#shes been terminated once already

[yeyinde]

Is this your primary or secondary blog? 😇😇

this is my one and only blog! i can barely keep up with this one as it is, so having two would stress me out 🖤

[luminiamore]

SHH.

older brother choso x babysitter reader

a/n: this was for someone who requested a reader with waist beads. had such writers block with this omg

warnings: sub choso, he says mommy like once

masterlist

Homeless. The word never came to mind when you juggled around the possibilities of moving out of your parents’ home. You worked a decent job; it wasn’t much, but it was enough to pay the rent and small utilities. You never thought about what you would do if you happened to not have a job anymore. It never seemed plausible.

But unless this was some elaborate prank from your forbearing boss, you’re staring at a termination letter in the darkness of your room. You’re fired. There’s the proof right there, written in a fine, bold red print. They needed to cut budgets- they had to let a few people go. There’s also the fake sympathies of ‘We’re sorry to let you go’ and ‘You were a great employee’— all bullshit, really. A poor attempt at making you feel better.

You should’ve prepared for this, should’ve saved for more than a month’s rent. But you didn’t, and unless you find something in the next two weeks, you will run out of food. You had little experience, you had only been working at that café shop for three months. You try to find the same position at a different place, a little bit further from your place.

“Why do you want to work here?” A sharp feminine voice blinks you of your thoughts. Your eyes swiftly turn to the lady recruiter, but you frown when you realize hers were shifted downwards— on her notepad.

Because ya’ll are hiring?

You decide to take the honest route. You need to pay rent; you don’t have the capacity to come up with a lie. Maybe she’ll take pity on you.

“.. I- Uh. I just got fired from my previous job and only saved one month’s rent- I like the peacefulness of working at a local café since that was what I used to do. Your company also promotes natural and healing ingredients; that’s admirable.” You choose your words carefully.

You hear a hum, “Do you like these things?”

“I do. I like taking care of myself in and out, even energetically. It’s why I have these waist beads. They’re stones each have different healing properties.” Should you have rambled like that?

Your waist is a target of her attention, and as you mentioned, a collection of colorful, small, spherical stones adorn your waist. At least seven of them sat snugly under your slender stomach.

You piqued her interest because the next twenty minutes of your interview were a deep conversation about the different meanings held by the stones you wore. Maybe you’re reading too much into it, but her tone made it seem like she was impressed.

She dismisses you with a, ‘Expect a call in two weeks.’ and a smile. The only one she’s given you since you got here.

The wind in New York was quite strong, so when your shoes clattered on the cement beneath you, you were surprised when a paper hit you right in the face. Your lipgloss held the paper in place. You pull yourself to the side after moving the paper, and you see something just as you’re about to crumble it up.

babysitter wanted asap, will pay $50 an hour!

And just under that, his Instagram and a small description.

my name is choso, and i need some help looking after my little brother. he’s 5 years old, very cheerful, and generally well-behaved. i’m only 20, and if i continue taking care of him alone, i’ll probably fail my classes. it’s just the two of us, so if you’re interested my ig is @c.kamo

In all honesty, you were already hooked when you read $50 per hour. Is he rich or something? When you type in his Instagram, you’re taken aback.

The man you see now is dangerously attractive, making you wonder if this is a prank. You click on his story and- how lucky are you? The piercings on his eyebrow, nose, and lip were a striking contrast to his pale white face. His jaw is exceptionally sharp, his lips are pink and full, and his hair is styled into two adorable pigtails.

When you press your finger to show the following picture, you audibly gasp. His abs were pushing through a tight black compression shirt. His arms are veiny, firm- big. Your Uber almost left without you because of how struck you were.

You fold the paper stu, put it in your purse, and follow him, deciding to text him when you’re home. You just hope he’s still looking for a babysitter, you don’t know how long this paper has been rolling around the streets.

As usual, the doorman greeted you happily when you arrived after a short ride to your apartment. The constant buzzing on your phone since you got here has reminded you of the potential job offer that came to your attention a few moments ago.

You’re pushing your pants down when you go to his profile again, and you stop abruptly when you realize the man who followed nobody followed you back, and he sent you a message. A smile slowly creeps onto your lips, making you feel giddy.

That was easy, you think. If you had known how easy it was to earn money elsewhere, you would have quit ages ago. It makes you overthink, worrying that this was another one of those sex trafficking schemes you haven’t heard of yet.

Choso sends you his number afterwards and instructions for tomorrow. You feel at ease knowing that the address he sends you is in one of the skyscrapers in Long Island City. He even sent you the apartment number and told you to use his full name so the doorman could ring you up.

That morning, he informed you of a few things about Yuji. He may be reserved because his previous babysitters didn’t appreciate his energetic personality. Though, Choso assures you that once he feels comfortable, it won’t be long until he opens up. You’re a bit sad to hear that those who looked after him before weren’t very kind and that Yuji would often complain that he would have to play alone.

You figured they only mentioned babysitting to get Choso. When you told him this, his only response was,

��get with me? i don’t see why, is there something in particular they want?’

Yeah, what’s in your pants. Is what you wanted to say.

Yuji leaves you feeling surprised when you meet him. This boy wasn’t anything like a reserved one. You don’t believe he could manifest such a thing. When he came to greet you, he jumped on you, and you had to quickly pull your hands from your pockets and catch him so he wouldn’t fall. You’re chuckling, and your voice is comforting the little boy when you speak,

“Oh! Hi, sweetheart. Nice to meet you, Yuji.”

His smile is blinding when he looks up at you, “You’re pretty! What are those beads for? Are you my new babysitter? Will you play with me?”

Choso observes your interactions with his brother and how you answer his questions as if it’s second nature. The beads that his brother mentioned caught his attention the moment you stepped through his door. He’s ashamed. He feels utterly ashamed to admit that he’s been gazing at them.

Out of curiosity at first, but then he noticed the way they moved whenever you did.

Choso was not the type to indulge in lustful thoughts. He didn’t have trouble keeping his eyes away from the previous babysitters who arrived at his house in the shortest skirts ever made.

So, why is it so hard to look away from you? From your waist?

There’s nothing revealing about what you’re wearing. Your outfit consists of a flowing white skirt that touches the ground, and he noticed that a black tank top keeps bouncing up no matter how many times you try to pull it down. Despite this, he is still unable to look away. You look soft, the beads are loosely adorning your hips, and suddenly, he can’t help but think of how his hands would look there.

Choso blinks. Where did that come from?

He shakes his head, attempting to shake himself away from these fantasies. He has to leave. He will miss his class if he doesn’t leave his seat on the kitchen counter.

He clears his throat, “He seems to like you already. I have to leave now.. for class. I’ll be home in 3 hours, and there is money on the counter if either of you gets hungry.”

When he speaks, you notice the uncomfortable look on his face. Does he not want to go? Is he worried? Although you hope not, you are questioning yourself when he walks towards you on the floor and gives his brother a kiss, but then passes you without even giving you a glance.

Well... That was uncalled for. Yuji takes hold of your hand and leads you to his LEGO collection, preventing you from pondering it.

Choso doesn’t come home in three hours like he said. Rather, two hours later. He did let you know, though. He really wasn’t the type to do this, so it wouldn’t be fair to you if he didn’t. He tried his best to delay as much as possible because he wasn’t ready to see you yet. He was afraid of those thoughts from earlier and wasn’t prepared to come face-to-face with them again.

Alas, he had to. He closes the door to his apartment with a smooth click and is greeted with the sound of TV. He doesn’t hear much, but what he thinks is.. light snoring?

He makes a slow walk to the living room, and there you both are. You’re lying on your back, your mouth slightly open in a light snore, and your left arm is dangling off the corner of the cushion. Yuji is on top of you, also on his back, and is practically in the same position as you.

Choso’s instincts drive him to walk towards you both, and what he does next is entirely natural. He lightly ruffles Yuji’s hair to avoid waking him and kisses his forehead. He thinks you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, even with the few hairs on your laid black lace that covers your right eye when he looks up at you.

He brushes it to the side, immediately flinching back when you move your head in your sleep. What the fuck is he doing?

He rushes to get a glass of water, taking care not to make any abrupt sounds. He wants to let you sleep a little, he reasons with himself that he’s just being a good person. In reality, he doesn’t want you to leave yet. He refuses to believe he does not want to wake you because of his selfish motives.

“Choso?”

He jumps, almost dropping the glass in his hand.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. Yuji-” When he fully faces you, he stops short. The pictures on your Instagram had nothing on you, honestly. Both your skirt and tank top are now lower than when you came here, and he can clearly see your voluptuous tits. The cute pudge of your stomach wrapped by those fucking waist beads is also visible to him.

You’re still half asleep when you notice he’s not talking, so you don’t care much to interrogate him. Your tone of voice is one of concern when you say, “I put Yuji in his room, don’t worry. You okay?”

No. Far from it, actually. That is what he desperately wants to say. But how could he explain what it is that’s really wrong with him? He’s having unnatural thoughts about you, including your body and face. You might think that he’s a creep. Yuji seems to have a good relationship with you. What is the probability that he will find someone like you again?

He doesn’t want to risk it; he doesn’t want to take that chance. So, he answers you, “I’m great. Nothing is wrong at all. Did you, uh, have fun with Yuji?”

“Oh, yeah! He was great, he always had something new for us to…”

Whatever you’re talking about gets tuned out by Choso. He hates himself for it. He’s sure what you’re saying is important, he doesn’t doubt it for a second. But did you ever notice that your lips twitch whenever you speak? That you start playing with the ends of your hair when you suddenly become hyper-aware that his eye contact is unwaveringly on you.

He’s not looking directly into your eyes but rather at your entire body. His eyes would shift from your lips, then to your chest, but they would always find their way back to your hips. You had a hunch that he wasn’t really listening to what you were saying. And you catch on quickly, so you decide to tease him.

“I think if I keep stretching, I’ll be able to do the splits in a week. Don’t you think so, Cho?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah.” Cho? You already gave him a nickname?

Even though you stifle a giggle, it eventually becomes a full-blown laugh. The mere sound brings Choso to a smile before he covers his face sheepishly.

“I didn’t mean to zone you out, I just had a long day.”

“I can see that.” You finish your fit of giggles and move over to his fridge and check to see if you have any leftovers from earlier, “You should eat. There’s some leftover Chinese in the fridge, I can heat it up for you?”

He hurriedly takes his bag off and drops it on the ground before sitting on the countertop. “I’d have to pay you more for your services.”

“You don’t have to pay me, I can’t in my good conscience leave you alone like that. You can barely stand up.” As you microwave some leftover fried rice, you can hear him hum. All the while, his eyes never leave your frame- waist.

“This is actually the first time I didn’t have to rush home early.” He murmurs, his hand holding his face up while he admires you.

As you wait for the timer to end, you turn your attention towards him, “Really? Is that why you took your sweet time coming home?”

He likes how you say ‘coming home’, as if he’s coming home to you. As though you were living together. When he detects the annoyance in your tone, he frowns, “I apologized.”

You notice his pout as you hand him the hot plastic food container. “It won’t happen again if that’s what you’re worried about. Please don’t quit, I really-”

“Woah, I’m not quitting.”

You cut him off, and he can reply with nothing but an “Oh.”

When you gather your purse and keys, Choso watches- You’re leaving already?

“Yeah, you pay really well, anddd I like Yuji.” You were sincere. A salary like this shouldn’t be wasted because of a delayed arrival. At least he informed you that he would be late; that’s better than nothing. And it’s true, you really liked Yuji. It was natural for you to get along with him as if he was already a family member.

It’s endearing how Choso abandons his food to follow after you as you walk towards his door. “It was fun babysitting, Cho! Text me when you need me-”

“Tomorrow? Could you come again tomorrow at the same time?”

You’re momentarily speechless, but remember he’s waiting for a response, “Tomorrow?”

“I might need you for the rest of the week actually, I have a few finals coming up.” Choso is smart. He doesn’t really need to study for these finals, but he figures he can use that as an excuse to have you here, with him.

You stutter out, “Well- Well, I still have to go job hunting..”

“I can triple your pay. Quadruple it if you want.” He said without delay as if he hadn’t offered to pay you more than $500 daily just to spend some time with his brother.

“Is money just not that big of an issue for you?” You laugh, perplexed as to why this man is just throwing money at you like you’re a common whore.

Not when it comes to you, no. “No. Will you come back for the week?” His answer is blunt, honest, stoic even, like he doesn’t catch on to why you’re in such disbelief.

“I- I guess.” At that moment, he offers you a lazy smile and wishes you goodnight. He complemented his words with a sweet ‘You looked very pretty today, by the way.’ Allowing you to drive away in the Uber flustered and thinking about the entire interaction on your way home.

The next four days were the same: Choso left for class, you spent an afternoon with Yuji, and a small conversation and meal between you and Choso happened right before you left for that night in the kitchen. You assumed it would be the same when he asked you to take care of Yuji while he was studying at home.

As you neared the end of the week, those conversations grew longer…and more secluded. Choso is usually found in his room with his face stuffed in a big textbook and his notes. When you sat on his bed, he would move them to the side and give you his full attention.

“So, you’ve never had a girlfriend?” You repeat his statement back at him with a look of apprehension. How is that even possible? He’s hot, rich, and really smart, too. How come he’s not taken?

When he answers you, he doesn’t seem embarrassed, “No. I haven’t met anyone.. interesting, yet.”

You stare at the ceiling as you take in his words, “Are you saving yourself for marriage?”

“I’ve had sex once. It wasn’t memorable enough for me to do it again.” Choso’s face becomes warm when he responds to you. Is it even right for him to share these things with you? He is curious about your thoughts when you don’t speak for an entire minute. His body is shaking in anxiety while he is in his gaming chair.

You huff, sprawled out on his bed, “I don’t think anyone’s first time is the best.”

He raises a brow, making a sound that urges you to finish, “You need experience to figure out what you like and don’t like.”

“Do-Do you have experience?”

You smile and finally turn to look at the pale man, “Why, yes, I do.”

“…Could you teach me some things?”

Silence. Choso doesn’t know why he said that. He’s not sure why you guys are even talking about this. Maybe it was too soon? Maybe you didn’t see him that way? What if you decide to leave?

“M-Maybe I shouldn’t have said that. You don’t have to-”

“Sure, I’ll teach you.” Lifting yourself off his bed, you stop in front of the space between his legs. The physical struggle he’s facing to not grab you can be seen as he repositions his eyes on your waist again.

Leaning close to his lap, you place your hands on his shoulders, “If that’s what you really want.”

Your movements are slow, particularly when you put your ass right on his bulge, which has been there since you entered his room. Choso is at a loss with his hands, so you help by positioning them on both sides of your hips. He instantly squeezes and you can’t help but notice that small mewl coming from his lips.

“Is that what you want, Cho?”

His nod is swift and desperate even as his mind starts to get hazy. You smell really good, and the feeling of you on his lap is quickly becoming something he wants more of. His head is already in the crook of your neck, and his soft lips touch you before he tentatively sucks.

You gently pull his head back by his hair, and the sound that comes from his lips is raw and deafening. “Don’t go mute now. Use your words.”

“Yes.. please.” He’s panting, his eyes hooded and low as he gazes into yours. His words prompt you to gently press your lips against his, proving his resolve. He didn’t have much, or any at all, because he snatched your lips harshly. You’re gasping because of the sensation of his hands gripping your waist and pulling at your waist beads. He’s grumbling about how you taste and how you feel so much softer than he could ever imagine.

Choso’s breath becomes choppy when you start grinding against his bulge, and he can even detect your swollen lips through your shorts. His hands begin to creep up your body, and his fingers immediately pull down the top of your tank, exposing your tits. You weren’t even wearing a bra.

You swallow loudly when he releases your lips and lowers his head to wrap them around your dark areola, squeezing the other hand to ensure it’s not neglected. Choso gets lost in your taste and hypnotized by how you twitch and buck whenever he bites gently. He withdraws with a pop and swiftly leans down to fill his mouth with the one his hand was holding.

You gasp out, “Since this is a lesson, I should teach you how to-”

“Eat you out?” Although his words are muffled, you can still hear them clearly. You make an effort to chuckle, but he bites your nipples again, making you release a small moan. There’s no chance to react because he suddenly lifts you up, takes two steps from his chair, and sets you down on his bed.

Choso is prompt and hurries you out of your shorts and panties. The lace pair is flimsy and rips easily due to his strength- his eagerness. His face is flush against your cunt as he forces your legs apart. Even if you tried, you couldn’t move because of his firm clasp.

Your lips are gleaming and dripping on his lips, you are so wet. When he finally drags his tongue between your folds, he can feel your throbbing, “You taste amazing.”

His lips wrap around your clit and suck harshly, causing slight twitching and cross eyes. It’s impossible to think he only did this once. He’s sucking so obscenely and poking at your quivering hole incessantly. Choso is moaning against you like he’s been dying to do this. There’s no way he only did this once. You’re overwhelmed by the way he’s making you feel,

“Right there! Shit- Oh! You’re doing so- so good.”

At the praise, his eyes roll back, and his cock throbs against his boxers. The way he slowly pushes his middle finger into you is riveting, stretching you better than your fingers could ever. Your breath staggers as you let out a sinful moan.

Your hips begin buckling, your beads thrash as you move, and Choso has to put a heavy hand on your stomach to prevent you from running away when he accelerates his ministrations. He’s keeping you steady while curling his finger upwards and punching your G-spot over and over again. He adds another one and twists them, hoping to receive your praise again.

You wail out a beautiful symphony, “Yes- fuck! M’gonna cum. You’re gonna make me cum, baby.”

He loves the way you make dirty words sound angelic. He’s the one who’s going to make you cum, he’s the one making you tremble and cry out at the mercy of his tongue and two fingers. The pressure in your stomach is so intense that you feel like you’re on fire, like a dam is about to burst.

“Cum. Please, please. I want it so bad, want you to make a m-mess.”

Your head is turning as he continues to make love with your hole, kissing the hood of your clit with his rough passion. An earth-shattering orgasm rips through you, and your chest rises up and down as your back arches without much help. With your head thrown back, your hands scramble to grab his hair to keep him where he is. He was too determined to savor every last bit of your sweet essence, so he wouldn’t even dare move anyway.

As you stumble out, your body shakes violently, “Ah! You’re such a good boy, Cho.”

Low whimpers vibrate against your core, and you don’t delay in pulling him up your body and kissing him, moaning when you taste yourself on his tongue. He’s becoming needy once more and doesn’t hesitate to start grinding his fat cock against your thigh- his boxers being long gone.

He doesn’t pull away from your lips when he speaks, “Can I put it in now? Please?”

The way he begs is so sweet, and it makes you coo as your soft hand grabs his length to lead it to your sopping cunt. Jesus, he’s big. Abnormally big, how did he hide this?

You’re teasing him by slowly sliding his flushed tip between your lips, never going in. His moans are whiny, and his hips twitch every time he goes over your tight hole. Choso’s balls are churning, he might just cum like this.

“Please- wanna fuck you. Just put it in, p-put it- Fuck.”

His lips swell with a deep moan as you finally push his tip in. You’re so wet, so warm. He has to push the rest of his thick cock inside to feel you clench on him entirely, and he does. He bucks instantly, forcing almost half of him inside your dripping mound, and the stretch he’s giving you is painful but euphoric.

You have to silence Choso with your lips against his lips after he releases another pornographic moan, “Shh, baby. Don’t- Don’t wanna wake your brother up.”

You move your hips, causing him to slip the remaining inches inside you. He’s speedy in pulling back, bringing his tip to your entrance, and then slamming his hips against yours. You’re groaning against his lips, gasping every time you hear a slick noise coming from between your legs.

The sensation of your cunt being so warm and suffocating him back inside with a tight grip is making his mind go into a coma. As Choso gives you deep, sweet strokes, his hold on your waist is harsh, and you anticipate feeling sore tomorrow. He’s not going to last long, you feel too good.

“You’re fucking me so good, Cho! Harder, baby. Just like that, fuck me harder.” He follows your instructions swiftly as if he’s afraid of disappointing you. Your words are motivating him to work harder, to make this experience perfect for you.

He’s whimpering pathetically above you, his thrusts getting harsher and deeper when he fucks into you. “M’gonna cum. You feel so- Shit. Please- Please let me fill you up.”

“Yeah? Wanna fill me up? Beg a little more.” As you whisper in a daze, you’re spent and almost at your peak.

“Pleasepleasepleaseplease- Ah shit! Please, mommy!” Choso moans into your neck while his hips bump into yours in uncoordinated movements. Your cunt is a perfect fit against him, he can’t get enough of it.

You were surprised by the impact a single word had on you. You’re wrapping your legs around the man above you, arching your back off the bed as your fat pussy squeezes his cock, releasing your juices all over his body. That’s all Choso needs to dump his seed inside of you, having to bite your shoulder to not release a loud moan that would surely wake Yuji up.

Choso falls onto you, both of your movements still, as your breaths are heavy and your bodies are dripping with sweat. You don’t speak but rather sink into his embrace and the aftertaste. He finally ends the silence,

“I think I know what I like now.”

You make a confused sound, “What’s that?”

“..You. I like you.”

As you prepare to respond, a faint snoring noise interrupts you. He fell asleep. You chuckle and stroke his hair in a comforting motion before kissing the side of his head. Your mind is brimming with unspoken thoughts of,

I like you too.

[moonstruckme]

Happy birthday and congratulations on 7k!! You deserve it. Thank you for sharing your gift for writing with us <3

Can I request apple pie- James potter + an airport terminal at midnight

I once saw a guy at the airport who looked a bit like James but I was looking busted and severely hungover from my last night of spring break to talk to him 😅

Thank you for requesting lovely!!

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 688 words

“Excuse me.” 

The voice is soft but still you wake with something like a growl brewing in your chest, fingers tightening possessively around the strap of your backpack. There’s a boy with brown eyes and a strong chin looking at you concernedly from behind a pair of glasses. 

“Sorry,” he says, setting a hand on your suitcase. You’ve got your leg hooked through the handle, but he doesn’t look like he’s trying to steal it, only resting his hand there. “Would you like this?” He holds up a clumped-up mass of fabric. 

You blink at him, trying to puzzle out whether he’s really making no sense or whether you’re just that tired. 

“For your head,” the boy clarifies. “You just, you don’t look very comfortable.” 

You lift your head, feeling the imprint that something poking through your backpack has left in your cheek. “Sorry,” you say blearily. “I don’t understand.” 

“That’s my fault,” he owns immediately. “Sorry, I meant would you like to use my hoodie as a pillow? So you can sleep properly.” 

“Oh.” You still feel odd, and it doesn’t help that this is the sort of thing that might usually only happen in a dream. Since when do attractive strangers walk up to you in airports? “Um, thank you, but you don’t have to.” 

“No, it’s really alright.” With your head lifted, he starts positioning it atop your backpack, fluffing it as though it’s a real pillow. “It’s my spare. I’m warm enough without it, see?” He gestures to the hoodie he’s wearing as if to demonstrate. It’s a deep red color that looks nice against his warm skin. He does look very warm, overall. “Anyways, there.” He steps back, grinning almost bashfully as he takes a seat across from you. “Now hopefully you can sleep better.” 

“Thank you,” you say quietly. 

He nods, still smiling much too brightly for this hour of night (or morning, you suppose. Is it morning yet?). 

You close your eyes, trying to ignore how pleasantly warm your makeshift pillow is, like he’s been carrying it around in his arms all day. It smells nice, too, the scent of a shampoo you vaguely recognize and also pine, maybe picked up from wherever he’s coming from. You open your eyes again. 

“When’s your flight?” 

He looks back at you, pulling his headphones off one ear. 

“When’s your flight?” you ask again. “So I can make sure to give it back in time.” 

“Oh, not for a few hours yet.” He waves you off. His headphones come down around his neck. “We’re suffering delays. When’s yours?” 

“Five-thirty.” You feel weary at the thought of it, though you can’t wait to get out of here. You’ve been dying to leave this airport since you’d arrived, grievously regretting your decision to save money on a hotel for the last night of your trip. 

He makes a sympathetic hissing noise. “That sounds truly awful. Early bird gets the worm, though?” 

“Something like that.” 

He smiles, and maybe it’s the fluorescent lighting but you think that if you weren’t already lying down it would take your knees out from under you. “I’m James.” 

You tell him your name, and he nods like he’s tucking it away. 

“Are you going on holiday?” he asks, crossing one of his legs under him, getting comfortable. 

“Sort of,” you reply. “I’m going to see my mum. But she makes it feel like a holiday.” Something softens around James' eyes, and for reasons unknown it makes your face warm. “Where are you headed?” 

“My best mates are spending the holiday in France. They’ve spared me a pullout couch.” James tilts his head, looking far more content than anyone traveling at this hour ought to be. You wonder if his lips just lie in a permanent uptilt. “So where you’re going to visit your mum, is that where you’re from?” 

You reposition your backpack so you’re propped up a bit more, James’ hoodie still under your cheek but suddenly feeling less keen on sleeping the hours until your flight away. Oddly, you’re no longer dying to leave this airport quite so badly.

[vorestarr]

ascended astarion and vampire spouses

so I've been reading the dnd 2e manual "Van Richten's Guide to Vampires" for fic/game inspiration, and there's this really interesting chapter on vampire brides and grooms. after reading it, it's very clear to me that Astarion didn't turn Tav into a typical spawn, but into a vampire spouse, which are two very different rituals with very different outcomes.

the typical vampire spawn creation process is exactly what Astarion describes happening to him: a painful death, a painful rebirth into undeath, fighting his way out of his own coffin, and Cazador's complete control over him. this is described pretty clearly in the guide to vampires:

According to most related tales, a vampire can create another simply by killing a mortal either with its life-energy draining power (draining all the character's experience leveIs) or by exhausting the mortal of his or her blood supply. If the victim's body is not properly destroyed, it arises as a vampire, under the control of the creature who killed it, on the second night following the burial. [...] Most vampires remember the instant of their death and the nature of their killer, and understand immediately their new nature. Certainly their new hunger gives them a good idea of what they have become. They must immediately free themselves from their grave. either by breaking it open from within or by assuming gaseous form and diffusing out.

so that's definitely what happened to Astarion, but that's not what happens to Tav. after ascended Astarion turns Tav into a vampire, they can ask him what happened, and he describes the following:

Astarion: You are so beautiful... And you will be beautiful forever. Thank you for trusting me. Player: What exactly happened? Astarion: You were drained dry, and at the height of your delirium, I granted you one drop of my own blood. Things will be a touch different for you than they were for me when I was a spawn. I'm imbibed with unfathomable new talents. I am fairly certain I can extend Mephistopheles' blessings unto you. Player: Does that mean I need not fear the sun? Astarion: You need not fear anything. You will be stronger, swifter, sharper, but you won't be different. You were already perfect before. It's hard to improve.

for reference, this is how the guide to vampires describes the ritual for vampire spouses:

To actually create the bride, the vampire bestows what is known as the "Dark Kiss". lt samples the blood of its mortal paramour—once, twice, thrice—draining her almost to the point of death. This process causes the subject no pain; in fact, it has been described as the most euphoric, ecstatic experience, in comparison to which all ether pleasures fade into insignificance. Just as the subject is about to slip into the terminal coma from which there is no awakening, the vampire opens a gash in its own flesh—often in its throat—and holds the subject's mouth to the wound, As the burning draught that is the vampire’s blood gushes into the subject's mouth, the primitive feeding instinct is triggered, and she sucks hungrily at the wound, enraptured. With the first taste of the blood, the subject is possessed of great and frenzied strength (Str 18, if the character’s Str isn't already higher), and will use it to prevent the vampire from separating her from the fountain of wonder that is its bleeding wound. lt is at this point that the creator-vampire's strength is most sorely tested. He is weakened by his own blood loss, and also by his own rapture as the "victim" of a dark kiss. Overcoming the sudden loss of strength and the inclinations of lust, the vampire must pull her away from its own throat, hopefully without harming her, before she has overfed. Should the subject be allowed to feed for too long (more than 2 rounds), she is driven totally and incurably insane, and will die in agony within 24 hours. Once the subject has stopped feeding, she falls into a coma that lasts minutes or hours (2dl2 turns), at the end of which time she dies. Several (1 d3) hours later, she arises as a Fledgling vampire—and her creator's bride.

this to me sounds like what Astarion describes. he drains Tav almost dry, and at the very last moment, gives them a single drop of his blood. (also interesting reading this guide, the single drop avoids the problem of the vampire spouse being driven ravenous with hunger for the vampire creator's blood and attacking them. did Astarion know this and give them one drop on purpose to avoid that and Tav potentially being driven mad by it? or was he being selfish and this is just a nice but unanticipated outcome?)

i kept reading and there's a lot more interesting information about vampire spouses, but the most interesting thing I found related to the game was this:

Although there are some folk tales that describe the bride of a vampire as its slave, in much the same way that offspring are slaves, a bride is free-willed from the moment of her creation. The creator vampire does have great influence over the bride. however although this control is totally nonmagical. When a vampire is created in the traditional manner—that is, when a victim's life energy is completely drained away—the new fledgling instinctively understands much about the vampiric way of unlife, and about its own strengths, weaknesses* and needs. Not so the bride.

so basically, the vampire spouse is not tied to the vampire creator in the same way as a spawn (i.e., not able to be fully controlled) but is still extremely reliant on the vampire creator to teach them how to live as a vampire. the guide goes on to describe that some vampire creators may lie to their vampire spouse about the control or powers they have, in order to exert more control over them.

interestingly, if you ask Astarion if he can compel you the way Cazador compelled him, he doesn't give a straight answer, he just says this:

Player: Cazador could compel you - can you compel me? Astarion: Why would I need to? You're going to be wonderfully obedient.

to me, all of this says that Astarion was telling the truth when he told Tav that they would be different from him as a spawn, and also in emphasizing that they are not a spawn but a consort. he didn't create a spawn, he created a vampire spouse. he married Tav, and because of this Tav also retains their free will.

of course, Astarion doesn't say this. if he knows, he withholds this information in much the way that this guide describes, as a way for the creator to maintain more control over their spouse. but still, extremely interesting implications for the ascended Astarion romance, imo.

other interesting facts about vampire spouses from the guide to vampires:

the married couple has telepathic communication that can span miles -- so Tav and Astarion can potentially have a telepathic bond even after the tadpoles are gone. (another note, this communication has to be consensual both ways for it to work, so you can't just dig around someone's mind if they don't want it.)

the vampire creator is extremely jealous and possessive. (yeah lol)

their life forces are linked, so one suffering a great deal is felt by the other.

the bond can be broken, but the ritual to do so has to be initiated by the creator. to break it, they both spill their blood on the ground and allow it to mix. this dissolves all aspects of the bond (i.e., telepathy and linked life forces), but the spouse stays a vampire.

[hedgehog-moss]

My self-imposed chore for today was to clean the donkey's shelter + 1/4th of the pasture, use the most composted manure that's basically already soil for my potato growing bags, and use the rest to shut down (and fertilise) one of the llamas' bathtubs.

See, the llamas dig these grassless circles with their pointy camelid nails so they can dustbathe like giant gerbils to keep parasites away. I fully accept that it is a healthy and normal llama behaviour but I wish they'd dig one bathtub and stick to it. Instead, every few months they abandon their bathtub and go dig a new one, and never seem to wonder how the sterile moon craters they leave behind end up magically fertile and grassy again.

It's not magic! It's me. I keep moving your (excellent, nutritious, full of plant seeds) poop from one spot to the other so the pasture doesn't become a polka-dotted graveyard of former bathtubs. I understand that if you were wild llamas you would abandon the bathtub and not return for months or years so grass would have time to grow back (I have read Pampe's 600-page manifesto on the health & environmental benefits of wild roaming), but surely you could notice your habitat has changed, and change your behaviour accordingly.

Use your abandoned bathtubs as latrines, for example, so I no longer have to move the poop where it is needed. Or at the very least set up your latrines uphill from the bathtubs? so I can push my extremely heavy wheelbarrows of manure down the slope? 🙏 There are options.

(In the foreground of this video you can see a former bathtub that was covered in manure a few months ago and has begun to heal, and in the background, Pampy happily starting a new one.)

Another thing: there is no need to act like I'm committing a crime when I cover an abandoned bathtub with manure. I only do it once I'm sure everyone has moved on from this one and yet it often prompts Pampelune (Bathtub Administrator) to start digging several new ones like she's convinced I have been gripped by a mindless bathtub-confiscating frenzy and if she doesn't outpace me she'll never get to feel the soft caress of dirt on her wool again.

Sometimes it even triggers protest movements.

Not really—I thought this was a protest involving a lie-in, or maybe a lock-on. In a complex triangle formation around the terminated bathtub (and I was going to say, that's not how this works. You're supposed to glue yourself to the ground of your bathtub to obstruct my work and refuse to budge even when I start shovelling manure on your heads. Protesting after the fact and from a safe distance is pointless and performative)—but then I realised my interpretation was clearly wrong. This was a llama mourning rite to honour last summer's bathtub, and the triangle symbolism simply represents the three stages of life, and the fact that everything, even beloved dust bathing spots, has a beginning, heyday, and end.

[earthchica]

Funny How Time Flies

terry richmond x black, fem!/plus size reader

summary: you are a shy, introverted person who wants to break out of your shell and experience fun at least once in your life. During a mutual friend's group trip, you meet Terry and have the best sex with him. Once the fun is over, will you and Terry stay in touch?

warnings: explicit smut (18+), light use of daddy, foul language, dirty talking, dom/sub, oral (f), pussy slaps, fingering, unprotected sex, nicknames (beautiful, baby, baby girl), words: (3k)

note: hey, I'm working on another mini-series, but this one is sweet, wholesome, and freaky! let me know your thoughts and if you want to be tagged in future parts. please enjoy!

part two

You’ve been shy and introverted your entire life, often feeling tired of this loneliness. Your daily routine typically consists of working, exercising, and returning home, which leaves little opportunity for social interaction or adventure.

While you go out when you want to, most of your time is spent at home with your loving dog. Despite that, you know something is missing—particularly, a boyfriend and a more vibrant social life.

The anxiety stemming from your shyness made it difficult for you to step outside your comfort zone. You want to seek more experiences beyond the walls of your home and be more outgoing.

When your friends Sasha and Maya invited you on a group trip, you accepted. They were surprised but happy and reassured you that you wouldn’t feel left out or awkward during the trip.

Sasha, in particular, couldn’t contain her excitement, as explained by her boyfriend, Bryce. He was bringing his old marine friend, Terry Richmond.

You met the girls at the airport and greeted them with hugs. Sasha explained that Bryce and Cameron needed to find Terry, which made you feel nervous. She told you a little about him, but ultimately, you would have to form your own opinion about him.

"Oh, here they come! Finally,” Sasha replied, gesturing towards three tall, fit men in the distance.

Bryce was a tall, dark-skinned man, while Cam was kind of brown-skinned since he was lighter than Bryce. Then your eyes led to him. Who must be Terry?

At that moment, you felt an undeniable spark of love at first sight. Terry was slightly taller than Bryce and Cam and had a lighter skin tone.

He was so handsome, with good hands, good lips, and, good god, a nice body!!! He was fine, and you wanna intertwine him.

"Good, made it back on time and found big dawg," Bryce nudged Terry on the arm, laughed, and then moved over to Sasha.

"Yeah, bro was at the wrong damn gate/terminal," Cam said, walking over to Maya and greeted her with a kiss on the forehead.

"My fault; it's been a minute since I've been at the damn airport; y'all know I don't travel a lot," Terry chuckled lightly as he caught you staring, prompting you to look away.

"Well, we're glad you found him. Now...um, Terry, I want you to meet someone," Maya said with a smile.

He raised his eyebrows curiously and she motioned towards you and introduced you to Terry by using your name.

“Hey, there!” He said, giving a polite wave, and you just stared at him. Everyone looked at you, awaiting your response, but nothing came out until Sasha nudged you.

“Hi,” you said, waving back with a small mile. You held his gaze for a moment, feeling a flutter of nerves in your stomach, before shyly turning your eyes away.

The flight to Cancun, Mexico, is currently boarding for its scheduled departure at 1 PM. Passengers are advised to have their boarding passes and identification ready and to proceed to the gate promptly.

"Okay, that's us. Who's ready to get Lit?" Maya clapped her hands, easing the awkwardness and creating a more hype vibe.

Sasha wrapped her arm around your shoulders playfully, giving you a knowing look through her sunglasses.

"Look at you, drooling all over Terry already; I told you he would be your type," She teased, and you playfully hit her arm.

Soon enough, you were all on the plane, and of course, you were sitting next to Terry. He was talking to you, but you felt so nervous that your responses were short.

You both had a lot in common: you were single, didn’t get out much, and were on this trip to have fun. You couldn’t believe that a handsome man like Terry wanted to talk to you despite your shyness.

Terry was eager to talk to you from the moment he first saw you. He felt a strong connection and wanted to get to know you better. He was really glad he decided to go on this trip because your sweet and shy nature made him want to break you out of your shell.

“You're kind of the shy and quiet type, huh?! I like that; some people say I'm reserved, so I guess I can relate,"

"You don't seem like it; you seem like an outgoing person." You look at him for a second. His captivating hazel-green eyes burn into yours, causing a flutter in your chest.

"Well, I sometimes can be both; I'm a little reserved when I don't know the person, but if I know you, I'm more open, I guess," Terry explained, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips.

"What makes me so different?" You asked in a playful tone, building some confidence.

Terry laughs and smirks, "I guess you're that special!"

You felt like your heart exploded the way he looked at you, obviously attracted to you. You just nodded, looking away, trying to hide your smile.

“Hey....come on, I was just getting used to hearing that pretty voice of yours,” Terry said, leaning in, and your breath hitched.

You and Terry chatted throughout the entire plane ride. Although you were still a bit shy, you found yourself being more talkative than before, which felt positive.

Perhaps Terry was just what you needed for this trip. Once your group arrived at the stunning villa, you marveled at its beautiful interior.

“Alright,” Maya announced, her enthusiasm infectious as she gathered everyone to discuss the week's activities. She carefully ensured everyone felt included and excited about them.

Maya suggested you all chill and settle into our bedrooms for the afternoon. You began rolling your heavy suitcase down the hall, its wheels clicking softly against the floor.

“Do you need a hand?” Terry asked, approaching with a friendly smile and ready to help you with your suitcase.

"Yeah, thanks." You said with a small smile, walking to your bedroom door and walking in.

"You can put it right there, " You said, pointing at the chair before you and indicating that he should place it there. Terry glanced at you curiously as if he were too nervous to ask a question.

A moment of silent communication passes between you. Terry stepped forward, closing the distance, and you felt your heart race.

You instinctively wanted to shy away, but you fought against the urge, reminding yourself to be brave.

“I hope this doesn’t sound too forward, but I would love to take you on a date tonight. I am drawn to you and want to crack your shy shell and see what’s inside. Of course, only if you want me to," He expressed with a hopeful smile.

“I would love that, Terry,” You said with a smile. Terry smiled back, gave you his number, and set the date plans.

He walked out, winking at you as he left the bedroom. You bit your lip and excitedly squealed, jumping dramatically onto the comfortable bed.

-

You told the girls about the date, and they were so excited that they went upstairs to your bedroom to help you out.

“I don’t think I can do this; it's been so long since i've been on a date, and all together, I'm shy as fuck” You said, getting your nerves up.

“Babe, it’s fine. You need this, and Terry is an amazing guy. We wouldn't have brought him on this trip if we didn't know he would be perfect for you.” Sasha says, ease your anxiety a lot more.

“Sasha is right; just have fun and let go, but not too much; you might get dicknotized,” Maya smiles playfully as she hands you a sexy yellow dress that catches the light beautifully.

"This will look amazing on you," She added, her eyes sparkling excitedly. As you slipped into the dress, your nerves faded, replaced by a sense of pride.

Maya's perfume filled the room as she sprayed on you; it had a familiar and comforting aroma.

Sasha, the fashionista, was styling your box braids and applying your makeup while you looked in the mirror.

"Remember," She said, glancing over her shoulder, "confidence is key. Just be yourself."

After saying bye to Sasha and Maya, you closed the door behind you and took a deep breath. You were walking downstairs and Terry stood there at the bottom, clearly waiting for you.

His eyes widened, taking in every detail. You couldn't help but giggle at his look of awe. He seemed captivated by your radiant beauty, his gaze lingering on your elegant curves.

“Wow, you look beautiful,” Terry said. You smiled and looked him over, noticing he was wearing a black button-up shirt and shorts.

"Thank you. Um..you look beautif-I mean handsome!" You cursed at yourself in your mind, feeling totally embarrassed, and Terry found it cute.

"Thanks! Are you ready?" Terry asked, holding his arm out with a smile and you happily accepted.

Both of you walk leisurely down the path, arm in arm while listening to the gentle sound of waves crashing against the shore accompanies you as you make your way to the charming ocean-view restaurant that overlooks the sparkling waters.

You and Terry walk inside, and the warm glow of the intimate setting welcomes you. You find a cozy table for two awaiting your arrival. Moments later, a friendly waiter approaches, ready to take your drink orders.

While waiting, Terry struck up a conversation that flowed effortlessly. His warm smile and engaging demeanor made it easy to share about yourself. With every exchanged joke and smile, you found yourself becoming more comfortable, as if he had a talent for bringing out the best in people.

His smooth charm was evident; he made you feel special and understood, gently encouraging you to step out of your shy little shell and embrace the moment because the air between you crackled with sexual tension, growing palpable by the minute.

The waiter approached your table, balancing a tray of drinks that shimmered in the dim light. He set them down before you with a polite smile. After taking your food orders, he left you both.

Terry, his eyes sparkling, leaned in closer, a playful grin spreading across his face.

“While we wait, how about we play a game of ‘Would you rather?’” Terry proposed, the excitement in his voice making the suggestion feel inviting.

"Okay," You replied, intrigued and ready to dive into the game.

“Okay, would you rather…” Terry started, propping his chin on his hand as he contemplated the question.

“Would you rather live deep in the ocean or explore the vastness of space?”

You paused for a moment, considering the options carefully. “Hmm, that’s a tough choice. But I think I would choose space,” You finally replied.

“Mmm, interesting! What makes you lean toward space?” Terry inquired, leaning forward with curiosity.

“I have always been interested in space and astronomy. If I could, I would be an astronaut, and the experience would be exciting,” You said, taking a sip of your wine.

"Wow, I would love to learn more about that, but it's your turn," Terry said, his eyes lighting up with curiosity and a warm smile spreading across his face. The "Would You Rather" game had been going for a while and had taken a slightly naughty turn.

Before long, the waiter arrives with both of your meals, setting them down on the table with a flourish. As the delightful aromas fill the air, you take a moment to appreciate the dishes before returning to Terry.

Intrigued by the connection you two are building, you changed the subject wanting to know about Terry's interests and experiences, eager to learn more about his passions.

Terry paused mid-sentence, his gaze falling on your necklace, which had come unhooked. With a gentle smile, he leaned in close and secured the clasp.

You found yourself momentarily lost in the warmth of his touch, savoring the soft caress against your dark brown skin, a delightful contrast that sent a shiver of warmth through you.

Terry pulled away, a smirk playing on his lips, and effortlessly transitioned back into talking as if nothing had happened. You couldn't help but notice his subtle game; it was working on you like a charm.

Your desire was intense, and your craving seemed to deepen with every word he spoke. You were utterly captivated, wanting him more than ever before.

After dinner, you both walk silently side by side on the beach. Your hands nearly touch until Terry grabs yours and holds it, making you smile.

You slowly look up at him, and you find that his eyes are already fixed on you.

"What?" You asked.

"Just admiring how gorgeous you are," Terry stopped you from walking by wrapping his arms around your plump waist.

You touched his chest, thinking you both would finally kiss. But Terry was teasing you again. He lifted you slightly, catching you off guard and causing you to drop your purse and heels.

“Oh my goodness, what are you doing, Terry?” You gasped, struggling to escape his firm hold on you.

“Let’s get in the water; I bet it’s cold,” He said, trying to pull you closer.

“No, Terry!” You squealed, quickly breaking free from his grasp and running away from him with your tongue sticking out.

“Hey!” he yelled, chasing after you. When he finally caught you, he wrapped his arms around your waist from behind and started tickling you.

You bounced up and down with laughter, trying to escape his grip. Just as Terry was about to say something, he accidentally tripped over something in the sand. Both of you fell together. You looked at him, and he looked at you.

You both laughed as Terry rolled off of you, pulling you onto his chest and kissing the top of your head, making your heart flutter. He eventually helped you out of the sand and retrieved your purse and heels.

Feeling a surge of confidence, you leaned in and pressed your lips against his, surprising him with the suddenness of your action. As you pulled back, a shy smile crept onto your face, and you turned your gaze to the side, feeling excitement and nervousness.

In an instant, Terry reached out, his fingers gently cupping your cheek, drawing your attention back to him. His eyes searched yours, a blend of sweetness and warmth reflected in them.

Then, without breaking his gaze, he leaned in closer, his lips brushing softly against yours as he kissed you, igniting a flutter of butterflies in your stomach.

You let out a muffled moan, feeling his hands gliding over your ass with a gentle yet teasing touch. Your breath caught in your throat, pulling away while feeling him firmly grasping it.

"Do you wanna continue this back at the villa?" Terry asked, his eyes darkened with desire as he looked down at you.

"Yes," you said, nodding firmly as you still held the gaze. Your voice remained steady, even as a whirlwind of emotions surged within you—excitement, desire, and a hint of nervousness mingled together.

-

Once stepped into the bedroom, Terry pressed you against the solid door. His lips met yours in a passionate, rough kiss, feeling an electric spark hit and made your heart race.

"I've been waiting to take this dress off you since I saw you in it," He murmured in your ear, running his hands down the bodice of your yellow dress.

"And it's just driving me wild," He whispered, which made you shiver.

"Well, take it off if you're brave enough," You spoke boldly, which made him smirk.

You gasped as he lifted you in his arms and carried you to the bed. You still couldn't get over the fact that he was so strong to pick you up, which was a turn-on for you.

He picked you down as both of you stood at the edge of the bed; he was kissing your neck, and his lips peppered on your dark-brown skin, pausing here and there to suck on the sensitive flesh.

His hand reached behind your back to find the zipper of your dress, pushing it down to your feet. You step out of it, and his hands touch your exposed breasts.

As you stood there, a wave of insecurity washed over you, causing you to shy away slightly. Just when you thought about retreating and hiding yourself, Terry stopped you. His gaze was steady and inviting, searching your eyes.

"You're beautiful, baby. Don't hide from me!" He whispers genuinely, making you feel warm inside. You kiss him as his hands grip your breasts.

You let out a soft moan, pulling away and popping his black button-up shirt open. You admired his abs and slid your fingers down his chest.

Terry shivered slightly at your touch; you had the same effect on him as he had on you. Both of you practically ripped each other's clothes. You gently laid yourself down as Terry hovered above you.

You pulled him down for another kiss as he cupped your right breast in his hand while his lips moved away from yours. His tongue dragged across the dark area of your areola.

"Such nice big tits, so good to suck," Terry growls and grabs both of your breasts with his hand, squeezing and sucking them, causing you to whimper.

"How does that feel, baby?" He asked, pulling away from sucking your nipples as his right hand traveled down to your wet folds, and circled them.

A loud moan escaped your lips, felt him push two fingers inside of you, prompting you to cover your mouth to avoid being heard by the others.

"Nah, baby girl, none of that. You have no idea how desperate I want to hear you moan for me. If you don’t let yourself make any sounds, I’ll have to find a way to draw them out."

"Yes-yes....ohhhh....It-it feels good....ahh......so good," You moaned, feeling him moved below and rested between your plump legs, glancing up at you. He spread them wide, getting a good look at your pussy.

"Mmmm, a pretty girl with a pretty pussy" He said before placing his hands on your legs and dragging his tongue between your wet folds.

"Yes....fuck....ahh fuck" You moaned, arching your back and grabbing your breasts as he repeated the action with more pressure, his tongue sliding against your bundle of nerves.

"Mmm, tastes so damn good, girl" His hands were holding your wide hips as he continued to suck and lick you dry, drawing desperate soft moans from your mouth. 

Terry buried deeper between your plump legs, which was driving you crazy. The pleasure you were feeling going through your body was so overwhelming.

"Ahh fuck, Terry fucking eat this pussy, mutherfucka" You moaned, and your fingers gently caressed his head, relishing the closeness of him.

Terry chuckles. "Mmm, there you go, keep talking nasty to me, baby. I see I'm bringing the best out of you, the freak in you," He said before resuming devouring your pussy.

Another loud moan escaped your lips as the pleasure built within you, clenching around his fingers while you felt yourself getting close.

"Are you gonna cum, beautiful?" He asked, moving up to look into your eyes and began to finger fuck you fast.

"Yes, Terry, oh shit.....fuck-fuck don't stop fuck." You cried, suddenly cumming hard, eyes rolling in the back of your head.

"Yeah, that's it, baby girl. Fucking cum for Daddy," Terry said, still fingering you and then smacking your pussy as wet gushing came out of you, causing you to cry.

"Shit, look at that, baby. And I did all that with my tongue and fingers; I can't wait to see how your pussy takes my dick" He said with a chuckle, licking his fingers, and you watched him coming down from your intense high.

You kissed him, slightly tasting yourself as he cupped your breast in his hand while your hand slid down his chest to his throbbing dick; you got a good look at it and gasped at it.

"Like what you see?" Terry whispered in your ear.

"Yes, it's so big," You moaned, moving your hand up and down his length as you kissed him again but deeply. A very deep moan came from his mouth when you got a little faster.

"Fuck, girl, I need you…" Terry said with a slight moan, which made you smile. He moved on top of you and slowly entered your folds, causing you to go bananas.

You were loving the fullness of his thickness inside of you as he began thrusting, drawing soft moans from you. Terry asked, looking down at you to see if it was good, but you nodded.

"Come on, baby. Don't get shy on me again; tell me how it feels?" He asked, his hands on your waist sliding down to grasp your wide hips, pulling you closer so he could bury himself deeper.

"Yes, Terry fuck me, fuck it feels good!" You moaned, wrapping your plump legs around his waist tighter, allowing a new, delicious angle that you both liked.

Your moans became louder and more frequent as his thrusts came faster but still as gently and passionately as ever.

"That's it, girl....let everyone know i'm fucking this pussy good, You like it, you like how I am fucking you" Terry moaned while his rhythm never stopped looking down at you with so much desire and lust;

"Oh yes, Daddy fuck me, it feels so good," You cried, looking up at him as he lifted your legs to his shoulders and pounding into you faster and harder but much more profound.

"Take that fucking dick like a good girl;" Terry growled, tightening his grip on your legs.

"....fuck are you about to cum, baby?" Terry moaned, feeling the warmth of your walls, clenched around him.

"Oh....yes, fuckfuckfuck..I'm-I'm cumming-" You moaned, digging your nails deep into his arms and scratching down.

"Fucking let it go, baby."

"AHHH!!" You screamed, coming hard again and Terry wasn't too far behind, cursing, pulling out; your legs immediately fell to his waist as his hot cum spurted all over your belly, making you slightly giggle.

"Shit," Terry cursed, lowered himself, and propped up on his left arm as his head buried in your neck.

He entirely collapsed on top of you, and you wrapped your arms around him. You slid your hand up and down his sweaty back while he gave you small, lazy kisses on your face and neck.

Terry rolls off you, and both of you calm down from your high. You bite your lip and turn to prop yourself up to look at him.

"That was—" You couldn't decide what word to use. It was beyond amazing, it was...

"Mind-blowing, yeah," He agreed, looking at you and lifting himself up to kiss you.

"Up for another round in the shower?"He asked, pulling away and caressing your hip.

"Yes!" Both of you smirked at each other and got out of bed to walk to the bathroom; Terry made you cum two more times that night.

[samandcolbyownme]

Could you do the one bed trope and make it so smutty even god satan would blush if he read it but for Sam or Colby one day when requests are open because your timeline w Zach was amazing

This is going to be like the timeline fic which you can find right here!

Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, friends to lovers?, nervous thoughts, mentions of paranormal investigations, reader has weird dreams, flirting, kissing, teasing, biting, scratching, unprotected sex, filth

Word Count: 3.3k | unedited

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

７：３７ｐｍ

“We’re just now getting to the hotel.” Sam sighs as he speaks to the camera that Colby is holding, “Our flight got delayed and our plan to go scope out the house has been terminated, so I think we’re just going to go in here, get settled in, and then we’ll..”

He looks at Colby and Colby shrugs, “I don’t know, I’m pretty tired.” Colby laughs, “We were up super early trying to get to the airport- oh! And we also had a layover and it was just..”

“Oh yeah. That layover.” Sam rolls his eyes, “Today was just a mess, but-“ He grabs the camera and turns it around, “she’s still with us.”

You smile, waving as you nod, “Yes, I’m here.”

“We are still going to the house tomorrow, not today and tomorrow like we said, but we promise, or at least I hope, it’ll be worth it, so we will..” Sam claps his hands together, “See you in the next part.”

He turns the camera off and sighs, “Let’s go in, get settled. I know I’m ready to lay down.”

You nod, “I agree.”

You get out, walking around to the trunk so you all can grab your suitcases. You let out a yawn as you follow them in, and it creates a chain reaction of them yawning one after another.

You laugh, giving them a shrug when they look at you, “Sorry.”

Sam shakes his head and Colby walks up to the desk, “Hi, Colby Brock, I called in about an hour and a half ago to reserve three rooms.”

The woman behind the counter nods and clicks the keyboard, “You said three?”

He nods, “Yes ma’am.”

“I only have two marked down here.. let me.. we just did shift change so let me see if the other person who took your call already left yet.”

“No, it’s okay” you walk up and she stops to look at you, “I can just room with one of them.” You look at Colby, “I’ll just stay with Sam, it seems easier than going on a manhunt right now.”

The lady smiles, “Thank you.”

“You good with that?” Colby looks at Sam and he nods, “Yeah, that works.”

You’ve been friends with Sam and Colby for years.

You’ve been on countless investigations with them, hung out with them a lot, you were close with them. Sam more than Colby, mainly because Colby already had a girlfriend and you didn’t want to overstep in anyway.

７：５７ｐｍ

“See you in the morning.” Colby mumbles as he swipes his room key. Sam swipes his and nods, “Yup.”

“Night.” You smile at Colby and follow Sam into the room.

You raise your brows at how nice it was, “Wow. Fancy.”

Sam nods, “Oh look.” He walks over to the window, “You can see the city lights from here.” He glances at you as you walk over, “That’s so pretty.”

You can feel Sam looking at you but you keep your gaze out the window, “I’m gonna go for a shower.” You look up at him as he looks away and he nods, “Sounds good.”

As you walk over to rummage through your suitcase, there’s a knock on the door and Sam walks over. He opens it and Colby walks in, “I think we should film the backstory of this house.”

Sam looks down at his watch and he nods, “Yeah, shouldn’t take more than an hour right?”

Colby nods and looks at you, “Do you want to be in this?”

You shake your head, “No, I’m going for a shower.”

He nods and you walk to the bathroom, “Have fun.” You tease with a laugh as you close the door.

８：２３ｐｍ

You bend down, wrapping your hair in the towel before you stand up. You grab your old clothes and reach for the door, but you hear Colby make his way out of the room.

Once the door clicks, you open up the bathroom door and walk out, “That was fast.”

Sam nods, kicking off his sneakers, “Yeah, there really isn’t much. I figured we can cut up the video and scatter it around the places in the video that we investigate, if that makes sense.”

You nod, setting your clothes down next to your suitcase, “I know what you mean.” You laugh, motioning towards the open bathroom, “Showers free.”

“I’m definitely going to take the opportunity.” Sam smiles and walks to the bathroom. You walk over, sitting down on the bed and tilt your head down.

You dry your hair with the towel before tossing it to the floor. You reach over, grabbing the remote from the stand and swing your legs up onto the bed and cover up before switching the tv on the wall on.

You flick through the channels, letting out a sigh when nothing good catches your attention.

You put on a show and grab your phone, scrolling through Instagram for a minute. You smirk, biting your lip when you see Sam’s post.

You flip through the photos, tilting your head as you come across a new selfie of his.

You double tap it, scrolling away to watch some dumb reels.

８：４６ｐｍ

You look up from the tv, giving Sam a smile as he walks out of the bathroom, “Better?”

He nods, tossing his towel to the floor, “Oh yeah.” He walks over, adjusting the band on his shorts before sitting down on the bed, “I’m shocked you’re not asleep yet.” He glances over at you as he moves to lay down.

“Me too, but I can’t stop thinking about the house. There’s so little information on it, but I just have this feelings we need to be ready.”

He nods slightly, tucking his arm under his head, “I was thinking about that while in the shower, I have that same feeling, actually.”

“Hopefully it’ll make a good video.” You reach over to plug your phone in and rest it on the nightstand.

“It’s always a good video when you’re with.” Sam smiles as you glance over at him, “I mean, mainly because you can sense things that we can’t, you know?”

“Right, right, yeah.” You move down, moving the pillows under your head more, “I’m just glad you guys like when I come. I went on one before with someone else and they said I needed to, dial it back, because I was taking away from them.”

You roll your eyes and look at Sam, he furrows his brows, “Are you actually fucking serious?” He scoffs, “Who was it?”

You shake your head, “It’s not that big of a deal, Sam. They asked me again, but I said no.”

“That’s ridiculous, I’m sorry, y/n.” Sam frowns and you roll over onto your side, “It’s fine, plus, I think they were just using me to try and get views because I work with you, and you’re a way bigger channel than they are.”

Sam smirks and nods. “Yeah, that’s usually how it goes.”

After a moment of silence, you let out a small sigh, “I’m going to try and get some sleep. Goodnight.” He nods, watching as you roll over, your back facing him, “Night.”

１１：２７ ｐｍ

You make your way down the hall, “Sam? Colby?” You look around, “Guys.. this isn’t funny, at all!” You take a shaky breath, glancing down at the camera in your hands, “I’m not making this up, I cannot find Sam or Colby anywhere- Sam! Colby!”

You suck in a breath as footsteps are heard from behind you.

You squeeze your eyes shut, preparing yourself to just make a run for it, “S-Sam? Co-Colby?” Your voice was shaky, you tried to move but couldn’t, like you were frozen in your place.

You feel a presence walk up behind you, a hand slides from your shoulder to your elbow and you feel a tear slide down your cheek, but something brushes it away.

You turn your head slowly, the image of a really freaky face flashes, and you gasp, sitting straight up in bed.

You glance over, your stare holding on Sam for a few seconds before you lay your hands over your face. To say you were anxious about this house, was an understatement.

It’s what’s living within the house, trapped, within the house that scares you.

“Hey.” Sam asks in a groggy, half asleep voice, “What- are you okay?”

You nod, taking a quiet breath before you look over at him, “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.”

“Another nightmare again?” He props himself up on his arm and you nod, “Yeah, but it wasn’t.. it was just a jumpscare, almost? I don’t know.”

He extends his arm out, his hand lying on your blanket covered thigh, “You’re good, sweetheart. I promise.”

You give him a smile, laying your hand on his, “I know.” You give his hand a squeeze and you move to lay back down, “you can go back to sleep, I’ll be fine.”

“Do you need anything?” He asks and you shake your head, pulling the blanket up further, “I’m okay.”

He nods, bringing his hand back over to his body and he lays back down, “Don’t be afraid to wake me up if you do.”

“Thank you.” You whisper quietly and you roll back over, bringing the blanket up to cover your ear. Sam is the only one who knows about the dreams you have, mainly because he understands you the most.

１１：３８ ｐｍ

You stare out the window, watching lights go by every so often.

You move around, attempting to get more comfortable so you can fall asleep, but nothing seems to be working.

You turn your head, listening to Sam breathing steadily before you slowly move to get out of bed.

You make your way to the bathroom and close the door, flipping on the light. You turn the cold water on, reaching under to wet your hand before leaning down to splash some onto your face.

“Think about something else.” You whisper to yourself, “Fuck.” You let out a sigh, turning off the water before grabbing a towel to dry your face.

You open the door, flipping off the light and you tiptoe back to bed, sitting down before slowly swinging your legs back up and lying down.

You inch a little bit closer to Sam, hoping that kind of gives you more security. You drag your pillow over, nuzzling your head against it as you let out a small sigh.

“You can come all over way over.”

Sam’s voice causes you to jump and you swallow, “I didn’t.. know if that would-“

He moves closer to you, his arm moving under the blanket to slip around your waist, “You’re good.”

You lay your arm over his, relaxing against his body, “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me, I just wanna know you’re okay.” He presses a quick kiss to the back of your head, “Now try and get some sleep.”

You smile, closing your eyes as you try to fall back asleep.

０２：１９ ａｍ

You tilt you head back as his lips trail down your neck, “We..” you breath out, “We shouldn’t be doing this?”

“Why not?” He whispers, “No one has to know.”

A smile grows on your lips as you grind down on him, a whimper leaving your lips as his teeth sink in and pull at your skin, “Please.” He tilts his head back, “I want you so bad.”

You feel his hand slide down your side, pulling your hips back to meet his crotch. You thought you were still dreaming until your hand slid down to feel Sam’s hand on your hip for yourself.

You were embarrassed, unsure of what you should do.

Pretend to be asleep?

Move away?

Get out of the bed completely?

You laid still, racking your brain on what to do. You liked Sam, but it’s always been.. platonic, friendly between the two of you.

But now, you’re overthinking.

Why would his hand be on your hip, pulling you back into him? Is he pretending to be asleep, too?

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

You slide your hand over, slowly pushing the covers off of your legs and when you go to move Sam’s hand off of your body, he speaks, “Where are you going?”

“I-uh, I need to, um. Go pee.” You close your eyes and Sam hums, “Mm, sure you’re not running away from what you started?”

“What did I start?” You ask, clearly playing dumb, and he chuckles quietly, “What were you dreaming’ about sweetheart? Sure didn’t seem like a nightmare.”

You bite down on your cheek, “I don’t remember.”

“I think you do.” He pulls you back into his chest, his head lifting so his lips are right by your ear as he whispers, “You were whimpering in your sleep, and..” he chuckles lightly, squeezing your hip, “Grinding up against me.”

Your breathing grows quicker and you turn your head towards him, “If I tell you.. you can’t judge me, okay?”

“I could never judge you, sweetheart.”

“I was dreaming about..” you roll over onto your other side, facing him, “..Us..”

“Us?” He questions as he pulls you in closer, “Elaborate, please.”

“Isn’t it a little.. late?” You whisper and he shrugs, “I think I wanna be up for this.”

“For what?” You smirk, and he laughs, “Tell me about, us.. and maybe I can answer that.”

“It was.. something that could possibly affect our friendship..” you bite down on your lip, fighting back the urges to act on the tension, hard.

“In a good way, or a bad way?” Sam licks his lips and you sigh, “I would hope it would be in a good way.”

“So, why don’t we find out?” Sam leans in closer, “Hm.. If it makes things weird, we forget all about it. Bury it in the past.”

You think for a couple seconds and slide your hand up his bare chest to the side of his neck, “Are you sure you want to risk it?”

０２：３８ ａｍ

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to risk it, baby.” Sam closes the space with his lips on yours and pulls you in as close as he can get you.

Your leg rises, falling over his hip as his hand slides down to grip your ass.

He swallows your small moans with ease, biting down on your lip to earn louder whimpers from you.

He kisses down your neck as your head tilts back and his hand slides up and down in between your thighs. His fingers slips into your shorts and past the band of your panties.

Your nails dig into his shoulder as his fingers draw small and quick circles on your clit. Your jaw drops open with pleasure, small whimpers rolling off your tongue with quiet pleas attached.

“Please.” You gasp out, “Sam..”

“Take’em off.” Sam pulls his hand out, quickly sitting up to push his shorts and boxers down while watching you scramble to kick off your own bottoms.

He leans forward, falling and catching himself with his hands by your head, “You sure you wanna do this?”

You being your hand up, collecting spit into your fingertips before reaching down to coat the tip of his cock with it, “as you said..” you bite your lip, watching his face twitch with the sudden pleasure, “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to risk it, baby.”

He smirks, leaning in to kiss your lips.

Your hands slide up, resting on the side of his neck as you feel him guide his cock up and down a few times before slipping into you.

You both gasp out, your low moans mixing together the further he pushes in.

“O-oh, Sam.” You crash your lips back onto his, moaning into his mouth as he rests there for a second, “You.. fuck, you feel so good.”

“You feel even better.” He mumbles against your lips, “So much better than I could have ever thought about.”

“Have you?” You ask, gasping as he pulls out and slowly thrusts back in. He nods, kissing your cheek back to your ear, “All the time.”

Your legs tighten around his waist, your chest pressing against his as your arm links around his neck, “F-fuck..”

He groans against your neck, his thrusts pick up just a little bit of speed, “Have you thought about me?”

“More times than I could count.” You turn your head, meeting his lips as he lifts his head up. Your lips move in a heated passion, his thrusts picking up to quickly guide you to the edge.

“D-Don’t stop.” You whimper out, “So close.. so close..”

Sam moans lowly, his hand coming up to cup your cheek, “You’re so beautiful.” He kisses your lips, “You amaze me every time I see you.”

He kissed back your jaw, stopping to whisper, “Cum for me, sweetheart.”

You let out moans as your back arches upward, your walls squeezing his cock like your life depends on it.

Your thighs spasm and twitch as he guides you through that euphoric high, pulling more moans and whimpers out from you.

“Shh, baby. Wanna keep this our little secret for now, yeah?” He asks as he kisses back to your lips and you nod, “Y-yes.. yes..”

He slides his hand down to your leg, pulling it to unhook from his waist, “You have me ready to cum.”

You smirk, your chest rising and falling quickly as you try to contain your moans, “F-fuck, fuck.” You drag your nails up his back, burying your face into his neck.

Sam holds your head to him, his lips pressing against the top as his thrusts grow sloppy, “Shit.” He groans, “I-“

He pulls out, reaching down to push your shirt out of the way before his cum spills onto your pelvis.

You kiss him as he comes down, resting your head back with a smile. He smiles, leaning down to kiss you, “Sit still.”

０３：１９ ａｍ

You nod, watching as he gets up to grab your towel from your shower. He walks back over and wipes off your skin, “So.. I think..” he stands up, dropping the towel back to the floor and you sit up, grabbing your panties to put back on, “You think.. what, Sam?”

He bends down to slip his boxers back on, and shakes his head with a smile, “I think we’re going to be just fine.”

You watch him as he walks back around to get into bed and you lay back, rolling to lay your head on his chest, “What makes you say that?”

He shrugs, brushing your hair from your forehead before giving it a kiss, “I mean, correct me if I’m wrong, but I think there’s something between us.”

You smile, nodding your head before looking up at him, “Nothing in that statement is wrong.” You lean up and press your lips to his, “What time is it anyway?”

Sam lifts his head, looking behind you on your nightstand, “Almost.. three thirty I think?”

“Okay, so that means we can get a few more hours of sleep, at least.” You lay your head back onto his chest and you can’t help but giggle.

“What’s so funny?” Sam asks with a chuckle and you look up at him, “Are we going to get some more sleep?”

Sam smirks, “I mean, that depends on if you can keep your ass- I mean, hands to yourself.”

You roll your eyes with a smirk, “I already initiated it once. It’s your turn.”

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

Thank you so much for reading! I love you sooo much you have no idea 🖤 I will catch you in the next one!

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

[honeygrahambitch]

"I once had a very stupid fight with my wife." Will says as he watches Hannibal pouring the Sauvignon blanc in their glasses.

"Not that stupid if you felt the need to bring it up now." Hannibal said as he lifted his gaze from his glass to Will. Even though they've been together for a few months now, he still felt something inside himself getting triggered every time he would bring her up.

As if she would materialize in front of them and take Will away from him. Again. He was not sure if he preferred it when Will called her "Molly" instead of "my wife". Both felt like the screech of chalk on a blackboard.

The term "wife" however, made it feel less personal since it only highlighted a title given by a piece of paper. Mundane. Profane. The piece of paper was not enough for Will to stay with her. The problem with that construction was therefore not "wife", it was the possessive pronoun "my".

Well, technically she was Will's wife until their marriage would get terminated. But Hannibal didn't want Will to use "my" for anyone. And this has been something which has started from before going to prison and before fleeing to Florence.

Quite territorial of him to gain his man back and still act that way even when they had literally jumped off a cliff together. No piece of paper could beat that.

"It's the wine that reminded me." Will explained.

Hannibal arched an eyebrow. What did Will mean by that? He hadn't even had a chance to drink yet, how could the wine bring back such memories already?

"You know, me and Molly hardly ever fought."

Hannibal blinked a few times and tried to keep a neutral expression on his face. There it was, the name as well.

"I don't think, in fact, that this was a fight either. Now that I think about it, my confrontational style is not what a wife is looking for."

Hannibal looked at him with interest, not missing the way he said "a wife". So general. So unimportant. A wife like any other wife, nothing unique.

"Your confrontational style is indeed too passive for a wife." He agreed. "Passive and acidic."

From threatening him with a gun, to almost stabbing him, to starting his therapy again, to "dropping the mic", Hannibal was sure that Molly hasn't even experienced a small percentage of what Will could be capable of.

Will hummed as he picked up his glass and stared at his reflection in the clear white wine.

"So what happened?" Hannibal asked, now interested.

"She paired the fish I caught that day with the wrong wine."

Hannibal parted his lips slightly and didn't take his gaze away from Will, searching him from head to toes. "Was that a problem? To you?"

"No, but it would have been a real problem to you."

Hannibal felt the need to bring his own glass to his lips.

"You wouldn't have made such a mistake. And you wouldn't have brushed it off. You know, Molly - she's a g&t type of person. So it wasn't that big of a deal to her. And I laughed it off."

"But it wasn't that easy."

"It wasn't that easy and she noticed that it was deeper than that. It was not that I was trying to play the alpha male, trying to teach her how to drink wine. She was smart, she knew that was not my intention." Will said.

"So what followed?"

"The reason why we functioned for those few years was exactly because she knew not to get too close. We were both aware she wouldn't like it if she did. Which kind of sounds pathetic since marriage involves all that "for better and worse" thing."

"An overused statement which people are nowadays taking for granted." Hannibal added. "Your marriage did not entail the "for worse" part, did it?"

"Out of mutual convenience. Since "my worst" was something both of us wanted to stay away from. We had all the good parts. So instead of trying to figure out why I was so bothered by her poor choice of wine, she told me to go buy the right type of wine if I disagree with the rosé. And we both laughed."

"And did you?" Hannibal asked, a bit amused, a bit bitter.

Will looked around the room and then looked at him only. "Here I am, I did exactly what she said. Went for the wine that could be properly paired with myself."

Hannibal knew that at that point every effort to keep a neutral face would be futile. He was beaming right there, under Will's gaze.

[minzis]

The Ghost Of Her

Art Credits: “Selene Thrown Down by Argus,” 1886 by Ferdinard Keller.

⋅•⋅⊰𖥸•┈୨A Simon Riley One-shot୧┈•𖥸⊱⋅•⋅

♡Summary: Even after being on the team for months Ghost has yet to warm up to you. On a drunken night he confesses a truth leaving you feeling worse then before when he simply hated you.

♡Tags: Angst, no comfort, sfw :)

♡Authors Note: so wow have I been gone….I have worked on other things. Can’t really use the I’ve been busy excuse cause I haven’t I’ve been literally doing nothing.-. ANYWAYSSS I did listen to “Sweater Weather” by The Neighborhood on repeat while writing this so take that as you will. If y’all want a part two let me know! Other then that I will work on things hopefully soon but no promises😞

⋅•⋅⊰𖥸•┈୨♡୧┈•𖥸⊱⋅•⋅

“You look like her,” he admitted blankly his hand half hazardously setting his empty glass on the counter. He’s drunk, very drunk.

You weren’t even sure why he was talking to you let alone why you bothered sitting next to the same man who treated you like complete shit during training, during missions. Just about any interaction with him was always ill ending but at the same time you couldn’t help but sit next to him based on the looks from the rest of the team. They all looked worried but couldn’t bring themselves to approach him. So you settled for being the sacrifice, he always yelled at you anyways what’s another night?

His gaze was unfocused as he looked at you, he was there but he wasn’t really there. His finger tapped as his glass as he went to take another sip but he placed it back down his glance of realization it was still empty.

“Who?” You asked softy, eyes drawing over his half covered face the balaclava just hovering above his lips. The blacked makeup around his eyes smudged, he looked messy. You wondered if he’d even remember talking to you tonight.

“My girlfriend,” his eyes crinkled the same way a person’s does when they smile. His brows furrowed shaking his head like he simply forgot something, he motioned over the bartender to refill his glass. Your eyes followed the bartender as she refilled his glass, that was his fourth glass since you had gotten here.

“Sorry my ex-girlfriend, she died a few years back. Some tumor in the brain they said, it was inoperable and terminal,” he spoke as you swallowed harshly sitting up in your seat. You tired not to frown but the pale look on your face would’ve been obvious if he hadn’t been so drunk.

The hatred made a sudden sense now, your hand clenched at your own glass as he continued. “Yeah she looked just like you, same hair, the laugh too and the eyes it’s really in the eyes the first time I seen you I could’ve sworn it was her but,” he trailed off his gaze flicking in hits of disappointed.

“But it wasn’t, it was just you,” he spoke taking another sip from his drink, more like half the glass. You hated the way he said you like it had been wrong for you to even exist at all, like it was some evil thing you had done showing up at all. You suddenly wished all he did was yell at you, for some reason that would have cut less deep.

You downed your own drink the alcohol leaving a stinging taste like the thoughts of wishing you had never even sat down next to him. Wishing you had just ignored him like he would’ve done to you. You glanced back at him surprised to find he was already looking, you thought he was but once again his gaze was unfocused. He wasn’t looking at you, he was looking at her.

This wasn’t just another night, it was a sicking one. One that left you feeling ill and guilty for hating him even more after his confession. How could you hate him but how could you not hate him? Your eyes watched him as you took in a heavy breath. He reached out to brush a stray hair of yours tucking it behind your ear. His hand dropped to your shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered but it sounded pained like he was being forced to speak. You couldn’t even move as your lip quivered at the sight. His eyes watered as he moved to hug you. His arms wrapped around you tightly, he was shaking horribly as he clung to you. The overwhelming smell of alcohol from him engulfed you, his fingers clenched at the fabric of your shirt.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t at the funeral. I should’ve been there but I couldn’t see you in that casket all dull and lifeless,” he spoke in a slurred speech as your own tears fell. Still even now he wasn’t even speaking to you, you simply weren’t even there to him.

The feeling was overwhelming you, being so unseen and invisible was truly something despicable. You bit your lip in attempts to keep yourself from crying any further. You felt sick, surely you’d throw up soon.

“I’m sorry I haven’t visited your grave. I swear I’ll come and I’ll leave your favorite flowers. I just wish…I could’ve been there to hold your hand, I should’ve been there when you died I’m really fucking sorry,” he spoke in rushed statements as you tired to bring yourself to push him away, to yell or scream. Just anything at all but you were stuck frozen, what are you supposed to say to a drunken man who thought he was talking to his dead girlfriend?

Your heart ached as you reluctantly returned his hug as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. Your hands rubbed up and down his back humming in response. Your teary eyes met with the rest of the 141, you shook your head glancing down at Ghost’s back. They nodded moving across the bar to pry him off you. Gaz and Soap each held up one of his arms and a supporting one along his back. What hurt the most was for some odd reason they didn’t seem all that surprised. The three men shuffled away Ghost mumbling more words but you could hardly understand.

You gaze met with Price’s as he looked sympathetic, he reached to offer a soft tap on you shoulder but you pushed his hand away. You felt angry and used, “you guys knew didn’t you? You fucking knew I looked like her and you still let me run around like some fool wondering what I had done wrong.”

You stared at him with a frustrated glare standing up on your feet ready to say more but held your tongue. You sighed shakily digging through your purse, you opened your wallet slamming a hundred dollar bill on the counter.

“For the drinks,” you muttered angrily turning on your heels, he grabbed your arm his own gaze softening. He moved to speak but you stopped him yanking your arm back.

“Don’t…just leave me be,” you sighed in disbelief, how stupid you must’ve looked complaining to them about Ghost’s antics as they joked along. A complete and utter fucking fool you must’ve been. “Respectfully sir fuck you and the rest of the damn team, I want a transfer put in,” you spoke through gritted teeth, he didn’t say anymore letting you walk away.

[mrprettywhenhecries]

worth the squeeze [s.h]

Two. Hey, Video Boy

↪︎ a Stranger Things/The Girl Next Door AU

Steve Harrington ✗ f!Reader

➺ w.c. 3.1k words ➺ tags/warning(s). no use of y/n, reader character uses she/her pronouns, sexual tension, reader is a vicious flirt ➺ a/n. I know it's been a while between updates, so thank you for your patience! Hopefully you're all still as excited about this fic as I am. A huge shout out to @batterycityghoul & @super-unpredictable98 for being my beta-readers and helping me pin down Steve's voice. I couldn’t do this without you guys. ➺ Dividers by @/cafekitsune.

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! 💚

Steve tells his friends about his lucky encounter the night before, only for you to show up at the video store to visit him at work and invite yourself over for a movie night afterwards.

[ masterlist]

“Dude, you never called me back last night!” Tommy exclaimed, leaning against the front counter as Steve checked in a stack of returned tapes, pausing between scanning each case to type something into the computer.  “Did anything happen after she caught you watching her?” he asked, wearing his usual shit-eating grin.

“Wait, what?  Who’re you talking about?” Robin asked from the terminal next to him, and Steve gave a start, realizing he’d forgotten to tell her about the girl next door, too distracted by the memory of the night before.

“Oh yeah, right,” he exclaimed, snapping his fingers.  “There’s this girl that just moved in next door—well, she’s staying there while her aunt’s away—but, I uh, I accidentally saw her changing through the window—”

“Steve!” Robin interrupted with a disgusted groan while Tommy barked a laugh.

“Yeah, accidentally,” he snickered, making Robin roll her eyes.

“Alright, so then what happened?” she asked, folding her arms across her chest, sensing there was more to the story.

Steve leaned back against the counter, pitching his voice a little lower in case any customers were within earshot.

“So then, she showed up at my front door, acting like nothing happened, even though I know she saw me, but I took a chance and invited her in.”

“Oh, shit!” Tommy exclaimed, bouncing excitedly on his toes, his impish grin growing.  “Did you bone her?  Please tell me you boned her!”

Steve’s grin grew strained and he cleared his throat.  “I mean, not exactly,” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck, his eyes darting away. “We went out to the pool and she told me it was only fair that I strip for her, since I got a show...”

“Oh my God,” Robin snorted, covering her smirk.  “I like this girl already.”

“So, she got you naked and nothing happened?” Tommy scoffed in disbelief, throwing his hands in the air as he pushed back from the counter.

“We went skinny dipping and we… almost kissed," Steve muttered.

“You didn’t even kiss her?  What the hell is wrong with you, man?” Tommy cried incredulously.  “Sounds like she was practically begging for it and you choked.  God, you’re such a pussy!” 

“I didn’t choke!” Steve exclaimed defensively, his brows knitting together.  “I just don’t want her to be just another notch in my bedpost,” he sighed.

“Well, I for one, am proud of your restraint,” Robin said, pointedly ignoring the obnoxious face Tommy made in response.  “For once you’re not acting like a complete dingus.”

“Thanks Robin,” Steve murmured, pushing his hair from his eyes.  “I promised her a real date, but I’m still trying to decide where to take her,” he mused, planting his hands on his hips.

Tommy snapped his fingers before pointing at Steve.  “Tina’s party tomorrow night!” he exclaimed.  “It’ll be perfect.”

Steve nodded slowly.

“That might be good actually,” he agreed, brightening at the idea.

“A party?” Robin scoffed.  “You really want your first official date to be some shitty house party?” she asked, earning herself a sneer from Tommy.

“What, you jealous cause you didn’t get invited, Buckley?” he taunted, his grin turning ugly.

“No, those parties are just lame excuses for people to get wasted and rub up on each other so they can forget for a moment just how depressing their sad little lives are,” she countered with a scoff.

“Oh yeah, she’s jealous,” Tommy laughed, smacking his palm on the counter before pointing at Steve again.  “I’ll see you there, buddy,” he said, bobbing his eyebrows before turning on his heel and heading for the door.  “Can’t wait to meet this new babe of yours!” 

As soon as Tommy was gone, Robin fixed Steve with an unimpressed stare.  “Remind me again why you’re still friends with him?”

Steve glanced at the door ruefully before back at Robin.  “We’ve been friends since elementary school,” he explained with a helpless shrug.

“Yeah well, he’s a dick.”

“You used to think that about me too, remember?” Steve reminded her, picking up the stack of tapes he’d just checked in and dropping them on a cart to re-shelve.

“Yeah, but you changed.  He hasn’t,” Robin snorted, pushing the cart down the first aisle.

“Do you really think inviting her to Tina’s party is a bad idea?” Steve asked, looking down at the case in his hand before handing it to Robin.  

“Cause I didn’t wanna come on too strong,” he said, gesturing with his hands as he searched for the right words to explain.  “I dunno, I’ve just done the whole dinner and a movie thing so many times and they always end the same…”

Robin nodded.  “I guess I see what you mean,” she agreed reluctantly.  “But do you think taking her to a party is gunna end any differently?” she asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow at him.

The door opened with a chime and Robin recited the official Family Video greeting without looking up, but Steve froze when he realized who had just walked in.

“Hey!” he exclaimed, louder than he’d meant to, and you grinned as he stepped around Robin.  “What’re you doing here?” he asked, wincing at how it sounded.  “I mean, not that you can’t be here or anything!  You just… surprised me,” he explained quickly, trying to lean nonchalantly against the shelf and missing, stumbling backward for a moment before righting himself, a disgruntled look on his face at his lack of coordination.

You had to bite your lip not to laugh, not wanting to bruise Steve’s ego further.  “I’ve been going around town, getting some job applications, and I thought I’d stop by to say ‘hi’, if that’s okay,” you said, offering Steve a smile and he was quick to nod.

“Yeah, of course it’s okay, you can stop by anytime!  I-it’s good to see you,” he exclaimed, wearing a dazed grin of his own that faltered when Robin cleared her throat next to him.

“Oh, uhm, this is my friend, Robin,” he said, gesturing to her before introducing you.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you chuckled, shaking Robin’s hand.

“Same,” she exclaimed, a wicked grin twisting her lips.  “You musta made quite the impression on Steve here, because he has not shut up about you,” he said, turning her cheshire smile on Steve and your brows rose at the colour that rushed to his face.

“Really?” you asked, cocking an eyebrow at him, finding his reaction adorably endearing.

Steve cleared his throat and shrugged, reaching back to rub sheepishly at his neck.  “I might’ve mentioned something about you.”

“Uh huh,” you replied skeptically, your lips curling, but you didn’t push it.  “So, are you doing anything later, video boy?” you asked, idly picking up one of the nearby VHS sleeves from the shelf to glance at before setting it back.  “I know technically we haven’t gone on an official date yet, but I was wondering if you’d like to watch a movie together at your place tonight?”

Steve swallowed, trying desperately to keep his thoughts pure, and struggling.

“Yeah, sure,” he answered, a lopsided grin tugging at his lips.  “I’ll even let you pick out the movie.”

“Oh, you’ll let me?  How chivalrous of you,” you teased, ambling down the aisle with the new releases.

“Any genres to avoid?” you asked, your eyes flicking to Steve as he followed.

“Uh, not really,” he admitted.  “Though, I prefer comedies.”

You nodded, thinking for a moment, letting your gaze scan the shelves before plucking out a tape.  “How ‘bout Better Off Dead?  Or have you seen that already?” you asked, half figuring he’d already seen most of the films there.

“Actually, I haven’t, but it sounds good,” Steve replied, peering over your shoulder at the box in your hand.

“You mean you work at a video store and you’re not some hardcore cinephile?” you asked with a smirk and Steve shrugged a shoulder, running a hand through his hair, pushing it to the side.

“Nah, not really.”

“He’s hopeless!” Robin called from across the store, her cart of returns nearly empty.  “I was the only reason he got this job in the first place.  This dingus knows next to nothing about movies,” she laughed, making your smirk grow.

“Well, maybe I can educate you then,” you said, turning back to Steve, finding him closer than you realized and your breath hitched.

“I like the sound of that,” he replied, tilting his head in closer, his breath fanning across your cheek.

“Good, I’ll see you at seven then, and I’ll bring the popcorn,” you said, wetting your lips as you lifted your chin, lingering in his space for a moment longer before slipping around him to head to the counter, turning back to him with a playful grin.

“You gunna check me out, video boy?” you teased, and he had to take a moment to compose himself before following, flashing you a wry look.

“I’ll put it on my account, employee discount,” Steve said as you passed him the case and he scanned the barcode on the back.  “Just don’t forget to return it in two days.  I’d hate to get hit with a late fee,” he joked, his eyes flicking up to yours playfully.

“Don’t worry, I’m pretty sure I’ll be in here frequently, for one reason or another,” you said, taking the tape and waving to Robin.  “See you later!” you called, returning your focus to Steve with a wink.  “And I’ll see you later.”

As soon as you turned to leave, Robin joined Steve behind the counter.

“I definitely like her,” she said, nudging him with her shoulder.  “You better not mess this up.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Steve breathed, finally tearing his gaze away from the door and letting his forehead fall to the counter.

It was only a few minutes past seven when you rang the Harringtons’ doorbell, finally having settled on an outfit after trying on and discarding several—wanting to be comfortable, but still look cute.  Steve opened the door with a grin, sparing a moment to look you up and down before stepping aside and ushering you in.

“I brought some Jiffy Pop,” you said, handing him the little aluminum pan and heading for the kitchen.   

“Perfect,” Steve replied, following you. “Can’t watch a movie without fresh popped popcorn,” he exclaimed, setting the pan on the burner and twisting the knob.

“Exactly,” you agreed, jumping up to sit on the counter nearby to wait for the burner to heat up, the little metal coil turning orange.

“So, where all did you get job applications for?” Steve asked, giving the foil pan a shake as several kernels popped inside.

“Oh geeze, all over,” you sighed, running through your list of stops.  “The movie theater, the drug store, a couple gas stations, the book store, oh, and that insurance place on the corner; they’re looking for a secretary.”

The popping grew louder and the foil packet began to grow, soon doubling in size, puffing up into a large dome, steam escaping from the little hole at the top.  Steve turned off the stove and pulled the popcorn off the burner, pouring it into a large tupperware bowl sitting on the counter.

“Wow, sounds like a bit of everything.”

“Yeah, right now I can’t exactly afford to be picky,” you murmured, stealing a piece of popcorn and popping it in your mouth.

“Yeah, I hear you,” Steve commiserated, handing you the bowl and opening the fridge to grab a couple cans of pop.  “That’s pretty much how I ended up at the video store.  Though I gotta say, it’s better than the last job I had slinging ice cream.”

“What was so bad about it?” you asked, following him out to the living room and plopping down on the sofa next to him. “Well, for one, the number of snot nosed brats I had to deal with on a daily basis,” he explained, holding up a finger, “and two, I had to wear this incredibly lame sailor outfit and I looked ridiculous,” he scoffed, adding a second finger before subconsciously running his hand through his hair.

“What?” you cried gleefully, trying to imagine what his little sailor uniform looked like.  “I’m sorry, but that sounds adorable!”

“No, you don’t understand, it was awful!  Did I mention there was a matching hat?” Steve exclaimed.  “It totally messed with my best feature and made me super un-datable.”

“I find that hard to believe,” you countered, knowing you still would’ve given him a chance if he’d been dressed like that when you’d first seen him, instead of his green Family Video vest.

“I’m telling you,” Steve insisted, shaking his head.  “Just ask Robin.  She had this dumb whiteboard with a tally of all the times I struck out,” he added and you couldn’t help but laugh, warmed by the grin that curved his lips despite the unpleasant memory.

Your laughter died down and Steve reached for the remote, starting the movie.

“So, was the ice cream gig your first job?” you asked, grabbing a handful of popcorn as he cracked open his Coke for a sip.

“Mm, yeah,” he answered, swallowing and setting the can down.  “Dad wanted to teach me a lesson,” he murmured, heaving a breath as his gaze lowered.  “I used to be… kind of an asshole,” he admitted.

“Used to be?” you joked, smirking as Steve’s head snapped up and his mouth fell open.

“Hey!” he yelped, though the corners of his mouth twitched and you stuck your tongue out at him playfully.

“Just for that, no more popcorn for you!” he teased, yanking the bowl away from you and you let out a gasp, leaning across him to reach for it, your fingers straining.

“I take it back!” you laughed, your face warming when you realized you were practically draped across Steve’s lap, and by the pink flush that crept across his cheeks, you guessed he was quite aware of it as well, though he made no move to relent and if you stretched any farther, you’d tumble off the side of the couch.

“I dunno, I don’t think you’re all that sorry,” Steve mused, narrowing his eyes at you.

Biting back a smile, you pulled back, flashing him the most innocent face you could make.  “I’ll be nice the rest of the night, promise,” you insisted, tracing an X over your heart and Steve cracked, rolling his eyes.

“Alright, but you’re on thin ice,” he warned with a grin, handing you back the bowl of popcorn.

On the tv screen, the previews had just ended and the opening credits began, punctuated by a scream as a little animated woman was kidnapped by a monster.

Settling in to watch the movie, you felt Steve shift next to you as if he wanted to move closer, but was gauging your reaction, not wanting to overstep.  When you didn’t pull away, Steve’s eyes darted to you and he chewed his lip.  Clearing his throat softly, he stretched, nonchalantly lowering his arm behind your head to rest against the back of the couch.

Smiling to yourself, you tucked your legs up under you and leaned into his side.  Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the pleased smile that crossed his face and you reached for some more popcorn, resting your head against his shoulder.

“So, uhm, there’s this party tomorrow night, and I was thinking we could go together,” Steve ventured casually, glancing over at you, his grin turning uncertain.  “I mean, if you wanted.  I know it’s not exactly a typical first date, but I thought, y’know, it might be fun, and I could introduce you to some people, since you don’t know anyone else in town–”

“Steve,” you said, interrupting his nervous ramble, amusement tinging your voice.

“Yeah?” he asked, cutting off, a hopeful look flickering across his face.

“I’d like that.”

Steve let out a long breath, relaxing muscles he hadn’t noticed he’d tensed.

“You know, you’re pretty cute when you’re all flustered,” you teased and he frowned, his brows furrowing slightly.

“I wasn’t flustered,” he argued.

“Uh huh,” you hummed skeptically, studying his face, mapping every mole and committing their positions to memory before finding his eyes.

“I thought you said you were gunna be nice,” he murmured, wetting his lips as he leaned in.

“I did, didn’t I?” you breathed, your eyelids fluttering as you leaned in as well, your breath catching in anticipation, the movie playing on forgotten in the background.  

However, when the front door opened with a bang, followed by a pair of loud voices, your heart leapt into your throat with a jolt and your eyes snapped open to see Steve jerk back, his head whipping around.

“Mom!  Dad!  You’re back–” he yelped, half rising from the couch and his parents finally seemed to notice the pair of you, straightening hastily, embarrassed they’d been caught mid-argument in front of a stranger.

“I didn’t expect you to be back so soon,” he exclaimed, pausing the movie.

“There was a change of plans,” Mrs. Harrington said, a subtle terseness to her voice that you couldn’t help but notice, remembering what Steve had said about his parents’ precarious relationship.  “We didn’t mean to interrupt, we weren’t aware you’d have company,” she added, eyeing you curiously and you got to your feet, rounding the couch to introduce yourself. “It’s nice to meet you both,” you said, shaking their hands once you’d given your name.  “I’m staying with my aunt next door for a while, and Steve’s been sweet enough to show me around,” you explained, flashing him a smile.

Mr. Harrington seemed distracted, as if he had something else on his mind and couldn’t wait for the conversation to be over, while Mrs. Harrington nodded a little vapidly.

“It’s nice to meet you too, dear.  Please, don’t let us interrupt,” she said, nodding to the television and your paused movie.  “Bill, I need a drink,” she said, ambling out of the room and Mr. Harrington let out an audibly annoyed sigh, grumbling under his breath before picking up his suitcase and following her. Steve groaned softly, a grimace marring his expression.  “I’m sorry about them… they weren’t supposed to be back yet,” he murmured ruefully.

“It’s okay,” you replied, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze, wanting to steer his mind away from his parents.  “Let’s watch the rest of the movie, shall we?” you suggested, pulling him back to the couch, and getting comfortable again.

“Yeah, okay," Steve replied, letting himself be led.  As he started up the tape again, he couldn’t help but grin, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.  “Thanks,” he whispered, his eyes meeting yours, a meaningful look passing between you.

“Any time.”

➺ taglist. @super-unpredictable98 @heartbreak-sandwich @santacarlahorrorshow @sailorskunk @whimsicalwadewinstonwilson

@thecreelhouse @melodymunson @corrodeddeadlydoll @stevesxyellowxsweater @destroya2005

@steviespookie @blueberrylemontea-fanfic @corrodeddeadlydoll @girlwiththerubyslippers

[marlynnofmany]

Confidential Human Questions

I was walking past the door to the cockpit quietly because I heard Captain Sunlight on a video call with a client, but then I heard, “Was that a human? Call them back; I have a question.”

This ought to be good, I thought as I spun on my heel.

Captain Sunlight was just calling my name as I reached the doorway. “Ah yes, thank you. Would you mind answering a human-related question?” She stood in the middle of the room, yellow scales bright in the good lighting. She managed to look up to my height without making it seem awkward.

“Sure,” I said. “What’s the question?” I stayed in the doorway. The room was a little crowded, with Wio in one pilot’s chair, tentacles manipulating many controls at once, and Kavlae doing something to fix her own chair with a hand tool. Judging by the way her head frills were flaring with frustration, she wasn’t done yet.

The client on the big screen curled his own tentacles. “I’m concerned about my ship’s human,” he said, turning his pointy squid head to make sure he wasn’t overheard. He lowered his voice and spoke closely to the screen. “We only have the one, you see, and I don’t want to ask any awkward questions directly.”

“I understand,” I said with a nod. Captain Sunlight ushered me into the room, then stepped out to talk to Zhee about something. I heard the distinctive click of his bug feet.

The client was still talking, with agitated twists of his pebbly gray tentacles. “We don’t have a medic onboard, just an automated medical suite. The human will be going home soon — limited time work contract, you know — but I’m honestly worried about infection spreading there, since I think this human caught it by meeting up with another. I gather that this other is on good terms with ours, and may be going to the same place either way, but I don’t want to contribute any contagion from my ship.”

“What kind of symptoms are we talking about?” I asked, mentally going over the short list of diseases that I knew of which could jump between species. This might be worth consulting our own medic. “No one else onboard is affected?”

“No, just the human,” he said, making vague loops with his tentacles. “There’s a malignant-looking growth, along with fatigue and gastrointestinal distress. The human has been acting a little… unpredictable.” He looked behind himself again. “I very much don’t want to cause an incident by prying, especially if this is something she knows to be terminal.”

I opened my mouth then closed it, choosing my questions with care. “Is the growth about here?” I pantomimed a roundness at my own stomach. “How long since she met with the other human?”

“Yes, exactly there! It’s been approximately half a standard orbit. What is it? Do you know?”

He was so sincere and worried that I had to smile. “Good news! In my opinion as a professional human, that’s not a disease at all. Your human is going to be a parent.”

Instead of relaxing, he looked confused. “Humans gestate eggs for that long? Shouldn’t she have laid them by now? She looks awfully uncomfortable. Oh no, are they stuck?” Now he was getting alarmed. “I had a relative who got eggbound once, and it was dire!”

I raised my hands in a calming gesture that I hoped he understood. “No, no eggs. Humans give live birth.”

“Live what?”

“Just — we lay the babies, already hatched.” I looked to my various crewmates for support, and found four different sets of eyes watching in curiosity. “All of you lay eggs, don’t you?”

Several nods answered me, along with, “Well not personally,” from Zhee. “But yes.”

I sighed and turned back to the screen. “It’s extremely normal on my planet. Just think of it as carrying the nest around internally. There are pros and cons to the whole thing, but yeah. At any rate, it sounds like she’s planning to join up with her mate at home, and raise their offspring together.”

The client looked fascinated. “Is there anything I should do? Or not do? I can make sure my crew is informed.”

“I understand it’s an uncomfortable process. Just be gentle, and encourage rest,” I said. “Oh, and have other crewmembers handle anything that involves bending over or moving heavy things.”

By the swift tentacle motions offscreen, he was typing notes.

Another thought occurred to me. “I don’t know how long until you reach her home, but if things take too long, you’d better hope your medical suite is up to overseeing a childbirth. They’re very painful, sometimes dangerous. And messy.”

He stopped typing, eyes wide. “I need to check with someone about changing our schedule. Thank you, goodbye!” The screen went blank.

I looked to the captain. “Were you done talking with him, I hope?”

She nodded. “Yes, business is concluded. Which is good, since I don’t fancy having to track him down because he forgot to pay us.”

“Yeah, me neither,” I said with a glance back at the screen. “I didn’t even get to tell him how loud human newborns are, or how often they cry. I doubt there’s a crib onboard.”

Zhee made a disparaging hiss and wandered off in a cloud of opinions about species without the good sense to hatch at a properly capable stage of development.

Wio snorted. “Judging by the speed they just took off at, I don’t think they’re going to need one.” She pointed a blue-ringed tentacle at a display that showed the other ship departing in an all-fired hurry.

I shook my head. “Best of luck to all involved!”

~~~

These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.

Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.

The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).

[lupinqs]

CHAPTER ONE ━━ Fractured Bonds

☆ ━ pairing: hopkins!paige x oc (dani callan)

☆ ━ word count: 4.2K

☆ ━ warnings: lots of angst (sorry), pretty dialogue heavy

☆ ━ links: my masterlist, take me to church masterlist

☆ ━ author’s note: okay i know dani may look like a bad person, but ntm on her yet!!! there is a reason i swear

THE LATE AUGUST sun hangs high in the sky, bathing the Minneapolis airport in a warm, golden light as Paige steps out of the terminal. When her eyes set on her dad and Drew, her face breaks out into a large grin. She hugs them, lets her little brother grip onto her leg, ruffling the boy’s hair. She’s home—and thank God for it. The summer was fun, of course, filled with basketball camps, tournaments, endless travel, and a nice week spent with her friend Azzi Fudd’s family. But it was a little bit exhausting, and, by the end of it, all Paige had longed for was to be home, with her family, with her friends, with Dani. Her heart races with the thought of finally being back in the presence of her best friend—well, she supposes they’re more than that now.

As soon as Paige drops her bags into her dad’s SUV and slides into the passenger seat, she pulls out her phone and eagerly clicks on Dani’s contact, calling her. She can already imagine the smile on Dani’s face when she hears Paige’s voice. The way her eyes would light up and that infectious laugh that Paige adores.

The phone rings once. Twice. Then a third time. And then…

“Hey, this is Dani. Sorry I can’t get to the phone right now. Leave a message, and I’ll get back to you!”

The voicemail beeps and Paige frowns, the joy and pure excitement she felt moments ago faltering just a bit. She didn’t expect Dani to answer on the first ring—the brunette isn’t one to be glued to her phone—but the voicemail still surprises her. Paige stares at the screen, before pressing the red “End Call” button.

Instead of leaving a message, Paige opts to text her best friend, assuming she’ll probably get a quicker response that way anyways.

Paige ❤️‍🔥

Hey I just got back home do you wanna do something later?

I really wanna see you I’ve missed you sm

Paige sends it, sighing as she drops her phone into her lap. She feels her dad’s gaze on her from the driver’s seat and she turns, seeing his arched brows. He begins to pull out of the parking lot as he asks, “Everything okay, P?”

“Yeah,” Paige replies, sulking a little bit. She knows she’s being a tad dramatic, but she can’t help it—this is the longest she’s ever been away from Dani and all she wants is to see the girl again, talk to her, hug her, kiss her… “Was just tryna get ahold of Dani, is all. I haven’t talked to her since, like, June. Do y’know if she’s back from camp yet?”

Paige remembers when Dani sent her that text about a week after Paige left, telling her that she was going to some summer camp for the next couple months or so and she wouldn’t be able to talk to Paige since they were taking her phone. The blonde had thought it was weird that Dani was even going to a summer camp at all—she’s always hated those things. But Paige had merely accepted it and told her to have a good time, all the while her chest aching at the thought of complete radio silence between her and the Callan girl for the next couple months.

“I’m not sure,” Bob says, rubbing his chin a little as he drives, keeping his eyes on the road. “Haven’t seen her around at all, so I doubt it. You seen her any, Drew?”

In the back seat, Drew perks up at the sound of his name, saying, “No… I wish I have, though. I miss her almost as much as I missed you, Paigey.”

Paige glance to the back, grinning at her younger brother. “Missed you, too, Drewski.” But then the blonde’s mind trails back her best friend, shaking her head as she says, “I thought she’d be back by now, though. School starts in, like, three days.”

“Well, if she is back, I’m sure she’s just getting ready for the school year again. You know, Paige, even though you don’t, she still has to do all of her college applications. That takes up time; she’s probably just focused on that,” Paige’s dad reasons, giving his daughter a reassuring smile. He’s probably not wrong; Dani’s always been the type of person that’s practically manic about her grades and anything that has to do with college, even though Paige knows she’s certainly smart enough to get into most schools that aren’t, like, Ivy’s, of course.

So, Paige nods absently to her father’s words, gazing out the window as the familiar streets pass her by. She knows she shouldn’t be so paranoid and weird about this, but something about Dani not contacting her or answering her call just rubs Paige in the wrong way a little bit. They’ve barely talked since that night back in May—before Paige had left for the summer—and, almost as soon as Paige did leave, things began to seem a bit… weird. Off. But Paige tries to shrug that feeling off, convincing herself that everything is gonna go back to normal once they’re together again.

Eventually, the car pulls into the driveway and the three Bueckers get out, hauling Paige’s bags inside the house. As they’re heading in, Paige sneaks a glance at Dani’s house. The lights are off, there’s no car in the driveway—it looks as if nobody’s home. In a way, that actually relieves Paige a little bit; it probably just means that Dani really is busy and has a valid reason for not answering Paige’s call or text.

When Paige finally has all of her things thrown across her bedroom floor, she collapses onto her bed, glad to finally be home, in her own space. She lays there for a long moment, before her phone pings. Almost immediately—and a little bit pathetically, Paige thinks—Paige jumps up, grabbing her phone, hoping and praying it’s from the girl she’s so longing to talk to.

But, when she sees the contact name, Paige’s face drops in disappointment.

Jalen Suggs

Yo, u were supposed to get back today right?

Thaliah and I are at the park rn getting some shots in if ur around u should come by

And then, another text from a different contact:

Thaliah Sommers ❌❌

p if you are back in town you better come hang with us!!!

we miss youuuuu!!!!!!

Paige smiles a little bit at the idea of seeing her friends after three long months without them. Still, she can’t shake the disappointment that the one person who still hasn’t bothered to contact her is the one person that she really, truly wants to see. Even so, Paige sends Thaliah and Jalen a response each, telling them she’s about to leave and she’ll be there soon.

She makes her way downstairs, calling to her dad in the kitchen, “I’m going to the park to hang out with Jalen and Thaliah!”

Bob just calls back, “Okay, be careful—oh, and be back for dinner! I’m making alfredo!”

“Will do!”

Paige opens the door and leaves her house, her long legs carrying her quickly to the nearby park where she and her friends have spent countless hours together over the years, playing pick-up games until the sun dipped below the trees. As she approaches, she spots Jalen mindlessly dribbling a basketball as he talks with Thaliah, who’s sprawled across a picnic table, legs stretched out.

“P!” Jalen calls as soon as he notices her. He pauses mid-dribble, face breaking out into a wide grin. Thaliah turns, too, standing from the picnic table, eyes alight as she waves to the blonde enthusiastically.

Paige grins back, the familiar sight of her best friends warming some of the ache in her chest. She jogs over, giving Jalen a bro-hug before wrapping her arms around Thaliah in a quick embrace. “Missed you guys,” she says, happy to be home.

“Missed you, too,” Thaliah replies, squeezing her back. “Summer’s treating you well, I see; cause, girl, you are tan! How’s it all been?”

“Exhausting,” Paige admits with a chuckle, pulling away. “But good.”

“Bet you’re glad to be home,” Jalen says, tossing his basketball from hand to hand.

“Yeah,” Paige nods, smile faltering just a little. “It’s good to be back.”

“Wanna shoot around?” Thaliah asks, already bouncing the ball off the backboard and catching it. She doesn’t actually play basketball—volleyball is more her scene, actually. Nevertheless, she’s always enjoyed playing with Jalen and Paige.

“Sure,” the blonde agrees, though her mind still seems to be elsewhere. She steps off the court, trying to push the growing anxiety and utter longing that’s been gnawing at her since she landed.

As they play, Paige finds herself half-listening to Jalen and Thaliah’s banter. Normally, she would have jumped right in, teasing and talking trash. But today, it seems like her brain has the capacity to truly only think about one thing: Dani. She wants to know why she hasn’t called her back yet, why she hasn’t even bothered to reply to Paige’s text. The silence eats at the point guard, tearing its nails into her resolve. Finally, she decides she can’t take it anymore.

“So, hey,” Paige starts, her tone casual, but the slight edge in her voice betrays her. “Do you guys know if Dani’s back from camp yet?”

Almost immediately, Jalen and Thaliah share a surprised glance full of raised brows and slacked jaws. That’s all it takes for Paige’s stomach to drop. Clearly, there’s something they both know.

“P,” Jalen begins, his voice uncharacteristically gentle, almost like he’s about to break bad news. “Dani’s been back for almost a month now.”

Paige’s whole body goes frigid, the basketball slipping through her fingers and bouncing away. She swallows thickly before asking, “What?”

Thaliah nods, expression sympathetic and a little reserved as she adds, “Yeah, she got back a while ago.” She glances at Jalen again before returning her eyes to Paige. “We thought you knew.”

“I—” Paige starts, but her throat seems to dry out. She gulps again, feeling as though there are claws tearing at her vocal chords, her chest, her insides, her everything, because—why hasn’t Dani told Paige? “No, I didn’t,” the blonde finally gets out, voice small, almost lost amidst the sounds of the park. “She didn’t tell me.”

Jalen scratches the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable. “She’s been kinda… different, since she got back,” he mumbles, shrugging. “Really distant.”

Paige’s heart pounds in her chest almost as if it’s trying to crawl its way out of her rib cage. The shock of her friends’ words slowly begins to melt into confusion and hurt. “Distant?” she asks. “What do you mean?”

Thaliah shrugs, sighing. “Just like, she never asks to hang with us anymore, and if we try to initiate it, she always gives us some shitty excuse why she can’t go. Like, a couple weeks ago, we asked her to hang out and she said she was sick. And then we went to the mall and literally saw her there hanging out with other people.” Thaliah shakes her head in clear irritation, rolling her eyes a little.

“Who’s she been hanging around with if not you guys?” Paige asks, still trying to make sense of the situation.

“Well, I know she’s been with Serena Corren a lot,” Thaliah replies. Paige furrows her brows at the answer. Serena’s a cheerleader and not a very kind person—certainly not the type of person that Dani would willingly want to hang out with. “I mean, I guess it’s not that weird since Serena’s on yearbook, too, but like she’s such a bitch—so, it kinda is.”

Thaliah pauses, her and Jalen sharing another look that makes Paige’s insides squeeze together.

“Is that it?” Paige asks, eyes narrowing as they dart between her two friends.

Thaliah sighs heavily then, running a hand through her hair, not making eye contact with Paige. “Well,” she says slowly, and then she meets the blonde’s gaze. Thaliah’s eyes turn apologetic. “She’s dating Beau Hudson now.”

Suddenly, it feels like the ground beneath Paige has been ripped out from under her. Paige stares at Thaliah, open-mouthed, hoping she’s heard wrong. “What?”

“Beau Hudson,” Jalen repeats, grimacing as he says the name. “P, you know him—Hopkins’ quarterback, a certified dick.”

Of course, Paige knows him. She’s known him since elementary school. She and Dani—and eventually Thaliah and Jalen—have been mocking Beau for years. He’s the type of jock that’s got more muscles than brains, the type of guy that throws himself at girls just because he can. And, the thought of Dani—Paige’s Dani—dating someone like him is completely unfathomable to the blonde.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Paige mumbles, shaking her head. Dani told Paige that she loved her just a couple months ago. She’d told Paige that even with the distance between them, they’d be okay. “Why would she—?”

“We don���t know,” Thaliah says quietly. “She’s just changed, Paige. I mean, the last time I talked to her it felt like she was a completely different girl.”

Paige’s mind spins, trying to piece together the fragments of information. Dani’s back. Dani’s dating Beau Hudson. Dani didn’t even bother telling Paige that she was home. Anger flares up, sharp and hot, but underneath it is something deeper, more painful. Paige feels hurt, deep and bone-crushing.

“She didn’t even tell me,” Paige whispers, more to herself than them.

Jalen takes a hesitant step closer, resting a hand on the blonde’s shoulder. “Maybe you should talk to her. Find out what’s going on.”

Paige nods numbly, but inside, she’s a storm of raging emotions. She can’t seem to understand how things changed so drastically, so quickly. The Dani Paige knows—her best friend, the girl she’s loved for as long as she can remember—would never have done any of this. There has to be some kind of explanation, some sort of reason behind it all.

The rest of their time at the park is a blur for Paige. She plays, but neither her heart or head are in it, all too preoccupied with thoughts of Dani. As soon as she can, she makes an excuse to leave. It might make her a little bit of a shitty friend because she hasn’t seen Jalen and Thaliah in months, but she simply can’t help it. The pair offer her sympathetic smiles as she goes, but she doesn’t notice. All she really knows is that she has to talk to Dani.

She has to know why.

The late afternoon sun beats down on Paige as she walks along the sidewalk, staring at the cracks in the cement as she goes. They’re like her emotions right now—all cracked and crooked, a chaotic mess of confusion, hurt, and anger. A desperate need for answers.

She has no idea what she’s gonna say, and her brain doesn’t even bother trying to articulate something. Instead, it runs haywire, bouncing around in her skull as it attempts to make sense of all the information that is so clearly wrong. She’s half in denial, thinking that maybe Thaliah and Jalen merely read into things wrong, that perhaps Dani’s just going through a bit of a rough patch. Maybe Paige can talk some sense into her and maybe, just maybe, everything can go back to normal for their senior year. God, Paige fucking hopes so.

When she finally reaches the end of the street, standing in front of Dani’s house, Paige goes frigid. She stares, gaze flickering between the house before her and her own house right next door. Right here, in the small circumference that surrounds these two homes, holds so many important memories to Paige. She can picture her and Dani as kids, running between the two front yards, laughing and playing without a care in the world. She remembers the slip in slide their parents set up right here, the way she and Dani wore it out until there were holes in the plastic and wet grass sticking to their skin. She remembers playing fetch with Dani’s dog, Maverick, until all three of them had tired out, Dani and Paige laying on the ground with the golden retriever in between them. She remembers sitting on Dani’s front porch, holding her best friend and letting her cry into her shoulder after they found out Dani’s mother died. She remembers kissing Dani by the door in the dark until both of them could barely breathe, swallowing each other’s giggles.

But now, everything feels different. Darker. Dimmer. The house before Paige feels almost foreboding, like it’s guarding the secrets Dani’s been keeping from her.

Paige takes a deep breath, trying to steady herself. She isn’t sure what to expect, but she knows she has to face whatever’s waiting on the other side of that door, whatever hard truth she’s about to be exposed to.

Her hand trembles as she reaches out to knock. She has so many questions, so much to say, but, now, as she stands here, all of it begins to choke her. She swallows thickly, clearing her throat, before knocking twice.

A few moments later, the door opens. And there she is—Dani Callan, standing in the doorway, looking different yet heartbreakingly familiar. At the sight of her, Paige’s breath catches in her throat. Dani’s hair is pulled back in a messy bun, and she’s dressed in a simple tank top and shorts, but it’s her expression that strikes Paige the most. There’s a hardness in Dani’s eyes, one that the blonde has never been subjected to, a coldness that she’s never seen before.

“Paige,” Dani acknowledges, her voice flat, almost emotionless. She doesn’t step aside to let her in.

Paige swallows, her mouth dry. “Hey, Dan. Can we talk?”

Dani hesitates, glancing over her shoulder as if she’s considering closing the door. Then, she sighs, stepping back to let Paige in. Even so, her demeanor doesn’t hold an invitation—just an odd vexation. “Sure. Come in.”

The house is eerily quiet as Paige follows her best friend inside. It feels all wrong, like the silence is pressing down on her, suffocating. Dani leads her to the living room, before sitting down on the couch, posture stiff. Paige stays standing a few feet away, her arms crossed protectively over her chest.

“What’s going on?” Paige asks, trying to keep her voice firm yet she hears a crack in it. A tremble. “Why didn’t you tell me you were back? Why didn’t you—”

“Paige,” Dani interrupts, her tone sharp and cutting. It makes the words die on the blonde’s lips. “I don’t want to do this.”

Paige blinks, taken aback by the harshness in the brunette’s voice. “Do what? Talk?” she scoffs, shaking her head, anger creeping up. “You haven’t talked to me in months, Dani! I’ve been worried about you, I’ve been missing you nonstop—and then I find out you’ve been back for weeks and didn’t even bother to let me know?”

Dani looks away, jaw clenching. “I’ve been busy.”

“Busy?” Paige repeats indignantly. If anything, Paige has been busy, traveling from place to place, balancing basketball and everything else. And yet, she’d always, always make time for her best friend. “Really? You’ve been too busy to call me? Too busy to even text?” The blonde’s voice begins to rise steadily, the hurt and confusion she’s been holding back beginning to spill out. “I mean, fuck, Dani! We kissed! And you told me that you loved me. And—and then, what? You just disappear! I mean, what the hell is going on?”

Dani flinches at Paige’s words, but she doesn’t respond right away. She stares at the ground for a long moment, the room going completely silent. And then she finally glances up, eyes meeting Paige’s. There’s a flicker of something there—guilt, maybe?—but it’s gone as quickly as it comes. “That night,” she starts slowly, taking a long breath out, “it was a mistake.”

Paige’s heart stutters in her chest, almost like it’s about to fail. A mistake. For the first time today, the blonde feels her eyes begin to burn. She furiously fights the tears, refusing to cry here. Clearly, she’d only be embarrassing herself. “A mistake?” Paige whispers, shaking her head. “Dani, you’re not serious.”

“I am,” the Callan girl responds, voice flat. “It never should’ve happened. I don’t want that. I don’t want… you.”

The words hit Paige like a punch to the gut, and she steps back, heart thudding in her chest. “You can’t mean that.” She can’t. Dani told Paige that she loved her, that she was in love with her.

“I do,” Dani insists, her tone growing more resolute with each word. “Paige, I can’t be what you want me to be. I don’t want to be. I have a boyfriend now, and—”

“Beau Hudson? You hate Beau Hudson!” Paige shouts, her anger boiling over. She feels like every inch of her body is being scorned, flames burning through her skin and into her very being. “I mean, we both do! We always have. We’ve made fun of him for years—and for good reason! He’s a dick, Dani! And now, you’re just— you’re dating him? After everything we—”

“Just stop, Paige!” Dani cuts her off, voice louder than Paige has ever heard it. It’s full of emotion—though Paige can’t seem to decipher what emotion exactly—the most feeling the brunette has put into her words the entire conversation. “You need to stop. Whatever you think we had, it’s over. It’s done.”

Paige stares at her. She can feel it—over a decade of friendship, over a decade of Paige and Dani fading away. It’s been them; it’s always been them since they were five years old. And now, Paige feels that being ripped away from her, stolen. She fights for it. She wants it back. “But… why? Why’re you doing this?”

Dani looks away again, her eyes fixed on a spot on the floor. “Because we can’t be friends anymore, Paige. I don’t want to be friends with you. I just want you to leave me alone.”

Paige’s eyes sting again, but she blinks the tears back, letting the salt simmer in her eyes. “Is this because of what happened? Because of the kiss? Because of the I love you’s? Because if it is—”

“It’s not about the kiss,” Dani says, voice cold and final. “Or about the I love you’s. It’s about everything. I grew up—and I think you should, too.”

Paige gapes, and a roar of confusion tears through her again. “What does that even mean?”

“It means you’re clinging to something that’s never going to happen,” Dani replies, lips turning down into something between a frown and a scowl. “I’m with Beau now. I’m moving on. So. Should. You.” She says the words slowly and firmly as if she’s really trying to cement them in Paige’s brain. Paige blanches at them.

“Moving on?” the blonde repeats, the words shredding through her vocal chords. “You don’t have to move on! I’m right here! I want you!”

“But I don’t!” Dani shouts back. “Can’t you get that? I don’t want you, Paige.”

The point guard opens her mouth to argue, to beg, but the words won’t come. She feels like she’s drowning, like everything she’s ever known is slipping away from her, and there’s not a single thing she can do to stop it.

Dani stands up, crossing her arms over her chest as she stares at Paige with a look that’s almost pitying. “Please, Paige. Just go.”

Paige stands there for a long moment, feet planted, staring at the girl she thought she knew, the girl she thought loved her. But this isn’t Dani—not the Dani she remembers, not the one she’s spent her whole life with. This is someone else, someone who’s built walls so high and so thick that Paige can’t even begin to break through.

She turns away slowly, legs feeling like lead. She wants to say more, to continue demanding, to go up to Dani and shake her shoulders until the sense has been come back to her. But Paige doesn’t. Instead, she walks to the door, heart cracking with every step.

When she gets to the doorway, she pauses, turning back to look at her childhood best friend one last time.

“If you ever change your mind…” she mumbles, eyes traveling across Dani before landing on the other side of the room, unable to really look at her. “If you ever want to talk…”

But Dani just shakes her head. “Goodbye, Paige.”

Paige nods, stepping outside, the door closing behind her with a finality that feels like what might as well be the end of everything. She stands on the porch for a long moment, trying to process what just happened, but all she can seem to feel is a crushing sense of loss. Finally, the tears begin to spill over and a harsh sob rips through Paige’s chest. She doesn’t bother wiping the tears away, instead just lets them fall. Lets them carry the pain, the confusion, the heartbreak.

But even as she walks away, over to her own house right next door, there’s one thing Paige can’t let go of—the feeling that the Dani she knows, the Dani she loves, is still in there somewhere. And no matter what Dani says, no matter how much she pushes Paige away, the blonde refuses to give up on her. Not yet.

Maybe not ever.

[thedensworld]

Perfect Pairing | C.Sc

Pairing: Mafia Seungcheol! x Agent Reader

Genre: Action, suggestive, slow burn

Words Count: 12k

Summary: Mafia Seungcheol has to face a fact that he found his bestfriend's long-searched sister. However she is a NIS agent who was ordered to terminate him.

Author Note: BOO! It's been a long time since the last time i left a note hehe.. Here's another Seungcheol's action ff because y'all love it, i love it, and we love strong-masculine but gentle Seungcheol 👉👈 i just wanna say thank you very much for all the support you guys has been given to me. I'll work harder to make a better story in the future. Love you all🤍

Seungcheol sat on the plush couch, his eyes fixed on the figure sprawled across his bed. She was the only one, aside from himself, who had the privilege of laying there. Yet, the questions that loomed large were 'Who is she?' and 'Why had she ended up in his club, drugged and unconscious?' 

For Seungcheol, it was routine to make the rounds, keeping a watchful eye over his nightclubs. He was the guardian, determined to shield his establishments from any foul play. He harbored no forgiveness for those who dared to tarnish what he considered his babies – his clubs. So, when he stumbled upon the woman, tucked away in a corner near the office, his suspicions flared. Her state, drugged and vulnerable, was the last thing Seungcheol wanted associated with his club.

"Who is she?" Seungcheol's voice cut through the air, halting his steps. He turned to fix his gaze on the manager, who fidgeted under his scrutinizing stare. Joshua, Seungcheol's right-hand man, approached the woman and confirmed their worst fear.

"I think she's just a lost customer, sir. We'll take care of her," the manager hurriedly explained, already signaling the staff to attend to her.

But Seungcheol wasn't ready to let it end there. He took a deliberate step forward, his pulse quickening as he locked eyes with a face that stirred something within him. The words caught in his throat, his astonishment rendering him momentarily speechless. Joshua, sensing a shift in his boss's demeanor, followed Seungcheol's gaze to the woman's face. Surprise registered in Joshua's eyes, prompting him to act swiftly.

"We'll take care of her," Joshua instructed the manager, while signaling Seungcheol's bodyguard to prepare to transport her. The pieces of this unexpected puzzle were falling into place, painting a picture that Seungcheol hadn't foreseen, Yoon Jeonghan's sister. 

Yoon Jeonghan, Seungcheol's steadfast companion, had been inseparable from him and Joshua since their high school days. Five years prior, a tragic twist of fate claimed Jeonghan's life in a deadly rivalry, all for a monumental deal with a club in Seoul. That night, half of the association's spirit seemed to vanish, and Seungcheol couldn't deny the immense role Jeonghan played in his current success. Despite their decade-long friendship, Jeonghan was a mystery to Seungcheol. He knew little about the man, except for the fact that Jeonghan had once mentioned having a younger sister back in their high school days.

"She might be the female version of Yoon Jeonghan," Jeonghan had mused during their time at the Judo club, informed everyone that his sister was a judo athlete. It was a memory that now surfaced in Seungcheol's mind. 

A knock jolted Seungcheol from his reverie. He opened the door to find Joshua standing there, bearing a file brimming with information about the girl they had just brought to the house.

Seungcheol's brow furrowed, concern etched across his face. "When was the last time she met her brother, Jeonghan?" he inquired, a note of urgency in his voice.

Joshua's reply held a solemn weight, "Five years ago, when Jeonghan flew to the States." There was a palpable sense of distance in those words, a span of time that seemed to stretch on endlessly. Seungcheol couldn't help but wonder about the vast expanse of experiences that must have unfolded in those five years. He leaned in, his gaze locked onto Joshua, eager for any shred of insight into the woman's life.

Joshua's voice held a touch of uncertainty as he continued, "She might not know about the business Jeonghan's been doing." It was a possibility that hung heavy in the air, a question mark that loomed over the narrative. Seungcheol's mind raced, concocting scenarios and speculations. Why was she in his club? He couldn't shake the feeling that her presence held significance beyond what met the eye.

Joshua's eyes narrowed as he gestured towards a screen, revealing a CCTV feed. Seungcheol's breath caught as he watched the footage unfold. There she was, stepping into the limited area, a figure shrouded in mystery. But before she could make another move, someone emerged from the shadows, drugging her. Seungcheol saw her being held and strangled before she passed out. Seconds ticked by, the person escaped the area and Seungcheol, Joshua, and the manager's shadows appeared, unknowingly they had failed a crime that almost had taken place in Seungcheol's club.

Seungcheol let out a sigh of relief, grateful that nothing more sinister had occurred within the confines of his club. The weight of what could have been settled heavily on his shoulders. He couldn't help but contemplate the grim possibilities if a murder had taken place under his roof. The thought of imprisonment loomed, as did the fate of those who worked tirelessly under him.

With a determined look, Seungcheol turned to Joshua. "Find out more about the person who drugged her," he instructed, his voice steady. "I need to understand the connection, and why she ended up in our club in the first place."

Joshua's response was accompanied by a respectful bow, his demeanor exuding poise and unwavering focus. He left Seungcheol to his contemplations, striding off to untangle the enigmatic threads of this puzzling situation. With a gentle smile, Joshua mentioned that everyone was gathering for dinner, extending an invitation to Seungcheol. 

"No, I'm good. Thanks," Seungcheol politely declined, choosing to venture forth on his own.

After what felt like an eternity, a sudden thud echoed from outside, followed by an abrupt blackout. Seungcheol's heart raced, propelling him from his seat towards the desk where he had stashed his gun. The suspense hung heavy in the air, each passing moment pregnant with anticipation.

Seungcheol moved cautiously, stepping outside to investigate. He caught a fleeting glimpse of figures entering his penthouse. Gritting his teeth, he pressed himself into the shadows, keenly eavesdropping on their conversation. 

"I'm sure, he's here!" One of them said as they were certain Seungcheol was his place, and the others were preparing for dinner. 

Seungcheol deliberated, mentally counting their numbers. Four. After much contemplation, he acted swiftly, firing two shots that sent two of them scrambling for cover.

"Shit, who's that?" a voice exclaimed in surprise.

As another figure approached, Seungcheol didn't hesitate, striking with deadly precision. Seungcheol took a step, a dragon tattoo adorned their hand, a clear mark of Kanga's handiwork. The rival association had been a thorn in his side for years, the one who had killed Jeonghan.

Suddenly, the icy touch of metal pressed against Seungcheol's temple. "Choi Seungcheol, I've got you," the assailant whispered.

"Kanga's the one who sent you, isn't it?" Seungcheol inquired calmly.

A chuckle escaped the stranger before he retorted, "Whoever sent me definitely wanted you dead."

Seungcheol couldn't help but chuckle too. "Yeah, heard that from the previous people they had sent before. Guess what? They had failed." With a swift motion, he disarmed the assailant.

Punches flew, relentless and unforgiving. Seungcheol didn't give his opponent a chance to respond. But in his focused assault, he failed to notice what transpired next—a gunshot rang out.

 

*

 

You jolted, heart pounding, as the two gunshots pierced the darkness. The inky blackness enveloped you, exacerbating the headache, likely from whatever Seo Myungho had injected into your body. Did he succeed? The thought of your demise hung heavy. But if he failed, you were alive, albeit barely.

Your hand fumbled towards the pistol stashed on your inner thigh, a wave of relief washing over you as you found it intact. It had been your lifeline since that encounter with Myungho in Seungcheol's club.

"Seo Myungho, that son of a bitch," you seethed, memory flooding back. The betrayal cut deep, after a decade of unwavering dedication, sacrificing family, friends, and any semblance of a normal life. The country had turned its back on you. They betrayed you.

Steeling yourself, you descended from the bed, moving toward the commotion outside. Moonlight filtered through, casting a pallid glow. Amidst the shadows, you witnessed a fierce altercation. One man pummeled another, while a third sat poised, gun trained on the scene. Your instincts took over, aiming for the armed figure and firing, the shot tearing through his arm. 

The other man's gaze locked onto you, and recognition flickered in his eyes. Choi Seungcheol. The very man you had studied meticulously for this mission, only to realize it was a deadly mission targeting you, a mission to distract you and terminate you.

"Yoon Y/n," Seungcheol's voice cut through the tension, surprising you. He knew your real name. With deliberate grace, he released the lifeless figure he'd pummeled and advanced toward you. Instinctively, you took a step back, your gun trained on him.

He called your name again, this time coupled with another - Yoon Jeonghan.

"You're Yoon Jeonghan's sister, aren't you?" he inquired, his gaze flitting from his bruised knuckles to your face. You felt your back press against the wall as you continued to retreat, his presence closing in.

"How do you know?" you demanded, your grip on the gun steady. But you didn't notice as he skillfully disarmed you. The drugs Myungho administered began to take their toll again, sapping your strength. You slumped to the floor, powerless against it.

"Are you okay?" Seungcheol's concern was palpable, his eyes locked onto yours. The soothing timbre of his voice sent shivers down your spine.

Before you could muster a response, a surge of people barged into the room, casting a blinding cascade of light.

"What's going on?" A man's voice cut through the chaos, clearly taken aback by the grim tableau before him - blood spattered across the floor, Seungcheol sheltering you in the corner.

Joshua, the name Seungcheol had mentioned, approached, drawing Seungcheol's gaze as he spoke through gritted teeth, "Kanga sent them. How dare he invade my place!"

"You're awake. Why is she here?" Joshua's eyes narrowed, noticing you weakly cradled in Seungcheol's arms. You wondered how he knew you too.

Seungcheol let out a sigh, "She shot one of the men and saved me. Could you take her to the bedroom? I need to talk with the others." With gentle care, he helped you rise and passed you into Joshua's custody.

As Joshua guided you towards the bedroom, Seungcheol's voice echoed from beyond the door, seething with frustration, "WHERE THE FUCK WERE YOU GOING?! WHO WAS RESPONSIBLE— " The words reverberated, tinged with urgency and anger.

You regarded Joshua, his demeanor seemingly acquainted with this kind of scene. He gently settled you on the bed and inquired if you needed anything.

"Thanks," you politely declined, gnawing at your lip, your mind grappling with how you ended up here.

Joshua's gaze on you was intense, and a soft chuckle escaped his lips. "You're truly a female version of Jeonghan," he remarked, a warm smile gracing his features.

"How do you know my brother?" you questioned, struck by the contrast between Joshua's aura and Seungcheol's. Where Seungcheol exuded intimidation, coldness, and territoriality, Joshua emitted a different energy. You shook off your thoughts, reminding yourself this was your first encounter with him, though you had studied images of him for months, they still swirled in your mind.

"We've been friends since high school. We watched your competition once, but after that, Jeonghan never let us go again," Joshua explained. He mentioned your past as a judo athlete, a chapter of your life that had been dormant for over a decade. Did his "we" means him, Jeonghan, and Seungcheol? And was Jeonghan's death connected to the murky business they were involved in? The questions hung heavy in the air.

Joshua struck you as a seemingly affable guy, you mused, recalling details from his profile. Hong Jisoo, but commonly known as Joshua since he hailed from the States. He held the esteemed position of Choi Seungcheol's right hand. His face bore an almost angelic quality, and seeing him in person you could confirmed it. However, his reputation preceded him; he is known for his deft manipulation with words and actions, a key factor in Seungcheol's meteoric rise in the industry. You couldn't help but wonder, was Jeonghan also a part of this world?

"How did I end up here?" you questioned, making a conscious effort to steer clear of any mention of your brother.

"You passed out in front of our office. Seungcheol had a hunch you might be Jeonghan's sister, and he was right. We've been searching for you ever since he... passed away," Joshua's voice trailed off, carrying the weight of unspoken sorrow.

"You were the only family he had, weren't you? Discovering you were truly his sister was quite the surprise," he continued, recounting how many times they had attempted to trace Jeonghan's family after his tragic demise.

Taking a deep breath, Joshua ventured further, asking about your presence at their club the previous night. You hesitated, deliberating whether to divulge everything. Could you truly place your trust in these people? After the events of last night, you have no plans on trusting people. You'd devoted over a decade of your life to serving as a secret agent for the NIS, giving your all for your country, only to be betrayed by sending Seo Myungho to take your life last night. You had been tasked with a mission to apprehend Choi Seungcheol, a businessman suspected of dealings with a dangerous Japanese mafia. Yet, it was a mission built on falsehoods. The complexities of your situation weighed heavily on your mind.

"I was—"

The door burst open, and Seungcheol strode into the room, immediately advancing towards you. He seized the gun you had, aiming it squarely at you. Joshua's startle prompted him to mimic Seungcheol's move, clearly uncertain about his intentions. But you sat there calmly, unruffled by the display, and noticed a smirk playing on Seungcheol's lips. 

"G19 Gen6, not even released yet. How did you get this?" Seungcheol's gaze bore into you, intense and penetrating. He must have some familiarity with firearms; perhaps he had a side business involving them, a detail that had slipped your memory.

"Are you a part of them?" he accused, linking you with Kanga, the well-known rival association.

You couldn't help but chuckle. "Afraid you've saved an enemy, Choi Seungcheol?" you taunted, sensing his surprise at your knowledge of his true identity.

Seungcheol didn't respond. Instead, he handed the gun towards Joshua, instructing him to handcuff you. 

"Choi Seungcheol, also known as S.Coups..." You paused, debating whether to reveal your true identity.

"Organized crime, money laundering, fraud. Your knowledge of the G19 Gen6 suggests you're involved in arms trading," you ventured. Earning his trust was crucial now. You needed him to release you so you could slip away from their clutches. You were acutely aware that Seo Myungho was relentless in his pursuit, and they might launch a thorough search for you.

"I'm not your enemy, Seungcheol. I'm nobody to you," you asserted.

He smirked, a glint of interest in his eyes. "So, you've been studying me? Excellent! Tell me more."

You held his gaze, your eyes probing, voice laced with trepidation. "My brother... It was Kanga who took him from us, wasn't it?" The question hung in the air, heavy with its implications. "That's why you were searching for Kang Jaehoon."

Seungcheol settled onto the bed, his expression focused and intent as he studied you. "Who exactly are you?" His words were measured, hinting at a mix of curiosity and caution.

A lump formed in your throat as you weighed the decision to disclose your true identity. It seemed like the key to gaining his trust, perhaps even securing his help to escape the clutches of South Korea. Your hand moved to your bra, retrieving a badge holder that had been carefully tucked away. With a deliberate gesture, you tossed it before him, the emblem of the National Intelligence Service of South Korea gleaming. It bore the title that defined your role there: 'Special Agent.'

"I was on a mission to apprehend you, but it was a misguided attempt to terminate me instead," you admitted, the weight of the revelation palpable in the room. 

Seungcheol's eyes shifted between the badge and your face, a dawning realization painting his features. The room seemed to hold its breath, a charged silence enveloping you both. With a subtle gesture, Seungcheol motioned for Joshua to leave them alone. Respectfully, Joshua bowed and exited the room, leaving you alone with Seungcheol.

"You're... NIS?" Seungcheol's voice carried a mix of surprise and suspicion, his brows furrowing as he contemplated the revelation.

You affirmed with a nod, your voice steady despite the weight of the truth. "Yes, I was sent here under false pretenses. They wanted me out of the way, but I never expected they'd go this far." The gravity of the situation hung heavily in the air.

A profound silence settled between you, the implications of your revelation settling like stones in a pond. Then, Seungcheol released a resigned sigh, his hand raking through his hair. "This complicates things."

You understood the far-reaching consequences of your admission. "I need your help, Seungcheol. They'll be looking for me. I have to go."

Seungcheol's gaze bore into yours, searching for sincerity in your eyes. His breath grazed your skin, a palpable intensity in the air. "Are you truly his sister?" he asked, his voice almost a whisper.

As if lost in thought, he murmured to himself, "You really could be his sister." You observed the turmoil within him, recognizing the weight of this revelation.

With a final sigh, Seungcheol rose from the bed. "Let's discuss this in the morning. Rest, Yoon Y/n." His voice held a gentle authority, a promise of further conversations to come. 

 

*

Seungcheol stood there, the weight of your revelation sinking in, memories flooding his mind. He remembered the last time he held Jeonghan, the pain etched on his face as he bled out from the gunshot wound inflicted by Kanga's people. Jeonghan had looked at him with desperate eyes, gasping for breath, and in those final moments, he had implored Seungcheol to find his sister and take care of her.

The memory was etched into Seungcheol's soul, a haunting echo of a promise made to a dying friend. He had sworn to Jeonghan that he would look after you, protect you. But now, faced with the reality of your presence, uncertainty gnawed at him. Could he trust you? Could he truly believe that you were Jeonghan's sister?

As Seungcheol lay in bed that night, sleep eluded him once again. His dreams were always haunted by Jeonghan's presence, a constant reminder of the debt he owed to his fallen friend. That night was no different. In the depths of his restless slumber, Jeonghan visited him, his ethereal form hovering in the shadows of Seungcheol's subconscious.

"Have you found her, Seungcheol?" Jeonghan's voice was soft, tinged with a sense of longing.

Seungcheol's heart ached. "I don't know, Jeonghan. I'm not sure about her."

When Seungcheol awoke, his body was drenched in sweat, the remnants of the dream clinging to him. The weight of his promise pressed on him, urging him to make a decision about you. He knew he couldn't ignore Jeonghan's final wish any longer. Determined, Seungcheol rose from the bed, ready to face the challenges that lay ahead. Seungcheol took a deep breath, steadying himself, as he made his way to the dining room. His crew stood in respectful unison, bowing their heads as he entered. He motioned for them to continue, acknowledging their presence with a nod. His thoughts were still consumed by the revelation from the night before.

"Joshua," Seungcheol inquired, "is she awake?"

Joshua looked up from his meal, his expression calm. "Yes, she's up and had breakfast already."

With a nod of gratitude, Seungcheol left the dining area, heading back to his bedroom, now shared with you. As he approached the door, he felt a mixture of anticipation and apprehension. 

But when he opened the door, he was met with a sight that took him completely off guard. You stood in the middle of the room, in the process of changing, your back exposed to him. Seungcheol's eyes widened in a, and he immediately averted his gaze, hastily closing the door.

He turned to Joshua, his voice low and incredulous. "Why didn't you tell me she was changing?"

Joshua looked nonplussed, offering a casual shrug. "I thought you might knock."

Seungcheol's brow furrowed in bewilderment. "It's my own bedroom. Why would I need to knock?"

Before Joshua could respond, the door creaked open, revealing you on the other side. "I'm done," you mumbled, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

Seungcheol swiftly averted his gaze, the atmosphere tingling with an undeniable awkwardness. 

"We need to go," he stated with a sense of urgency, turning to face you. With determined steps, he entered his room as he beeline to his closet. You followed, curiosity knitting your brows.

"Why?" you queried, seeking to understand the sudden need for urgency.

He paused, pivoting his body to meet your gaze, his expression bearing a weighty concern. "It's not safe here," he explained, his words carrying the gravity of a man well-acquainted with danger.

You held his gaze, surprise flickering in your eyes at the sincerity in his tone. "You want to help me?" The question hung between you, a silent plea for confirmation.

Seungcheol's response was a resigned sigh, his shoulders sagging as he grappled with the complexities of the situation. "You want to see me change?" he quipped, a touch of wry humor attempting to diffuse the tension.

You responded with a nonchalant shrug, crossing your arms in a self-assured stance. "You saw me change," you reminded him, a wry smile dancing on your lips. 

Seungcheol couldn't help but notice a glimmer of Jeonghan's personality in your demeanor, though he chose not to comment on it directly. Instead, he proceeded to lay out the plan to leave the penthouse and head to his villa in Jeju. It was a strategic move, combining the need for safety with a business meeting.

"As for the business," you inquired, your tone laced with a hint of sarcasm, "which one are we talking about? Your vast array of illegal enterprises, perhaps?"

Seungcheol's jaw tightened, irritation flickering in his eyes. He didn't appreciate the reminder of his less-than-legal dealings. "You saw me punching the guy last night. I don't exclude women, woman," he warned, his tone laced with a sharp edge.

Your smirk was quick and sharp, a challenge glinting in your eyes. "And you saw me shooting that guy last night," you retorted, refusing to back down, your voice echoing the same defiant spirit.

A timely knock shattered the tension that had settled in the room. Joshua's voice called out your name, signaling that he had something to discuss. You excused yourself to attend to Joshua's call, leaving Seungcheol alone in the room.

Taking the opportunity, Seungcheol set about changing his clothes and assembling his belongings. The task was done with a practiced efficiency, each item packed with purpose. The atmosphere was charged with a sense of urgency, a reminder of the weighty decisions that needed to be made in the face of mounting uncertainties.

As Seungcheol made final adjustments to his belongings, his thoughts raced through the upcoming plans. The trip to Jeju was a necessary step, but it also meant delving deeper into a world that held no shortage of dangers.

"Seungcheol, we need to talk."

 "What is it?"

Joshua's gaze met Seungcheol's, his expression grave. "We have to be cautious. With Y/n here, things are more complicated than ever."

Seungcheol nodded in agreement. "I know. We'll have to tread carefully."

Joshua's voice lowered. "And what about her connection to NIS? That's a wild card we can't ignore."

Seungcheol's jaw clenched, a surge of apprehension coursing through him. "We'll need to find out more. But for now, we need to get to Jeju. It's our best chance to regroup and plan our next move."

Joshua nodded in agreement, the weight of their circumstances hanging in the air. 

With a shared understanding of the complexities they were about to navigate, Seungcheol and Joshua left the room, their footsteps echoing in the corridor. The gravity of their situation pressed on them, a reminder that every move they made held the potential for both danger and revelation.

As they approached the main area, Seungcheol's crew stood at the ready, their expressions a mixture of concern and determination. Seungcheol addressed them with a voice that carried authority and purpose. "We're leaving for Jeju. Make sure everything is in order."

The crew members nodded in response, swiftly moving to carry out their orders. The sense of urgency in the air was palpable, each person understanding the weight of the circumstances they faced.

Seungcheol turned to you, his gaze steady. "Y/n, we need to stick together and be vigilant. This won't be easy, but we'll do our best to get through it."

You met his gaze, a sense of resolve mirrored in your eyes. "I'm ready," you affirmed, your voice holding a determination that matched his own.

Seungcheol's expression grew serious as he considered the weight of the decision. Without a word, he reached into his coat and retrieved a compact pistol, handling it with the practiced ease of someone intimately familiar with such weapons.

He extended the gun towards you, his eyes never leaving yours. "Take it," he instructed, his voice low and steady. "You may need it."

You accepted the weapon, feeling the cool metal against your palm. The gravity of the situation settled over you, the weight of the gun a tangible reminder of the dangers that lay ahead.

Seungcheol's gaze held yours, a silent understanding passing between you. In that moment, you both knew that trust would be your greatest asset on this perilous journey. With a nod, you secured the gun, a silent promise to yourself and to Seungcheol that you would do whatever it took to navigate the treacherous path that awaited.

 

*

 

"FUCK YOU CHOI SEUNGCHEOL! YOU DOUBTED ME?!" The words burst forth, a torrent of raw emotion that reverberated through the charged atmosphere of the villa. The scene that met your eyes was a brutal tableau, a testament to the 'loyalty test' you had just endured. Seungcheol's men, once a formidable force, now lay strewn across the floor, some nursing wounds, others utterly broken, their blood staining the very foundation of the villa. It was clear now, with visceral certainty, that this had been a test - a trial of your allegiance to Choi Seungcheol, and he had orchestrated it with brutal precision. Is this his plan?

Seungcheol, his countenance unyielding, stood at the entrance, a silent observer to the chaos he had set in motion. He offered no words, only a casual shrug, as if the mayhem that had unfolded was but a casual affair. This calculated trial had served its purpose, a ruthless measure of your loyalty to him.

Earlier, just before his departure, his directive had been succinct and commanding. "We're leaving for a meeting. Make sure this villa is safe." His tone brooked no debate, and with a seamless transition, you shifted into your assassin mode. Adrenaline surged, senses heightened, as twenty assailants launched an assault on the villa. In the midst of the fray, a searing pain shot through your arm, a cruel reminder of the peril that surrounded you.

Grimly, you surveyed the bleeding wound, the realization settling in. Was this why Seungcheol had handed you a gun? The revelation underscored the unforgiving nature of the world you now navigated, where trust was a currency often traded for survival, and alliances were forged in the crucible of adversity.

As you tended to your wounded arm, a surge of bitterness welled within you. The betrayal by NIS was a jagged thorn in your side, a question that gnawed at the edges of your thoughts. Why had they turned on you? Why had they orchestrated a mission to terminate you, sending Seo Myungho as the executioner? It was a betrayal that cut deep, a wound far more insidious than the one you now tended.

Memories of your years of dedication, the sacrifices made in service of your country, flashed before your eyes. The sleepless nights, the countless missions executed with precision, all in the name of duty and honor. And yet, here you were, marked as a target by the very organization you had pledged your allegiance to.

The implications of their betrayal were far-reaching. It wasn't just a matter of personal vendetta, but a shadowy web of intrigue that extended into the highest echelons of power. Questions swirled in your mind, each one a shard of a puzzle that refused to be pieced together. Who had ordered this mission? What were their motives? And perhaps most pressing of all, how had they infiltrated the seemingly impenetrable walls of NIS?

The truth eluded you, shrouded in a fog of deception and hidden agendas. But one thing was clear - you could trust no one, not even the very organization that had once been your steadfast ally. As you contemplated the depths of the betrayal, a resolve took root within you. You would uncover the truth, expose the puppet masters pulling the strings, and ensure that those who had betrayed you would face the consequences of their treachery. 

"You cry?"

Seungcheol's voice jolted you back to the present, shattering the fragile reverie that had taken hold. Startled, you hastily wiped away tears that had silently betrayed you. His mock tone and the smirk on his face grated on your nerves.

"Shut up," you retorted, the irritation plain in your voice. Meanwhile, Joshua, who was now tending to your wound, observed the exchange with a small, appreciative smile. He couldn't help but notice the striking resemblance you bore to Jeonghan. It was a revelation that brought with it a sense of gratitude, knowing that you were capable of eliciting a playful side from Seungcheol, a side that had perhaps been buried beneath the loss of Jeonghan.

The room held a curious energy, a blend of tension and familiarity, as you each navigated the complexities of your newfound alliance. It was a precarious dance, one that required finesse and an acute understanding of the intricate dynamics at play. As Joshua continued his ministrations, the unspoken bond between you and Seungcheol seemed to solidify.

Seungcheol's voice held a gravitas that cut through the air, breaking the tension that lingered in the room. "You need to know the truth," he began, his gaze steady and unyielding. "Kanga is a puppet, dancing on the strings pulled by NIS."

His words hung heavy, the weight of their implications settling in the room. You exchanged a wary glance with Joshua, both of you keenly aware of the gravity of the revelation.

Seungcheol continued, his tone unwavering. "They receive secret information, illegal permissions, all in exchange for their services. The most lucrative of which is the import of drugs from Japan, a trade that lines the pockets of those in power."

The revelation was a bitter pill to swallow, a glimpse into the shadowy underbelly of the world you had once called home. The intricate web of deception and betrayal now stretched even further, revealing the sinister dance between organized crime and the very agency sworn to protect the nation.

Seungcheol's revelation hung heavy in the air, a stark reminder of the depths of deceit that surrounded them. 

As the weight of the truth settled, you couldn't help but feel a surge of anger and betrayal. The organization you had dedicated your life to had fed you misinformation, leading you down a treacherous path that had ultimately led to this moment.

"You mean to say... I've been fed wrong information all this time?" The words left your lips, laced with a mixture of disbelief and outrage. The realization was a bitter pill to swallow, a testament to the extent of the manipulation that had been orchestrated by NIS.

Seungcheol's gaze bore into yours, his expression one of grim acknowledgment. "You might know something about them that they decided to eliminate you."

The weight of Seungcheol's revelation settled over you, each word sinking in like pieces of a puzzle finally clicking into place. The mission, the betrayal - it all makes sense.

The black file.

Contained within its darkened pages were the damning records of illegal activities, a trove of evidence implicating powerful figures, including your own chief. It was what they were after, what they desperately sought to retrieve. And unbeknownst to them, you held it in your possession.

In that moment, you knew that the stakes had escalated to a perilous height. The file was not just a collection of papers; it was a weapon, a leverage that could shift the balance of power. The revelations had transformed the journey ahead into a high-stakes game, one where every move would be a calculated risk, every decision a potential turning point.

Where did you put that damn file? 

The black file, a digital repository of evidence, held the potential to turn the tide in your favor. But now, in this critical moment, you found yourself grappling with a nagging uncertainty. Frantically, you cast your thoughts back, retracing your steps in a desperate bid to recall where you had put the file. The room seemed to close in around you, each passing second a reminder of the ticking clock. Your heart raced as you mentally rifled through your memories, searching for the elusive location.

"You'll be safe with us," Joshua mumbled, his voice a soothing presence as he finished tending to your wound. Seungcheol nodded in agreement, his eyes reflecting a quiet determination.

With a gentle pat on your shoulder, Joshua left, leaving you alone with Seungcheol. He took a seat in front of you, his gaze steady and unwavering. "Jeonghan wanted me to take care of you," he began, his voice tinged with a solemn weight. "Those were his final words to me - find you and look after you on his behalf."

You couldn't help but raise an eyebrow, your skepticism clear in your gaze. "And that's why you orchestrated that earlier?" you asked, alluding to the attack his men had initiated.

Seungcheol let out a weary sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly. "I needed to be sure. You worked with NIS. I had every reason to be cautious, to doubt your intentions," he admitted, his tone tinged with a mumble of apology.

He continued, his voice carrying a rare vulnerability. "Me, Jeonghan, and Joshua built this association from the ground up. Jeonghan was my right hand, handling all aspects of the business, while Joshua helped me manage our resources." He paused, a flicker of emotion crossing his features.

"My relationship with Jeonghan... it was different. He was like a brother, someone who completed me in a way that no one else could. I hope you understand why I view Kanga with such animosity," Seungcheol explained, his words carrying a weight of history and sentiment.

You tilted your head, offering a hesitant observation. "I didn't expect you to be this... emotional, Seungcheol. You might just be the most melancholic person to run an illegal business," you remarked, earning a sigh from him.

"I'm a businessman, not a robot, Y/n," he replied, rising from his seat. "We'll be here for five days. After that, we'll move to Busan, and perhaps even Japan. Be prepared for a lot of traveling. Once you join us, there's no turning back."

With those final words, Seungcheol left you alone in the bedroom, leaving you to contemplate the weight of the journey that lay ahead.

 

*

The sleek black car cut through the night, slicing through the darkened roads like a shadow. Inside, it was an atmosphere thick with tension, with only the low hum of the engine breaking the silence. Seungcheol's gaze remained fixed ahead, the muted glow of passing streetlights painting fleeting streaks of light across his focused expression.

Beside him, you sat in contemplative silence, the gravity of the situation weighing heavily on your mind. The file, the association, Seungcheol's motives - it was all a whirlwind of complexity that demanded your utmost attention.

Abruptly, the car jerked to a stop, sending a jolt through your body. Panic flashed in your eyes as you instinctively glanced at Seungcheol, who already had his hand on the gun tucked at his side. The driver, Seungcheol's trusted bodyguard, was on high alert, scanning the surroundings for any signs of danger.

Seungcheol's phone chimed, breaking the silence, and he quickly answered. Joshua's voice crackled through the speaker, fraught with urgency. "Seungcheol, I've had a tire blowout. I'll be delayed. Go ahead without me."

Seungcheol's brow furrowed in concern, his gaze flickering to you briefly before refocusing on the situation at hand. "Understood, Joshua. We'll proceed. Be safe."

As the call ended, the car suddenly rocked violently, the sound of screeching metal filling the air. The windows shattered, showering you with glass, and the world outside seemed to explode into chaos. The driver fought to regain control, but it was clear - they were under attack.

Seungcheol's training kicked in, his movements swift and calculated as he returned fire, the staccato bursts of gunfire filling the confined space. The assailants, masked and armed, were relentless, their bullets finding purchase in the car's reinforced chassis.

With a steely resolve, you reached for the concealed weapon at your side, your training taking over. You fired back, your shots precise and calculated, each one a declaration of your determination to survive.

The battle raged on, a fierce clash of wills in the heart of the night. The car became a battleground, a symphony of gunfire and shattered glass.

With a final surge of determination, Seungcheol's onslaught forced the assailants to retreat, their presence vanishing into the night. The car, battered and smoldering, sat in the aftermath of the brutal assault.

The air inside the car hung heavy with tension, suffused with the acrid scent of gunpowder. Seungcheol's gaze bore into the darkness outside, his mind racing with thoughts on their next move.

Without hesitation, he swung open the door, motioning for you to follow. The night air was cool against your skin, carrying with it a sense of urgency that matched the pounding of your heart.

Seungcheol took the lead, his every movement calculated and purposeful. His eyes scanned the surroundings, searching for any sign of danger. "We can't stay here. We need to find shelter," he declared, his voice steady despite the chaos that had erupted around them.

You nodded, falling into step behind him, the weight of your weapon a reassuring presence in your hand. The driver, still recovering from the shock of the attack, looked to Seungcheol for guidance.

"Head towards the nearest safehouse," Seungcheol instructed, his voice leaving no room for hesitation.

As the driver navigated the damaged vehicle through the treacherous terrain, Seungcheol's mind raced, formulating a plan to ensure their safety. "We'll need to regroup, gather our resources, and assess the situation," he murmured, more to himself than to you. Seungcheol's jaw clenched, the weight of responsibility settling firmly on his shoulders.

When the car finally came to a stop outside a nondescript building, Seungcheol wasted no time. He directed the driver to secure the perimeter while he ushered you inside.

The safehouse was dimly lit, a stark contrast to the chaos outside. Seungcheol's eyes scanned the room, assessing its potential vulnerabilities. "We'll need to fortify this place. It's not ideal, but it will have to do for now," he declared, his tone unwavering.

"You're bleeding." You stated as your gaze fell into his shoulder. Blood stained his baby blue shirt, signing that he got shot there. 

As you swiftly moved around the safehouse, your eyes scanned for a medical kit. It was a testament to the intensity of the night that you didn't even flinch at the sight of the supplies, grabbing what you needed with the precision of someone well-acquainted with field medicine.

When you returned to Seungcheol, he watched you intently, his gaze never leaving your hands as you tended to his wound. It was a clean shot, but it still needed attention. The room was hushed, save for the soft rustle of the bandages.

"You're a pro," Seungcheol's voice cut through the quiet, his tone a mixture of admiration and respect.

"I received a lot of training," your reply was simple, a reflection of the life you had led.

Curiosity danced in Seungcheol's eyes as he asked about your time with NIS. You shared snippets of your missions, the work you did in the security and international affairs division. The topics ranged from diplomatic protection to intelligence gathering in high-stakes environments.

"What kind of training did you receive?" Seungcheol inquired, genuinely interested in the life you had lived.

You listed off the various disciplines you had honed: firing, martial arts, endurance, criminalogy, psychology. Each word held weight, a testament to the breadth of skills required in your line of work.

"Is that hard? Being an agent?" Seungcheol's question was measured, a genuine curiosity about the world you navigated.

You met his query with one of your own, turning the spotlight back on him. "Is that hard being a mafia?"

Seungcheol blinked, momentarily taken aback by the question. It was a rare moment of vulnerability from a man who exuded confidence in every step he took.

"Even answering is hard," you mused softly, a wry smile touching your lips. With a final adjustment to the bandage, you finished tending to Seungcheol's wound. The room settled into a thoughtful silence, each of you lost in your own reflections.

"Have you ever thought of leaving the job?"

Seungcheol's question hung in the air, a weighty inquiry that cut through the silence. It was a question that carried a depth of understanding, born from the recognition of the sacrifices that came with a life dedicated to a cause.

You looked at him, your gaze meeting his, and for a moment, the veneer of professionalism fell away. It was just two individuals, bound by circumstance, facing the complexities of their chosen paths.

"Yes," you admitted, your voice soft but resolute. "There have been moments when I've wondered what it would be like to walk away, to have a life that doesn't demand constant vigilance."

Seungcheol listened, his eyes fixed on yours, his expression a mirror of contemplation. It was a conversation that touched on the vulnerabilities that lingered beneath the surface, the unspoken desires for a different kind of existence.

"And have you?" Seungcheol's question was equally gentle, a reflection of the trust that had begun to form between you.

You nodded, a subtle admission of the complexities that colored your journey. "There have been times when I've come close, but duty always called me back."

The weight of your shared confessions settled in the room, a heavy presence that underscored the gravity of the paths you both walked. It was a moment of vulnerability, a rare glimpse into the hearts that beat beneath the professional exteriors.

You mustered the courage to speak about your brother, Jeonghan. "I found out about Jeonghan's death through a covert channel within NIS. It was a blow, a revelation that shook me to my core." The memory was still fresh, the pain of loss a constant ache in your heart.

You pondered over what Jeonghan's life must have been like, what secrets he held. "I always assumed Jeonghan was running a clothing line," you admitted, your voice tinged with a hint of regret. The memory of your last encounter with him flashed before your eyes. It was then that he had learned about your affiliation with NIS.

Seungcheol listened intently, his eyes fixed on you. It was a story that resonated with him, for he too had lost Jeonghan, a brother in a different sense. "I'm sorry you had to find out that way," he offered, his voice laced with genuine sympathy.

Every time you considered leaving the job, the specter of your brother's death loomed large. It was a reason to stay, a burning desire to unravel the mystery of who had taken him from you. The need for closure, for justice, fueled your determination.

"He never said anything about you. I think he was just being secretive to protect your privacy. It must have been a surprise for him to learn you work for NIS," Seungcheol mused, offering his perspective.

The thought of NIS potentially being involved in Jeonghan's death hung heavy in the air. "If Jeonghan's death is related to NIS, I would do anything to rip them apart," you confessed, your voice edged with determination. The words held a weight of truth, a vow to seek justice for the brother you had lost.

Seungcheol's gaze met yours, a solemn understanding passing between you. The room seemed to hold its breath, the weight of your shared purpose settling around you.

"I can assure you, Y/n," Seungcheol began, his voice carrying a quiet resolve, "we both want the same thing. I'll kill Kang Jaehoon with my own hands. I'll do it by my self to whoever did that to Jeonghan."

You nodded, grateful for his words. It was a reassurance that you weren't alone in this pursuit, that you had an ally in Seungcheol, even if your worlds were vastly different.

As the conversation lingered in the air, there was a subtle shift in the atmosphere. It was a recognition of the bond that had formed between you, a connection forged in the crucible of shared loss.

"We'll find the answers together, Y/n. No matter where they lead us," Seungcheol vowed, his eyes steady and unwavering.

With those words, a pact was sealed. You and Seungcheol were now bound by a shared purpose, a determination to uncover the truth that had eluded you both for far too long.

In that moment, the boundaries of your worlds seemed to blur. 

 

*

 

The shadows of intrigue danced around the dimly lit room where Joshua stood, a man cloaked in secrets and allegiances. Before him stood a figure whose face was veiled in shadows, a powerful presence in the criminal underworld.

"Yoon Y/n has met Seungcheol," Joshua reported, his voice carrying the weight of significant revelation. "Seungcheol seems to have taken an affection to her, especially upon learning she is Jeonghan's sister."

The man nodded in acknowledgment, absorbing the information with calculated interest. It was a revelation that held implications beyond what was immediately apparent.

Joshua continued, his voice steady, "Tonight's assault was successful. Seungcheol has informed me that they will stop at the safe house."

The man wasted no time, instructing his associates to mobilize towards the designated safe house. It was a calculated move, a chess piece carefully maneuvered into place.

"As you promised, make sure my name remains clean," Joshua stated, a reminder of the intricate web of alliances and agreements that bound them.

Seo Myunho, a formidable figure in his own right, extended his hand for a handshake, sealing a pact forged in the shadows of their clandestine dealings. Joshua, however, shifted his hand to another figure in the room, Kang Jaehoon, a gesture that spoke volumes of the shifting alliances and hidden agendas at play.

In the complex tapestry of loyalties and betrayals, Joshua's decision to betray his own association was woven from a history that ran deep, entangled with the fates of Seungcheol and Jeonghan.

From the inception of their criminal enterprise, Joshua had always been the steadfast third pillar, his words overshadowed by Jeonghan's charismatic influence. His loyalty was unwavering, his execution of tasks impeccable. Yet, when a deal with Kang Jaehoon emerged, a sinister plot was set into motion. Jaehoon sought to eliminate Jeonghan, recognizing him as the linchpin to Seungcheol's success. With Jeonghan removed, the balance shifted, and Joshua stepped into the void, his influence expanding, making it all the easier for Kang Jaehoon to tighten his grip on Seungcheol's empire.

As Kanga sought to escalate their operations, delving into the drug trade, they required political backing, and that's when Kim Chul, Chief of NIS, entered the picture. Seo Myungho was deployed to play his role, a lethal pawn in the intricate game.

Yoon Y/n, an NIS agent of unparalleled dedication, possessed an unparalleled knowledge of the geopolitical intricacies between nations. Her resolve was unyielding, and she became a potent force within NIS. When her familial connection to Yoon Jeonghan was discovered, it provided a strategic advantage, a means to chip away at Seungcheol's empire from within.

The plan was deceptively simple: bring S.Coups and Y/n together, knowing that their union posed the greatest threat to Kang Jaehoon and Kim Chul. It was a calculated move to weaken their adversaries, setting the stage for a termination mission that could shatter Seungcheol's empire.

Yet, in the twisted dance of deception, Seo Myungho failed to convey the full extent of Y/n's power—the possession of The Blackfile. And Joshua, blinded by the intricacies of the game, failed to realize the magnitude of the force that would be unleashed when Choi Seungcheol and Yoon Y/n stood united.

Jaehoon's operative delivered the report with a somber tone, "Hyungnim, report. Choi Seungcheol and Yoon Y/n had left the safe house. We failed to get them."

Jaehoon's gaze narrowed, a steely resolve settling into his features. He turned to Joshua, seeking answers, "Any information from Coups?"

Joshua's expression registered surprise, shaken by the fact that Seungcheol hadn't disclosed his whereabouts. He shook his head, uncertainty etched in his eyes. This unexpected move was a curveball that had caught them off guard.

Jaehoon's voice held a note of determination, "Okay, let's go with plan B." 

 

*

 

The small, unassuming bookstore loomed in front of both you and Seungcheol. His driver took a separate route, following instructions issued by Seungcheol himself.

"Is this the right place?" Seungcheol inquired, a note of skepticism threading his words. The decision to leave the safe house was a precautionary one, a response to the looming threat of Kanga's relentless pursuit. The only refuge you offered was this hidden bookstore, a sanctuary where trust still held sway.

A boy stood behind the counter, his eyes flicking up to greet you. You wasted no time in your inquiry, asking if 'Gameboi' was present. Without hesitation, the boy gestured towards a concealed door, hidden behind a curtain. Seungcheol followed your lead, stepping into the dimly lit corridor.

With practiced precision, you input a code and scanned your fingerprint, unlocking the hidden passage. 

"What kind of place is this?" He asked again. 

You smiled at Seungcheol, a silent invitation for him to enter the room ahead of you. As he crossed the threshold, the stark transformation in atmosphere struck him.

The room burst forth in a riot of color, adorned with an array of vibrant and eclectic decorations. It resembled nothing short of a teenager's bedroom from high school. Seungcheol's gaze swept over the lively surroundings, a stark contrast to the dark corridor outside.

Just as the intrigue deepened, a bespectacled man entered through another door. He exuded an air of warmth and welcome. He approached you, enfolding you in a genuine embrace. Then, he extended a hand towards Seungcheol, introducing himself as 'Wonwoo'. 

"I know you," Wonwoo said when Seungcheol introduced himself, his curiosity piqued. "You haven't visited for a long time. Any news?" He turned to you, inquiring while the three of you settled on the couch.

Seungcheol found amusement in witnessing how at ease you appeared in this room compared to his own. Your legs rested casually on the table as you sank into the couch.

"Seo Myungho and that damned organization turned their backs on me, Jeon Wonwoo! I can't believe the time has come," you sighed, frustration evident in your voice.

"What do you mean? You're the one and only gem in the division," Wonwoo remarked, revealing his knowledge of your work with NIS.

You stood up and turned to Seungcheol, "Wonwoo was a former NIS agent as well. Specializing in programming, hacking, whatever," you explained, shedding light on your connection with Wonwoo.

"Cybersecurity agent," Wonwoo corrected, "I resigned two years ago," providing a little background on how he knew Seungcheol's name from earlier.

You assumed they were looking for you because of The Black File, a file that Wonwoo had contributed to before he left NIS. You explained to Wonwoo how Seo Myunho had nearly killed you that night, and Seungcheol had saved you, revealing that he was a friend of your brother Yoon Jeonghan. 

Wonwoo was taken aback by the news, both the fact that they wanted to terminate you and that you were Yoon Jeonghan's sibling.

You then requested Wonwoo's help in tracking down Seo Myunho. He beckoned for you both to follow him to his room, where his equipment was neatly arranged.

As he typed Seo Myungho's name, he initiated a thorough search. Wonwoo combed through Myungho's location via his cellphone, bank transactions, and car GPS. After a few moments, he pinpointed a location and immediately pulled up a live feed from the nearest CCTV.

Seungcheol couldn't help but question the legality of their actions, only to be met with scoffs from both you and Wonwoo. "You ask that like you've never done anything illegal, Choi Seungcheol," you retorted.

You watched intently as Myungho emerged from a building that bore the appearance of a club. Seungcheol confirmed that it was indeed one of Kanga's establishments.

"Then it's true that Myungho has worked with Kanga," Wonwoo concluded, the gravity of the situation becoming even clearer.

As you observed Myungho, a thought crossed your mind - was he merely a puppet in this intricate web? You recalled a crucial event months ago when you intercepted one of Kanga's transactions, a move that had ultimately led to your current mission of apprehending Choi Seungcheol. There was a possibility that someone within NIS was colluding with Kanga.

You turned to Wonwoo and inquired if he had a copy of The Black File. He shook his head, affirming that you were the sole holder of it.

Seungcheol, sensing the gravity of the situation, asked, "What is The Black File?". 

Wonwoo explained that it contained information on powerful individuals engaged in illegal activities, including politicians, celebrities, and leaders. Both you and Wonwoo had worked on compiling it for several years, believing it would prove valuable. Little did you know, it had now become a weapon that held your fate.

You admitted to Wonwoo that you had forgotten where you stashed the flash drive containing the file.

Wonwoo's expression turned serious. "We don't have time for memory lapses," he stated firmly. "You need to remember where you put it. It's crucial. This file holds immense power, and if in the wrong hands..." He left the implications hanging in the air, emphasizing the urgency of retrieving it.

"But i don't think they were looking for the file, Y/n." Wonwoo began. "They won't kill you if they knew the file exists. There must be another reason why they had to terminate you."

Wonwoo's revelation sparked a realization. If they were after The Black File, they wouldn't be attempting to terminate you. Their motives ran deeper, and you couldn't quite fathom the underlying cause.

Seungcheol's sudden question pierced the air, "Does NIS know about your brother?"

Your mind raced, trying to connect the dots. How could Jeonghan, who was long gone, be relevant to this?

Wonwoo's inquiry brought forth more details. Seungcheol explained that Jeonghan's tragic demise occurred five years ago, a casualty of a successful deal he had struck with Kanga. The revelation sent a jolt through you. Three years ago, you received the news from the NIS channel, indicating a two-year delay in information. 

There must be reason for NIS to inform you about your brother's death. 

Morning bathed the room in a soft glow as you and Wonwoo delved into the intricacies of the case that had entangled both you and Seungcheol. Seungcheol momentarily stepped out to take a call, leaving you alone with Wonwoo.

Out of the blue, Wonwoo dropped a bombshell. "He likes you," he declared. "And you like him too."

You shot him a look, dismissing his words. "Shut up."

Wonwoo merely shrugged, undeterred. "Why not? Can't I be happy for you? He seems to genuinely care about you. Plus, he's in this danger too," he pointed out.

"He sees me as a sister," you retorted, brushing off his claim.

Wonwoo couldn't resist a sarcastic agreement. "Right, because every brother looks at their sister with such affectionate eyes." He knew how to push your buttons, and it irked you.

There were a pregnant pause before you suddenly chirepd, "But seriously?" you pressed, the seed of doubt taking root.

Wonwoo smirked, triumphant. He had you.

"Damn it," you muttered, landing a playful punch on his arm.

Seungcheol entered the room, his expression tense. "We need to go. Kanga's people are looking for us, whether it's me or you, I'm not sure. They were spotted near the safe house last night."

You bid a hasty farewell to Wonwoo and left the bookstore with Seungcheol. Sensing his exhaustion, you offered to take the wheel, knowing he hadn't slept since the previous night.

Your plan was to head to Japan by ship later that evening. It was the only solution Seungcheol could think of, a way to put some distance between you and the danger lurking in South Korea.

As you discussed your next moves, Seungcheol mentioned Joshua's unusual situation. His tire hadn't been repaired despite the supposed breakdown last night, his bodyguard had checked it for him. There was no repairment service that handling his car last night. The unspoken suspicion hung heavily in the air, and you couldn't bring yourself to voice it aloud.

"Are you trying to say that Joshua..." Seungcheol, however, nodded in grim acknowledgment. The truth seemed painfully apparent.

At the rest area, Seungcheol stayed in the car while you hurriedly went to grab some food. Just as you were about to return, you caught sight of individuals with distinctive dragon tattoos etched on their arms. Panic surged through you, propelling you to rush to your car and start the engine with a burst of urgency. The abrupt motion woke Seungcheol, his eyes widening at your alarmed announcement about Kanga's henchmen tailing you.

With Seungcheol's calm guidance, you maneuvered the car with precision, skillfully evading the pursuers. Eventually, he directed you to a public parking lot, providing a temporary sanctuary where you could catch your breath.

As the car rolled to a stop, you released a trembling exhale, your fingers still gripping the steering wheel tightly. Seungcheol's concerned gaze met yours, his worry palpable as he took in your shaken state.

"Are you alright, Y/n?" His voice held a mixture of concern and a trace of remorse for allowing you to take the wheel amidst the heightened tension.

You nodded, though the rapid rise and fall of your chest, coupled with your trembling hands, betrayed the underlying tension that still clung to you. With deliberate movements, you unbuckled your seatbelt and rose from your seat. As you nestled into Seungcheol's lap. You lips crashed his. Without a doubt, his arms enveloped you in a protective cocoon. The kiss that followed was a fusion of relief, gratitude, and an unspoken understanding of the danger that lurked around you.

His lips met yours with a gentle urgency, a silent promise of safety and support. It was a kiss that spoke volumes, conveying emotions that words could scarcely capture. Time seemed to stand still, and the world beyond the car became a distant backdrop.

The touch of his lips against yours was both tender and reassuring, a testament to the unspoken connection that had been forming between you. In that stolen moment, you found solace in each other's arms, seeking comfort in the midst of uncertainty.

When the kiss finally ended, there was a lingering warmth, a shared understanding that hung in the air. You pulled back, your eyes meeting Seungcheol's with a mixture of gratitude and something deeper, something that hinted at the complexities of the situation you found yourselves in.

Seungcheol's gaze held a rare vulnerability, a glimpse into the depths of his emotions that he seldom allowed to surface. It was a fleeting moment of raw connection, a silent acknowledgment of the gravity of the circumstances that brought you together.

Without a word, you shifted back to your own seat, a comfortable silence settling between you. The events of the night had forged an unbreakable bond, a shared experience that bound you in ways that words could not express.

"I'll drive." Seungcheol said and went out to switch the seat. 

 

*

 

"The boat will be ready by tonight," Joshua assured Seungcheol over the phone, a sense of anticipation in his voice. "Yes, I'll report to you about that. Please take care, the two of you."

As the call concluded, Joshua's eyes shifted to Seo Myungho. "Easy," he remarked, a sly smile playing on his lips. He motioned for Myungho to join them, setting their intricate plan into motion.

Their objective was clear: secure The Black File before executing their plan to eliminate both you and Seungcheol that night. Myungho's valuable insights into The Black File, a compilation of your intelligence and that of a former NIS agent, made it a potent weapon for seizing control of the industry.

Joshua couldn't help but smirk, satisfaction evident in his expression. The alliance between him and Myungho, forged in the crucible of shared secrets and calculated trust, held the promise of a meticulously planned revenge. The culmination of a long-simmering vendetta was now unfolding step by step.

Myungho, behind the wheel, sighed in relief as he drove. "You finally could be the boss of your association by tonight."

Nodding, Joshua turned his gaze to Myungho, a glint of triumph in his eyes. "And you finally could gain what you've deserved with Y/n out of the frame."

Myungho smiled slyly, understanding the gravity of their collaboration. "It's mutual, right?"

Joshua chuckled softly, his amusement blending with a hint of menace. "Yeah. Once we get The Black File, it's time for Kanga and your boss's end."

As they drove towards their destiny, the tension in the air was palpable. The night held the promise of transformation, and each calculated move was a step closer to the realization of their shared ambitions.

Joshua sighed, his mind drifting back to a time when camaraderie thrived among them—Seungcheol, Jeonghan, and himself, the third wheel in their trio. In the beginning, questions about their friendship never crossed his mind. Jeonghan's insatiable need for attention seemed to explain Seungcheol's profound admiration for him. Yet, as the dynamics shifted from friendship to business, Joshua's perception underwent a seismic change.

He came to the realization that he had never truly been considered family from the start; he was more of a distant relative, someone known but not entirely trusted. The shift became painfully apparent as their bonds transformed amidst the demands of their new business endeavors. What once felt like an unbreakable connection now seemed tenuous, as he found himself relegated to the sidelines.

The tipping point occurred when Seungcheol, in a move that cut deep, was elected as the boss. Instead of recognizing Joshua's unwavering dedication to the association, Seungcheol chose Jeonghan as his right-hand man. It was a bitter pill to swallow, a stark revelation of the hierarchy within their supposedly close-knit circle.

Life, Joshua mused, was undeniably unfair. Yet, he harbored a growing understanding that life could be twisted, transformed by unexpected events. And that twist entered the frame in the form of Kang Jaehoon.

As Joshua delved into these memories, a mixture of nostalgia and resentment played across his features. The emotions he had bottled up over time simmered beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to unfurl. 

Turning his head towards Myungho, Joshua couldn't help but voice his curiosity, "What kind of person is Y/n?" His interest in unraveling your persona evident in his inquiry.

Myungho, with a momentary pause, described, "She's naive, perhaps the most naive agent I've ever met." There was a hint of both assessment and a touch of amusement in his words. Myungho's insight into your character seemed to amuse Joshua, who couldn't resist a scoff. "Pretty much like her own brother," he remarked, drawing a subtle parallel between you and someone else close to Joshua.

"But she's smart, detail-oriented, and quick," Myungho continued, offering a more comprehensive picture of your capabilities. "Truly speaking, she has an undeniable charm that could make everyone like her. That's how she got into her position."

Joshua, listening attentively, shook his head slowly, a mix of acknowledgment and resignation in his expression. "Right? People with charm always beat the hard workers like us," he mused, releasing a sigh that carried a hint of bitterness.

Myungho, however, added a layer of perspective. Nodding thoughtfully, he turned to Joshua, "But only a hardworking one could steal that." His words hung in the air, emphasizing the value of perseverance and diligence in their cutthroat world.

As the conversation unfolded in the confined space of the car, the atmosphere became charged with unspoken truths and the acknowledgment of the intricate dynamics at play. Myungho, growing impatient, stepped on the gas, propelling them forward towards a destination where destinies would intersect and choices would define their futures.

As Joshua and Myungho arrived at the port, they spotted Seungcheol's car parked nearby, a silent testament to the unfolding scheme. Joshua swiftly dialed Seungcheol to relay the exact location, establishing the designated meeting point. In the shadows, Myungho concealed himself, poised for the opportune moment to secure you and The Black File.

"Boss," Joshua greeted both you and Seungcheol with a facade of politeness, his demeanor belying the intricate web of betrayal that had been spun. He gestured for both of you to embark on the waiting boat. Seungcheol took the lead, extending his hand to assist you, an innocent enough gesture that masked the underlying deceit.

However, the engine roared to life unexpectedly, disrupting the carefully choreographed plan. Joshua observed Seungcheol's momentary surprise as he, with calculated intent, pushed Seungcheol onto the boat just as it began to glide away. The abrupt departure left you momentarily stranded, only to find yourself being pulled aboard by none other than Myungho.

"Y/N!" Seungcheol's desperate scream echoed through the port, his voice carrying the weight of genuine concern for your well-being. The urgency in his tone betrayed the turmoil within, a realization that the situation had taken an unexpected turn.

Yet, before Seungcheol could comprehend the full gravity of the unfolding events, someone stealthily emerged from the shadows behind him. With precision born from sinister intent, they clamped a hand over Seungcheol's mouth, the cold touch delivering a swift introduction to a sleeping drug. As the sedative took effect, Seungcheol's struggles faltered, and he succumbed to the encroaching unconsciousness.

 The abrupt silence that followed Seungcheol's desperate cry hinted at the abrupt shift in dynamics, leaving only the sound of lapping waves and the muffled breaths of those entangled in a web of deceit.

"Let me go!" Your desperate plea echoed through the air as you struggled within Myungho's unwavering grip. Every fiber of your being seemed determined to break free from the confining hold.

The air crackled with tension as you, fueled by a surge of adrenaline and determination, engaged in a physical struggle with Myungho. Your attempts to break free were met with calculated resistance, his grip unyielding as he maintained control over the situation.

Myungho, seemingly amused by your defiance, continued to taunt, "Give us The Black File, and maybe we'll reconsider your fate." His words hung in the air, a sinister bargain that underscored the high-stakes nature of the unfolding confrontation.

In the midst of this struggle, Joshua stepped forward from the shadows, his expression betraying a mix of amusement and cold detachment. "Y/N, you always were a formidable opponent," he remarked, his voice carrying the weight of shared history now tainted by betrayal.

Undeterred, you fought fiercely against Myungho's hold, refusing to succumb to the impending surrender. The port became an arena for a clash of allegiances, the sounds of the scuffle blending with the distant cries of seagulls and the lapping of the waves against the dock.

A sudden, desperate maneuver afforded you a brief respite, breaking free from Myungho's grasp. As you distanced yourself, the intensity of the confrontation hung in the air, a palpable tension that mirrored the fractured alliances in this shadowed port.

 

In that fleeting moment, your eyes met Joshua's, sparking a glimmer of recognition. A shared history echoed in that exchange—a whisper of the camaraderie that once bound you together. The gravity of the betrayal seemed to pause briefly as the weight of the past flickered in your gaze.

 

Yet, the fragile thread of nostalgia snapped as Joshua, devoid of sentiment, raised his hand. A calculated gesture, a silent command to Myungho to resume the pursuit. The camaraderie dissolved into the cold reality of betrayal, leaving you with a bitter taste of disappointment and the knowledge that any remnants of trust had been irrevocably shattered.

"The Black File was with Jeonghan," your voice cut through the tension, a revelation hanging in the air like an electric storm. Joshua and Myungho, masters of manipulation, found themselves momentarily caught off guard. The revelation was a jolt, and vulnerability flickered across their faces, bared for just a moment amid the chaos they had orchestrated.

The port, once a canvas for clandestine alliances, now bore witness to the unraveling of carefully laid plans. The shock on their faces mirrored the seismic shift in power dynamics, a stark reminder that even the architects of betrayal could be blindsided.

Seizing the moment, you acted swiftly, drawing a concealed gun and aiming it at Myungho's stomach. The sudden threat disrupted the calculated dance of deceit, leaving Myungho staggered by the impact of the shot. The crack of gunfire echoed in the night, punctuating the escalating drama.

With the grip on you released, you walked purposefully toward Joshua. "If you really want to get it, then get it by yourself," you asserted, the words laden with a mix of defiance and resolve. The revelation had turned the tables, and now the power dynamic teetered on the edge of retribution.

Raising the gun, you pointed it at Joshua's head, the port's ambient sounds providing an eerie backdrop to this dramatic showdown. "To hell with both of you," you declared, the words carrying the weight of betrayal and the determination to break free from the shackles of their deceit. The air crackled with a charged intensity, marking a turning point in this intricate dance of loyalty and betrayal.

 

*

 

"As we knew, both agents Y/n and Myungho were very diligent and loyal. They were our siblings, our children, our family, and our friends. May their souls rest in peace," solemn words hung in the air, marking the culmination of a funeral that served as a testament to the sacrifices made in the clandestine world of espionage.

As the NIS agents stood united in both grief and silent acknowledgment of the perils they faced daily, the atmosphere remained heavy with the weight of loss. The caskets, side by side, symbolized the interconnected destinies that had led to this tragic end. Flowers adorned the area, a feeble attempt to inject a touch of solace into the stark reality of their fallen comrades.

After the formalities, Wonwoo stepped back from the circle of mourners. His eyes caught a figure wearing a mask and hat lingering in the shadows. Carefully, he approached, recognizing the need for discretion in their covert world. Together, they walked towards where Wonwoo had parked his car earlier.

"Your funeral would pretty much look like that in case you'll curious," Wonwoo remarked, acknowledging the clandestine nature of their existence.

In response, you scoffed and hissed, "Fuck you," tossing the cap and mask onto the backseat. The exchange carried a residue of bitterness, a reminder of the thin line between duty and personal sacrifice in the intricate dance of espionage. The port, once a hub for secrets, now bore witness to the aftermath of lives lived in the shadows and the heavy toll extracted in the pursuit of elusive truths.

A week had passed since the discovery of "your" lifeless body submerged in water alongside Myungho's. The pursuit of Choi Seungcheol had come to a somber close, marked by the tragic demise of two dedicated agents in a public spectacle. The National Intelligence Service (NIS) found itself thrust into the spotlight, with the media seizing the opportunity to expose the agency's inner workings, tarnishing its once-respected image. 

In the aftermath, you handed a necklace to Wonwoo, solemnly instructing him, "Do this last favor for me." Wonwoo, eyebrows raised, initially puzzled, finally grasped the situation. "As Yoon Y/n? Alright, I was taken aback for a sec. Dude, I was just attending your funeral!" he exclaimed in relief.

With a subtle roll of your eyes, you replied, "Agent Yoon is no more, Wonwoo. Please welcome the newest persona, Jeon Y/n!" Your announcement was met with your own sense of excitement, while Wonwoo couldn't help but roll his eyes at your characteristic flair for the dramatic. 

If only you didn't promise him big money, he won't let you use his surname.

 

*

 

Two years later, you find yourself standing in front of the iconic statue of Marcus Aurelius in Rome, reflecting on the profound changes that have unfolded since adopting your new identity as Jeon Y/n. Life has taken unexpected turns, leading you down a path of reinvention. Shedding the cloak of espionage, you embraced a role far removed from the covert world – that of a counselor.

Roaming the world, your journey eventually brought you to Rome, a city steeped in history and timeless beauty. A client, seeking solace and guidance, had specifically requested a month of regular sessions. The cobblestone streets echoed with the whispers of ancient stories as you navigated through the enchanting blend of past and present.

As a counselor, your days are now filled with meaningful conversations, helping others navigate the intricate tapestry of their lives. The weight of secrets has given way to the liberation of shared emotions, and the art of healing has become your newfound purpose. The serene atmosphere of Rome serves as a backdrop to these sessions, adding an extra layer of tranquility to the therapeutic journey.

Standing before the stoic statue of Marcus Aurelius, you ponder the resilience of the human spirit and the transformative power of embracing a new identity. The winds of change have carried you to this moment, where the echoes of ancient wisdom mingle with the whispers of contemporary souls seeking guidance.

Your phone rings, and it's your client representative on the line. "Hi, Ms. Jeon. I would like to inform you that Mr. Lee would be available today at 3 o'clock. I'll send you the location for the counseling session. And I'm so sorry for the sudden reschedule."

You reply calmly, "It's okay, I'll be there first to prepare the counseling session if you don't mind."

The representative reassures you, "It's totally fine. Enjoy your time in Rome."

With the call ended, you take a moment to appreciate the city's timeless charm before gearing up for the upcoming session. The cobblestone streets and ancient architecture seem to whisper tales of resilience, mirroring the very themes you navigate in your counseling sessions. As you await the location details, the anticipation of another transformative encounter with a client adds a layer of purpose to your journey through the heart of Rome.

Arriving at the hotel room designated for today's counseling session, you meticulously organize your materials, mentally preparing for the upcoming encounter. The ambiance of the room exudes a mix of professionalism and quietude, a fitting space for the intricate nature of your counseling work. 

As you immerse yourself in thoughts, the distinct sound of footsteps interrupts your focus. A familiar voice, unexpectedly speaking Korean, greets you. Turning your head, disbelief washes over you as you meet Choi Seungcheol's gaze, his sly smirk adding an element of intrigue.

"You are Mr. Lee?!" you demand, your tone revealing a blend of astonishment and assertiveness. Seungcheol nods, seemingly amused by your reaction.

With a nonchalant tone, he responds, "Nice to meet you, Ms. Jeon. Should we start the session?"

 

*

 

Your breath hitched, lingering in the air, though the kiss had ended moments ago. Seungcheol, face flushed, entered the car, tapping clumsily on unnecessary features of his own car, seemingly surprised by his own actions. As you turned your head toward him, his eyes locked onto yours, a profound connection established as if you had discovered something essential in this vast world.

The sensation surpassed the satisfaction of profits in Seungcheol's clubs or the triumph of a successful case. It was a peculiar feeling, one that transcended tangible accomplishments.

Your gaze drifted to his neck, where a familiar necklace rested. Without a second thought, you grabbed his collar, surprising him once again. "Your necklace," you mumbled, and his eyes followed your gaze.

Seungcheol, flustered, stammered, "M—my necklace. Oh, it was... Shoot! I thought you were gonna kiss me again." His attempt at diversion was met with skepticism.

Locking eyes with him, you asked, "Is this from Jeonghan?" Seungcheol nodded slowly, still in an awkward position, but his gaze remained fixated on your lips.

Closing his eyes, Seungcheol suppressed a surge of longing within him. "Give me," you demanded, suddenly unhooking the necklace. Your proximity was dangerously close, and he swore he could detect the scent of your body.

Seated again, you opened the necklace, revealing something Seungcheol had never known. "You can open it?" It turned out to be a flash drive. Plugging it into your phone, you discovered something crucial that you had been searching for – "The Black Files." Without hesitation, you showed Seungcheol the file on your phone and promptly sent it to Wonwoo.

In the tense atmosphere, with evidence of Joshua's betrayal in hand, Seungcheol's bodyguard unveiled a revelation that brought clarity to the mysteries lingering in Seungcheol's mind. You proposed an audacious plan to Seungcheol, urging him to seek Joshua's assistance for your swift departure to Japan tonight. Initially resistant due to the inherent danger involving you, Seungcheol hesitated, his internal struggle palpable.

"I could be a better fighter than you, Seungcheol," you confidently asserted, persuading him to entertain the daring idea. As Seungcheol reluctantly agreed to be part of the plan, you swiftly connected with Wonwoo, seeking his alliance in this perilous endeavor.

"I just have to hide on the boat and pretend I'm one of their people, right?" Wonwoo's words unveiled his cyber expertise, underscoring the contrast with his lack of field experience.

Rolling your eyes at Wonwoo's comment, you took charge, instructing him, "Pretend to sedate Seungcheol. I know they're after me for The Black Files." The gravity of the situation hung in the air as you navigated the intricate details with determination.

Hooking the necklace back onto Seungcheol's neck, you expressed gratitude, saying, "Thank you for taking care of my brother's stuff." The gesture carried a weight of acknowledgment and trust. As a token of appreciation, you kissed Seungcheol's left cheek, leaving a lingering sense of warmth amidst the impending dangers that lay ahead. 

 

*

 

"So, how have you been since then, Seungcheol?" you gently inquired, your voice breaking the silence that enveloped the car as the complexities of your mission unfolded.

"I'm having a very good life. I was dropped in Japan, and Wonwoo had left me without a word. He was a very cold man," Seungcheol revealed, his tone carrying a hint of abandonment that lingered from his past experiences.

"He is."

"Still? I don't understand how you're still a friend of his," he remarked, curiosity etched across his features, his gaze seeking understanding.

You smiled, your eyes studying his demeanor. "You're different, Seungcheol. I mean in a good way."

Seungcheol responded with a playful smirk, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "How do you know that just by our first session? Am I in good hands?"

Laughter bubbled from you, a refreshing sound amidst the tension. "Thanks for reaching me," you expressed sincerely, the gratitude apparent in your voice.

"I'm more grateful for you, for staying alive," Seungcheol confessed, acknowledging the significance of your presence in his life.

The conversation took an unexpected turn as you playfully probed, "Did you have a crush on me, Seungcheol?"

Caught off guard, Seungcheol blushed, attempting to articulate his feelings. "You know what? Yes, I did have a crush on you, and I might still. But how could someone not? You're amazing and—"

Before he could finish, a sudden peck landed on his lips, catching him by surprise. A genuine smile formed on his face, reflecting the warmth of the moment.

Seizing the opportunity, Seungcheol reached for your hand, pulling you closer. His touch was both gentle and possessive as he cradled your neck, initiating a more passionate exchange of kisses. What began as a simple peck evolved into a deeper connection, emphasizing the unspoken emotions between you.

"I actually like you," he admitted, the confession lingering in the air, signaling a shift in the dynamics of your relationship amidst the intricate dance of the mission's complexities.

 

*

 

"She's indeed so pretty," remarked Seungcheol, a university student whose gaze remained fixed on your figure as you fought fiercely to secure your position as a national Taekwondo athlete.

"Ya! Don't you see she's drenched in sweat? Disgusting..." Jeonghan mumbled, expressing his dissent to Seungcheol's admiration.

"No! I mean, she radiates beauty," Seungcheol clarified, his admiration for you evident in his eyes.

Jeonghan, unimpressed, rolled his eyes. "That's why I never asked you to come to her competition, you moron," he stated, walking away and leaving Seungcheol in a state of starstruck infatuation.

Seungcheol, determined, chased after Jeonghan, making a request that lingered in the air, "Introduce me to her."

"No!" Jeonghan bluntly refused.

"Come on..."

"I said no! Why are you so hard-headed?"

[urf1lterr]

moonlight | m.yg [1]

next chapter: soon

summary: when it’s finally the week of your big sister's wedding, you’re more than excited for it to be over as responsibilities come flying your way. however, you can’t seem to stop thinking about a particular groomsman with blonde hair.

pairing: groomsman!yoongi x bridesmaid!y/n

genre: wedding!au, strangers to lovers au | awkward, fluff, angst, mature

word count: 7.4k

status: in progress

author’s note: reposting this bc i miss him. i’ve been wanting to do this for sooooo long but never had time- still don’t but oops.

Sleep is what you really needed right now, especially when you already lacked it in your daily life. But no, that wasn’t really an option right now, not when you had to wait for your sister to pick you up from the airport and get dinner afterwards. 

Realistically, you could’ve slept on the plane ride here, but you hated the seat you were in. At first, you sat in the aisle seat because it was always the fastest way to exit afterwards, but you had to give that up when a man probably in his late 50s basically ordered you to move to the middle because older people need "more" room. 

You weren’t happy, but you weren’t about to argue because of this.

All you wanted to do right now was go to your old bedroom and change into some comfy sweats and an oversized t-shirt before pulling your blankets over your head to sleep in peace. You knew it was not going to happen any time soon, but a girl can wish. 

As you finally saw your suitcases at the baggage claim area, you grabbed one, almost falling by how large and heavy it was. You cursed at yourself for overpacking, but you were staying in town for two weeks and could not risk the chance of not having enough clothes. Luckily, your other suitcase was fairly smaller.

Walking to the other side of the terminal, you saw the exit to the pick up area, immediately moving your legs faster because you couldn’t wait to get out of here. There were too many people walking slow, it surprised you how calm you’ve lasted.

Once you reached a bench in front of the area, you noticed that the weather was not that great. It was raining, which you loved- but your sister planned most of her events outside so this is probably going to make her cry for hours.

And you really don't wanna be the shoulder she cries on- she is very dramatic when she sobs.

Pulling out your phone, you noticed you received three texts. One from your sister, mom, and boss. 

[mom] 5:57pm: were you able to land safely? don’t look tired and try not to be introverted, namjoon’s mother is joining us for dinner. put on some makeup, love you!

Rolling your eyes, you shook your head. You weren’t surprised in the slightest, you knew how your mother was. She didn’t mean any harm, but she loves to impress others. By looking a bit tidy, she thinks people wouldn’t think lowly of us. However, she fails to understand that we’ve known your future brother-in-law’s family for almost six years now, you don’t believe they will call off the wedding by seeing their future daughter-in-law’s little sister bare faced. 

Plus, his mother is the sweetest. If anything, she always told you how much she loved seeing natural faces compared to the overdose of products people nowadays use in which she refers to “tiktok trends.” 

[jae] 6:01pm: the office is going to miss you! tell ur sister congrats again, and then do it again for me once she’s actually married lol. don’t you dare ask if there’s work for you to do it in the next two weeks! 

Laughing to yourself, you quickly replied with a small “thank you, i will tell her,” along with a “darn, now i cant use work as an excuse to get out of wedding duties. but if there is work needed to be done just text me.”

[violet] 6:13pm: almost there!! look out for a black suv. hope u don’t need to go home, kinda planning to go straight to dinner bc our reservation is at 7 and joonie doesn’t want to be late! he’s scared they’ll judge us, see you soon &lt;3

Of course he would think that, coming from the man who thinks texting and walking is rude- it's debatable!

That’s when you looked at the time, noticing that it was exactly 6:20pm. There was still time to make it by 7, you were sure of it.

As you were about to reply to your mom and sister, you heard the sound of tires screeching with constant honks. You looked up, noticing a very expensive-looking suv pulled near the curb, still beeping.

Was this your sister? I mean, it was black like she stated it would be.

Your question was finally answered when you noticed the passenger window being rolled down, revealing two young looking men with bright smiles eagerly waving, the driver still beeping with his other hand causing many people around to glare as they walked by.

You noticed the man with very shaggy hair, wearing what seems to be a white t-shirt, black slacks, and sneakers as he opened the door. “What’s up, y/n,” he smiled, making his way towards you.

“Taehyung? What are you doing here? I thought Violet was going to pick me up- is she in the backseat?” You questioned as he automatically went to grab your bags. “And what is this moron doing here? I thought he got his license taken away last month?”

Looking back to the SUV, you saw your cousin in the driver’s seat with what seems to be him fighting off a man with a bright yellow and green vest knocking violently on his window side. 

“You cannot park here, you’re holding up traffic!” the man yelled, causing your cousin to roll his eyes before rolling down the window maybe two inches before yelling back.

“You’re the one holding up traffic standing in the middle of the road!”

“Don’t make me call security! Park in the parking lot!” The man dragged on, hitting the side of the car repeatedly and motioning his arms to drive away at the same time. 

"Aren't you security?!" Your cousin honked before glaring at the man. “And you scratch my car, you pay for it!”

You stopped watching their little altercation as Taehyung began rolling your suitcases towards the trunk of the car, making you follow along. “She wasn’t able to come, apparently she had to go pick up some materials she ordered for the centerpieces,” he stated, setting the bags inside before closing the trunk. “And I am not sure why he is driving, I think everybody forgot he shouldn’t be and I am too lazy to do it, I was not able to take my nap today because Namjoon made me paint the photo booth all morning- it was exhausting.” 

Opening the passenger door for you, you quickly jumped in as he shut it before jumping into the seat behind you. Turning to your left, you could still see your cousin arguing with the man before Taehyung told him to drive already.

“No! I hope you have a shitty day, you asshole!” Your cousin screamed before speeding away down the street. After literally two seconds, he looked your way while smiling brightly. “I missed you!”

Giving him a dirty glance, you slap his arm. “Ow! What was that for?” He whined, rubbing his arm with his free hand.

“Jungkook, why the fuck are you driving?” you declared. “You’re not allowed”

“Says who,” he rolled his eyes.

“The state,” Taehyung says from the backseat.

Jungkook scoffs, shaking his head. “They can’t do anything, I pay my taxes.”

Groaning, you rub your forehead. “This has nothing to do with your taxes, you imbecile.”

He gives you a confused look for a quick moment before moving his eyes back on the road again. “You don’t need to use big words to attack me, y/n. This isn’t law school.”

You heard Taehyung sighing at how annoying his friend was being. To clear things up, Taehyung was actually a close friend of your side of the family through Jungkook, the two of them being inseparable since kindergarten. 

You just so happened to know him well since he always followed Jungkook everywhere he went, same vice versa, as you saw your cousin basically everyday due to only being one year apart and both your mom’s being sisters. But with Taehyung, you happened to be the same age, same with their other friend in their trilogy, Jimin. In which you were surprised he wasn’t here because Jimin loved going to dinner with them. 

“Why are you driving?”

“I got my license back,” he smiled, nodding heavily when he saw the questionable facial expression you were making. “I swear! I went to the DMV and everything. I got it back after paying like $3,000.”

Choking on your saliva after hearing how much he had to pay, you gasped, “Why so much? What exactly did you do?!”

Jungkook awkwardly moved both his hands on the steering wheel, obviously not wanting to answer your question as you heard his friend chuckling in the backseat. “Yeah, tell her Jungkook, what did you do?”

Throwing a small box of tissues he had left near the middle cup holder to Taehyung, Jungkook began his excuse. “I’m not really sure, apparently it’s illegal to drive through rain puddles,” he shrugged.

You shifted your head a bit, “that’s not illegal.”

“It is when you purposely speed through them to get people wet,” Taehyung giggled as Jungkook groaned in annoyance.

“Dude! You weren’t supposed to tell her that part!” Jungkook whined.

“That is so rude,” you pinched his arm as he tried moving away from you, knowing your first reaction to things were mostly violence. “How would you like it if someone did that to you?”

“I actually wouldn’t mind it,” he stated. “Saves me money from going to a waterpark.”

Sometimes, you wondered what goes on in that big head of your cousin. Not much common sense, that’s for sure.

“Anywho,” you spoke up, trying to change the dumb conversation you just had. “What’s the plan for tonight? I heard something about a dinner, but other than that I have idea what’s going on. No one told me anything.”

Jungkook shrugged, glancing at you a few times as he answered your question. “I know we have dinner with some of Namjoon’s friends, his mom, your parents, and then you sister’s friends. But afterwards, no clue.”

“Why are you and Taehyung going then?” 

He scoffed, looking offended. “I’ll have you know, we are very much indeed Namjoon’s friends,” he proudly said before giving in once he saw how that did nothing. Maybe acquaintances but definitely not friends. “All the groomsmen were invited.”

Ah yes, you almost forgot Jungkook, Taehyung, and Jimin were appointed groomsmen which was a big shock considering they were not close to Namjoon like that. 

But to be completely honest, your sister did have six bridesmaids while Namjoon only had three real groomsmen he wanted. So, she was able to convince Namjoon to allow the other three to take apart on their special day because they were basically like family.

And because he had no one else to call.

Although, it didn’t take much convincing, Namjoon did love the guys and they all bonded really well whenever they did interact.

“So, Jimin’s going?”

“He should be,” you heard Taehyung answer. “He couldn’t come with us to pick you up because he had to drop his little brother off at baseball practice- but I think their mom is going to pick him up once he’s done.”

You nodded, understanding the situation. To be honest, you were happy the three of them were going. It’s not like you wouldn’t know anyone tonight, maybe only a couple people, but the rest of your family never knew how to make you feel comfortable the same way the boys did.

Maybe its because you basically grew up with them and how you were all close in age, but you felt more open and less forced to act a certain way when they were by your side. 

Throughout the car ride, you had to constantly bicker with Jungkook about slowing down and to avoid potholes as it kept getting in the way of you applying concealer and powder from your seat. You especially yelled when he almost made you smash your mascara wand in your eye, causing Taehyung to hide his laughter as he scrolled through twitter. 

Finally, after small loads of traffic and listening to Jungkook’s ‘go crazy, go stupid’ playlist in which consisted of old Taylor Swift and Hannah Montana songs, you made it to the restaurant. The problem was, the rain was hectic. You’re surprised Jungkook didn’t crash into a pole trying to see through his windshield wipers.

Once you parked, Jungkook sheepishly smiled. “Okay so we have a small problem- nothing serious,” he stated as you gave him a look for him to continue. “We don’t have an umbrella.”

“What-” you and Taehyung said at the same time. “I can’t show up in there all wet, it’s pouring outside!”

“-and I can’t risk getting my shirt wet, I didn’t bring a sweatshirt and I am wearing a white top- my chest will be see through if it gets wet!” Taehyung cried out. “I don’t want people violating me.”

“Calm down, drama queens,” Your cousin rolled his eyes. “Y/n, cover your face with your arms to protect your makeup- that’s the only thing you should save. Taehyung, wrap your arms over your chest, don’t you dare lift them until we are sheltered. We got this guys!”

You scoffed as he cheered you both on. At least you all will be drenched together, you thought. 

Getting ready to jump out of the car, you looked down at your outfit. You were wearing an oversized dark brown crewneck sweater, black thick leggings, and your white platform sneakers. At least you were kind of warm and didn’t have much to damage from the rain. 

Looking back at how far the restaurant was from your parking spot, you three basically had to run the side of the building to get to the front. It wouldn’t have been a problem if it was regularly raining- but as it was lashing down with some now background sounds of thunder and lightening, you knew this was going to be a bad idea. 

Jungkook gave you two a confident nod before aiming towards his door as Taehyung and you gave each other a worried look, eventually doing the same. “On the count of 3!” Jungkook yelled from his side. 

Once we were all ready, hands on the door handle, you heard Taehyung start, “1-”

“-3!” Jungkook screamed and ran out the door, hearing the door lock as he ran his distance. 

Taehyung and you looked at each other in shock before chasing after him. As you took more and more steps, you could tell that this rainstorm was probably one of the worst you have ever encountered.

But to be fair, you should have checked the forecast and remembered to bring your own umbrella. 

After what seemed like minutes, the three of you finally made it to the front of the building in which you were blessed with a roof for your protection. At this moment, you have never been happier. 

Moving your eyes to the two boys standing near you, you noticed how even though Tae’s hair was swamped, he managed to barely get his chest wet. Jungkook’s hair began curling up on the sides, but only that and his shoulders were fairly drenched. 

You tried straightening out your sweater while looking up at Taehyung. “Do I look alright?”

“Yeah, you totally don’t look like you just ran through the rain.” he nodded, even though you could feel your hair soaked. 

“Your makeup still looks intact,” Jungkook added, “but your hair- eh.”

You glared at him as he lifted his hands up in defense. He shouldn’t be talking, his hair was soaked too.

Trying to make yourselves look presentable, you didn’t notice someone rushing near you three, only when you felt a pair of arms wrapping behind you, causing you to squeal.

Moving your head to see the owner of the arms, you immediately hugged them back. “Jimin!”

“Y/n!” he giggled, but suddenly pulled away. “Ew, you’re drenched.” Nodding towards Jungkook, he quickly understood what happened. “Why didn’t you just tell me you guys were here? Jungkook, I texted you that I had an umbrella if you needed one.”

Taehyung and you turned to glare at Jungkook as he turned red and stammered, "I’m sorry, I-I didn’t see the message!”

"Hold on, man. Didn't you just dropped off your brother? It's pouring," Taehyung.

Jimin shrugged, "Do you think the MLB teams stop their games over some rain."

"In some cases, yes."

“Y/n! You’re here!” you heard that familiar voice squeal behind you, followed by a pair of arms once again hugging you. “I would totally not touch you, but I haven’t seen you in three months!”

Smiling, you held your annoying sister until you heard a cough. You let go to see your parents standing near her, your mom pushing her to the side, making your sister almost fall to the ground, before wrapping her arms around you. “Y/n! How was your flight? You never replied to my text, young lady,” she crossed her arms. Oh, how you love when your mother’s mood changes constantly.

She suddenly touched your face lightly, “Your face looks lovely! You’re hair though- uh its alright! The rain is our excuse!” she beamed.

Same old mother, but at least you knew she did not want you to take things seriously. 

You felt your dad lightly wrap an arm around you, giving you a short greeting, probably not wanting to hold up our reservation as well but not because he didn’t want to be rude, he wanted to eat already. 

Noticing no one else was outside, you sister began speaking. “Namjoon, his friends, and mom are inside sitting at the table already. I told them not to wait up on us so we don’t cause much of a disturbance inside.”

Nodding, she then began guiding everyone inside with your parents following directly behind her while Jimin, Tae, and Jungkook walked right along with you. It was a short walk inside, but you noticed that the table must have been all the way in the back, maybe in another room by how far in you all were going.

Being right, you could see that they reserved a private room which was extremely crazy- this must’ve been so expensive for a casual dinner! 

The first person you noticed was your future brother-in-law sitting at the middle of the wide circular table, a seat empty right beside him for your sister you assumed. You identified his mother pretty clearly as she sat on the other side of him.

Your parents quickly sat on the seats right next to where your sister just sat. You moved your eyes to see most of the bridesmaids, who you knew for the longest as they all either went to school or worked with her, sitting right near you parents and across from them. 

There was only one seat next to the last bridesmaid that was opened, so you assumed it was for you as it was across from your sister’s seat. Looking at the boys, you frowned, realizing you would be separated as they only had empty seats on the other side of the table where Namjoon’s mom sat. At least you could look at them from across the table.

Jimin fake pouted before they all walked to the available seats. You finally noticed the three other boys sitting beside them, only recognizing one of them, Hoseok. You were happy to be seated right next to him as you two have met many times in the past, but you couldn’t help but wonder who the other two were and why you weren’t introduced to them earlier. 

Hoseok was actually a close friend of both Namjoon and your sister, in fact, he was the one who introduced them many years ago. He was probably one of the few close male friends your sister even had who she trusted with all her heart who didn’t want to sleep with her.

You also befriended him as he was the only one who wouldn’t complain but encouraged you to hang out with them during their high school days when your sister pulled the ‘hormonal teenager who hates everybody’ phase.

“Nice to see you, y/n. Thanks for coming, I know you must be exhausted from your flight, but it means a lot that you were able to make it,” Namjoon kindly greeted you, in which you smiled in return.

“It’s okay,” you shyly reply, feeling your nerves kick in because you suck at public speaking, even when it’s with people you’ve already met. 

“Now she’s shy,” you heard your cousin stifle in a low laugh before Jimin kicked his leg, in which he groaned in pain, trying not to make any noise as he clutched his knee. 

As you gave Jungkook a dirty look, you began turning, quickly taking a look at the guests you didn’t know. One seemed to look slightly tall, or you assumed he was by how long his torso was. He was very good looking, just not your type.

But the other one was already looking at you, his eyes quickly moving away when he realized he was caught, not seeming to care though. He had very beautiful eyes and bright blonde hair, but he looked very intimidating with his blank- almost cold expression. 

“You look dashing, y/n!” You heard Namjoon’s mom exclaim, making you turn extremely red. God, you hated when people gave you compliments, especially when others were around. You did not like the attention it brought.

“Thank you” you looked down, trying your best to make your face cool down. You wish you were in the rain right now.

“I take full responsibility for her hair not looking the best,” Jungkook spoke up, making you immediately cover your face with your hands, praying he stop talking. “I forgot the umbrella.”

You heard him groan again, maybe from one of the boys kicking him for his irrelevant comments.

“I know the struggle,” You heard one of the unknown guests Namjoon had, the one who looked tall, begin. “I tripped while trying to walk in and landed on a puddle.” This caused you to giggle, happy that he was willing to embarrass himself to deflect the attention off you. “But it’s alright, luckily I had extra pants in my car.”

“Now that you mentioned that uh- fascinating information,” Namjoon awkwardly started. “Y/n, I realized you never met my other groomsmen-”

“Groomsmen? How dare you” You heard the same friend fake gasp, causing Hoseok to groan right beside you. “I am the one and only best man” 

“So, that’s Jin,” Hoseok finally spoke up, rolling his eyes at his friend who you realized probably loved the attention more than you actually knew.

“Oh, hi” you shyly waved as he gave you a cheesy smile. 

“Sorry about him, he’s a little over the top,” Namjoon sweetly mentioned to you, causing Jin to scoff. “-but in a good way!”

Just by observing their attitude towards each other, you can tell Jin was the friend who made Namjoon be more confident and open-minded enough to try new things. He seemed like the hype man of the group.

“And that’s Yoongi,” Hoseok added, pointing to the man on the left of him, the one who looked like he did not want to talk to anybody. You began to realize this Yoongi guy was more reserved than the rest, giving you a small nod as you awkwardly looked away.

“Sorry about him, he seems quiet- but he does talk! Quite a lot actually,” Jin added, causing Yoongi to nudge him. 

“Same with this one,” Violet giggled, looking your way causing you to glare at her. Way to put the spotlight on you. 

Luckily for you, your mother just knew so many topics to talk about that she carried a conversation fairly quickly right after your sister’s comment. 

You would have listened to it all the way, but to be honest, you were mentally exhausted. Work had you up till 10pm last night and with it being such a jammed pack month already, you completely forgot to pack until this morning. Having to check in two bags, you had to arrive at the airport three hours early to make it in time to depart from all the long lines. 

You don’t think anyone beside your dad and Namjoon’s mom were listening to your mom because as you looked around the table, you realized people were either making faces at their friends or just looking anywhere else but the speaker. 

That’s when you noticed Taehyung making a silly face your way, causing you to smile at him. But when you did so, you saw from the corner of your eye the restrained individual placing his eyes on you that didn’t leave until he was about to be caught again.

Yeah, you wished this dinner would be over soon.

-

"That was probably one of the best steaks I have ever digested," Namjoon smiled while wiping his mouth with a napkin.

"Did he just say 'digested'?" you heard one of your sister's friend, Mina you believe, whisper to her other friend, Hani, who just shrugged.

After about an hour of awkward conversations that consisted of when Violet and Namjoon would be making babies and who would take custody if they both randomly die, dinner was finally over.

To be honest, you were glad that you were mostly not chosen to speak. That was until your mother thought it would be a brilliant idea to bring up your personality compared to your sisters, in which she made sure to mention the one time in 4th grade when you threw a tantrum and bursted into tears because you didn't want her to leave you alone on the first day of school.

Violet made sure to clarify how immature you were as a fourth grader, in which you thought if it would really be bad punching her in the face right then and there. You were sure makeup could cover the bruises.

"I should probably get going, I think your father is getting off soon from work," you heard Namjoon's mom say, slowly standing up before giving her son a warm hug.

Following the signs, everyone began standing up, getting ready to say their goodbyes. That was until your sister suddenly spoke up, becoming an announcer.

"Wait I forgot to mention, tomorrow is day 1 out of 7!" she cheered as her fiancee placed an arm on her lower back. "Don't forget to bring your shoes!"

"What's tomorrow?" You thought, but apparently out loud as everyone glanced your way, causing you to look back at Violet.

"You don't know?!" she gasped, looking back towards your mom. "Did you not tell her?" Watching as your mother softly gave her a small smile, your sister's eyes made their way back to you in disbelief. "It's our first dance rehearsal."

"Dance rehearsal?" You squinted your eyes, not believing how in the world she planned to make people learn a dance in under a week. "You do understand your wedding is in 6 days right after tomorrow, right?"

"We couldn't plan practices earlier because you and Jin don't live near here and we didn't want you both going out of your way to get here for it," Namjoon commented. "That would've been too expensive."

Realization hit you, you have to dance...in front of people.

Looking up, you tried showing a relaxed expression, but you're sure you only pulled out an uncomfortable one at the thought of having to publicly dance when you are in fact the worse dancer ever.

Truth be told, you wish you can easily agree and go with the flow, but knowing yourself the best you know you cannot pull this off. There is a reason why you dropped dance class in high school and it was because you kept making your partner's toes bleed from stepping on them so much.

But before you could speak up, or as if you were going to, your sister beat you to it. "You're doing it, no exceptions," she pointed a finger at you.

"You can be my partner!" Jimin exclaimed, wrapping an arm over your shoulder, trying to cheer you up. "I'm a great dancer."

"I beg to differ," Taehyung crossed his arms. "Have you seen these hips? Been shaking them since I was eight years-old."

"Just Dance doesn't count," Jimin hissed, making Tae scoff.

"It does when you're undefeated!"

Before the two of them could continue their bickering, your sister intervened. "None of you are dancing with her, I've already assigned partners," and right when they were going to ask who she added, "and you're not finding out until tomorrow. I don't want you trying to ask us to privately change your partners tonight so deal with it."

That definitely made them shut up before she carried on saying farewell to everybody.

You being you, you stood there stiff as everyone hugged each other. Never knowing how to really say 'bye', you often just waved. It was your thing.

You felt large arms wrap around you, causing you to gasp for air from the tight hold. "It was so nice meeting you, y/n!" You heard Jin burst out before pulling away. "Hoping we end up as partners, you seem so chill."

Certain that that was not going to happen, you sheepishly nodded. Not that you did not want him as a partner, to be fair, you probably would have chosen him as one of your top choices if it were up to you only because he seemed friendly and welcoming.

However, he was the best man.

Everybody knows the best man always gets paired with the maid of the honor, in which you believe was Naile.

Once he moved passed you to say his goodbyes with your parents, you noticed Yoongi finishing his farewells with Namjoon's mom before turning in your direction.

Shifting your eyes somewhere else in the room, you felt a weird feeling in your stomach.

For some reason, interacting with someone else who is also quiet but now intimidating made you extra nervous, fearful they might randomly lash out on you.

Just before Yoongi could at least give you a small nod, like he had done earlier, Namjoon announced that we should all be on our ways as the restaurant probably wanted us gone by now.

Running up to Jimin, you followed your friends and cousin out the door. Not noticing the pair of eyes following your every move up until you were out of sight.

Finally, now you can go home and sleep.

-

Waking up this morning was hard for you, especially when you knew how stressful it was going to be.

Maybe it was because you knew what was to come but didn't at the same time. It was safe to say you were panicking the whole drive to the small park your sister booked for the morning.

However, your sister was nothing close to nervous, in fact, she was beaming in joy throughout the car ride, constantly telling you she was excited to be a day closer to her wedding.

"Don't freak out too much about practice, okay?" Violet began as she parked the car. "None of them have experience dancing, except Hobi and maybe like Jimin and whatever Tae thinks is dancing, but other than that we all suck."

"Thanks for the pep talk, I feel so much better," you sarcastically declare before opening the door and getting out.

"I'm serious! I know you well enough to see how anxious you are about this," she argued. "But I made sure to pick an easy dance we all can learn within a few days"

You only sighed. There was nothing you could really do at this point so there was not much convincing she was doing to make you feel better. Plus, it's her day. You kind of have to do whatever she wants whether you like it or not.

Following her to a medium-sized building, you noticed how nice this park really was. There was a huge duck pond on one side with a beautiful garden all around.

Where does she find these places?

As you two opened the doors, she led you down a hallway until you were walking into a pretty large banquet room. You saw mostly everyone was here, besides Jin and Namjoon, but other than that everyone was here.

"Where's my man?" Your sister questioned, setting her bag on one of the side tables as you closely followed behind her.

"Trying to figure out where he put his dancing shoes," Hoseok stated, lying back on the chair he was sitting in. "Hi, y/n."

You softly waved, seeing that Taehyung and Yoongi were sitting right next to him. Tae was too busy playing some game on his phone to notice your presence as Yoongi just gave you a brief glimpse before going on his phone as well.

"What took you forever to get here?" Jungkook asked, pulling up a seat right next to you on one of the empty tables you sat in. You felt Jimin sit next to him, waiting for your answer.

"Violet couldn't leave the house without shaving her face," you whispered, hoping she didn't hear that or else she would come up with something 10x worse to joke about you.

"I did notice something was different about her," Jimin joked, making you all laugh.

After talking for some time as your sister kept trying to call her fiancee, you heard the slam of a door with the sounds of footsteps nearing.

It appeared that Namjoon probably found his shoes with the help of Jin as they both ran in together, breathing a little heavy as your sister put her hand on her hip.

"Ready," he smiled, trying not to provoke your sister anymore.

Knowing your sister, she was probably going to hire some dance teacher to teach you guys proper techniques. What you did not know was that this instructor was going to make you freestyle your own ending steps with your partners.

Or at least that's what the instructor mentioned after they showed up fifteen minutes late due to "traffic."

But now that they have said it, no one knew who their partners were.

"Time for the moment everyone's been waiting for," your sister stomped her feet and motioned everyone to come near her. Once we did so, she asked, "who wants to know first?"

Jungkook raised his hand quickly. "Me!"

"I think we should make this a little fun," Violet smirked. "Let's write the pair's names on paper, randomly mix them in a bowl and then draw."

Namjoon nodded, not really caring too much about how this was going to be done. He just wanted to begin lessons, already knowing that he wasn't quite the best when it came to body movements only for the world to see.

You were despising every second of this. As the clock kept on ticking, you kept thinking about who your partner would be.

It's not like anyone here was truly horrible- or so you thought.

Plus, you had a high chance of getting the three boys you loved to death. However, your sister did say Jimin and Taehyung were out of the picture, so your only hope was your cousin.

But in your opinion, you weren't familiar with Namjoon's friends. Jin seemed like a sweetheart, but maybe the close proximity of dancing with someone who was practically a stranger was getting in your head.

The main person you were worried about was Yoongi.

It's not like you completely disliked him, you never dislike anyone unless you had a reason to. It was that you didn't know him.

You didn't know Jin either, but the difference was Jin made an effort to communicate to others. Yoongi just sits there with a blank expression, making you question if he is judging or ignoring you.

It's quite intimidating, really.

And with you being extremely quiet too, well... two quiet people don't really work well- or in a situation where both have to actively dance.

"Jimin and Leia!" you heard Namjoon announce.

Damn.

"Sorry, y/n," Jimin mouthed, making you swat your hand in reassurance that you were fine. I guess he's known you for so long to understand how frightening this was for you.

But you're a big girl, you'll get through this.

"Taehyung and Yuna!" Your sister roared.

Okay, maybe not.

Finally, after Hoseok and Jin were called, your nerves were getting to you. Now was not the time to overthink, whatever happens- happens.

Jungkook wasn't making this easier as he kept waving his arms around, mouthing the words "we're definitely partners." And for a split second, you began to believe him.

Well, that was until-

"Y/n and Yoongi," Namjoon called out, making your face fall. Violet began clapping her hands while her fiancee proudly smiled.

Feeling your face turn red, you continue staring at Namjoon as he slowly tilted his head to the side for you to go to your new partner, in which you responded with continuing on your stare.

It felt like hours before you felt someone's presence beside you, causing Namjoon to fix his attention back to announcing who's Jungkook's partner was going to be.

Moving your head slightly to the right, you could make out the bright blonde hair immediately. Yoongi was sitting next to you, oh my-

"I guess we're uh- partners?" he lightly squinted his eyes before looking directly at your own.

You felt weak at the knees by this eye contact, how are you going to make it through the week?

"R-right," you began, mentally screaming at yourself for stuttering "I mean right! Yeah, how uhm..cool?"

"Not really," he sighed, making your eyes widen. Was he really not that happy by this decision? "I don't dance much"

Relief hit you by his answer, okay maybe he doesn't hate you. "Don't worry, I'm on the same boat."

"Namjoon knows I don't do any of this," Yoongi cringed to himself. Does he mean dancing? "I'm sure your sister knows you aren't great either, they should have just partnered us up with someone who wasn't going to make us look humiliating."

Ouch, that stung.

You shut your mouth, not sure what to reply. You understood his point, but at the same time you didn't. It was beginning to become clear now that maybe he wasn't happy with this setup.

"Are we ready to begin?" you heard the instructor exclaim, causing you to look past Yoongi in which you were grateful this small conversation would have to be cut. "Please come forward and spread out, only your partners should be near you!"

Rubbing your fingers, you slowly followed after Yoongi who took the lead towards the middle of the spaced out "dance floor," or the only area in this room that did not have folding tables. The two of you ended up on the side while the others placed themselves throughout the middle and front of the teacher.

After listening to him ramble on about the needed chemistry between partners and showing how our hands must be placed on his practice dummy, who was Namjoon- which Violet did not like, it was time for everyone else to follow.

"Remember, the men are the leads! Take your lady's hand with your left and place your right on her hip! I want to feel the sexual tension from here!"

"Or a comfortable tension," Namjoon interfered.

Looking up at Yoongi, you saw him dully take his left hand out to grab your right one. By his lack of emotion, it triggered you to malfunction and embarrass the hell out of yourself.

He could feel how stiff your body was once he grabbed your hand, beginning to place his right hand behind on your mid back.

"Closer!" the instructor popped out of nowhere, causing you to flinch and almost trip over Yoongi's shoes. Yes, you just stepped on his shoes- he probably hates you now. "Hand on hip! You'll get the rhythm faster."

"No thanks, I'd rather not," Yoongi plainly stated, but was pushed inches away from your face when the instructor pushed you both forward.

You tried your best to look anywhere then at him, but it was incredibly hard. You did catch him throwing out a few glances a few times, but he would always divert his attention somewhere else when he noticed how uncomfortable you reacted to it.

"Do y-you think we should do what they are doing?" You asked, referring to steps that were just given to follow. Everybody else were figuring out the new footwork, but your partner just stood there as if he wanted to die already.

He simply just ignored you, only looking at what Jungkook and his partner were doing. In which, your cousin was swinging the poor girl around while she tried to slow him down in fear.

God, you wish this was over already.

-

"So...how did you like it?!" Violet questioned, sitting down on the bed in your old bedroom while you hid under the blankets. "It was fun, huh?"

"You call that fun?" You groaned, sitting up. "I want a new partner."

"What? No way! Yoongi will be hurt you wanted to switch."

"How if he was the one who questioned why we weren't switched in the first place?"

Violet gasped, "He said that?"

Nodding, you wiped some hair away from your face. "He also refused to put his hand on my hip. Is my body too gross for him or what?"

It did hurt your feelings he wouldn't listen to the basic suggestions, but if he didn't want to then there was nothing you could do.

"Maybe it was a respect thing- like to make sure he wasn't crossing any boundaries?"

Thinking about it for a second, she could be right.

"We just don't mix well, he would just ignore me any time I asked questions or spoke up," You sighed. "Please change my partner-"

"-I can't, we already began rehearsals," She cut you off.

"But we only learned basic steps! I can dance with a whole other human being and get it down with them! Please, please-"

"-no-"

"I can tell he despises every minute of this," You whine. "He's not into it and I'm just holding him back! You already know how scary this is to throw myself out there for this dance, at least let me be with someone who seems comfortable with me. It'll make me less anxious."

Your sister gave you a look, taking her time to think hard about this. She wanted you to feel fully comfortable, but it would be so unfair to switch partners the next day after announcing them.

"You know I want you to feel at your best, but the decision has been made and I-"

"If you let me switch I'll clean your room for a year," You rambled.

She rolled her eyes, "nice try, you don't even live nearby!"

"I'll send you money to buy your favorite meals twice a month!"

Violet gave you a stern look. "Y/n, no means no. I-"

"I'll say a speech at your wedding!"

That made her shut up.

This shocked you too because you avoided this topic from the start when she told you she was engaged. You hated talking, better yet- talking in front of people? No way, impossible to do!

"You would never, you can't even order your food without stuttering."

She didn't have to come at you like that..

"I promise!" you begged, jumping in front of her as she rolled her eyes.

Hearing her sigh, you felt weight being lifted off your shoulder. "Fine! You can have Hoseok, he's a quick learner anyway."

Almost making your sister fall off the bed as you tackled her in a hug, you cheered. "Thank you! Thank you! Tha-"

"Shut up already," she scrunched her face, pushing you off harshly. "I'm only doing this because you seem to feel really uncomfortable being near him and my sister instincts are going off."

You nodded quickly, trying to be on your best behavior so she doesn't change her mind.

"It kind of sucks though," she shrugged. "Namjoon and I thought you would be the perfect fit, you two are so alike"

"Being antisocial doesn't automatically mean we'll hit it off."

"Sorry, wouldn't know what that's like," she smiled and stood up from your bed. "I'm gonna go check on mom and the centerpieces, you should text Hobi a heads up for this week."

Once she left the room, you pulled out your phone to text him. You hope you weren't being a total bitch for doing this, but you doubt Yoongi would get offended.

He was the one who suggested it.

[55sturn]

✮ BUSIER THAN EVER

series masterlist!

pairing: boston bruins player!chris sturniolo x fem!reader!

synopsis: in which chris busies himself with training and practices, not realizing that it’s driving a wedge between him and y/n, leading her to believe that he’s hiding his true feelings about telling the world about their child.

warnings: swearing, angst, chris not being mentally present, verbal arguments, mentions of depression, anxiety, vomiting, chris is being a jackass, angst, this is another sad chapter sorry.

THIRD PERSON POV

waking up to an empty house and being left alone with her thoughts has become a common occurrence for y/n. chris used every window and opening in his schedule to be away from the house as y/n began collecting trinkets and furniture for the nursery.

she figured he just wanted to get as much ice time in right now as possible before the baby came. but there was a gnawing feeling in the pit of her stomach, telling her that chris didn't want to be home while she prepped for the baby and began nesting.

that raw, unwavering feeling told her that chris was sticking around for her sake, for the sake of not letting another kid come into this world without both parents. not because he wanted to raise and start a family. it led her to believe that he wasn't sticking around for the sake of loving the life growing inside her.

so as she unboxed a few of the baby items that she had ordered from small businesses online, she felt an overwhelming sadness claw at her heart. this was supposed to be a bonding moment for her and chris. preparing the nursery as expecting parents was supposed to be a shared core memory, and yet here was, putting together the baby's room alone.

she couldn't reach out to matt and nick because chris had led them to believe that he was all in. that he wanted this as much as y/n did, and if she expressed that she had been completely alone thus far, it would cause a rift between chris and his brothers, and that would be the straw that breaks the camel's back in their relationship.

she had already taken something from him by announcing the pregnancy to him instead of terminating it, so she couldn't bear to take anything else from him. she started to feel like a black hole in the universe of chris' life. she felt like she had sucked up everything that he once loved, only to spit them back out and turn them into something he despised.

the baby blue giraffe statue that she held fell from her grasp as sobs wracked her body. the crashing and shattering sound of the ceramic figurine only amplified her sobs. she felt so lost and alone.

after grabbing the broom and dustpan, she quickly swept up the broken shards, disposing of them, and returning to the room she was converting into a nursery, making quick work of folding the baby blankets and jumpers, placing them in the closet for the time being.

once she had finished unpacking her orders, she made her way into the kitchen, her body exhausted and drained with dried tear tracks on her cheeks. she made herself a quick meal, dishing out another helping for chris, again, out of pure habit. as she ate, she stared at the empty seat across from her.

she thought of all the dinners they shared, the loud laughs, the loving smiles they flashed as they ate in comfortable silence, and the domesticity of it all, and the memories tugged at her heartstrings. they felt like a distant blur in the back of her mind. she couldn't remember the last time they sat down together without it leading to a tense silence or an angry conversation. she looked down at the small bump forming beneath her shirt with tears in her eyes,

"looks like it's just going to be me and you, baby."

chris was stressed. he didn't know what to think. all he did was train, practice, go home, fight with y/n, sleep, and repeat. he tried so hard to believe he wanted the family life right now, but the selfish part of his mind told him that having a family would only drag him down.

that same selfish part told him that his career was all he needed right now. that his position on the bruins was the most important thing going for him currently. and he tried hard to sway that part of his mind but it was no use.

he did want a family of his own, more than anything, but he couldn't convince himself that now was the right time for it. and he couldn't bring himself to be in the house while y/n put together the nursery because it reminded him of what he was going to give up.

it reminded him that he had a choice, his family or his career. he knew he needed to be there for y/n but he was angry and frustrated and that led to him shutting her out. he knew he was fucking up but he just couldn't see that he needed to be there for her, not when she is the reason he felt like his life was in shambles.

and he hated himself for feeling like that towards her, he knew it wouldn't be a permanent feeling, he just needed to come around to the news but it'll take time.

as chris walked into the house, he was met with silence, and for the first time in a long time, he missed hearing y/n run up to him with her arms open wide. as he walked through the house, he stopped at the nursery, and found her curled up in a ball on the plush recliner placed in the corner of the room. as he approached her, he noticed the dried tear tracks staining her cheeks, and for the first time in a long while, he felt his heart constrict. had he really left her alone while she was battling such intense feelings? had he really left her alone in a fragile state? normally when he left for practice, he'd check in on her. and yet, he's acting like she doesn't exist.

he felt anger stew in his chest as he realized how selfishly he had been acting. he knew better than to abandon the girl he loves, and yet, he'd been doing just that without showing any remorse. sighing, he gently shakes her, stirring her awake.

"hey ma, why are you sleeping in here?"

"i figured you would want to sleep when you got home so i decided you could have the bed and i'll just sleep in here tonight." she whispers, her voice thick with sleep and distress as chris' brows furrow.

"why?"

"you've been so distant lately, i figured you'd want the bed to yourself so instead of causing another fight, i can just give it up."

"y/n don't."

"you're never here anymore chris and it is killing me to go through this alone but i can't make you want this, so the best i can do is let you be alone and come to terms with whatever is happening on your own."

"i do want this, what the fuck do you mean?" chris spits, his voice raising as she sits and stares at him, her face void of all emotion while chris' face grows taut with frustation.

"no you don't chris. if you did, you'd be here, you'd help put this room together, you wouldn't leave me alone to deal with it all by myself if you wanted this. you're making yourself and your family think you want this because you can't stand letting people down but you're already doing that. you're never here and you're starting to hate me. i can't remember the last time you hugged or kissed me since i told you i was pregnant chris."

"i do want this, it's just so new to me and i need to process."

"you don't think i need to process? you don't think it's new to me?"

"i never said that!"

"well the way you act chris, shows that you have no regard for what i am dealing with during all this. i need you and instead of being here, i'm losing you. you're pushing me away and shutting me out and you still blame me. it's not fair."

"well i need to focus on my career too." chris seethes, his chest falling and rising rapidly, quickly growing stressed as they start to have the same fight they've had almost every day.

"your career isn't everything chris, and you promised me that when you got drafted that i wouldn't come second place to it but i guess breaking promises has become your thing."

"can we get this over with? i'm tired and i just wanted to see my girl."

"am i really your girl chris? or am i just here?"

"y/n, come on, you know i love you." chris sighs, crouching in front of the girl as tears well along her waterline.

"i don't know that chris! you don't say it anymore."

chris sighs as his lips turn downward, without another word he pulls the girl to her feet and takes her place in the recliner, pulling her into his lap. as he tucks her head against his chest, right above his heart, he realizes that he really was letting the one person that he's ever loved slip away because he fed into his own selfishness, not seeing how badly it was killing her.

"i know it's hard to trust me right now baby, but i do want this, i'm just so overwhelmed and scared but i'm going to do better."

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© 55STURN 2024 ! REBLOGS NOT EXPECTED BUT GREATLY APPRECIATED ! [ you do not have permission to copy or save or share my work to other platforms and devices! ]

[saddleups]

𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄 .

★ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 . . . 10k

★ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐒 . . . ongoing , part one of two. JAMES SUNDERLAND X F!READER !! 18+ SMUT MDNI !!

★ 𝐂𝐖 . . . : implied domestic violence/abusive relationship . alcoholism . terminal illness . description of hallucinations . dream sequences . spanking . hairpulling . rough sex . unreliable reader . p_rn w/ plot .

★ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 . . .   james sunderland has emerged from the fog of silent hill , bearing the weight of his past but with a tentative acceptance of his guilt. with young laura by his side, he's prepared to leave the town's horrors behind and step into a new chapter. but when laura bolts back into the fog to retrieve a forgotten stuffed animal, james has no choice but to follow amidst his return, he encounters you — a stranger bound to silent hill by your own unfinished business, still searching for answers about your late husband. as the two of you form a reluctant alliance, the lines between reality and nightmare blur, forcing both of you to confront haunted memories and a shared need for redemption in a town that preys on every buried secret.

★ 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 . . . where all my sunderheads at??? i guess taking a break from one fic only lead me into the arms of another fic. this will be a two-parter, maybe an epilogue who knows? just testing the waters with this. please be aware that the contents of this fic are in line with the themes commonly found in the silent hill franchise. please consider the warnings and read with caution.

The fog clung to the streets of Silent Hill like a shroud, a familiar yet unsettling presence that whispered secrets of the past. James held Laura’s hand tightly as they made their way toward the town’s edge, the weight of their shared experiences hanging heavily between them. After everything he had endured, he was finally ready to leave this cursed place behind, to start anew with her by his side.

“Are you sure you have everything?” he asked, glancing down at her small backpack, packed full of her belongings. She nodded, her eyes bright with determination. They’d faced enough together, and now, with the weight of the world lifted off his shoulders, he felt a flicker of hope igniting in his chest.

Just as they approached the outskirts, Laura suddenly halted, her expression shifting from excitement to panic. “Wait! I forgot my bunny!” she exclaimed, her voice echoing off the fog-drenched buildings.

“What?” James felt his heart drop. “Laura, we can’t go back! It’s dangerous!”

But she was already pulling away, her small legs carrying her back toward the heart of Silent Hill. He cursed under his breath, adrenaline surging through him as he chased after her. “Laura, stop! Please!”

The fog swirled around him, thickening with every step. It felt as if the town itself was resisting their departure, reluctant to let them go. Shadows danced at the edges of his vision, familiar shapes that once haunted him. But now, they merely observed, lingering like specters of the past rather than threats. The creatures, remnants of his darkest fears, stayed back, as if recognizing that James had earned his freedom.

“Laura!” he called out, his voice strained as he strained to catch up to her. “Where did you go?”

The day at the lake was one of those rare moments you held close—a time when you and Chris weren’t at each other’s throats, voices raised, each of you convinced that volume could somehow mend what was breaking between you. Chris was never a great man; he did what he could, and you gave him credit for that. He tried, he really did. But then he died, and… well, that was complicated.

The lake had been everything your relationship wasn’t at the time: calm, serene, a mirror of something whole. The town welcomed you both with open arms, mistaking you for lovebirds celebrating an anniversary. Little did they know it was the last-ditch effort to salvage a marriage already unraveling. You had been done with him, resigned to leaving. But something about that day at the lake changed things. You returned home, and for a while, it was as if Silent Hill had lifted a weight, given you a second chance. Chris seemed different—softer, even attentive. He asked about your day, kept his temper, stopped drinking so much. And for once, being a "good wife" felt possible, like a role you could fit into.

Then Chris got sick. So sick, in fact, that you didn’t know what to do. He refused hospital stays, insisted the doctors were all quacks who didn’t know a damn thing. And he wasn’t entirely wrong—no diagnosis ever stuck. His hair thinned, his weight plummeted, and the six-foot-four man who’d once filled a room seemed to shrink before your eyes. He took to drinking again, convinced it was doing him more good than the doctors ever had. And then, one ordinary Wednesday afternoon, he died. Just like that.

So when you received a voicemail from the Lakeview Hotel saying your husband had booked the honeymoon suite for the weekend, you thought it was a cruel joke. Then came flowers at work, the card signed “Chris” with a note about how much he looked forward to your trip back to Silent Hill. Something was wrong, something deeply, viscerally wrong. But you had to know.

The fog in Silent Hill was relentless, thick and damp, swirling around you as if it were alive. When the wind picked up, it chafed your cheeks raw, and the empty water bottle in your hand felt like a taunt. The town looked so different from what you remembered. Gone were the bustling streets and cheerful Americana charm that had once made you consider leaving the city to settle here. What you found instead was a hollow vessel, the life drained from it, a love grown cold. But you searched on, knowing this desolate place held your only answers.

Time didn’t move right here; minutes and hours blurred together until they meant nothing. The fog rang in your ears, drowning out your thoughts until you found yourself in front of a crumbling apartment complex near the town square. Inside, you moved slowly, feeling like you were following someone else’s steps, picking up right where they had left off. It felt like a cage, in both the literal and the suffocating, metaphorical sense.

The walls—sticky with something infectious—pressed in on you, both restricting and repelling as you paced the decayed floor. The beam of your flashlight crackled, faintly illuminating the mangled limbs soaking in stagnant pools of bile and blood. Your steps traced a path with no end in sight, guided only by luck and a fading wit, absent even a scrap of a map. Someone had taken it before you, maybe to keep you lost. You rubbed at the cross on your chest, though the metal burned cold against your skin, and no prayer would form to soothe you.

How long had it been? How many bullets did you have left?

Then, you heard footsteps. A scrape, then another, louder than your heartbeat but not by much. Slowly, you raised the gun, unable to see much of anything, the pungent stench saturating the air as you squinted into the darkness. A shadow moved in the murk, steps too soft to be anything monstrous. And yet, your finger tightened on the trigger.

The crack of your shot echoed through the hall.

The figure jerked backward, but you could tell it hadn’t struck home. He stumbled into view, lifting his hands, a gun gripped loosely in one. His face came into focus under your wavering flashlight—a man, worn down, wary, yet unafraid.

"Who are you?" you asked, your voice rough.

"Let’s put the guns down first," he replied, voice low and steady, as he slowly lowered his weapon, tucking it away with one last glance at you.

You mirrored his action, hands dropping just enough.

“You almost killed me,” he said.

“Yeah, well, can you blame me?”

A pause, then he nodded. “Suppose you’re right.”

His gaze shifted, still guarded. “James Sunderland,” he added, almost reluctantly.

You hesitated. “That supposed to mean something?”

“Not really.” His eyes lingered, taking in your face, maybe wondering if you, too, had anything left to lose.

You held his gaze, unsure whether this new presence was a relief or just another curse to endure. You swallow, and give him your name.

He repeats it with a polite smile before asking, “What brings you here?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“I’m looking for my...daughter. Laura” His words are plain, almost hollow, yet you can feel the weight behind them. There’s a sincerity there, but even so, you keep your distance, wary that he could be just another twisted manifestation of the town, designed to taunt you.

“I’m a journalist…an investigative journalist,” you say, the lie escaping easily enough, though you throw in a casual shrug to help sell it. “Strange things happen in this town. Worth investigating.”

James nods, seeming to accept this, and even manages a faint, tired smile. “Yeah. Well, good luck.”

With that, he turns and walks away. As he does, you notice a sheaf of papers slipping from his back pocket—maps in various states of decay. You quicken your pace to catch up, trying to think of something to say. He glances back, his expression mirroring your own uncertainty. You know playing the helpless act would ring hollow after nearly shooting him in the head, so you try something new. Honesty.

“I’m…lost.” The admission comes reluctantly, and you find yourself unable to meet his gaze. “Just let me tag along, yeah?”

James doesn’t respond right away, and you brace yourself for rejection. But then you speak up, pressing your case further. “I won’t get in the way. Plus, you’ll have an extra gun.”

He looks at you, working his jaw as if weighing a response. You’re ready to hear him refuse when he finally parts his lips to answer.

“Sure,” he says. “Just stay close.”

He’s disarming, isn’t he? Voice so gentle, so steady. You aren’t sure if that’s normal. After years of Chris’s voice sharp with vitriol, you’d almost forgotten that men could speak without dripping contempt.

The two of you navigate the building, slipping from one corridor to the next in tense silence, every footfall weighed with alertness. Neither of you is inclined to push the silence back; this isn’t the place for it, anyway. Each door you try leads to the same dead end: strange rooms littered with remnants of lives long abandoned, like paintings frozen in decay. A child’s single shoe left on a dusty carpet. Newspapers yellowed with age. The walls scrawled with jagged messages that almost seem to call to you personally.

James steps into the next room first, and suddenly the air is cut by a familiar, sickening squelch. You both go rigid. His flashlight catches only the vague outline of it—an amalgamation of twisted, fleshy limbs tangled around itself, no face, no eyes, barely a body but moving like something alive. It trudges toward you with the single-mindedness of something that hunts.

Without thinking, you raise your gun, squeezing the trigger as you aim for its head. The shot lands, and the creature lurches backward, twisting before collapsing in a heap mere inches from James.

James’s wide eyes meet yours, both of you sharing a sharp, relieved exhale. "Thanks," he breathes, still catching his breath. "Guess it’s good you didn’t miss this time."

“Yeah,” you say, your heart pounding almost as loud as his. He presses a hand to his chest as if it might slow the beat, while you take a moment to steady your grip on the gun.

For a moment, you’re both suspended in a quiet that feels heavier than before. Trust was established, and it's almost like it scared you both. The crackle of a record player cuts through the silence, startling you. A song starts, warped and dragging, as if it's being pulled through deep water.

Why do birds suddenly appear…

The voice is strained, drowning in static. You press your hand to head as a pang hits you. The words churning something up you'd thought you'd locked away.

…Every time you are near…

The room looses focus, eyes blur and darkness begins to press in from all asides. Your heartbeat drums in your eyes, every note tangling around your memories of Chris, the way he used to hum this song when things were still.. bearable.

…Just like me, they long to be…

The room spins and you stagger slightly, barely catching yourself on a shelf with a thud. The song goes on, warped, echoing…

Close to you…

“Hey, you all right?” James’s voice pulls you back, grounding you as you blink, disoriented, trying to shake the fog from your mind. He’s closer now, his eyes narrowing, his expression shifting from vague curiosity to something sharper, more focused.

You pull yourself up, forcing a shrug. “I’m fine,” you say, the lie coming out thick. “Just…dizzy, that’s all.”

James studies you, not entirely convinced. There’s a pause as the record scratches, skipping over a verse, the strained vocals dragging out an unsteady note that seems to fill the room. You glance away, letting the darkness swallow your expression, fighting the emotions this song brings up.

“Pretty strong reaction for a journalist.” His tone is quiet, but the words cut through the static. He doesn’t press further, but the question lingers in his eyes.

You laugh it off, masking your discomfort. “Yeah, guess I don’t like this song much,” you manage, brushing past him to look for the record player. “The whole place feels like it’s… like it’s trying to get in my head.”

You spot the record player in the corner, its needle still scratching, caught on the line, "close to you." It’s enough to make your stomach twist, but you shake off the dizziness and press the needle to silence. When you turn, James’s eyes are still on you, his expression wary, cautious.

The silence stretches, heavy with what you’re both choosing not to say. Finally, he nods toward the doorway. “Ready to go?”

You let out a breath, forcing your voice to stay light. “Lead the way.”

As he moves ahead, you catch him glancing back at you, each look carrying a hint of suspicion. You know he’s beginning to piece things together, but you’re not ready to give him the truth—not yet.

Chris was an enigma, a puzzle you never fully solved, even when he was by your side. That song had its roots deep in your life together: road trips, late-night humming, dancing to it at your wedding. You hadn’t heard it in years, and yet it still had the power to unravel you.

“You sure you’re alright?” James asks, his voice steady but his eyes watchful.

“Just… a little tired.” The lie tastes hollow, but it’s enough for now.

James doesn’t press, nodding as he lets it go. You can see Silent Hill’s weight on him too, a shared fatigue between you. There's a muted relief in his eyes, knowing he’s not alone in this—someone else who sees what he sees and is capable of handling the worst of it.

“Yeah,” he mutters, glancing out a window, confronting the fog-choked street. “Me too.”

You’re both drained, each weighed down by the town's relentless demands. When you come across yet another abandoned apartment with a door slightly ajar, it looks as good a place as any to rest. James enters first, gun drawn, carefully scanning each room until he’s satisfied it’s safe. You follow, and the two of you settle into the dusty living room, sinking onto the worn couch across from him. The dim light casting shadows over his face makes him look even more exhausted than before. Despite his guarded demeanor, a flicker of relief softens his expression.

But you’re barely aware of him. Your mind keeps drifting, pulled back to the haunting notes of Close to You, the song’s echo dredging up memories and leaving a strange, hollow ache in its wake. Chris used to sing it with that same reverence you heard in your mind just now. The way it clung to him, stayed with you, as if the song itself held a secret too. You close your eyes, your last thought tangled in memories as sleep claims you faster than you realize.

The dream is seamless, more real than any nightmare should feel.

The church pews overflow with lush white blooms, their delicate petals casting a fragrant veil over the room, mingling with the scent of polished wood and old hymnals. Statues of angels line the chancel, their stone faces serene, hands pressed together in prayer, as if they too bless this day. Friends and family fill the space—faces from high school, colleagues, distant cousins. The two of you are well-loved, and it shows in every corner of this room filled with warm smiles and gentle whispers.

Your dress is exquisite, timeless, the lace delicate and intricate. A sheer net veil drapes over your face, softening your features; Chris never liked heavy makeup, and today, you’re everything he’s ever wanted. The wedding march begins, and as you step down the aisle, heart pounding, you see him waiting—Chris, the man you loved, standing with that familiar smile. It’s perfect, almost too perfect.

You’re standing by the lake now, that same lake you once visited together. The water is unnaturally still, like polished glass, reflecting a cloudless sky with eerie clarity. You look down and see yourself dressed differently—a simple sundress, soft and light, embroidered with tiny flowers. The lake shifts, its surface darkening to an inky black, and Chris’s form starts to dissolve, his features warping as he stares at you. His brown eyes, once warm, pool with a thick, dark liquid that streams down his face—a grotesque mix of blood and tears.

His lips pull back into a grimace, revealing not his familiar smile but a horrifying maw of decayed teeth, blackened and rotten, the gums swollen and raw. It’s almost impossible to look at him, but there’s something in his eyes—a haunting, bottomless pain—that keeps you rooted, feeling his anguish as if it’s your own. You try to reach him, but he keeps drifting farther, swallowed by the thickening fog, his shape barely visible. Your legs feel heavy, unable to chase after him. You open your mouth to scream, but your voice is gone. In place of Chris’s hum, the warped, dragging voice from the record begins to play, twisting the lyrics into something unsettling.

Why do birds suddenly appear… every time you are near…

It’s as if the town itself is singing, mocking your grief, laughing at your misery. You spin around, and now, in the lake’s reflection, you see… James?

He stands in the distance, his gaze fixed on something just beyond your line of sight. His expression is twisted in pain, not the frantic desperation of your own memories but a deep, abiding sorrow that feels almost like acceptance. It’s a sorrow that seeps into the atmosphere, heavy and palpable, and it pierces through the veil of your nightmare, pulling you toward him as if you’re both bound by an unseen thread.

Your mind fractures with the realization that this isn’t your memory—it’s his. You want to call out to him, to bridge the distance between you, but no sound escapes your lips. The fog envelops you both, thick and suffocating, intertwining your fears and regrets into a shared torment. As you look closer, flashes of another woman’s face blur into the water beside Chris’s—faces of those you’ve each lost or left behind, woven into the fabric of this haunting place. The lyrics echo around you, a cruel reminder of your collective longing:

They long to be… close to you.

Then everything shatters—the lake, the fog, and the memories—blowing apart like glass fragments, each shard reflecting images you’d rather forget. You wake with a jolt, gasping, and for a disorienting second, you don’t know where you are. Your hand flies to your chest, feeling the rapid thump of your heart, the remnants of the nightmare lingering. Across the room, James is also awake, his face pale and strained as he stares at the wall, clearly shaken by whatever he just experienced.

The silence stretches, both of you catching your breath, still in the grip of the shared memory. After a moment, James finally looks at you, his gaze troubled. He knelt on the floor across from you, reaching forward. You retreat inward, bringing your knees close to your chest as you attempt to gather yourself from the vivid nightmare.

“You… saw it too, didn’t you?” His voice is barely more than a whisper.

For a long moment, you don’t know what to say. All the excuses you’d planned earlier crumble, replaced by the rawness of what you just experienced. You give a slow nod, your voice shaky. “Yeah, I… I did.”

The weight of this unspoken bond hangs between you, a fragile connection forged through shared suffering. You can tell he wants to ask more, but he holds back, respect or fear—it’s hard to tell.

“You’re not a journalist, are you?” His voice is edged with something colder than distrust. “Why are you lying to me?”

Your index finger digs into the flesh of your thumb, scratching at the nail fold, peeling away the dead skin with anxious precision. With a reluctant sigh, you finally admit,

“My husband is here.” The words sound foreign, almost absurd, and you stop, feeling the weight of them settle uncomfortably. Your fingers drift to the spot where your wedding band should have been; it’s been years since you wore it. You hope James doesn’t notice its absence.

James’s gaze drifts, as though he’s caught in a memory of his own, piecing together fragments that refuse to settle. He remembers his own day by the lake, the memory of Mary and him standing silently together, wrapped in a shared peace as they looked out over the water’s glassy calm. That day had held something pure, untouched. But when that same vision began to warp, blending into a nightmare where he saw you there, tangled in shadows and held close by a man whose features twisted painfully, he assumed it must have been someone you loved deeply. Someone whose memory drew you here, too, searching through Silent Hill’s fog for answers, just like him.

“Did you get a letter from him?” James asks, his voice almost relieved, as though grasping at a thread of shared experience. “Like I did… from Mary?” His eyes search yours, teetering on the edge of desperation, as though hoping you might be a lifeline, someone who could understand.

“No,” you murmur, the answer thick in your throat. “He… he booked us the honeymoon suite at Lakeside. For our anniversary.” You hesitate, then glance up at James. Oddly, there’s a connection there, a shared understanding that feels like an anchor in this distorted reality. “I got a phone call. He said he’d be… waiting for me.”

James shifts, steadying himself, then reaches down and offers his hand. “How long have you been married?”

Taking his hand, you rise, feeling the warmth of his grip. “A long time.”

Lucky for you, he doesn’t ask for more.

You rub your eyes, exhausted. The rest was a waste of time, James knew that. You noticed his urgency, his resolve. It didn't parallel you, who dreaded the confrontation with Chris.

"Who was the woman?"

"Mary," he says her name with such familiarity. There's warmth in his tone that had been absence till now.

God, he must really love her. And you wonder what that felt like, the warm embrace of a man who loved you.

“Is she Laura's mom?”

James voice is low and purposeful. “It's...complicated.”

Taking the hint, you refuse to press further, “we should keep moving.”

You come to your senses, dusting off your legs, turning your gaze toward an hallway drowned in darkness. It looked endless, barely visible under a tangle of peeling wallpaper and decay. With a hesitant nod, you follow him; your hearts quicken as you tread deeper into the unknown. As you walk, each step feels like an invitation into Silent Hill’s dark heart. The sound of your footsteps is swallowed by the oppressive quiet, James reached forward firmly grabbing your forearm and pushing you toward him. You let out a scream, it echoes through the hallway sending you into a flustered, embarrassed state. You’d done so well keeping your composure, keeping your fear close to your chest even when Silent Hill beckoned for you to give into it.

“Careful!”

Your gaze falls to the floor and you can't help but notice the large, jagged hole that threatens to swallow you whole. You're still in James' grasp, you look up at him and see the exhaustion etched into his face. The stubble on his usually clean-shaven jaw looks foreign, a sign of how little sleep he's gotten. But despite it all, there is an undeniable warmth in his eyes, a flicker of determination that refuses to be dimmed. It hits you suddenly.

Shit, he’s handsome.

As if sensing your thoughts, James pulls you closer and your body responds automatically. His touch is like a lifeline, one that you grip onto tightly. Your breath hitches as he leans in, his heart beating rapidly against your chest.

It's strangely calming, and you find yourself sinking into him as if searching for some kind of solace. He inhales deeply, taking in your scent, and for a brief moment you both linger in this embrace. Before you can gather your thoughts and thank him for saving you from plummeting to your death, a voice interrupts the moment. It doesn't belong to either of you.

"Well, well. Looks like Jamesie has a new lady friend."

Both of you startle at the unexpected voice, but James responds with familiarity. He knows this woman. And as she steps out from the shadows, her blonde hair cascading down her shoulders and her ample assets on full display, it's clear why he knows her so well.

“Maria, don’t,” James’s voice drops, laced with warning. "I said we were finished."

You try to pull away, but James’s grip on your hand holds steady. It’s hard to tell if he’s unwilling to let go of you, or if he’s trying to shield you from something he knows all too well.

Maria steps forward, her heels striking the floor with sharp, deliberate clicks. Her gaze cuts through the darkness of the room, narrowing as they land on you. There's a mocking edge to her expression, something both inviting and dangerous, like she holds the keys to a room you don’t want to enter.

“Don’t what?” she taunts, her voice light, but a dark undercurrent simmers beneath it. The tension thickens, palpable, as though the entire room hinges on Maria’s whims. Something in her presence feels volatile, as if one wrong move might unravel whatever frail sense of reality you have left.

You find your voice, though it wavers. “James… who is this?”

But Maria doesn’t give him a chance to answer. Her lips curl into a knowing smirk. “She makes you feel like such a strong man, doesn’t she?” she purrs, her gaze shifting to him, almost challenging.

“Strong and brave,” she sneers softly, drawing out the words like she’s savoring each one. “But that’s only because she hasn’t seen you like I have.” Her eyes flash with something dark and possessive, a twisted familiarity that makes your stomach churn.

“What would you do if she knew who you really are, James?”

James stiffens beside you, but Maria doesn’t back off. Instead, she takes another step forward. Reaching towards you, gentle hands touching your hair with thoughtfulness, yet the action sends shivers down your spine. Maria tilts her head, studying you with a look that feels both knowing and cruel. “And you,” she says, her tone shifting, becoming almost sweet but dripping with malice. “Poor thing. I wouldn’t trust him if I were you.”

Your fingers tighten in James’s grasp, and Maria’s eyes flicker with wicked amusement as she notices. A low, bitter chuckle escapes her, slicing through the room.

“You really think you’re here for your husband, don’t you? Sweet Chris is waiting for you, dear,” she coos, her voice dripping with venom.

Her words hit like a punch, and an icy chill races down your spine. How she could know Chris—how she could know anything about him—is beyond comprehension. Yet here she is, peeling back your skin, exposing secrets you thought were buried. The anger simmering within you begins to fester, raw and ugly, threatening to spill over.

“Stop,” you plead, voice shaking.

Maria’s lips twist into a mocking smile, and she leans in closer. “Isn’t he?” Her tone is taunting, merciless, as though she’s drawing power from the very pain she’s causing.

"How'd you think he'd feel seeing you locking arms with another man?"

Finding a surge of strength, you step forward, voice firm. “I said stop it.”

For a moment, Maria halts, a flicker of surprise crossing her face. Then she raises her hands in exaggerated surrender, her smile never fading. “Oh, look at you, standing up for yourself.” She gives a small, mocking clap.

“You two really do make a cute couple.” Her words are laced with contempt, every syllable dripping with disdain.

With that, she takes a step back, casting one last dark glance at James before she turns to leave. Her parting words echo in the room, leaving a chill in their wake.

“Good luck, sweetheart. You’re going to need it.”

And then she’s gone, her laughter fading into the silence, leaving you and James in the tense, suffocating aftermath. The silence in the room feels electric, charged with the residue of Maria's taunts. The air grows thicker, pressing down on you as you turn to James, seeking solace in his familiar presence. But instead of comfort, unease flickers across his face—his eyes darting, unable to meet yours. It’s as if he’s caught in a web spun by Maria’s venomous words, and you can feel the strands tightening around your heart.

“James,” you whisper, your voice trembling with uncertainty. “How does she know Chris?” Your chest constricts at the mere mention of your husband’s name, the laughter you once shared with him echoing in your mind. James and you had been inseparable upon meeting, following each other at the heel as you navigated the labyrinth of the apartment complex. It wasn’t plausible to accuse James of telling Maria about Chris, yet you couldn’t conjure up another justification.

James glances away, fingers raking through his hair, a gesture so familiar yet suddenly alien. “I don’t know what she’s playing at,” he mutters, but there’s an edge to his voice that tinges his words with doubt. You feel it—a crack in the foundation of trust that has held strong until now. He swallows hard, his throat working as though he’s contemplating a confession that could shatter everything between you. He shifts uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his neck—a gesture that normally calms him now making his insides twist tighter. “She’s just… trying to get into your head,” he finally admits, but the hesitation lingers like a specter. You take a step closer to him, searching for reassurance in his deep-set gaze.

His eyes met yours, “Please believe me."

The air between you feels brittle, each word hanging like fragile glass, and you have to look away. Without a word, you step back and turn down the hallway, putting distance between yourself and James’s pained gaze. You walk, the low hum of silence filling your ears, until you find a room that’s only slightly ajar. With a deep breath, you nudge the door open and step inside, the hollow creak adding to the suffocating quiet.

The room itself is suffused with an eerie calm, yet it carries the faint remnants of something lived-in. Faded wallpaper, once cream-colored and adorned with delicate flowers, now curls at the edges, stained by water and age. Dust particles float in the muted light, casting a dreamlike haze over the place. A loveseat, its upholstery worn to the threads, sits against the far wall, its cushions sunken in, as if weighed down by the echoes of past residents who sought refuge here. An old, ornate mirror is mounted on the wall, the glass cracked, sending distorted reflections back at you. You catch your own image in its fractured surface, fragmented and unfamiliar.

You lower yourself onto the loveseat, and the springs creak beneath your weight, a hollow, mournful sound that matches the hollowness blooming in your chest. Maria’s words ring in your mind, each syllable a serrated edge cutting into memories you’ve tried so hard to repress. Chris—his laugh, his teasing smile, his hand in yours as you danced on your wedding day. And now, here in this place, in Silent Hill, his name feels like a curse, a haunting that even the fog cannot mask.

How could she know about him? How could she know you?

The silence presses on, thick and suffocating, forcing memories to the surface that you’d rather keep submerged. Chris wasn’t perfect; your marriage wasn’t the fairy tale people assumed it to be. You remember the fights, the silences, the times he looked at you as though he didn’t know you anymore. You remember feeling like strangers in your own home. The weight of it—the memory, the bitterness, the grief—settles on your chest like a stone, and you can feel yourself sinking under it, drawn down by a ghost who refuses to let you go.

You clench your hands together, fingers tracing the place where your wedding band used to rest. It’s just an empty strip of skin now, yet it still feels heavy, like an anchor tethering you to a past you can’t outrun. Maria’s voice reverberates in your mind, mocking and sharp, unearthing everything you’ve tried to bury.

How much did she know? How much could she see?

A chill seeps into your bones, the room itself growing colder as though responding to your turmoil. You wrap your arms around yourself, gaze drifting around the room once more, searching for answers in the decayed furniture, the cracked mirror, the peeling wallpaper. But the silence offers no solace, only a hollow echo of a life you once led, a love that may have been more illusion than truth.

The door creaks open softly, and you look up to see James standing there, a shadow in the doorway. His face is lined with concern, his brows furrowed, and he steps inside with cautious urgency, his voice low and gentle. “She’s just trying to mess with you,” he says, moving closer. “That’s what she does—Maria’s… she’s not someone you should trust.”

You feel a flash of anger bubble up, something raw that you can’t hold back. “She may be messing with me, but she’s clearly something to you, James. You think I haven’t noticed? She knows things that no stranger would know.”

You stand, wrapping your arms tightly around yourself as though to ward off the chill that Maria left in the room. “Whatever she is, she’s tied to you. I can feel it.”

He looks away, eyes darkening, an almost haunted expression casting shadows across his face. “Maybe she is. But you can’t believe her. She… she’s just a part of this place, trying to twist things.” His fingers rake through his hair, betraying his own uncertainty. “You have to believe me.”

The truth in his words wavers, not quite reaching you. “Maybe this is where we part ways. You need to find Laura, I need to find Chris… maybe it’s better if we don’t drag each other further down.”

James takes a step toward you, urgency flaring in his eyes. “No—don’t say that. I know it sounds crazy, but I… I don’t want to go on alone. You’re here, and I don’t know how to explain it, but it feels like… like I’m supposed to be with you, like you’re a part of this, too.”

The weight of his words presses into you, and the room falls quiet, thick with a shared loneliness, a strange intimacy brought on by this cursed place. For a moment, you can see the struggle behind his guarded gaze—a longing for connection, for some thread of human understanding. You feel it, too, this tether that’s kept you together, kept you following each other through the shadows of Silent Hill.

His eyes search yours, desperate, unguarded. “Please. We’re both here looking for answers… for the people we love. Isn’t that enough?”

You swallow hard, your emotions twisting into knots that leave you feeling raw and exposed. Chris’s memory looms, heavy and sharp, stirring a familiar pain in your chest. Despite all the hurt he left behind, despite the tangled mess he made of your heart, there’s an ache that remains—a longing, a craving for the simple comfort of touch, of companionship.

Your gaze settles on James, who stands there, his expression earnest, vulnerable in a way that only seems to deepen the strange connection between you. It’s been so long since someone looked at you like that, without judgment, without expectation. Just… seeing.

And James, with his own broken pieces, feels like someone who could understand. Someone you don’t have to explain yourself to. He doesn’t pry or push; his presence is soft, like a balm for the emptiness that’s grown inside you over the years. Chris may have broken parts of you, but James is different. He’s open in his own quiet way, holding his pain close yet giving space for yours.

James feels a slight shiver run through him as he stands in front of you, realizing that he’s not just here searching for Laura anymore. The realization deepens his guilt, the past hangs heavily on his shoulders. He carries the burden through the mist-shrouded streets. It dawns on him that he’s looking for something to believe in, something to hold onto.

Maybe it’s because of Mary, and that guilt has anchored him to this place. But you—you—are here, standing before him, offering the possibility of solace. There’s an unspoken understanding, a thread of empathy woven between your shared pain that draws him in—a yearning for connection, for hope, for a reason to keep moving forward.

Would Mary want this for me, do I deserve to have it?

He takes a step closer, his hand reaching out slowly, as though afraid to startle you. His fingers find yours, and you feel a warmth—a reminder that you’re here, alive. He’s close now, his gaze steady and searching, asking permission without words. You feel yourself leaning in, drawn to him, the vulnerability in his eyes echoing your own.

When your lips meet, the kiss is soft, hesitant. But there’s a sweetness in it, a gentleness that feels like a reprieve, a quiet offering in a place that knows only shadows and despair. It'd been long since you felt a kiss like that, full of good intentions.

His hand comes up, fingers brushing your cheek, anchoring you in the moment. You let yourself sink into it, let yourself forget the weight of Silent Hill, the scars of Chris’s memory, the strange nightmare you’ve been thrust into.

For just a moment, there’s only you and James, two broken souls finding comfort in each other. When you finally part, his gaze lingers on you, a question, a silent promise. Brushing your nose against his, you close your eyes tightly, tears verging to spill through yet for whatever damn reason you stop them.

“Wait,” you whisper, your voice barely a breath. You pull backward, the warmth of his presence falling away like a fragile dream shattered by dawn. “What am I doing? This isn’t right.”

Confusion swirling in your mind like the fog outside. The warmth of him still lingers on your lips, it feels so sweet. So right. But the ache of Chris’s memory claws its way back, a sharp reminder of everything that remains unresolved. All the reasons as to why you were here.

James blinks, confusion clouding his eyes as he searches your face for answers, for assurance that this moment hasn’t meant something else entirely. “I didn’t—” James starts, his brows knitting together in concern. “I thought… I thought we were—”

“No,” you interrupt, shaking your head violently as if to dislodge the memories that threaten to smother you. “We can’t just… I can’t pretend like everything’s okay here.”

James falters, his expression shifting from confusion to hurt. “I’m not trying to pretend anything. I thought…”

Realization washes over him, an understanding that battles with the hope he had dared to cling to moments ago. “I’m sorry—I didn’t mean..” His words stutter, because James did mean something. And apart of you did too. Neither of you were ready to confront it.

James sighs, “we can’t just shut ourselves off from each other either. We need each other. Look around us—this place…” He gestures wildly at the peeling walls and flickering shadows. “It thrives on our pain and isolation. It wants us to stay broken.”

Your breath hitches as you take in the decay surrounding you—a world molded by fears and heartsick memories. Maria’s words echo in the back of your mind, fueling your doubt and straining the bond you have just begun to forge.

“But if we let it, if we lean on each other…” you murmur, a tremor threading through your voice. “What happens when the truth comes to light? When it all unravels and we’re left… shattered?”

James tilts his head, a flicker of defiance igniting in his eyes. “Maybe it can’t unravel if we face it together,” he responds. “Maybe that’s how we find the strength to overcome this—this place, this guilt, these ghosts of our past.” He takes another cautious step toward you, bridging the gap that had formed between your hearts.

“James, I don’t know if I can do that,” you admit, your heart racing with uncertainty. The shadows stretch and creep closer, whispering secrets meant to keep you both locked within their grasp.

“Then let me help you,” he pleads softly, an earnestness in his tone that cuts through the fog of confusion. “We’ve already faced so much together in such little time—more than either of us thought was possible. You don't have to do this alone.”

His words reverberate with raw honesty, pulling at something deep inside you—the spark of hope woven tightly into the air. The flickering light cast shadows that danced across your faces, illuminating the vulnerability in James's gaze. It was a look that you hadn't seen in Chris before, it was a look of promised understanding and comfort. A safe harbor.

“James…” you began, your voice barely above a whisper, trembling with uncertainty. The weight of Chris’s memory lingered like a ghost, but in that moment, you were acutely aware of the warmth radiating from him, pulling you closer against the chill of the darkened room.

“I'm here,” James said softly, reaching out to cup your cheek.

His touch ignited a flicker of something deep within you, something you hadn’t allowed yourself to feel in a long time. You leaned into his hand, closing your eyes for a brief moment, allowing the warmth to wash over you. There was an undeniable connection, an unspoken understanding that anchored you both.

“I’m scared, James,” you confessed, your heart racing as the memories of your husband intertwined with the growing emotions you felt for this man. “What if I can’t do this? What if—”

“Stop,” he interrupted gently, his thumb brushing over your lower lip.

“You’re stronger than you think. You just have to trust me.”

James’s hands slid to your waist, pulling you closer as the world around you fell away. The kiss deepened, a desperate expression of everything left unsaid—the frustration, the fear, the need for connection. You tangled your fingers in his hair, losing yourself in the moment as your hearts raced in synchrony. It was a kiss that spoke of yearning, of healing, and the promise of something more. In that breathless exchange, you both felt the weight of your pasts lift, if only for a fleeting moment.

As you finally pulled away, breathless and wide-eyed, the room around you felt a little less suffocating. James looked down at you, his expression a mix of surprise and longing, as if he too was processing the intensity of what had just happened.

“Wow,” he murmured, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “That was...”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, the tension breaking as you caught your breath. “Unexpected,” you add, your cheeks flushed.

Finding a new companion in the midst of all this was unexpected, yet you couldn't deny it wasn't wanted.

Exiting the apartment, you return to the fog swarmed streets with the intention of going to Lakeview Hotel and settle this.

"Tell me about Chris."

James’s voice was soft, almost hesitant, as though he knew the weight of what he was asking but couldn’t help himself. The question caught you off guard, slicing through the quiet that had fallen over you both since the kiss. You pulled back, eyes narrowing as you measured his expression, wondering why he wanted to know—wondering if you should even answer.

Maybe this was a bad idea.

“What about him?” you ask, trying to keep your tone neutral. The memory of Chris’s face lingers at the edge of your mind, blurring between pain and longing, between a life you lived and a guilt you couldn’t quite let go of.

James shifts, his brow knitting as he considers his words carefully. “Well, you said you were married for a long time… I just thought… maybe he was part of the reason you’re here.” He pauses, then adds almost apologetically, “I just want to understand.”

You let out a short, humorless laugh, the tension in your chest tightening. “So, you kiss me, and now you want me to bare my soul?” you ask, a hint of sarcasm bleeding into your voice, trying to lighten the confession that was pressing against your throat.

James’s gaze holds steady, his face tinged with a mix of embarrassment and genuine concern. “I’m sorry—I just thought…” He fumbles for a second, searching for the right words. “I just thought maybe… if I know, I can help.”

The idea of anyone helping you felt almost absurd, but here he was, leaning into the murky past you’d never wanted to share. You take a breath, feeling the weight of what it means to even think about Chris—to feel the pull of what you left behind.

The truth of it stirs in you, raw and jagged, as you force yourself to continue. “Kissing you…” Your voice falters, and you can’t meet his eyes. “Kissing you makes me realize what I was doing even before I came here.” You clench your jaw, steadying yourself as you try to explain. “I was unfaithful in my own way—long chats, late nights with men I’d never meet. Random strangers who’d call me beautiful just to feel something real again. Just to feel noticed.”

You feel James’s gaze on you, but it’s soft, like he’s looking past the words to the heart of it. You keep talking, almost as if to absolve yourself, or maybe just to say it out loud. “It wasn’t ever physical. I never wanted that. But I wanted to know I could be seen, could still be wanted. That I wasn’t just someone’s forgotten wife.”

There’s a beat of silence between you, and James finally nods, his face shadowed with understanding, though he doesn’t press you any further. The question lingers, though, as if he’s on the brink of asking something more but thinks better of it.

As the fog thickens around you both, you wonder if he can see how broken this confession has left you, your own secrets spilling out like poisoned air. But there’s something reassuring in the way he stays, how he doesn’t look away. He’s searching for his own peace, you can tell. But here, together, you’re both finding something neither of you had expected: a moment of understanding, as fleeting and fragile as it is.

Your confession made the weight of the cross necklace on your chest feel lighter, a burden released, if only for a moment. But Silent Hill had other plans, a different way of reminding you why you were here. That song—the one that had haunted you—warps again, piercing through the fog with an unsettling clarity.

Why do stars fall down from the sky?

It was louder this time, invasive, its notes burrowing into your chest like needles. The sound seeped through your skin, winding its way through your veins until you could feel it thrum with your pulse. Your body began to tremble, muscles weakening, as if the song itself was commanding you to surrender.

Every time you walk by?

You stagger, trying to shake off the sensation, but the pressure overwhelms you. Your knees buckle, and the world tilts, the song closing in, dragging you down.

James lunges forward, reaching you just as your legs give out, his arms strong around you as he keeps you upright. “Hey!” he calls, his voice tinged with alarm as he holds you close. “Stay with me—stay with me!”

Just like me, they long to be

But his voice is fading, becoming part of the fog as your mind begins to drift, retreating into a darkness that feels familiar yet endless. The haunting refrain echoes, growing louder and louder, pressing down on you, pulling you further from James’s steady grip and deeper into the secrets that Silent Hill had dredged up from the shadows.

Your vision blurs, the edges softening until James’s face is little more than a shadow against the fog. The song’s haunting lyrics spiral in your mind, merging with his voice as he calls your name, but the words feel distant, muffled, like they’re underwater.

Your pulse quickens, heartbeat pounding loud in your ears as your body grows cold and heavy. Your legs tremble and your knees weaken; you try to catch your breath, but it slips away, pulled down by the weight of the memories clawing at you. James’s grip tightens around you, but the sensation barely registers as a wave of dizziness crashes over, sending you spiraling.

Close to you.

The melody presses into you like a physical force, digging into your chest until your heartbeat falters. You reach for James, but your fingers grow numb, vision narrowing into a tunnel of darkness, and the world tilts, fading away as you finally surrender, consciousness slipping into the void.

Slowly, your heavy eyelids flutter open and you find yourself standing in the dimly lit, crimson-tinted bathroom of Heaven's Night. The air is thick with a palpable electricity, a raw and close sensation that sends shivers down your spine. The familiar smells of smoke and stale perfume mingle with something new - the warm, musky scent of desire. You can hear the faint hum of neon lights from the club pulsing through the walls, casting a seductive glow over the small bathroom.

In front of you is an old, dirty sink accompanied by a cracked and weathered mirror. The reflection staring back at you feels surreal and blurred, but you can't help but notice how different you look. Your hair is styled in loose waves, a deep crimson shade staining your lips. Your outfit is a low cut dress that hugs your curves in all the right places, revealing just enough skin to leave little to the imagination. As you take a step back to admire yourself, you suddenly collide into something - or someone.

Turning your neck, you see James standing behind you with a hungry look in his eyes. The gentleness he once had is now replaced with an untapped dominance that sends a rush of excitement through your body. His rough breath fans across your neck as his hands find their way to your waist, gripping you with a restraint that feels seconds away from breaking. Pressed together in the tight space, the intensity between you surges like an electric current, igniting long-buried desires that are now clawing their way to the surface.

James is already so close, but he presses even closer until your bodies are flush against each other. He doesn't stop until your front collides with the cold porcelain sink, causing you to gasp and turn your face towards the mirror inches away from your nose. In its reflection, you see two figures consumed by desire - yours with an equal if not greater intensity than James'. It's been so long since you've felt this kind of want, this kind of fiery desire. And as he leans in closer, you can't help but give in to the temptation and let yourself drown in the heat of the moment.

The first kiss is a violent onslaught, a collision of two tormented souls who have been lost in darkness for far too long. The force behind it is primal and desperate, the mingling of desperation and desire causing an inferno to rage between your lips.

You instinctively raise your arms, tangling your fingers in his hair as he presses you forcefully against the sink. In this moment, there is only him and the overwhelming need for him. James eagerly grabs at your breasts, tearing at your clothing until your laced bra is exposed, barely containing your hardened buds which beg for his touch. His grip tightens as his lips trail down your neck, each touch rough and urgent.

There is a raw honesty in every touch, every shared breath that speaks volumes about the pent-up frustration and pain that has brought you both to this moment. Here, in the seedy sanctuary of Heaven's Night, you lose yourself completely to each other-- no expectations, no inhibitions, just the all-consuming desire to feel alive in a town that takes everything from you.

Your body arches against James' as you feel the hard bulge in his pants pressing against you. In one swift motion, he grabs the hem of your skirt and pulls it up, baring your ass to him. Any sense of embarrassment is quickly replaced by intense arousal.

Without hesitation, James moves your panties aside and spits on his fingers before plunging them into your dripping cunt. You let out a wild shriek, the cool air hitting your exposed sex only to be soothed by the warmth of his wet fingers. He pumps two slender digits inside you with ease, the sound of your wet core filling the room.

His words send shivers down your spine as he scissors his fingers inside you, "Listen to how wet you are for me already." Your hands leave his hair and grip onto the sink for support as you lose yourself in his touch.

He suddenly removes his fingers and gives your wet cunt a sharp slap, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body and out of your mouth. "You couldn't stop thinking about this, could you?" he growls.

"No," you whimper, unable to resist his dominance. "I need it so bad, James," you plead, wiggling your ass towards him. "I need your cock inside me."

He doesn't hesitate, his grunts joining yours as he complies, thrusting his hard cock into you with renewed vigor. Every inch of you is filled, your body shaking with the intensity of it all.

"Harder! James! Harder!" You beg, your voice trembling with need.

James notices your half-lidded eyes drifting shut, lost in the throes of passion. With a growl, he pulls your hair back, forcing you to look at your reflection in the mirror.

"Look at you. Look how cock-hungry you are." His words are a filthy whisper, laced with dominance and affection.

Your eyes flutter open, staring into the mirror where you both are reflected. The sight is intoxicating, your bodies entwined, your faces a mix of pleasure and raw need. You watch as James continues to pound into you, his muscles straining with effort, his eyes locked on yours. The reflection in the mirror is almost too much to bear, the reality of the scene so vivid, so real.

"Please," you whimper, your voice breaking. "I need more."

James smirks, his hand moving to cup your cheek, brushing away a stray tear. "What do you need, baby?" He asks, his tone gentle despite the rough handling.

"I... I need you to make me come," you confess, your voice barely above a whisper. The admission feels liberating, freeing.

His eyes darken with intent, a predatory gleam flashing in their depths. "That's my girl," he murmurs, his thumb stroking your lower lip. "But not just yet. Not until you've earned it."

With that, he yanks your head back, exposing your neck, and bites down gently, his teeth grazing your skin. The sensation is electrifying, a jolt of pleasure that shoots straight to your core. You arch your back, pressing yourself further onto his cock, desperate for more.

"James..." You groan, your body trembling with need.

He releases your neck, leaving a mark that slowly begins to throb. His hand moves down, tracing the curve of your spine before settling on your ass. With a firm grip, he spanks you, the sting a welcome contrast to the pleasure coursing through your veins.

"Did that hurt, baby?" He asks, his voice dripping with concern.

You shake your head, moaning softly. "No, it felt... good."

He chuckles, a low rumble that vibrates through your entire body. "Good girl," he praises, his hand landing another smack on your already reddened skin. "Now, tell me what you want."

"I want you to... to keep going," you gasp, your voice strained with effort. "I want you to make me beg for it."

His grin widens, a wicked glint in his eyes. "Oh, I intend to."

With that, he picks up the pace, his thrusts becoming more erratic, more primal. His fingers dig into your hips, guiding you, controlling you. You can feel the pressure building inside you, the orgasm lurking just out of reach. You clench your muscles around him, trying to coax it closer, but James has other plans.

"Not yet," he growls, his voice harsh. "Not until you're begging, baby."

Your frustration mounts, your body screaming for release, but James is relentless. He alternates between slow, teasing strokes and wild, frenzied thrusts, keeping you on the edge, always just one step away from oblivion.

"Please, James," you plead, your voice breaking. "Please, I can't take it anymore."

He pauses, his breathing heavy, his chest rising and falling rapidly. "What do you want, baby?" He asks, his voice calm, controlled.

"I want to come," you sob, tears streaming down your face. "Please, let me come."

A smile tugs at the corners of his lips, a victorious gleam in his eyes. "Beg for it," he demands, his voice firm.

You hesitate for a moment, the weight of his command pressing down on you. But the need, the desperation, it's overwhelming. You crumple under the pressure, your pride forgotten.

"Please, James," you whisper, your voice trembling. "Please, let me come. I'll do anything."

His smile widens, a predator finally catching its prey. "Anything?" He asks, his tone curious.

You nod, your resolve crumbling. "Yes, anything."

With a satisfied hum, he resumes, his thrusts becoming more brutal, more punishing. You can feel the orgasm creeping closer, the tension coiling tighter and tighter inside you. And then, just as you think you can't take it anymore, James pulls out.

Your eyes fly open, confusion and frustration mingling in your gaze. "No," you whine, reaching for him. "Don't stop."

He steps back, his cock glistening with your arousal, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Make a choice, baby,"

“Choice?” You ask, panting.

James lunges forward, his erection pressing hard against your backside. He grabs the delicate cross chain around your neck with a tight grip, pulling at it until it snaps off in his hand. The necklace falls to the ground with a metallic clang, leaving you exposed and vulnerable to his hungry advances…

"Yeah, choice."

The gray fog clears just enough to reveal a run-down convenience store, the dim lights barely illuminating the cracked tile and empty shelves. James adjusts his grip, holding your limp form securely as he pushes through the broken door. The smell of stale air and dust hits him, but he hardly notices—his focus is on finding something, anything to help you.

Inside, Laura sits cross-legged on the floor, her back against a display, a dusty stuffed bunny cradled in her arms. She looks up at the sound of footsteps, her eyes narrowing with cautious curiosity as she spots you in James’s arms.

James releases a breath he didn’t realize he was holding as he sees Laura sitting there, safe and sound with her stuffed bunny. Relief washes over him, momentarily cutting through the ever-present tension in his chest. He approaches, his arms aching from carrying you, but there's still a sternness in his voice.

“Laura,” he says, steady but firm. “Don’t run off like that again.”

She looks up at him, feigning innocence as she squeezes the bunny closer. “I just forgot Mr. Hopps! You wouldn’t leave Mary’s things behind, would you?”

James’s expression softens, but only slightly. “No, but…” He trails off, glancing down at your unconscious form, still nestled carefully in his arms. “I just need to know you’re safe. We can’t afford to lose each other in this place.”

Laura stares at him, her brows furrowing as her gaze shifts from his concerned face to you. "Who’s that?” she asks, her tone both wary and a little defiant. “Is she okay?”

“She just needs a little help,” James replies, his voice low, soothing—almost like he's trying to convince himself, too. He carefully lowers you onto a patch of clean floor, checking your breathing, his hand lingering near yours before he pulls back. He takes off his military jacket, balling it up and placing it under your head to support your neck.

Laura tilts her head, observing you. After a moment, she shrugs and says, almost offhandedly, “She’s really pretty, you know.”

James glances at Laura, surprised, before his gaze returns to you. He hadn’t thought about it like that—or maybe he’d been trying not to. He just wanted you safe. But with you lying there, fragile and quiet, Laura’s words stir something that catches him off guard.

“Yeah,” he says quietly, almost to himself. “I guess she is.”

Laura watches him carefully, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. “So, you’re helping her because she’s pretty?”

James lets out a short laugh, more a huff than anything else. “No,” he says, shaking his head. “I’m helping her because… because she’s here, and she...” His voice is distant, like he’s still working through it himself. "She… She’s someone who gets it. Someone who needs help, like you and me.”

Laura huffs but nods slowly, her gaze lingering on you, still clutching her bunny. “Fine. I’ll stay. But she better not be all weird.”

James manages a small, weary smile. “No promises,” he murmurs, sitting down beside you both, his eyes on the fog-shrouded streets.

“But we’ll wait here until she’s ready.”