folding that and his haori and placing it aside. 

Deciding not to question why Sanemi was here, he cocked his head in question. "What?"

Sanemi seemed taken aback that he'd been responded to, but went on. "Uhm. Kanroji said that she wanted to invite all the Hashira on some shit sleepover and said I had to ask you to come," he said impatiently, his eyes flicking up and down, as if inspecting Giyuu.

"Oh. I won't go," Giyuu murmured. There was no reason to. It wasn't like the Hashira would actually want him to go.

Sanemi raised an eyebrow. "I figured."

"Then why did you ask?"

"Because Kanroji would get mad if I didn't. Which would induce ear-piercing cries about why," Sanemi snorted, rolling his eyes. He crossed his arms. He was sweating and the air was humid today, causing his hair to stick onto his skin. 

"Ah." 

Giyuu sheathed his katana, pulling his hair out of the ponytail to adjust it.

Sanemi watched him curiously, as if there was something to figure out. 

"What?" Giyuu asked, upon noticing this. 

"You never take down your hair," Sanemi said simply. 

He was a lot less shout-y today, it was unsettling, almost. 

"Okay." 

They lapsed back into silence as Giyuu re-tied his hair back up, his hands sticky with sweat. The only sounds were of the rush water and the occasional bird from up ahead.

Sanemi wasn't leaving, which was curious. Especially since his eyes seemed to be tracking Giyuu, as if he was put in charge to guard him.

"...do you need anything?" Giyuu asked finally, growing uncomfortable.

"No," Sanemi murmured, turning away. 

Confused, Giyuu watched as Sanemi left, without so much of an explanation. Odd.

×××

Fuck.

That day, that one day, that one stupid fucking day.

The sleepover thing was a lie. There hadn't been any sleepover. It had been an excuse to find Giyuu. 

Sanemi hadn't figured he'd have any luck, so when he'd seen Giyuu there he'd instinctively called out to him. He'd managed to hide his surprise enough and masked it with the question he'd made up. Luckily, Giyuu had shot it down. Because if he hadn't...

But that was beside the point. It wasn't the question that made Sanemi panic. No, of course it wasn't.

It was the fact that when he had seen Giyuu there, he had... felt. Something. Something different.

Usually, anger was his key to reality. But, then, he hadn't been angry then. He had felt something else, something true. He couldn't distinguish it, being in some stupid trance when he'd felt it. But he knew that it was different.

So now he was tearing at his hair, wishing he'd figure it out because it was eating him alive now, and had been since the day he'd seen Giyuu there. 

Giyuu without his-

No.

No, he wouldn't think about it. He wouldn't picture how Giyuu looked with his hair down, no shi... Shit. He shouldn't be thinking like this. He wouldn't!

Fuck.

Sanemi stood and grabbed his katana, pushing it into his belt and gritting his teeth in frustration. He stomped to the front of his house, slamming the door open and unsheathing his katana. 

He brought the sword above his head and slashed down.

One. Two. Three.

Don't think about Giyuu. Don't think about him.

Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen.

You hate him, remember? He's stupid.

Thirty six. Thirty seven. Thirty eight.

His boring responses and his way of ignoring.

Sixty four. Sixty five. Sixty six.

The way he distances himself, how he doesn't talk.

Ninety eight. Ninety nine. One hundred.

His stupid blue eyes and stupid black hair.

One hundred and forty one. One hundred and forty two. One hundred and forty three.

His stupid voice you want to hear every day. His stupid mouth you want to-

Sanemi threw his katana down in frustration, kicking the handle and making it skid away, hitting a small boulder a few feet from him.

He ran his hand through his hair, biting his bottom lip furiously until it bled.

"Goddammit," he hissed, the metallic taste of blood filling his mouth. 

He sighed and sat down, burying his face in his hands. Fuck. What the fuck was he supposed to do now?

×××

Sanemi's uncharacteristic behavior had caught Giyuu's attention. It wasn't in his full interest, of course, but it was enough to make him curious. Yes, the weather had been hot and it made some people drowsy but... it hadn't ever visibly affected Sanemi enough to make him so quiet and... yeah. 

Which made Giyuu wonder, was Sanemi ever quiet? The only time he could think of the scarred Hashira being silent was... when in Kagaya's presence. Meaning, only twice a year. Which meant it was very rare. 

So, upon this realization, Giyuu decided he would try to figure it out. It wouldn't hurt to try getting along with Sanemi, right? Besides, maybe that would mean less yelling. And he would have something to do.

For a while, he forgot he was going to find out the reason of Sanemi's random personality slip, as it had completely left his mind; Sanemi wasn't exactly a priority to him.

But then he ran into Sanemi again one day, who seemed to be in a subdued mood, not even bothering to acknowledge Giyuu.

They were in the middle of a town, though, so it wasn't completely unreasonable. 

Giyuu watched Sanemi carefully for a bit, before turning to continue buying his food.

Once he had paid and left, he turned back, noticing Sanemi instantly. He approached him cautiously, looking up curiously at the store the Wind Hashira had walked into. A sweets store? For pastries, mochis, and bread? Was he buying something for someone?

Giyuu hovered inside the store uncomfortably. A woman glanced at him and he quickly adjusted his haori over his katana; when people saw it, they usually called for security. He would know from experience.

Sanemi appeared to have noticed him immediately as he gave Giyuu an annoyed look, picking up a box of mochi that had been put down for him on the counter.

He walked towards the exit, muttering to Giyuu as he passed. 

"The hell are you doing here?" he hissed between his teeth, his voice low.

The store was filled with a low chatter by the people around them and Giyuu quickly followed Sanemi out, deciding he didn't want to stay in this enclosed space with an almost intoxicating smell of sugar.

Back outside—and thank god for the fresh air—Giyuu and Sanemi walked quietly, side by side, through the streets.

The box, Giyuu noticed, was full of ohagi. Who liked ohagi? Mitsuri, maybe? He wasn't aware that Sanemi and Mitsuri were on good terms. 

They continued in silence for a couple minutes until they reached a part that wasn't as crowded.

Sanemi stopped then, resulting in Giyuu stopping as well. They turned to each other and Sanemi glared at him.

"Were you stalking me or something? I saw you staring, earlier," Sanemi said, crossing his arms, the box of ohagi clutched in one hand.

"I wasn't," Giyuu mumbled.

"Right." Sanemi rolled his eyes. "Why'd you follow me into the bakery, then? You didn't buy shit."

Remembering the ohagi, Giyuu changed the subject. "Who is the ohagi for?"

"...The fuck does that have to do with anything? And it's not for anyone, I'm eating it"—he uncrossed his arms here, tapping the box—"And you didn't answer my question, dipshit." 

Completely ignoring the last part, Giyuu said, surprised, "You like sweets?"

Sanemi raised an eyebrow. "And you like ignoring me. What the hell does my taste in food have to do with shit??"

Giyuu frowned. If Sanemi ate things like ohagi often, why wasn't he nicer? Like Mitsuri! 

"Oi, you going to answer my question?" Sanemi snapped, waving the box in front of Giyuu's face.

"What question?" Giyuu asked, drawing blank. 

Sanemi groaned. "I can't tell if you're really that stupid, or if you're just pretending."

"I'm... not pretending," Giyuu mumbled, confused.

"Goddammit, never-fucking-mind," Sanemi sighed, turning. "I'm going to go. Don't follow me."

Giyuu's frown deepened but he nodded, watching Sanemi walk away.

Sanemi was in a peculiar mood that way. Although he was still as fiesty as ever, he didn't shout as much as usual. His voice was quieter. It was almost pleasant. Almost.

×××

Giyuu had been quite talkative that day. Had a randomly curious nature, followed by a million questions. Sanemi couldn't tell if he liked this or if he hated it. On the one hand, it was nice to hear Giyuu's voice a bit more. On the other, he was being ignorant and nosy as fuck. But... he seemed curious as to what Sanemi was doing. Was he interested in-

No. That was stupid thinking, and being a Hashira did not allow stupid thinking! 

Sanemi had been deep in thought about all of this for a couple hours now and was eating his ohagi whilst he walked towards... Where was he again?

He looked around, confused, and found himself standing admist a bamboo forest, water from a supposed river could be heard in the background. There was a house, a little ways forward, which was nestled comfortably in a small man-made clearing in the forest. The ground was gritty, like thickly packed sand, and it made a slight crunching sound as Sanemi walked towards the house, curious.

He'd never been here before. 

He looked around, his eyes catching onto everything. Then he realized there was approaching him from behind and he turned, noticing the motion of a person, entering the clearing. He quickly hid by the side of the house, waiting for the person.

Their footsteps were moderate but precise, and they grew closer to the house before pausing and suddenly moving quickly to where Sanemi hid.

Fuck.

But then the person came into view and...

"Tomioka?"

Giyuu blinked at him, his hand dropping from his katana. "What are you doing here, Shinazugawa?" he asked quietly, his brilliant blue eyes flicking over Sanemi as if he was searching for an answer written upon his body.

"I was just walking and ended up here somehow." Then, with a realization, Sanemi said, "Do you live here?"

Giyuu gave a hesitant nod. "I wasn't aware I told anyone of this place."

"You didn't. I don't know fuck where I am," Sanemi said, retreating from his hiding spot to stand in front of Giyuu. 

"Ah. Hello, again," Giyuu murmured. He turned, walking to his front door and unlocking it, opening the door. 

Sanemi nodded, standing awkwardly.

Giyuu glanced at him. "Are you busy?" he asked.

"No," Sanemi said. "My next mission is just patrol shit, and it shouldn't be too far."

"Okay. Do you want to come in?" Giyuu offered, stepping inside.

Sanemi raised an eyebrow. "Are you going to drug me with tea?"

"...What?" 

"Nevermind. Sure." 

Giyuu nodded, motioning for him to come inside.

The interior of Giyuu's house was modest, kept mostly simple—which made sense given that the Hashira didn't usually devote their time to decorating their house. Except Mitsuri, maybe.

Sanemi closed the door behind him, looking around. "Why do you never tell anyone about your house?" he asked, absentmindedly.

Giyuu didn't respond, getting something from a different room.

Sanemi sighed. "You don't like responding, do you?" he asked pointedly, following Giyuu into what appeared to be the kitchen.

Giyuu glanced at him, then handed the albino male a teapot. Steam was filtering through the top, making Sanemi's hand feel humid and hot. He placed it on the knee-high table, confused why he'd been handed it. Giyuu gave him two cups in following and he poured the tea into them, watching the steam swirl and dissipate into the air.

Sanemi picked up one of the cups, the warmth from the tea seeping through the cup and warming his hands. Giyuu sat down across from where Sanemi stood, picking up his own cup.

It was silent as the two Hashira sipped their tea, neither having anything to say. Sanemi looked up, taking in the sight of Giyuu who sat quietly, his cup clasped in his hands, his eyes cast down, watching the swirl of the liquid. He looked cute this way, really. He always looked so subdued but it was adorable.

Honestly, something must be horrible wrong with Sanemi if he was thinking like this. He couldn't stop, somehow. Which was irritating to himself, almost worrying, really. Mostly annoying. He didn't want to be thinking about Giyuu 24/7, didn't want to be unable to look at Giyuu without falling into a fucking puddle.

He was fighting so hard to keep his composure at the moment, hoping beyond hope his face wasn't red. It was so fucking stupid, to look at Giyuu and think, God that man is so beautiful. Had he, or had he not, hated him before? Albeit, it hadn't truly been hate...

"What?" 

Sanemi looked up at the sound of Giyuu's voice, startled by the sudden noise in the previously hushed room.

Giyuu was staring at him, his eyes wide. It was tripping to see him whenever he showed emotion. It was unnatural on his face.

"What?" Sanemi asked. He placed his cup down on the table, having finished his tea a couple minutes ago.

Giyuu's mouth opened and closed soundlessly before saying, quietly, "You... think I'm pretty?"

Sanemi blinked. "The fuck are you-" ...Oh. Oh, oh god, he must've said it out loud, he must've told Giyuu without even realizing that-

Giyuu put his cup down as well, biting his lip. His face was mostly impassive, though, and it made everything... so much worse.

"No. I, uhm, I didn't... I didn't mean to say that-" Sanemi stuttered, worsening matters. He should've just said it was a joke, or something, what the hell was wrong with him? He was stumbling over himself, backing away. Why was he so nervous? This was Giyuu, for fucks sake! He didn't actually care! ...Right? 

Giyuu stood as well, nearly knocking down the table in the process. He steadied it and moved forwards, reaching an arm out to grab Sanemi's wrist—instinctively, most likely—but Sanemi had retreated already, was out the door and heading towards the front. 

Giyuu followed him quickly, stopping him before he opened the door.

"Shinazugawa?" 

And then it was like words suddenly stopped existing and Sanemi froze, his eyes flicking around nervously. "W...What?" he asked, his voice meek and timid. Disgusting. Why was he being like this? God, he needed help. What the fuck.

"Did you... Did you mean it?" Giyuu mumbled, his hand clasped around Sanemi's wrist. The feel of his palm was warm and, though his hands were calloused from years of training, his hand was almost soft. 

"Mean what?" Stupid. This was stupid, Sanemi was stupid, everything was-

"What you said about... me." 

Yes. He meant it. Meant more than that. 

"No."

"Oh."

Giyuu let go of Sanemi's wrist and his arm fell to his side.

There was an awkward moment of silence and then-

"...sorry. Bye, Shinazugawa," he said quietly, opening the door for Sanemi and backing away slightly.

Sanemi didn't move for a second, his body feeling numb for no reason. 

"Are you leaving?" Giyuu asked uncertainly.

"...Yes," Sanemi said, regaining feeling in his body and quickly making his way out. 

He shut the door behind him, walking quickly through the clearing and back onto the path outside of it. He looked from his left to right then, deciding he didn't know where the hell he was, turned left and broke out into a slow run, his pace quickening by the second.

As he ran, he felt as if his lungs had deflated, and he breathed heavily through his mouth, as if suddenly he had lost the ability to run. 

What the hell was that? Why had he acted like that? What the fuck was wrong with him?

×××

Giyuu was in a panic. He was panicking because:

1. Sanemi had found his house somehow.

2. Sanemi had been quiet for the longest time possible for him.

3. Sanemi had been drinking tea with Giyuu inside Giyuu's house... quietly.

4. Sanemi said that Giyuu was beautiful... then went on to deny it.

5. Sanemi had been so awkward.

6. Sanemi had then proceeded to run away after Giyuu had caught hold of his arm.

What the hell had just happened?!

×××

Sanemi was also panicking. Waaay worse. 

He found Obanai quickly and, in the most incomprehensible way, recounted what had happened.

Obanai stared at him, confused and irritated. "What? Will you slow the fuck down and catch your breath first?"

Sanemi ignored him, deciding to explain in a faster way. "I think I like Tomioka."

Obanai crossed his arms. "Okay?"

"'Fuck you mean, 'okay'?!" Sanemi snapped. 

"It was obvious that you liked him, idiot," Obanai said. He rolled his eyes. "Is that all? A stupid revelation everyone but you already knew? If so, I will be with Kanroji, thank you very much."

"Oh my god, think about something other than your girlfriend for once!!!" Sanemi groaned. "And what the fuck do you mean, 'everyone already knew'? I didn't even know!"

"Riiighttt, this is a massive waste of my time, I'll be off now," Obanai said, turning away. 

"Bitch," Sanemi grumbled, watching Obanai practically skip off to Mitsuri.

He sighed, sitting down on the ground, leaning against a random tree that just so happened to be there.

He buried his face in his hands, wishing he knew the answers to the world. And wishing he wasn't thinking about Giyuu.

×××

Sanemi had suddenly become a person that Giyuu could be more than mildly interested in, someone he needed to find something out about but he didn't quite know what. And given that Sanemi had basically run away from him the last time they'd met, Giyuu opted to talk to Obanai about Sanemi.

Upon approaching him and asking him about Sanemi, Obanai simply said, "He fell in love with someone," and gave no other explanation before leaving.

Almost frustrated by this response, Giyuu searched for someone else who could tell him a little something about the Hashira he'd always wanted to avoid.

He went to Mitsuri next, whom was known for her friendliness and perhaps she had managed to speak a bit with Sanemi before.

She didn't say much, only burst into a fit of giggling when he asked about Sanemi.

Giyuu just stood there awkwardly, unsure what to do. 

Mitsuri told him, then, that perhaps Sanemi was acting like this because he liked someone.

Which only made it all the more annoying.

Shinobu, Tengen and Kyojuro only gave similar answers to those of Obanai's and Mitsuri's. So, Giyuu gave up asking the Hashira and quickly tracked down Genya.

Genya was surprised to hear the question.

"Aniki?" he'd said. "What do you mean?"

"Yes. That's what he said. Then he left," Giyuu said blandly.

"Oh. Uhm." Genya hesitated. "I don't know. I don't know him as well as I used to." 

"Oh."

There was a moment of silence.

"What do you know about him, then? Be it not of his present self," Giyuu asked.

"Uhh... He's really good with children! He cared for me and my younger siblings really well, as if he was our father," Genya said, a smile slowly spreading on his face. "He was really kind. I remember he would do anything to help Mother when she needed it, even did most of the things she usually did just so she could sleep well that night."

Giyuu raised an eyebrow. "He sounds very different."

Genya frowned. "I'm sure he's still like that..."

"Mhm. Go on."

"Alright. Uhm..." Genya then proceeded to go on a rant about the most random facts about Sanemi, from his favorite food—ohagi—to the friends he'd had in the past.

Giyuu listened with interest, not realizing there could be so much character to a man who seemed to make it his life goal to annoy people.

At the end of Genya's rant, he had said, "he might like you, you know, if he said that. Or he was thinking about someone else?" Genya concluded, referring to Sanemi calling him beautiful—then claiming he didn't mean it.

"Like me?..." Giyuu asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Mhm!" Genya waved, walking away. "Tell me if anything happens!"

"Alright..." Giyuu watched him leave, then turned back to his own thoughts. 

Like him? Why would anyone like Giyuu? And, of all people, Sanemi! Although, it would tie together with what the Hashira had said, given that they'd all said that Sanemi had 'fallen in love.' 

But... how? And why?

×××

Sanemi successfully managed to avoid Giyuu for about three days before he was found. He had been walking down a path after his mission, on his way home, when he ran into Giyuu. Giyuu, as it turned out, had had a mission near Sanemi's and had also been on his way home. 

"Shinazugawa?"

Sanemi's heart stopped. Fuck. 

Giyuu was standing there, his expression all innocent and unassuming and... God. Yes, yes he looked like a fucking god. 

"What?" Sanemi snapped, fighting against the heat that rose in his body. Goddammit.

"I've been looking for you..." Giyuu said, stepping forwards to be face to face with the Wind Hashira, his gaze curious, a contrast to his usually impassive expression.

"...Why?" It's not because he's interested, it is not. Sanemi's eyes flicked anywhere but to Giyuu's face and he pursed his lips uncertainly.

"I wanted to ask you about something," Giyuu replied, tilting his head slightly. "...Why won't you look at me?"

"Why the fuck are you so talkative?!" Sanemi asked, his voice coming out more irritated than he'd intended. His heart seemed to be working again; or maybe not. It beat quickly, too quickly, and his breath came out forced and quick. 

"Are you okay?" Giyuu's voice was concerned, he frowned. "Your face is red..."

"Fuck off. It's... 'cause I was running a lot. And you aren't answering me," Sanemi mumbled, turning his face away.

"Oh." Giyuu paused, seemingly forgetting what he was doing here. "I wanted to ask you some-"

"I get it, you want to ask me something. Get the fuck on with it! I don't have time to waste on your shitty ass," Sanemi said, crossing his arms. Why was he acting like this, as if he could barely control his emotions anymore. It was stupid, and annoying.

"...Sorry." Giyuu pouted. "Do you... like me?"

Sanemi froze. "What?" 

"Do you like me?..." Giyuu repeated.

"No, I heard you, don't fucking repeat it," Sanemi gritted out. "Why the hell would you ask that?!"

"...I was... wondering about your behavior. It was peculiar and I... couldn't fathom why you had acted like that," Giyuu said quietly. "I asked the Hashira and your brother and... they all said you liked someone—though Genya said that, more specifically, you might like... me?"

"I..." Sanemi was at loss for words. He couldn't like Giyuu! Not that stupid, quiet, bitchass bastard! Except, it would make sense. It would explain why he always felt so... Oh my god, he needed to get out of here. He couldn't bear having Giyuu's annoyingly pretty eyes staring at him curiously, as if he hadn't just dropped the worst question he ever could. 

"No. No, I hate you! I don't like you! Fuck off!" Sanemi shouted, turning and quickly running off, not looking back.

Fuck.

×××

There was something wrong with Giyuu.

When Sanemi had left, shouting that he didn't like him, Giyuu had felt a pang in his chest. As if he was disappointed.

Why would he be? He'd never cared much what Sanemi said before. And yet... 

And yet now he suddenly cared, suddenly wished to know why. Why what? Why everyone claimed Sanemi had fallen in love? Why Sanemi had called him beautiful? Why Sanemi seemed to hate him so much? Why he felt like it all actually mattered? 

He had trudged home, nearly bumping into several trees in the process. Then he had flopped onto his futon and proceeded to stare at the cealing, re-thinking his life. The image of Sanemi from earlier flashed in his memory. Sanemi, his cheeks flushed,—from running???—his eyes averted and face scrunched from anger. He looked like an angry dog, really. But cuter. 

Wait. What?

No, no, not cute. Sanemi was never cute.

Giyuu sighed, dropping a hand onto his forehead and running his hand through his hair, closing his eyes. What the fuck was wrong with him?

×××

It was dark and raining, though the air was warm. Sanemi was trudging through a muddy forest without a clue to where he was going, exhaustion dragging him down. He was soaked to the bone and shivering despite the warm weather. As he walked, he noted that somebody was somewhere around him. He kept his guard up, quieting his footsteps as he continued on. Then, at an intersection of the path, he bumped into... Genya.

Genya had his arm over his head and had apparently only just noticed Sanemi, skittering backwards in his surprise. "A-... Aniki?!" Genya said, startled. 

Sanemi grumbled. Of course it was him. "What?" he asked, irritated.

"Uhm. I was on a mission," Genya mumbled.

"What, are you going to bleed to death now??" Sanemi said, noticing the blood staining Genya's clothing. "Quit the fucking Corps if you're going to be so useless at your job."

"No! I'm fine! It's a light wound. And I won't quit!! I'm not useless!" Genya insisted, pouting.

Sanemi rolled his eyes. "Then get your ass to Kocho's. I don't want to deal with you right now," he said, turning away from his (not) brother and stalking away.

"Wait- Aniki-" Genya called out, following him.

"Fuck off! And I'm not your brother!" Sanemi snapped, not turning to look at him.

"Please-"

"Shut the actual fuck up," he said, turning and pushing Genya to the ground.

Genya slipped on the mud and fell on his back. He frowned but stopped following Sanemi who walked away, through the forest.

Sanemi looked around, trying to figure out where the hell he was. He noticed a path that looked vaguely familiar to the left and he followed it, his steps slow. He let out an exaggerated sigh every now and then, wishing he could just stop Genya from being Genya for once.

He looked up and found that, as the path went on, there was one part that entered into what looked like a bamboo forest. Ah. Giyuu's house.

He contemplated going inside for a minute before deciding to just walk past it, not wanting to deal with Giyuu asking if... No, he wouldn't finish the sentence.

So he trudged on. Then, to his luck, he heard his name being called out. He turned with a sigh, meeting Giyuu's gaze. "What is it?" he asked, his voice coming out harsher than intended.

"Uhm. Shinazugawa, what're you doing outside now?" Giyuu asked. "It's raining, you should get inside unless you want to get a cold."

"Yeah, well, I have no fucking idea where I am. I'll be fine," Sanemi said, shaking his head. 

"Come inside!" Giyuu insisted. "I have a mission I have to get to in a bit, I think, but it'll be fine. You can stay here so Kocho doesn't kill you for getting sick."

"Fair enough..." Sanemi sighed, caving in. He followed Giyuu inside, slipping off his shoes. 

"You should bathe and change," Giyuu said, looking Sanemi up and down. "I'll put extra clothing and a towel in the bathroom and make an extra futon for you."

"Alright. Thanks," Sanemi said, wondering why the hell Giyuu was talking to much.

Giyuu nodded and went off to do what he had said, leaving Sanemi standing in the hall.

×××

After Giyuu had made sure that Sanemi had everything he might need—putting out a tray of food next to the futon as well—he quickly wrote a note explaining that he would be out on a mission and that Sanemi could sleep or whatever he wanted while waiting.

He left the note on top of the futon and grabbed his haori, slipping it on. He picked up his katana, pushing it into his belt, and heading outside into the rain.

The mission was easy—the demons being surprisingly incompetent for a Hashira to be called there. And, after making sure the surviving rank-and-file Demon Slayers were alright, he made his way home. Unfortunately he'd been held up by the other Demon Slayers so dawn was already approaching. 

The rain had settled to a light sprinkle, almost non-existent, and the sky was brightening as the sun slowly arose.

Back home, Giyuu quickly bathed and changed, then went to look for Sanemi. He entered his room and found Sanemi entangled between the sheets of his futon. The food was half eaten and the note sat on the tray.

Giyuu almost smiled at the sight. It was really nice to see the humanity in Sanemi; it was rare. He slipped into his own futon and closed his eyes, falling asleep soon after.

×××

When Sanemi awoke, light was filtering through a window. He ran a hand through the mess of his hair, moving the blankets off of him. He looked to his left and saw Giyuu fast asleep. He smiled—then quickly frowned at himself for smiling—and turned to his food, which was mostly cold now. Regardless, he ate the rest of it. Once he finished, he picked up the tray and took it to where he presumed the kitchen was, washing his bowls.

As he dried his hands, he heard Giyuu walking and turned.

Giyuu was at the doorway, looking quite illegally adorable in all his sleepiness, his hair messy as hell. He blinked wearily at Sanemi. "Good morning."

"'Morning," Sanemi returned, nodding. "It's strange to wake up actually in the morning."

Giyuu nodded back. "Mhm."

"Are you hungry?" 

"A bit."

"Want me to make something?" he offered.

Giyuu raised an eyebrow. "You can cook?"

"Don't look at me like that. Of course I can, what kind of eldest sibling would I be without knowing how to cook??" Sanemi scoffed. "I'll show you."

"I wouldn't want to bother you, it's fine," Giyuu murmured. "I can make myself something."

"What, canned tomato sauce? I'm making it. I took your question as a fucking challenge," Sanemi said, pushing Giyuu out of the kitchen. "I'm going to use whatever the hell you have in here, by the way!!"

Giyuu called back a complaint in response. 

Sanemi grinned and started scouring the kitchen for ingredients, deciding he would make the most elaborate food he could with what he found. Literally for no reason at all.

×××

Sanemi had called Giyuu in to eat—after he had waited for an hour—and now, sitting before him, was... The most food he'd seen in front of him in his life since... Since he was thirteen. No, well, not the most. But it reminded him of when Tsutako had guests over and she wanted to make the food be the best it possibly could be.

"Uhhm. Thank you..." Giyuu said, still in shock.

Sanemi smirked. "Who can't cook now?!"

"It wasn't even a challenge!" Giyuu whined. 

"Mhmmm, well now it is! Whatever you don't eat I'm sending to Rengoku probably. Or Kanroji. Either of them will eat it without a question," Sanemi said, crossing his arms. "Now, eat."

"Why're you feeding me???" Giyuu huffed, though he sat down and picked up a fork that Sanemi had laid down for him.

"Because I never do this anymore and I was bored. And I didn't feel like training yet," he said simply, sitting down across from Giyuu. "Why, do you not want to eat?"

Giyuu shook his head. "No, no, I do. You're just being so nice today-"

Sanemi rolled his eyes. "Fine, I'll stop being nice." He stood and walked to the other side of the table and smacked Giyuu's head. "Eat!!"

"I... I preferred you when you were nice..." Giyuu admitted, quickly starting to eat. 

"Exactly. Besides, you can't be questioning me when you're talking as much as Rengoku today," Sanemi pointed out.

"No' af mush," Giyuu mumbled through mouthfuls of food. 

"Hm. True. And don't talk with your mouth full or I'll squeeze the food out of you," Sanemi threatened, going back to his side of the table and plopping down.

Giyuu glared at him but finished chewing before responding. "What are you, my mom?"

"Yes, I'm your mom now. Manners!!" Sanemi shouted, picking up a piece of bread and chucking it at Giyuu.

"Hey- Parents don't do that- I think-" Giyuu whined, picking up the bread and putting it on the table. 

"You 'think'??" Sanemi asked incredulously, starting to eat.

"My sister raised me," Giyuu said with a shrug—then realized what he said and quickly stuffed food in his mouth, wishing he wasn't being so open suddenly. Something about Sanemi's atmosphere today just made him so comfortable, though. His teasing manner—and not in a rude way. Like... Sabito.

"Ah. Nice," Sanemi murmured, picking up a cup and filling it with tea. 

"Mm. Thanks for the food, again," Giyuu said, giving him a slight smile.

Sanemi raised his eyebrows at the smile, but said nothing of it, simply nodding. "Sure."

×××

Back at his own house, Sanemi was changed in his uniform again. He laid the clothes Giyuu had let him borrow down and- Oh shit, he had taken them home- He contemplated going back to Giyuu's house, then decided he'd rather not bother and headed outside to train.

His mind was filled with thoughts of Giyuu—Giyuu's smile, his house, just him in general—and he found it hard to concentrate on his training. So, only ten minutes after he'd started, he promptly gave up, deciding to do something else and set out on a walk. 

Over the next few days, Sanemi found himself mostly alone. Although there was the occasional nod from Obanai when they passed by each other, he was mostly solitary. Days were busier now, with demons multiplying each second. The past dull of life seemed to have faded recently, however, which made him not mind the constant missions. In honesty, he felt relieved. But he had a feeling Giyuu had something to do with his life feeling like life again, a fact which he preferred to ignore. There was no way in hell he would ever admit to anyone that he liked Giyuu, because it was Giyuu. If it were literally anyone else, he would've just told them. But Giyuu?? The 'I'm not like you' quiet-ass bastard who was way too cute than he should be allowed to be—who was a stupid, oblivious fuck??? Him??

Nah.

Honestly, Giyuu seemed to have it figured out though. So hopefully Sanemi wouldn't have to clarify. Because if he did, then they were better off not interacting at all. 

×××

"He likes you, it's obvious," Shinobu said, rolling her eyes. She taped the bandage around Giyuu's wrist and let go of his arm. "Anyway, I'm done. Don't force your arm past its limits, know your own strength, idiot. Or weaknesses, if you may."

Giyuu blinked. "I don't think he likes me. He said he didn't."

"Does Shinazugawa seem like the type to be honest when it comes to this?" Shinobu asked, raising an eyebrow. She stood, putting away her supplies. 

"He's annoyingly honest," Giyuu murmured, standing as well.

"Fair point. But! Keywords, 'when it comes to this.' He wouldn't just straight up say, 'Hey, I like you.' Doesn't sound like him," Shinobu said, picking up a pen and tapping Giyuu's nose with the tip of it. 

Giyuu batted the pen away, shaking his head. "No, he seems like the type to do that."

"Hm. Not with you, then," she said, grabbing his non-injured hand and forcing the pen into it. 

"I don't need this," Giyuu said, trying to give it back.

"You do. Sign this," Shinobu said, shoving a paper in his face.

Giyuu eyed it. "What is it?"

"You're overworking yourself. This gives you permission to have a break," she said impatiently. "Write your name there." 

"...No. I'm alright," he said, frowning. 

She sighed. "Worth a shot. I'll just forge your signature. Anyway, back to Shinazugawa."

"Hey-" Giyuu whined as she snatched the pen and paper back. 

A smile as sweet as a lemon spread across her face. "Yes?"

"...You're a pain, Kocho," he grumbled, sitting back down.

"That's all? Very well, let's go back to the topic of your boyfriend. Now, tell me, do you like him?" she asked, leaning closer to him.

Heat seemed to flicker into his cheeks and he fidgetted with his sleeve. "No..."

She laughed. "I'm not Uzui but I could hear your lie from miles away."

"I'm not lying..."

"Okay, well, tell me this. Since all of this"—she waved her hand over him, as if it would explain anything—"has happened, you've been, one, talking more, two, a lot more expressive, three, more distracted. And... four? You're blushing. When I asked you, you turned red."

"I did not!" Giyuu said indignantly, although he was sure he only turned redder.

"You're annoying. You're like a child," she said, exasperated. "Fine. Be it your way. But he does like you, mark my words. So if you two end up dating, I get to say 'I told you so.' Also, I better be the first person you tell."

Giyuu frowned. "We won't date. I don't like him, and I'm sure he doesn't like me."

"Suit yourself." She hit his head with a ruler that she'd apparently conjured out of nowhere. "Now get out. I have more important things to deal with."

Giyuu sighed and stood, quickly leaving before she decided to bother him again.

There was no way what she was saying was true. Why the hell would Giyuu fall for... Sanemi?! And vice versa. It just didn't make sense...

×××

"You're going to be the death of me," Sanemi said, sighing. Giyuu was currently on his back, clinging on for dear life, as Sanemi stalked to the ravenette's room. 

Sanemi had finally decided to bring back Giyuu's clothes—once he'd worked up the courage to willingly visit him—only to find Giyuu collapsed on the ground having apparently been training for some hours and hadn't been hydrated enough. 

"I'm sorryyy," Giyuu mumbled into Sanemi's shoulder.

"Save your apologies for Kocho, you better hope she doesn't barricade you in your room," he said, rolling his eyes. He kicked down Giyuu's bedroom door and marched inside, dropping the Hashira on his bed. "Sleep."

"I'm convinced you're trying to mother me," Giyuu said, a hand drapping over his forehead and obscuring his eyes. "First you cook me food and now you make me sleep."

Sanemi scoffed. "Your fault for being so incompetent. And I'm not your mother. What, do you want me to be? Want me to kiss you goodnight?"

Giyuu raised his arm to look at Sanemi. "Would you do it?"

His eyes were curious, a striking blue. Usually they seemed to hold no life in them, no emotion, no passion, no nothing. But there was a glint to it now, seeming to light up Giyuu's face like a beacon. 

Sanemi swallowed. "Would you ask?"

Giyuu's lips curved in a small smile. "Touché."

Sanemi sighed, shaking his head—more at himself. "You're stupid." 

"I'll sleep now," Giyuu informed him, pulling the sheets over himself. 

"You better. I'm staying here 'till you sleep."

"What?! You creep," he whined. 

"Either that or I tell Kocho," Sanemi said, set on his decision.

"...Fine, stalk me all you want," Giyuu said, frowning and closing his eyes.

Sanemi smiled to himself, leaning against the wall and waiting.

The room drew to a quiet hum, the only sound being the two Hashira's breathing.  After a while, Giyuu's breath finally calmed into a slow, settled sleep, his face relaxed and soothed.

Sanemi stepped towards the bed quietly, hovering over him. He knelt beside Giyuu and, once he decided that he really was asleep, started to step away. Then he paused, his eyes trailing to Giyuu's lips. 

He immediately struck down the idea, mentally berating himself for even thinking it. He parted the dark locks resting on Giyuu's forehead, placing a gentle kiss there before quickly fixing the Hashira's hair and retreating from the room, making his way outside. 

The cool air hit his face as he stepped out, but he barely noticed it, heat flickering in his cheeks as he walked out of the clearing and into the path that would lead him back. God, why was he such a mess...

(i loved writing that sm)

×××

Giyuu was a light sleeper. 

Anyone in the Demon Slayer Corps had to be, or they wouldn't even pass Final Selection. So, of course, he had awoken. Though he had been too sleepy to comprehend why he had woken up so randomly, and so quickly, at the time, he quickly realized it once Sanemi had left.

Now he lay, curled up in a ball, his face buried in his palms, mentally screaming. Because.. what the hell had just happened?! But... he wasn't complaining.

Wait- Why not-

He pulled the blanket over his head, engolfing himself in the darkness. No, this wasn't better. It only made his face hotter. He sat up, the cool air bursting upon him. He fanned himself, trying to calm his heartbeat. 

Fuck, he was in love, wasn't he. He was in love, he was in love with Sanemi Shinazugawa. He was a fucking mess.

×××

"...You look like Tomioka just kissed you," Obanai said, crossing his arms and leaning back against a tree.

Sanemi had found him, after a while, and was trying to get his thoughts together, pacing up and down on the side of the path. "He didn't! I did!"

"Wait what-" Obanai said, standing up straight and leaning towards him. "What do you mean?!"

Sanemi let out a half-sigh, half scream, raking his hand through his hair. "Not... Not fully, just on his forehead. And he was asleep. BUT STILL!!"

Obanai slumped back against the tree, rolling his eyes. "Coward," he coughed.

"Oh, shut the fuck up. It's not like you have kissed Kanroji yet," Sanemi spat, stopping in front of Obanai.

"Yeah, well, unlike you, I have still been way more successful!!" he retorted. "All you have done is eat breakfast with him!! Meanwhile, I've eaten lunch and breakfast with her many days, gone on walks with her, bought her gifts, hugged her..."

Sanemi rolled his eyes. "Yet you haven't told her that you like her."

"Hey! You haven't told Tomioka either!!" Obanai pointed out. 

"Righhttt, and who, exactly, has liked their crush for longer?? Hmm? Oh, right! You!" Sanemi laughed. "Your arguments are pitiful."

"You're freaking out about kissing Tomioka on the fucking forehead when he was asleep, don't call me pitiful," Obanai grumbled.

"Hm. Fair enough," Sanemi decided. 

"Look, take Tomioka out on a walk or something equivalent to a date, for all I care. But if you keep ranting about how you kissed him on the forehead without him knowing then I'm going to find Tomioka and tell him how you feel. I don't give a fuck anymore," Obanai told him, moving away from the tree and walking back onto the path.

Sanemi turned towards him. "Consider it the same for you. I don't know how long I can stand hearing you talk about Kanroji. 'Oh my god! Kanroji told me we can eat lunch together, just like yesterday, and the day before, and the day before, and the day before, and the day bef-'"

"I GET IT!!!" Obanai snapped, rubbing his temples. "Fine. You stop, I stop."

"Deal."

Sanemi grinned. "Have fun eating lunch with her again. Or, rather, watching her eat lunch."

Obanai pushed him. "Fuck off." 

×××

Sanemi had kissed him. He'd kissed him, he had kissed him, oh my god, Sanemi had-

Well. It could've just been to the joke from before. About 'kissing him goodnight.' BUT STILL. AND GIYUU HAD BEEN ASLEEP(ish).

Which made it all the more... Confusing. Maybe Sanemi saw him only as a sibling or a child or something. He did keep taking care of him, which didn't even seem coincidental anymore. As if, assuming one could believe in fate, they were being purposefully brought together. Constantly in each other's ways. ...Not that Giyuu minded.

In fact, he liked spending more time with Sanemi.

The fact of which was a huge shock to himself. Hadn't he just hated Sanemi?

Well. Things always changed, no...?

Maybe this change wouldn't be bad, though. Maybe he should try embracing it.

Giyuu found himself constantly distracted by these thoughts as he went on with his days. But, surprisingly, he didn't come across Sanemi for a while. Either Sanemi was avoiding him—which was reasonable, yet disappointing—or their schedules just kept them apart from each other. Whatever the reason was, Giyuu ended up going in search of Sanemi, wanting to clarify the ki...

No, he wouldn't say it. Wouldn't think it. He preferred not to feel as if he would have a heart attack—an abnormal heartbeat and flushed face...

He sighed, mussing up his hair so it covered his face, continuing to walk briskly down the path. He avoided some Demon Slayers who had seemingly popped out of nowhere and were attempting to talk to them, mentally berating himself for not being careful and getting unwanted attention. Just as he was about to give up and let them talk to him, he noticed Sanemi somewhere in the close distance.

He sped up, ignoring the calls of the other Demon Slayers who trotted behind him.

Sanemi looked up upon all the noise and seemed to be holding back laughter at the sight of Giyuu's pleading gaze. He cleared his throat, grabbing Giyuu's arm and pushing him behind him. 

"The hell do you want?" he asked the others, glaring at them.

They all shrank back. One of them spoke up timidly, his voice shaky. "W... We just wanted to talk to Water-Pillar-sama..." 

"I'm afraid you'll be disappointed. See, I need him somewhere. You all can go now," Sanemi said, waving them off.

"But-" 

"I said I need him. You said you wanted something from him. Need is more important than want, fuckers. If you don't leave now, maybe we can see how well you can weild your katanas against a Hashira," Sanemi said, a hand hovering over his katana handle.

"Shinazugawa, there's no need to-" Giyuu started.

Sanemi shushed him, turning back to the Demon Slayers. "So? What will it be?"

They seemed to hesitate for a second before deciding it wasn't worth it and collectively agreed to leave, scampering away.

Sanemi turned back to Giyuu, a smirk growing on his face. "Got people falling on themselves for you now, hm?" he teased. 

Giyuu sighed. "Will I have to find someone else to shoo you away?" he asked.

"I was joking- The hell did they even want from you, though?" Sanemi said, crossing his arms.

"I don't know," Giyuu murmured. 

"Right." An awkward silence spread between the two and they stared at the ground, unsure what to say.

"Uh. Now that you're free, guess I'll be taking my leave-" Sanemi said, appearing to want to dash away. His cheeks were dabbed in a dusty pink as he stepped back.

"Wait- Shinazugawa, I wanted to ask you something," Giyuu said, grabbing Sanemi's wrist as he remembered why he had been outside in the first place.

"Which is?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Giyuu paused, glancing down at his hand which was still clasped around the scarred wrist of the other Hashira. Sanemi's pulse was fast. Why?

"Uhm. A few days ago... when you told me to sleep," Giyuu started quietly, unsure how to go about it. Then, deciding that there was no use stalling, he blurted out, "Why did you kiss me?"

Sanemi stared at him, in shock apparently, then let out what sounded like a muted scream, burying his face in the hand Giyuu wasn't holding. "God, you were awake...?" he mumbled, sounding as if he was regretting everything. Which he probably was doing.

"I... woke up when you did that," Giyuu murmured. 

"...Of course you did," Sanemi said.

Giyuu cocked his head to the side. "Can I ask you something, Shinazugawa?"

"What now...?" he said with a sigh, running his hand through his hair—or, more, tearing at his hair.

"Why is your heartbeat so fast?" Giyuu asked.

Sanemi looked up, glaring at him. "Stop asking questions I'd rather tear my chest out than answer," he grumbled.

Giyuu raised an eyebrow. "What-?"

"Nevermind."

"Okay..." Giyuu let go of his wrist. "Will you answer the questions?"

Sanemi hesitated. "What happens if I don't?"

"I'll... ask Genya for help?..." Giyuu said slowly, knowing it would irritate Sanemi—and hopefully convince him to speak.

Sanemi's eyes narrowed. "Fuck, fine." He let out an exaggerated sigh, then without warning reached up and clasped his hands on either side of Giyuu's face, pulling him closer.

Giyuu's eyes widened and he felt himself flush at the proximity, his stomach deciding to do some acrobatic trick of Mitsuri's, followed by what appeared to be a bunch of Shinobu's fluttering around.

"Shinazugawa...?" he mumbled, his voice muted from his own shock.

×××

Do it. DO IT.

Sanemi let out a breath, his eyes searching Giyuu's. He found no sign of resistance, only question and surprise. 

"Listen. If you hate this, just push me away. I won't resist," Sanemi advised, his tone as serious as he could force it to be with his heart flying circles in his ribcage, as if trying to break free. 

"Do wh-"

Before Giyuu could finish, Sanemi fit his mouth against the Water user's, one hand tangling in the dark locks of Giyuu's hair, the other slipping down to his waist. He paused when he got no response, and started to move away, but then arms wrapped around his body, pulling him closer and back into the kiss.

They stumbled through the embrace, their legs tangling with one anothers. He didn't know who finally pulled away, but when they did, the two stood there, Giyuu resting his head on Sanemi's shoulder, their breaths harsh and quick—not solely from the kiss.

Then, as if just realizing what they'd done, they scrambled away from each other, looking like embarrassed puppies.

Giyuu was the first to speak, his voice meek—not that Sanemi could blame him. "Do you... like me?" he mumbled.

Sanemi frowned. "I thought I told you to stop asking me questions like that."

"Like what?"

"Questions that I'd commit seppuku before answering," he said, crossing his arms. 

"...Sorry," Giyuu said, pouting.

"You better be. Also, the answer should be fucking obvious. If it's not, then you're stupid." Sanemi rolled his eyes, stalking towards him and grabbing Giyuu's arm. "We're going somewhere private now. C'mon."

Giyuu nodded quickly, following him. "I'm not stupid," he muttered, more to himself

"Hm?"

"Nothing."

×××

Since then, Giyuu and Sanemi avoided each other. Mostly from embarrassment and neither wanting to bring up the topic again. After they had left the public eye, they had made out for a bit, being too shy—which was definitely not a word that would usually describe either of them—to talk about anything. It had been exactly a week, two days, four hours, and thirty one minutes since they had parted ways—yes, Giyuu had been counting.

But—finally—they had decided to meet again, talk about it more formally. Rather, Sanemi had invited Giyuu to lunch and Giyuu had agreed. He stood, waiting, in front of a restaurant. Apparently Sanemi had reserved a table but had forgotten to tell Giyuu, so now he was awkwardly hovering in front of the restaurant wishing Sanemi would hurry the fuck up. 

After a few agonizing minutes of waiting, Sanemi appeared at last, looking out of breath. His hair looked oddly neat and well kept—unlike usual—and he had a smell of flowers wafting around him. 

"Hey," he said, nodding to Giyuu. "Sorry for keeping you waiting. Iguro wanted me to help him with something then Kanroji came by, carrying like fifty bottles of perfume and wanted to test them out on me..." He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. 

A smile crept up Giyuu's lips. "So that's why you smell as what I'd imagine a bee would during the summer?"

"Shut the fuck up," Sanemi said, opening the restaurant door and tugging Giyuu inside.

After they had found their table and ordered some food and settled down, Sanemi rested his arms on the table, clasping his hands together and turned to Giyuu. "So!" he said, as if trying to say something he most definitely did not want to say.

"Hm?"

"...I hate how little you talk," Sanemi grumbled. "You only ever talk to ask the most embarrassing shit ever."

"...sorry??"

Sanemi laughed, sounding uncharacteristically nervous. "Yeah, no, nevermind. Let's just wait for the food."

Giyuu nodded, his heart beating faster than a humming bird's wings. 

They waited in silence, conspicuously avoiding each others eyes.

When the food finally arrived, they took the opportunity to busy themselves with eating, pretending like they both had things they wanted to discuss but couldn't bring it up. Halfway through the meal, Giyuu gave up and said, abruptly, "Are we dating?"

Sanemi all but choked on his food, grasping for a cup of water. Giyuu hurried to help him, panicking.

After he had calmed down, Sanemi said, "I'm convinced you're trying to kill me, Tomioka."

Giyuu apologized again. "I didn't mean for that to happen..."

"I know. I was joking. Seriously, you really are stupid," Sanemi deadpanned.

"I'm not!" Giyuu whined.

"See, that was also a joke. Okay, maybe it wasn't. Also you sound like a child. But, uhm, back to the topic," Sanemi said, his tone switching completely.

They lapsed back into silence, staring at each other awkwardly.

"...are we, then...?" Giyuu mumbled, unsure what to make of the atmosphere.

"Uhm." Sanemi coughed, trying to think of a response. "Do you want to?"

Giyuu frowned. "Yes... Do you?"

Sanemi pushed a bowl of salmon daikon towards Giyuu, folding his hands on the table. "Then we're dating."

"What? But you never said if you-"

"I literally did, just not directly. But if you need me to spell it out to you then, yes. I do. And since you do too, apparently, then we're dating," Sanemi told him. 

"...okay!" Giyuu said happily, taking the bowl with a small smile.

"Mm. How is your smile so small yet it lights up your whole face..." Sanemi said, resting his elbow on the table and head in his hand, laughing gently.

"I'm smiling? Sorry," Giyuu said, his lips quickly curving to its usual neutral state.

"Why sorry? Your smile isn't terrifying," Sanemi said, frowning. 

"Kocho said it's weird," Giyuu mumbled. 

"Well fuck her, then! It's not weird, it's... cute." 

He flushed. "It's not cute!"

"Says you." A playful smirk rising upon Sanemi's face. "Anyways, hurry up and eat. I don't feel like waiting forever."

"Aren't you going to eat?-" Giyuu asked, looking up from his bowl.

"I finished."

"...oh."

××× (it's js sillyness from here on out)

Sanemi and Giyuu had come to a mutual agreement to not tell anyone of their relationship, or mostly keep it private. Both for the reasons of disliking gossip. From Tengen and Shinobu in specific. They were 99% sure that, if by any way, their relationship would become public knowledge, Tengen and Shinobu would have fun making up theories and teasing them day and night.

So, despite everyone somehow knowing that Sanemi liked Giyuu, the only people that knew of their relationship becoming real were Obanai and... Obanai. Just him. 

Sanemi had said that they could tell their closest friends—as long as they swore not to say anything. Giyuu said, quite exactly, "I don't have friends."

Which... lead to Sanemi having to comfort him. 

But all was said and all was done and the two found ways to meet in private between missions and training, managing to keep their relationship a secret for a surprisingly long amount of time. Of course, nothing ever lasts, and the Hashira eventually caught on. 

Sanemi was a lot better at hiding it, just snapping at Giyuu all the time like usual—which he assured Giyuu that whatever he said wasn't what he truly meant, until they were alone. But Giyuu, on the other hand... Well, Sanemi assumed that he'd be alright at acting given that his face was always so irritatingly impassive. He'd assumed wrong, however, and eventually found that out.

In his attempt to fulfill Sanemi's wishes to not get the word spread out—and Giyuu was dreading the time when Shinobu would find out—Giyuu kept up the act for a good couple weeks. But, since Sanemi would act a lot more affectionate with him, he was less and less used to the previously usual aggression shown to him by his boyfriend (in public) as the days past.

Needless to say, Giyuu was the reason they were exposed. Which unfortunately happened in front of the whole Hashira—right before one of their biannual meetings with Kagaya.

×××

Giyuu had entered the garden a few minutes after Sanemi, on the opposite side, not wanting to cause suspicion. He stood by a tree quietly as the other Hashira trickled in.

Mitsuri bounded up to him, talking about something he wasn't necessarily listening to, his gaze set on Sanemi who was trying to obscure Obanai's eyes from seeing that Mitsuri was talking to another man. 

Supposedly noticing the gaze, Sanemi looked up and glared at Giyuu, raising an eyebrow as if to tell him to snap out of it.

Shinobu noticed this. 

"Ara ara, are you two fighting again? I'm surprised you haven't shouted at him yet, Shinazugawa," Shinobu commented, a sly smile forming upon her lips.

Sanemi rolled his eyes. "Shut the fuck up, Kocho."

"No need to be so harsh," Shinobu tutted, crossing her arms and shaking her head disapprovingly.

Gyomei agreed. "And please refrain from swearing."

Mitsuri had stopped talking, looking from one Hashira to the other.

Tengen laughed. "Well, there's been a lot less tension between Tomioka and the dog," he remarked, grinning at Sanemi.

"WHAT DOG?!?!" Sanemi shouted, stalking over to Tengen.

Obanai rolled his eyes. "Stop shouting."

Giyuu stood watching everything and wondering if he should speak given that he seemed to be apart of this argument. "What dog?"

Sanemi pointed at Giyuu, though he faced Tengen. "SEE?? THERE IS NO FUCKING DOG."

Gyomei frowned. "Do not shout, you will disturb the Master."

Sanemi let out a breath. "Fine."

Giyuu walked over to where Sanemi and Tengen stood. "Is Shinazugawa the dog?" he asked quietly.

Sanemi let out a gritted scream, looking ready to explode. Tengen looked equally like a timed bomb at its last second, although for completely different reasons.

"I'MNOTADOG!!!" Sanemi screeched, grabbing Giyuu by the shoulders and shaking him.

Giyuu ducked down, stepping away from Sanemi. "Okay."

Gyomei let out the longest sigh in history as Shinobu supressed a laugh.

"My, my, you're talking a lot today, Tomioka-San!" she said, looking up at him.

"Oh."

Sanemi rolled his eyes. "Well he should stop talking, he sounds like Uzui when his wives get a paper scratch," he said, crossing his arms. 

"Is that supposed to be an insult?!" Tengen gasped, looking mildly offended.

"You're the one panicking when they so much as cough!!! You're all 'OH NO ARE YOU OKAY?! Nooo, KOCHO HELP ME!! DON'T DIE ON ME, PLEASE DON'T DIE ON ME—'" Sanemi said, pitching his voice higher. 

Giyuu frowned. "I don't sound like that," he and Tengen said in unison—although Tengen with a considerably larger amount of theatrical flair.

"Oh yes you do! And I mean both of you!" Sanemi said, placing his hands on his hips.

Gyomei shook his head and went to go stand next to Muichiro who was staring at a beetle in his hand.

"...I do?" Giyuu whined.

Tengen seemed to have gotten over it quite quickly and was completely unfazed now.

"And worse!" Sanemi said, a mocking smile curving his lips.

Giyuu bit his lip, looking down.

Obanai sighed. 

"The fuck are you looking at??" Sanemi asked, raising an eyebrow at Giyuu who wouldn't meet his eyes.

Tengen's mouth curved into an 'o' and he backed away quickly, whispering loudly to Kyojuro, "Shinazugawa just made Tomioka cry-"

"He cries??" Kyojuro whispered back, seeming to think they were actually being quiet.

Tengen shrugged and leaned against a tree, watching.

"...Why are you crying-" Sanemi said, fighting the concern that rose in himself. "You a baby???"

Giyuu looked up at him, pouting, unwilling to respond.

"Ara ara, looks like you shouldn't have said that about his voice! I would be offended as well if you compared my voice to Uzui's," Shinobu said, shooting a mischevious look at Tengen who appeared wounded.

Sanemi frowned. "It wasn't even that bad of an insult," he scoffed, trying with all his might to make Giyuu act fine without saying anything. 

Giyuu sniffed loudly, ignoring Sanemi. He promptly turned away, stomping to the back of the garden and crossing his arms, acting as if he was waiting for Kagaya.

"Oooohhh-" Tengen said, a tone of amusement entering his voice. "I didn't know Tomioka could be so petty."

Shinobu raised an eyebrow. "Neither that he could be so affected by what Shinazugawa said."

Sanemi, fed up, sighed and stalked towards Giyuu, pulling him into a hug. "Giyuu, I didn't mean shit, I like your voice, okay??" he murmured, placing a kiss on Giyuu's nose. "Don't ignore me."

Giyuu seemed to brighten up instantly—which made Sanemi irritated because it had probably been an act then—and nodded. "Okay!"

"...ARE YOU TWO FINALLY DATING-" Kyojuro said, much too loudly.

"I FUCKING TOLD YOU SO!!!" Shinobu shouted triumphantly.

Obanai shook his head with a sigh. "Well it was going to get out sooner or later."

Sanemi shot a glare at them. "Oh, fuck off."

Giyuu rested his head on Sanemi's shoulder, a small smile playing on his face.

×××

"I thought we agreed to keep it a secret..." Sanemi whined, as he and Giyuu were on their way back home.

"I'm sorrryyy," Giyuu said, pouting. 

"Mmmhmm, well, I'm not giving you cuddles for three weeks now!" Sanemi told him, quickening his pace.

"WHAT?? NO-" Giyuu shouted, chasing after him.

Sanemi laughed, turning and abruptly stopping Giyuu, placing a kiss on his cheek. "I told you to work on differentiating a joke from a serious comment, Giyuu."

"...Well I'm trying!" Giyuu insisted, huffing. "...you're not going to take away my cuddles, are you?"

"No. That would be taking away my own, anyways. But! I'm still not letting you off. Which means I'm not making you salmon daikon for the rest of the week," Sanemi said, dragging Giyuu down the road.

"Awh..." Giyuu whined, trotting after Sanemi.

"Be glad it's Friday."

××× (this last part is completely random and has nothing to do with anything but I js wanted to write this)

Sanemi pushed Giyuu down, pinning him to the floor. He fit his lips to Giyuu's, closing his eyes. Legs wrapped around his waist as Giyuu clung onto him and Sanemi tangled his hand in the tangled mess of his boyfriend's hair, pulling him deeper into the kiss. 

"Sa...nemi," Giyuu breathed between kisses, his face dusted in pink. 

Sanemi pulled back, letting him breathe. "Yes?" he murmured, resting his lips upon Giyuu's forehead in a gentle kiss.

"I love you," Giyuu said quietly, his arms tightening their embrace around Sanemi's torso.

Sanemi smiled. "I love you most," he said, pulling Giyuu back into a kiss.

"Tha's... not fair...!" Giyuu whined, trying to avoid the kisses.

"Mhmm, I'm not fair at all then?" Sanemi said, peppering Giyuu's jaw with kisses.

"Nooo..."

Sanemi laughed. "Do you not love me, then?"

"I love you!" Giyuu insisted, turning back and catching a kiss on his bottom lip. 

"Love you too, darling."

×××

 « Word count: 11,420 »

ELEVEN THOUSAND, FOUR HUNDRED AND TWENTY WORDS OF PURE FUCKING FLUFF. 

anyways back to writing angst ;v;

will y'all forgive me for getting lazy and making it rushed because it took me over a month to actually finish this (loss of motivation+procrastination+rereading+editing+long asf+stalling)?

[yuu-extended-yuuniverse]

Pokémon AU! (Yuu & Riddle)

Trainer looking at Grim: What kind of Pokémon is THAT???

Grim, offended: I'm not a Pokémon! I'm a TRAINER. Just you wait! I'll be the greatest Elite Four Champion ever! Myahahahaha!

Yuu: Does that make me the Pokémon in this relationship?

~*~

Riddle Rosehearts was the youngest trainer to ever become a gym leader in Twisted Wonderland, and remains one of the most ruthless.

Gym leader Riddle specializes in primarily fire type Pokémon! Which is why so many new challengers who come prepared with a full team of Water-types are so caught off guard when Riddle's partner Pokémon, Roserade, comes out! Who finishes them off with her signature move "Off With Your Head!"

Losers are enlisted to paint the hedge maze roses of the Heartslabyul gym to appear like Poké balls.

More headcanons and enlarged photos below:

Riddle

Heartslabyul is the first gym most new trainers encounter

It is situated in the same city as the trainer school, where Riddle enjoys tutoring on his days off

His partner Pokémon, Roserade, was gifted to him by a childhood friend (Trey) back when it was still a weak little Budew

Mrs. Rosehearts belongs to the ranks of Nurse Joys and originally wanted Riddle to study medicine. To everyone's shock, obedient young Rosehearts went on to become a formidable trainer and eventually declared, much to his mother's chagrin, his intention to become a gym leader and help new trainers

Riddle is still the youngest gym leader, at 18 years old

Despite his harsh exterior, many trainers still attribute much of their success to Leader Rosehearts' insistence on practicing the basics.

If you are strong and fortunate enough to ever challenge Riddle again, his fully trained 6 team includes Roserade, Ninetails, Flareon, Rapidash, Alolan Rapidash, and Shaymin.

When pressed, Riddle refuses to answer where he met a member of the elusive Shaymin Pokémon.

Riddle can often be found racing or playing polo at the Equestrian club, riding either of his Rapidashs.

Despite all the good he does, Riddle can often be too much of a stickler to the rules and unable to see outside-the-box

He first meets Yuu when he is kicking Ace and Deuce, two new trainers, out of his gym for trying to cheat their way through his hedge maze puzzle and disparaging the idea of going to trainer school, refusing to let them challenge him and effectively ending their dreams of challenging the elite four.

It is only after Yuu challenges him for Ace and Deuce's right to re-enter the gym, and uses both lessons Riddle preaches and unusual outside-the-box thinking to defeat him, that Riddle reconsiders his black and white view of the world.

He gives Ace and Deuce a second chance, on the expectation that they first go to trainer school for a week, and asks if Yuu would consider sharing their unique battling style with the students at the school (despite these techniques not being taught in any books)

In the end, all three, Ace, Deuce, and Yuu, earn their Heartslabyul badges, and Riddle wishes them luck at the next gym.

Yuu

No one quite knows where this trainer came from.

All anyone knows is that they showed up out of nowhere with a talking feline Pokémon no Pokédex recognizes, named Grim.

For whatever reason, Team STYX keeps trying to capture Grim for some nefarious purpose.

But despite Yuu's unimposing figure and having just recently started their journey, they are actually a very formidable trainer and have managed to battle off every one of Team STYX's attempts.

Yuu meets Ace and Deuce while the two of them are being kicked out of Heartslabyul gym and a fast friendship is formed.

Ace declares that they are all rivals now, but they still travel together from city to city.

To Ace and Deuce's horror, Yuu seems to enjoy sleeping over in abandoned and haunted houses on their journey

Ghost Pokémon seem to particularly like Yuu

Yuu sometimes runs into an interesting person during their travels, a man they have nicknamed Tsunotaro

Tsunotaro seems to always show up whenever Team STYX is getting up to no good, and helps Yuu battle them off and clear out various Team STYX bases of operation throughout Twisted Wonderland.

Ace and Deuce have never met this mysterious Tsunotaro, but if they did they would be shocked to discover that he is actually Malleus Draconia, Twisted Wonderland's infamous and terrifying Elite Four Champion

But to Yuu he's just Tsunotaro, a weird but nice guy who seems to think fighting off a crime syndicate together counts as a date

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

III ║ Edgestitch

Joel Miller x F!Reader

{ Part II: Threads | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist }

Rating: M

Summary: You wear those jeans for Joel when you see him again at the baby shower at Tommy and Maria's - like he asked you to.

Warnings: Spicy thoughts but not explicit, sexual tension, sexual innuendos, flirting, mention of food and drink, some language, shy!reader, reader has a nickname related to her job, soft!Joel, no use of Y/N

Word count: 7k

Notes: It's here! This one was a long and winding road as I mentioned in Behind the Seams, I'm so relieved and excited when it all finally clicked and fell into place! I'm absolutely blown away by the love you guys have shown Joel and Pin so far, thank you, there's no greater motivation for a writer ❤️ I hope you guys enjoy the chapter!

‘Damnit, Lucy,’ you mutter under your breath, this close to stamping your foot and pouting at the door that refuses to lock up. 

Lucy may be your best friend, but you’re not blind to the fact that she literally cannot be trusted to get anything done around the shop. It’s been two weeks since she promised to get the locksmith to come in, but here you are on Friday evening, wrestling with the key that refuses to turn the last quarter of an inch in the faulty lock.

‘Hey, Pin!’

Glancing over your shoulder, you force a wane smile at Tommy, who has his hands full with a cardboard box at the bottom of the stairs. ‘Need some help?’

‘Yes, please,’ you reply sheepishly.

You nod at the bottles of wine that clink delicately against one another as he sets them down. ‘Getting ready for the party on Sunday?’

Tommy steps up to the door and wriggles the key left and right experimentally. ‘Yeah, you comin’, right?’

‘Yes, with Lucy.’

‘Good, the more the merrier!’ He makes a face at the door lock, which is not cooperating with him either. ‘You should get someone to look at it. Probably time for a new one.’

‘Lucy was supposed to get Andrew to fix it, but you know Luce.’

Tommy yanks the door knob backwards hard as he twists the key. There’s a grunt of metal, and a triumphant aha! when it finally turns, the internal mechanisms of the lock sliding into place with a satisfying click. 

You nearly fall onto your knees in relief. ‘Thank you so much, Tommy. You’re a lifesaver.’

He grins and deposits the key in your waiting palm. ‘You can ask Joel for help, you know. He’s handy with this kind of stuff.’

You blink, blindsided by the seemingly random mention of his brother - but his dimpled smile tells you otherwise.

His brother, who was so solid and broad under you on the studio floor, just a few days ago. His brother, who you can still feel pressed between your thighs, in your bed in the dead of night. His brother, who has taken up residence in your mind, waking or otherwise, since he sauntered out of your shop with that infuriatingly attractive confidence when he asked you to to wear those jeans for him again on Sunday.

Joel has existed solely and safely in the parameters of your workspace for the past fortnight and a half, with only Lucy bearing witness to whatever it is between the two of you. Having to suddenly deal with any mention of him outside of it, especially with that knowing arch of Tommy’s eyebrow, has you completely flustered. It doesn’t help that his eyes are uncannily like Joel’s, a gorgeous deep brown, expressive and sharp, though the mischief sits a lot closer to the surface in the former’s.

Mercifully, your brain unscrambles long enough for you to reach the conclusion that of course, Joel must have told Tommy that he invited you and Lucy. It’s their party, after all. Surely, he doesn’t know anything else -

Or does he?

You’ve been quiet for too long to say anything about it now, so you clumsily change the subject, stumbling over your words. ‘I, uh - I was just wondering what I could bring on Sunday?’

Tommy graciously lets you off the hook. ‘We’re a bit short on sweets, actually, if you bake.’

You latch on to that gratefully. ‘I do - what kind of cake were you thinking?’

‘Do you make a carrot cake?’

You perk up. ‘It’s my favourite!’

He flashes you a cheeky grin. ‘What a funny coincidence, it’s Joel’s as well - the only way to get carrots in him.’

Your pulse spikes with adrenaline at the unexpected tidbit Tommy drops in your lap, and you greedily squirrel that little fact away, slowly colouring in the Joel-shaped space in your head.

With a wink, Tommy bends down to pick up the wine. ‘See you in a couple of days, Pin!’

At least you have the decency to wait until he turns the corner - once he does, you sprint across the road to the Jackson Grocer’s and clear out their stock of carrots for the day.

There are many things about Jackson that throw Joel. 

The plentitude after years of rations. The safety, which comes off more jarring than comforting.

But most of all, it’s the sounds. The kettle on the boil and the pop of the toaster in the morning when Ellie gets ready for school. Friendly chatter on the high street. Laughter. It still makes him jump when he hears playful shrieks in the neighbourhood playground, blood rushing in his ears and sending him halfway across the house for his rifle before he remembers where he is.

Where he is not.

It was always loud in the QZ. Loudspeakers blaring, alarms wailing, the indistinct hum of conversation and radio through paper thin walls in the slums at all hours of the day. And he was always listening - for danger, for trouble, and everything in between.

And then all that noise had blown up, literally, with the State House. With Tess.

Joel finds it hard to remember those first few days after leaving Boston behind. Mostly the raw cuts on his knuckles that wouldn’t heal and the ring in his right ear from the explosion, lingering like a pesky fly. 

But he knows it was Ellie who broke that silence first. And once that door was kicked down - 

‘Fuck no, dude!’

His face snaps up and he scowls across the lawn, the stern reprimand rolling off his tongue like second nature. ‘Ellie!’

She’s sitting with her friends, crowded around her most prized possession of the moment, a boombox she found in the thrift shop a couple of months ago and begged him to buy and fix up for her. 

Not that she needed to do much begging, he caved far too easily. It plays a bit wonky - the bass too heavy - still, it does the trick.

The teenagers around her cower immediately, but she defiantly stands her ground. ‘What?’

‘Watch your language,’ he barks, no real bite behind it.

She rolls her eyes so hard her head falls back, and he has to press his lips together to not smile.

It helps him sleep better at night seeing Ellie fit right in - at least one of them has. She doesn’t hate going to school half as much as she pretends to, the routine of homework and chores anchoring her to small town life. She’s even volunteered to help out at the farm, spending most afternoons in the stables with the horses.

There are times when he wonders to which extent all this is a coping mechanism. But well, at least she’s coping.

And while Joel still hasn’t made up his mind about Jackson, its townsfolk seem to have unilaterally made theirs up about him. The wary whispers and watchful stares have given way to cautious gestures of acknowledgement, some even bold enough to throw a good morning in his general direction as he walks down the street. 

They nod at him now as they file into the garden party, still keeping their distance, but not as much as he would’ve liked.

The expectant parents have gone all out for the occasion. Several tables are lined up end to end in the middle of the garden, filling up with potluck dishes as guests arrive. Tommy lords over the barbeque, the brisket having been smoking since dawn, with chicken, bacon and homemade sausages sizzling on the grill. Maria is in her element, flitting from well wisher to well wisher with a protective hand over her rounded belly, making sure everyone has a drink and a loaded plate in hand.

Joel hovers in no man’s land, dodging the crowds and sipping on beer that has long gone flat, trying to remember the last time he celebrated anything. 

Well, he supposes dinner parties at Bill and Frank’s count, as far and few in between as they were. Not that they ever celebrated anything specific, per se - they didn’t need a reason beyond the fact that they were all still alive and kicking. Bill, bless his soul, did make a mean roast, and Frank used to host with enough flair for forty instead of four. Tess had a black dress she stowed away at the back of her closet for these parties, and a red one that she saved for the really special occasions -

A strong hand on his back jolts him forward and out of his thoughts, spilling lukewarm beer over his fingers.

‘Havin’ a good time, brother?’ asks Tommy jovially, cheeks stretched with joy.

‘I was just now,’ he grunts pointedly.

Tommy grins. ‘Lighten up, man. Get drunk, be merry! You’re gonna be an uncle.’

‘Don’t try to butter me up. I ain’t babysittin’ for you.’

Thumping his chest in mock hurt, he asks, ‘What about all those times I babysat Sarah, man?’

Joel gives him a long-suffering side stare. ‘Please. You used to hire that college chick ‘cross the street to babysit whenever you were supposed to. Then you’d hit on her all night long.’

Tommy chuckles. ‘Damn, your mind’s in better shape than I give you credit for, old man.’

He can’t help a smile. ‘But for all your devious plans to get into her babysitter’s pants, Sarah did love her Uncle Tommy.’

He goes quiet for a beat and takes a sip of his beer, his eyes softening. ‘I think about that girl every single day, y’know.’ 

Joel nods, staring into his own beer, and it suddenly strikes him that he’s missed the shape of her name on his lips. ‘I know.’

Tommy nudges him on the shoulder. ‘I can only hope my kid will love their Uncle Joel just as much.’

Eventually, he harrumphs, ‘If they do - I’ll think about the babysittin’.’

Tommy chortles just as the backdoor to the porch swings open with a loud creak.

Joel spots you easily, trailing one step behind Lucy. You’re holding onto a cake on a round wooden board like a security blanket, shoulders tense and eyes wide at the noise of the festivities. Spotting Maria, Lucy bounds down the stairs, leaving you hesitating at the landing, and -

You’re wearing the jeans he asked you to.

Something primal swells in the cavity of his chest, between his ribs - a pride that is distinctly male.

Tommy shouts, ‘Pin! Over here!’

Joel shifts on his feet, swallowing thickly as you approach. If your shy smile is anything to go by, he’s not the only one feeling the nerves.

His brother gives you a careful hug around the cake and plants a kiss on your cheek. When he steps aside, Joel hesitates, uneasy with having an audience, his palms suddenly clammy with indecision.

Does he… hug you? He can count on three fingers who he’s hugged for the past twenty years, and he’s sorely out of practice. A kiss is an option, but the way his eyes dart to your mouth, it’s dangerous even entertaining that thought - 

Tommy elbows him in the ribs and puts him out of his misery. ‘Why don’t you kids catch up, I think the brisket’s burnin’. Have fun tonight!’

Joel can feel the tip of his ears turning red as he stands there with his drink, one hand shoved in his back pocket, not knowing how to do this. How to entertain. Clearing his throat, he stammers, ‘Uh - can I get you a drink or somethin’?’

You give him a small smile, lips moving in an answer too quiet to reach him over the music. Rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, he admits, ‘Sorry, I can’t hear you. I’m uh - a bit deaf in my right ear.’

You look apologetic, speaking up, ‘I’m sorry - I didn’t know.’

With a shrug, he jokes, ‘It’s ok, I’m a bit broken all over.’

You pinch your lips, and he recoginses that face - he knows that you want to disagree with him. But you hold your tongue, skirting around him to his good ear, and he stoops to close the distance, even though he doesn’t need to.

Your breath brushes his ear. ‘I’d love a drink, but I want to put this cake away first.’

‘Yes, of course - sorry, don’t know where my manners went.’ He puts his unfinished beer away and takes the cake from you despite your protests. The potluck table is packed to the brim, so he gestures towards the house. ‘It might have to go into the kitchen for now.’

You follow him, side by side with one polite body width between you, past bands of neighbours and friends catching up, the fairy lights catching your eyes and the well-kept lawn crunching beneath your soles. Unsurprisingly, you feel the weight of curious stares on your back as you go - Joel is still very much a novelty around town. Neither of you speak until he holds open the backdoor for you to slip inside.

It’s quiet in the kitchen, the muted conversation outside a low hum through the double-glazed windows. The free-standing island is already chock full of all kinds of baked goods and pudding, and Joel has to move an actual jelly castle (which wriggles precariously) to free up space for your contribution.

Dusting his hands, Joel turns to you. ‘That carrot cake?’

You nod, keeping mum.

‘It’s my favourite.’

‘I know - Tommy told me,’ you confess with a bashful half-shrug.

His warm eyes crinkle at the corners. ‘Talkin’ about me behind my back, sweetheart?’

Your breath quickens at the sweetheart, and you wonder if the thrill of the nickname will ever wear thin. Emboldened, you tilt your head to one side and tease, ‘Why? You like the attention?’

A smirk on his lips, he steps into your space, the very proximity of him stealing the air from your lungs. ‘I might if you’re not careful.’

And there you are again - with nothing more than a dozen words exchanged and even more unsaid - on the brink of something, right where you left off on the workshop floor.

‘Wanna grab a bite to eat?’

Tucked away in an intimate corner of the back porch in a wicker chair, Joel surveys the party with a seriousness that is borderline comical. 

The strategist in him clearly favours the higher ground the porch affords him so he can keep an eye on everyone and spot whoever approaches from a distance. His seat is an easy three steps to the door, an escape plan in his back pocket. For all his stillness, the intensity is unmistakable, if slightly out of place in a baby shower.

Two dirty plates licked clean are stacked on the coffee table between you, piled high with bones and leftover gravy, the delicious food sitting warm in your stomach.

‘They’re comin’ closer,’ Joel complains, taking a long gulp of his beer.

‘I guess they figure if I’m talking to you, it means that you don’t actually bite,’ you quip.

‘Will they back off if I make you cry?’

Your shoulders quake with a chuckle. ‘I think you’re too much of a gentleman to do that, Joel Miller.’

You’re taken aback by the flash of heat in his answering glance, as if there’s something he wants to say. But then, he changes his mind and leans back in his chair, one palm resting on his spread thighs, and he nods towards a couple standing close to the barbeque.

‘Who’s that over there? He lives on my street.’

‘That’s Andrew. He owns the only hot tub in Jackson.’

Joel splutters, ‘A hot tub?’

‘To be fair, it came with his house, but he managed to connect it to the water a few months ago.’

He snorts. ‘Not very communist of him to divert public resources for a private hot tub.’

‘Let’s just say Jackson is a commune with American characteristics,’ you say diplomatically.

He arches an eyebrow at you. ‘A cynic, sweetheart?’

You reply matter-of-factly, ‘We all know how communism ended.’

Fuck. He takes a swig of his beer and swallows hard. A woman after his own heart.

‘You want to keep him on your good side though. He’s really handy with electrics and the like.’

He shrugs. ‘So am I.’

You turn to him, surprised. ‘Oh?’

‘I was a contractor in another life.’

He notices your attention flicker to his hands, before you catch yourself and look away bashfully. ‘That’s good to know.’

‘You need things fixed?’ he asks, and promptly wants to kick himself for sounding so hopeful to be of service.

‘Here and there,’ you say with a dismissive wave. ‘It’s not important. It’ll hold up.’

He runs his tongue over his bottom lip thoughtfully. You have to work on asking for things, but it’s ok - he doesn’t push you. He files that away for later.

Glancing across the yard, he catches Ellie’s eye, who’s arching an inquisitive eyebrow and pointing straight at you with all the subtlety of a flying brick. He knows he should probably introduce you at some point, but he’s not ready to share your attention with someone else just yet, let alone the nosy teenage loudmouth.

Joel gives her a firm shake of the head, to which she responds with a disgruntled I’m watching you gesture.

Ignoring her for now - and knowing that he’ll pay for it later - he asks you, ‘And who’s that in the red dress?’

You crane your neck until you spot her. ‘Ah, that’s Patricia. She’s the dance teacher down at the school.’

‘Why’s she starin’ at me?’ he mutters.

You shoot him an amused grin. ‘Why, it looks like you’ve caught the fancy of our local femme fatale.’

He scoffs. ‘Should I be worried?’

‘Well, she’s been married and divorced three times since she arrived,’ you answer with a straight face. ‘The last one just disappeared. Never found his body.’

Joel stares at you in stunned silence, until you let out a poorly contained giggle. He grumbles, ‘Havin’ fun pullin’ my leg, sweetheart?’

‘Just a bit,’ you tease.

‘I liked you better when you were shy,’ he ribs.

You shrug. ‘Too late. You don’t scare me anymore.’

Glancing the other way, Joel sits up in alarm at the flutter of crimson fabric. ‘Shit, I think she’s comin’ this way.’

‘Time for carrot cake?’ you prompt.

He’s out of his chair quicker than you’d expect his knees would allow him to. ‘Let’s go, sweetheart.’

The state of the kitchen island stops you in your tracks, while Joel lets out a low whistle behind you. ‘Jackson really turned out for this party, huh?’

‘Well, your brother and sister-in-law are pretty popular around town,’ you quip.

You didn’t think it was possible, but every square inch of the kitchen island is now jam-packed with sugary confections, stacked on top of one another.

‘I can’t even find the bloody cake,’ you laugh, literally searching high and low as you skirt the parameter.

On the other side of the island, Joel tosses a dry good luck in your direction and puts the dirty plates and cutlery that he brought in into the sink with a clatter, turning on the hot water. You stutter to a stop opposite him, gawking at how his broad shoulders fill the frame of the window that sits in front of the sink, before your gaze inadvertently trails south - over the nip of his waist and the hem of his shirt skirting the back pockets of his jeans. You find yourself wishing he’d tucked the tails in.

Rooted to the spot, you watch him unbutton the cuffs on his flannel shirt and push up the sleeves to the crease of his elbows, baring his strong forearms. Your mouth goes dry despite the wine you’ve been sipping on all evening, peering at the sinewy muscles flexing and straining as he lathers the plates with an offhand familiarity, his thick fingers dwarfing the sponge in as he works the grease stains. 

Making quick but thorough work of the washing up, Joel dries the plates and then runs the tea towel over his big hands and wrists, catching you staring as he turns around. If he knows you’ve been watching all along, he lets it slide. Tossing the towel to one side, heat prickles under your cheeks when he sidles up to you with the clean plates.

The sight of this man doing something as mundane as dishes really shouldn’t get you this hot and bothered.

‘Is that cream cheese?’ he asks conversationally with a nod at your cake, which you have found sitting on top of a tall plastic caddy, a chocolate cake inside.

Having to consciously unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth, you’re surprised your voice doesn’t shake. ‘It’s not carrot cake without it.’

‘Where did you get the cream cheese? Never seen any ‘round town.’

Almost bashful, you admit, ‘I made it.’

His eyebrows shoot up. ‘You made cream cheese? How?’

‘It’s not that big a deal. It’s just milk, lemon and salt,’ you say, trying to downplay it. Your arms are definitely not aching from the hours of straining and beating and whipping.

‘And the walnuts?’ he asks.

‘Someone I know grows it,’ you say vaguely.

Joel hums doubtfully. ‘Ain’t seen any walnut trees in town.’

Biting your bottom lip, you can pinpoint the exact moment he figures it out, brows drawing together in a frown. ‘The only ones I’ve seen are outside the walls, ‘round the north side of the gates.’

Knowing for a fact that you’re a terrible liar, you don’t even try. You choose to ignore him, idly smoothing the frosting on top with a clean knife, trying not to flinch at the weight of his gaze on you.

‘Sweetheart, please tell me you didn’t go outside just to get walnuts for me.’

‘Not for you,’ you shoot back unconvincingly, flustered. ‘I made the cake for Tommy and Maria.’

Lies. You know it. He knows it.

His shoulders stiffen, the fabric of his shirt bunching with the movement. ‘You can’t just go outside like that, y’know, there could be infected ‘round -’

‘Joel, I’ve been living here for years, I know what I’m doing,’ you argue huffily, not expecting a lecture, of all things. ‘I’m not stupid.’

He shakes his head. ‘Ain’t what I’m sayin’, Pin -’

‘Just leave it, ok?’ you reply sharply and, signalling an end to the conversation, you slice into the cake with an aggressive stab - not noticing that it is hanging over the edge of the caddy below. 

You squeak when it flips unceremoniously, and on pure impulse, you pitch forward to stop its upward trajectory, meeting it mid-air with an ominous splat.

‘Fuck!’

To his credit, Joel barely skips a beat, quickly but calmly grabbing hold of the cake board and pulling it off you, setting it down on the counter, while you gape in dismay at the damage done. 

The side of the cake that made contact with you is smushed in, most of the thick frosting now painted all over your front, from your neck down to the lovely, thin cashmere top that Lucy picked out for you for the party.

You really hope there’s a big guy up there watching, because someone might as well enjoy this mortifying brand of comedy you keep dishing out around this man.

Two seconds more, and you’re pretty sure you would’ve burst into tears for lack of knowing what else to do - but without another word, Joel takes the lead, wrapping a firm hand around your wrist and pulling you out of the kitchen. 

You gratefully let him.

It’s none of your business really, but it comforts you that Joel’s obviously here often enough to know his way around the house.

You glance around the dimly lit room where he deposited you on the edge of a neatly made bed, water trickling in the adjoining ensuite. When he returns, he has a small, wet towel in his hands. Towering over you, the low lights don’t quite reach his face, but you can see the way his gaze slips downwards, carefully, as if he’s afraid to startle you.

But he doesn’t - not even when he slides the crook of his fingers under your chin, tilting your face up and opening up your throat.

His lips twitch wryly. ‘What a waste of perfectly good cream cheese.’

Despite yourself, a laugh escapes you at the absurdity of the situation. ‘Must something always go wrong whenever we’re in the same room?’

The corner of his mouth teases a smile. ‘Never a dull moment with you, sweetheart.’

You smile back, but it falters when his eyes burn in a quiet but unmistakable smoulder. 

‘May I?’

You’re not even sure what he’s asking. But he can ask you anything in that raspy, low baritone, and there will always only be one answer.

At your nod, Joel drags the tip of his index finger down the column of your neck, and your lips part when it glides over your windpipe - pressing just hard enough for you to feel the pressure - collecting the velvety frosting as it goes. 

Then, holding your eyes, he sucks the cream cheese off his fingertip, a hum deep in his throat. ‘Delicious, sweetheart.’

You’re sitting down, but somehow, you still feel your knees give way at how he smacks his lips at the sugary aftertaste.

He looms closer, bending at the waist and for one moment of madness, you think he might lean down and lick your neck clean. 

At the prospect of those plush lips and the burn of his silvered, patchy beard on your skin, your head tilts further back invitingly. His pupils dilate and his nostrils flare, like he’s picking up on what you’re thinking, and his eyes dip to your mouth.

But he doesn’t.

You don’t even have time to be disappointed before Joel carefully gets down on one knee in front of you, one palm landing on the mattress next to your hip for balance. Knowing the state of his joints, you want to ask if he needs a pillow, but instead of your mouth, it’s your thighs that part to make room for him. His chest keeps them splayed open, and you can feel the steady rise and fall of his ribcage with each breath through the denim. 

You try to focus on your own breathing as Joel presses the wet towel to your skin and mops up the sticky mess, his face set seriously as he cleans you up inch by inch. But all you can think about is how you can feel the imprint of his fingers through the thin fabric, and how the span of his hand can easily fit over the column of your throat -

You don’t realise you’re leaning into him until he draws back when he’s done, and you tip forward, chasing his touch. His knee groans as he stands up to his full height, and he nods towards the bathroom with a wait here in his eyes.

The water is scalding as Joel washes out the frosting from the towel, but he keeps his hands under the tap, longer than he needs to. Wringing it dry, he takes a moment, wet palms gripping the cold porcelain edge of the bathroom sink, shoulders hunched over as he tells himself to calm the fuck down.

Except, he is calm. He’s held back, even when you looked at him with such straightforward, honest want that has him grinding his teeth.

Thing is, he knows you would’ve let him nudge you backwards into the mattress and crowd you between his arms, switching places the two of you were in under your sewing desk in the workshop.

He knows you would’ve let him wrap your legs around his hips, sliding his palms up the back of your thighs in those skin tight jeans - the sight of which is enough to make his head spin - and he knows you would’ve let him nip, suck, lick the tangy buttercream off your very neck. 

Not only would you have let him - you would’ve trusted him to do all those things to you.

That last realisation awakens something he’s not so sure he has a handle on. But he knows for a fact that with the whole of Jackson milling about downstairs, in the middle of his brother’s baby shower, is neither the place nor the time.

You’re where he left you when he steps back into the bedroom, your palms planted on the bed, your shoulders relaxed. The neckline of your blouse gapes loosely, teasing the soft skin of your cleavage.

Joel breaks the loaded silence with a bit of common sense. ‘You best get that top off and soak it in the bath before the stains really set in, sweetheart.’

You bite your lip hesitantly. ‘I - I don’t have anything to change into.’

‘You can have my shirt,’ he offers.

You sit up, attention piqued, when his hands move to the top of his flannel, thick fingers sliding each button out of the holes one by one. You know he’s just taking off his shirt, but you can’t help the way your jaw goes slack, watching shamelessly, the comforter twisting in your grip as you scrabble for something to hold onto. 

Joel doesn’t understand why you’re looking at him like that, but it’s so flattering to watch you watch him, eyes hooded and your tongue darting out to wet your bottom lip, like he’s giving you a fucking strip tease or something. 

Goddamn if it doesn’t go straight to his head.

A white undervest comes into view, inch by inch, as the shirt falls open, the thin fabric pulled taut at the seams over the broad stretch of his chest. When the last button is undone, he shrugs the shirt off with a smooth roll of his arms, and your jaw drops.

The undervest barely contains the bulk of him, and you’ll be damned if you know where to look first - the lean, solid line of his arms, or the effortless ripple of muscle in his shoulders - but it’s lower where your attention makes landing, and it takes you a second to realise why.

He’s not sucking in his tummy.

The swell of his abdomen sits above the top of his jeans, where the vest is neatly tucked in. You remember too well the brush of that soft strip of skin against the back of your hands when you were on your knees, cutting him out of his jeans; and then beneath you, straddling him under the sewing table. 

While there’s an undercurrent of self-consciousness in the way he holds himself, conspicuously missing is the self-deprecation that drew your ire the day he walked into your shop with a broken zipper. A tentative confidence has taken its place, which is at the same time so endearingly vulnerable, as if your reaction to the little show he gave you just now isn’t enough to assure him of what you’re thinking.

Your fingers twitch, yearning to reach out and tug him in by the front of his jeans, to untuck that vest and push it up and off. You want to snake your hands around his waist, hold him to you by the small of his back, and starting with his tummy, kiss your way across the soft belly - maybe with a cheeky scrape of teeth - up to his firm chest, his strong neck and to his lips. 

Or maybe, the calling southwards will win out. You’ll push him back to make room for yourself at his feet, nudging your way down his front with your nose, breathe him in, your hands finding his belt buckle and tugging it out of the loops instead. Never mind you've lost count of how many years it's been since you've wanted to do that, or if you remember how at all -

‘Pin.’

Your whole body jolts backwards when his voice pierces through your addled haze, low and raspy, snapping out of your sordid stupor almost grumpily - how rude of him to interrupt? - only to find him peering down at you with a lopsided smile. 

‘Get changed, sweetheart. I’ll be right back.’

Leaving your top to soak in the sink, you pad back into the bedroom in just your bra, and you stare down at his shirt laid out neatly on top of the bed.

You press your palm over where his heart would be, the flannel still warm. For one indulgent moment, you pick up the shirt and hug it to you. It smells like him - the outdoors, a crisp spring day, with a whiff of the barbeque smoke from downstairs. You bury your nose into the soft fabric, eyes closed, imagining the weight and shape of him in it. 

Even as you put your arms through the sleeves to button it up, you already know it will be hard giving it back. You leave the last three buttons undone and you’ve just tied up the too-long ends in a double knot when there’s a polite but firm knock on the door. 

‘You decent?’

‘Yes.’

You hope your face doesn’t fall too obviously at the sight of Joel wearing a shirt again, probably one borrowed from Tommy. He leaves it unbuttoned though, which is small consolation. The air hums between you with stolen glances and words unsaid.

‘You wore those jeans for me,’ he says suddenly.

The for me rolls off his tongue coated in his delectable Southern drawl and a heady satisfaction.

You decide to be brave and shrug one shoulder in a show of attitude. ‘It was the only thing I didn’t have in the wash.’

His grin makes your heart swell. Stepping out of the open doorway, his eyes trailing heat where they linger over you, he says, ‘You look good in my shirt, sweetheart. Real good.’

You bite your lower lip at the compliment, replying shyly, ‘I like this look on you too.’

‘Used to be Tommy’s uniform during our contractor days,’ he reminiscences. ‘I’m just missing the utility belt.’

Oh. You actually find it offensive that the fleeting mention of something as banal as a utility belt should get you going like this. You try to palm off a non-committal hum, but your body betrays you with a strangled choking sound that gives you away.

Joel arches an eyebrow and closes the gap between you with three long, deliberate steps, one finger skimming where his shirt meets the waistband of your jeans. He teases with a smirk, ‘What’s that, sweetheart? This contractor look doin’ somethin’ for you?’

Your cheeks grow hot as both his palms latch boldly onto your hips, and you swear you can feel the burn of his fingertips through the denim, a moan gargling in your throat as your ability to form words abandons you.

‘That a yes?’ he prompts, hooking his thumbs through the belt loops in your jeans and tugging your body flush against his, his stubbled chin brushing the sensitive crook of your neck as he speaks into your ear.

‘Joel,’ you whine, which is the best you can do right now, grabbing onto the open flaps of his shirt just to stay upright.

You feel the rumble that goes through his chest under your palms when he purrs, smiling down at you, head cocked to one side with a playful condescension that’s going to be the end of you. ‘Yes, Pin?’

Your mouth opens, but you’ll never get to find out what you intended to say, because you hear it first - his right ear is to the door - the thunder of rubber soles on the stairs, and you're lucky you manage to stumble two steps back before a deafening (no pun intended), drawn-out call of his name follows.

‘JOOOOOOELLLL!’

Ellie crashes into the doorway with all the grace of a bull in a china shop, slightly out of breath like she’s been running all over the place searching for him, already in the middle of a sentence, as usual. 

‘- also Maria says they’re doing a speech now and you’re not getting out of -’ she breaks off abruptly when she spots you, eyes wide and brows - all one and a half of them - reaching for her hairline. ‘Oh shiiiiiit.’

Running a tired hand down his face, Joel’s sigh sounds a lot like surrender. ‘Ellie, this is Pin. Pin, I’m sorry.’

You bite your lip to hold back a laugh at the resignation in his tone as the teenager wrinkles her nose. ‘Pin? That’s a weird name.’

‘Ellie!’

You smile. ‘It’s ok. Pin's just my nickname. I’m a seamstress at the Main Street Outfitters.’

Her face lights up excitedly, an open book if you’ve ever seen one. ‘No shit! I’ve been bugging Joel for a leather jacket for ages. Can I get one?’

‘Please,’ he interjects.

Ellie tucks in her chin and juts out her bottom lip at you. ‘Please?’

You demur. ‘Well, it depends on what you can trade in for it.’

‘My boombox!’ she volunteers without skipping a beat. 

Joel scoffs. ‘Good to know those three weeks fixing that piece of junk for you was time well spent.'

‘Sorry, man, but I can’t wear a boombox can I?’ she argues.

Giving Joel an amused look, you come to his rescue. ‘I’m sorry, Ellie, but we only take clothes in exchange.’ At the way she deflates, you counteroffer, ‘Or, you can come work at the shop on Saturdays for the next couple of months. Lucy always needs help out front, and you get a staff discount.’

He turns to you, protesting, ‘That’s very kind, but it ain’t necessary -’

Ellie cuts in, rushing up to you to shake your hand before you can take it back. ‘Deal! When can I start?’

‘There’s no rush,’ you reply with a chuckle. ‘I’ll get back to you next week.’

Stepping back, Ellie winks, ‘So - let’s put a pin in it for now?’

Joel groans at the terrible pun. ‘Get outta here!’

She cackles, firing triumphant finger guns at you as she retreats. ‘What? Pin liked it, she laughed! You’re no fun old man!’ 

She then pauses by the door, her eyes narrowing as she zeroes in on something smeared on your jeans. ‘Wait - what’s that white stuff on your leg?’

‘It’s cream cheese, you little shit!’ Joel snaps as your ears burn in embarrassment. ‘Out!’

She scampers out of sight, but then reverses into view, sneakers squeaking. ‘ - Are you wearing Joel’s shirt?’

‘ELLIE!’

She throws her hands up. ‘Alright, I’m gone, I’m gone! See ya Pin!’

Joel is the very picture of an embarrassed dad, rubbing the back of his neck with a wince. ‘Sorry, she’s a handful.’

You grin, ‘She’s just a teenager.’

‘You can say that again.’

The quiet seems louder after Ellie, and you restlessly pick at the sleeves. Lifting your eyes shyly, it seems the moment has passed - but Joel has other ideas.

‘C’mere,’ he hums, drawing you close again with one hand on your waist, peering down at you through his lashes. ‘This ok?’

At your nod, he brushes his thumb on your bottom lip, catching the soft plump skin, and your tongue darts out to taste him, his eyes darkening.

‘Can I kiss you, sweetheart?’ he asks, voice hoarse.

It’s been years. Years since anyone has cared enough to kiss you, let alone cared enough to ask if they could. And it’s as if he knows - you don’t know if you’ve somehow given it away, or maybe it’s just him. 

‘Yes, Joel.’

He coaxes you closer so that you’re pressed along the whole length of him. His big palms are warm and solid on the small of your back, holding you to him like he intends for you to have trouble standing after he’s done with you. 

The tip of his nose bumps into your cheek, nudging its way across and down, and your eyes slide shut when his shaky exhale grazes your gently parted mouth. Your breath hitches at the sweet burn of his beard on your jaw, fingers grabbing onto the scruff of his neck when he finally, finally brushes his lips against yours.

For a man as hardened as Joel Miller, he sure kisses soft. He steals a whimper straight from your throat with nothing more than the clever angling of his lips, the slow drag of tongue on tongue, and a growl deep in his windpipe that you answer with your own moan.

You don’t even have the presence of mind to be embarrassed when your shins knock into his, breaking the kiss with a laugh as Joel hauls you up into his chest, looking very much pleased that he’s literally made your knees buckle.

‘Sorry,’ you squeak, beaming despite yourself.

‘You really know how to flatter a guy, sweetheart,’ he answers, his voice warming you like a smokey campfire, steadying by his hands on your hips.

‘We should probably go before Ellie comes back for us,’ you say reluctantly.

Joel huffs, ‘Ain’t gonna hear the end of it if she does.’

‘Something tells me you won’t be hearing the end of it tonight anyway,’ you tease.

He chucks you gently under the chin, his eyes soft. ‘Let’s go, sweetheart.’

‘You’ve made yourself scarce,’ remarks Lucy as she ambles up to you with a glass of wine running low. ‘Where you been, hon?’

‘Had some trouble with the cake,’ you answer vaguely.

‘Sure,’ she winks at you, unconvinced. ‘If we’re calling him that.’

Right on cue, Joel strides across the lawn with three plates to join you. ‘Thought you might want some of Pin’s carrot cake.’

‘Such a gentleman, Joel Miller,’ chirps Lucy, making what can only be described as a 'thirst face' at you when his back is turned to her.

‘Thanks, Joel,’ you smile at him, letting your fingers graze his deliberately when you take the plate from him.

Saluting you with a forkful of cake, he says, ‘Thank you for bakin’, sweetheart.’

You watch as his lips close around the fork, dragging the cake clean off the slots, cream cheese smearing the corner of his mouth. He frowns, as if in deep pain as he chews, Adam’s apple bobbing when he swallows.

‘Okay?’ you ask nervously, your slice still untouched.

‘Perfect,’ he declares, already having a second, bigger bite. Knowing he doesn’t have a superfluous bone in his body, your chest warms at his words.

‘Wait a second,’ Lucy interrupts, bringing up her plate to inspect it closely. ‘Why does the cake look all wonky?’

‘Don’t know what you’re talking about, Luce,’ you answer coolly, taking a bite yourself.

Humming around a mouthful of moist crumb, the sweet carrot balanced out by the tangy frosting, you meet Joel’s eyes in the soft glow of fairy lights, and he flashes you a conspiratorial smile that makes you grin.

More notes: On Ellie - I was so so nervous about writing our resident teenage badass. I hope I've done her justice, I certainly had a lot of fun writing her introduction to Pin! If you're interested in a detailed deep dive into my process writing this chapter, I do recommend you read the Behind the Seams for this part ❤️

I also went back and forth on the tone and style of this chapter a lot. I wasn’t happy with the way it read, probably still not 100% happy. I like the way Seams and Threads were written better, but the fact is that this chapter is a very different setting and narrative compared to the first two, so I’m trying to be too hard on myself.

So, I have some ideas for where the story will go from here, but nothing concrete. As I've mentioned, I see this fic as more of a loose-fit series, so there's no overarching plot per se, but there's definitely a lot of room for future episodes of these two - I mean, they haven't even done the deed yet 😉

Comments, asks and reblogs are greatly appreciated as always! Thank you so much for reading, I'm so excited to hear what you guys thought of this chapter 😘