#so i tried to pull an oc to help with that. at first i tried to get alec and ray cuz theyre the ones i developed a lot and like too | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

coqhee · 15 days ago

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𓍯 ⸝⸝ JUST A BET ╱ L.HS ONESHOT

IN WHICH ✷ you bet heeseung that you can find him his perfect girl ∘ ∘ ∘ more

희승 x f!r ― f2l angst fluff && jealousy cursing kissing oc usage highschool au heeseung x oc (not the end relationship) ⨯ 5OO4

em's note ★ wouldn't be a banger if i DIDN'T include angst, actually kinda fw this one heavyyyy lawl, cause yall ever help your situationship get w someone else haha.. ha. ha.

ALL YOUR LIFE YOU HAD KNOWN LEE HEEESUNG TO BE STOIC TOWARDS GIRLS.

somehow it seemed that every girl in your school was in love with heeseung. of course, that was an exaggeration, but somehow every single pretty popular girl you knew would just get flat rejected by heeseung.

a simple “sorry, i don’t like you like that,” would be all he was given and it was in no time that rumors spread that heeseung just wasn’t into girls given his track record.

at this point, you began to feel bad for the girls, even worse for him that he couldn’t find the one. just how could you not like them though. they were even sweet and kind, and didn’t even have a bad personality.

everyone surrounding the two of you seemed to be in a relationship except him and you.

you, because you were hopelessly in love with your best friend, and heeseung, well because he just couldn’t seem to find the one and didn’t seem to care to find the one.

at first it started as a joke, when you were hanging out in your room supposedly, ‘studying,’ when you told him “you’re so picky with girls, let me set you up with someone,”

heeseung had raised an eyebrow at your suggestion, a skeptical smirk tugging at his lips. “and you think you can find me the one?” he teased, crossing his arms back further against the chair near your desk, “haha, very funny y/n,”

“i know i can,” you shot back, your confidence only half-feigned. “you just need someone who gets you, and clearly, you’re incapable of finding her yourself.”

heeseung rolled your eyes at your bullshit statement, he wasn’t buying a single second of it.

“great so then what's my type huh?” he asked, clearly amused with your antics.

you paused, his question catching you off guard. “your type?” you repeated, stalling for time as you racked your brain trying to think of what his type was.

heeseung leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand as he smirked. “yeah, y/n. if you’re so sure you can find me ‘the one’, you must know what kind of girl i’m into.”

“oh, that’s easy,” you said quickly, refusing to let him see you falter. “someone smart, kind, sarcastic, funny—basically someone who can put up with your dumbass.”

heeseung raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “so... basically you?”

you blinked, feeling your face heat up at his unexpected comment. “what? no! i meant someone like me, not me specifically,” you clarified, trying to sound dismissive. “i mean sort of? but like, not me obviously, you know?” you tried chuckling to brush off any arising emotions.

afterall, he’s just your best friend. and everyone knows, don’t fall in love with your best friend or else it gets messy.

he laughed, the sound light and teasing. “relax, y/n, i’m just messing with you. but seriously, if you think you’ve got this all figured out, prove it. find her.”

“fine,” you said, crossing your arms. “give me a week. i’ll find you someone who’s exactly your type, and you’ll be thanking me when you two ride off into the sunset together.”

“deal,” he said, leaning back in his chair with a smug grin. “but just so you know, if you can’t pull this off, i’m never letting you live it down.”

“and if i do?” you countered, narrowing your eyes at him.

heeseung thought for a moment before shrugging. “then i owe you. big time. whatever you want.”

“you’re going to regret that,” you said, smirking as you stood up and grabbed your bag.

“we’ll see,” heeseung called after you, his voice laced with amusement.

the two of you went back to actually doing work, however, your mind raced with a mix of determination and unease. finding someone for heeseung sounded simple enough in theory—but why did the idea of him falling for someone else feel like a knot tightening in your chest?

─── ♡

HONESTLY, YOU WERE CONSIDERING JUST NOT SETTING HIM UP WITH ANYONE AND ADMITTING FAILURE.

while it would hurt seeing him getting along with one of your friends and potentially going out with them, you figured your pride would hurt more if you didn’t win this stupid bet.

stupid you, stupid bet, stupid stakes, stupid prizes.

though, you wouldn’t let your own feelings get in the way of trying to make your best friend find his forever girl. that wouldn’t be fair—to him, to the girls he might actually click with, or even to yourself. you told yourself you were doing this out of genuine care, that it wasn’t some half-hearted attempt to distract yourself from the feelings you’d been burying for years.

maybe, just maybe, seeing him happy with someone else would finally push you to let go. watching him smile the way he always did when he was truly at ease, only this time with someone else by his side, might be the catalyst you needed to accept what you’d been trying to avoid: that heeseung would never see you the way you saw him.

you sighed, scrolling through your contacts in search of someone who might fit the impossible checklist you’d mentally created for heeseung. someone funny, smart, patient, and—above all—someone who wouldn’t make your chest ache every time they laughed together.

surely, that would make things easier. seeing him in love—real love—might make you realize that you weren’t the one for him, and that was okay. or at least, that’s what you told yourself. maybe in the process, you’d learn how to untangle your heart from his, stop feeling the way you did whenever he flashed that lopsided grin at you or leaned in just a little too close during your late-night study sessions.

maybe, for once, you could finally move on with your life.

but the thought of it stung in a way you didn’t want to admit. because deep down, you weren’t sure if seeing him happy with someone else would mend the ache in your chest—or make it worse.

your finger hovered over a name, one of your mutual friends who you thought might work. yeorin. she was sweet, easygoing, and had mentioned in passing that she thought heeseung was cute.

perfect. just…not for you.

your chest tightened at the thought, but you ignored it, convincing yourself it didn’t matter. this wasn’t about you. it was about him. so you texted her, casually suggesting a group hangout and strategically arranging it so she and heeseung would have plenty of time to talk.

the hangout itself seemed to go fine—or so you told yourself. you kept a careful eye on them from across the room, watching as they exchanged polite smiles and small talk. it didn’t hurt, not really, but you couldn’t deny the odd feeling that settled in your stomach when you saw the way yeorin laughed at his jokes.

you couldn’t lie and say that you weren’t happy when heeseung reported back to you, that she just “didn’t match his vibe,”

when heeseung reported back to you the next day, you couldn’t lie and say you weren’t relieved when he shrugged and said, “she just didn’t match my vibe.”

you raised an eyebrow, masking the quiet satisfaction bubbling up in your chest. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“i don’t know,” heeseung replied, leaning back against the cafeteria table. “she’s nice and all, but it felt... off. like, there wasn’t anything to talk about,”

you masked your relief with quick witted jabs at him, with a chuckle, “maybe you’re the common denominator, and you’re just faulty.

he gave you a mock glare before cracking a smile. “yeah, or maybe she’s just not my type. you’re the expert here, aren’t you? isn’t it your job to figure this out?”

you laughed, though your mind was already racing to come up with the next plan. this wasn’t going to be easy. “okay,”

─── ♡

YOU WERE CONTENT WITH TRYING AND FAILING, UNTIL YOU FAILED YOURSELF AND INTRODUCED HIM TO HER.

weeks of casual scouting, setting up dates with mutual friends that you knew were into him, and analyzing potential matches later, you finally introduced heeseung to her—a sweet, bright girl named hyejin from your calculus class.

you’d always thought she’d be perfect for him. she was kind, outgoing, and had that same quiet confidence that heeseung carried himself with. to your surprise (and mild horror), the two of them hit it off almost immediately.

they even looked good together, more so than you and him would ever.

you’d watched from a distance during the group outing you’d orchestrated, pretending not to care as heeseung and hyejin laughed together, their conversation flowing effortlessly. heeseung’s usual guarded demeanor had softened, and for the first time, you saw him genuinely invested in getting to know someone.

“you’re really good at this matchmaking thing,” your friend karina had whispered, nudging your side as she caught you watching them.

you forced a smile, brushing it off. “i guess so. he deserves to be happy, you know? thank god finally, hate that guy,” you attempted to joke, feeling your throat go dry.

karina hummed sensing your mock laugh, but kept quiet.

the final straw came during another hangout between the three of you, which was just you third wheeling on a date. hyejin had been running late, and while you and heeseung waited for her to arrive, he seemed distracted, checking his phone every few minutes.

“nervous or something?” you joked, nudging him with your elbow.

heeseung smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “no, just...i don’t want her to feel left out when she gets here.”

“she’ll be fine,” you assured him, forcing a smile. “she likes you, remember? you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

when hyejin finally showed up, the way heeseung’s face lit up was all the confirmation you needed. you watched as he stood up to greet her, his usually calm demeanor breaking into a soft, boyish grin that you’d never seen directed at you.

and that’s when it hit you—this wasn’t just a game anymore. this wasn’t about proving you could find him the perfect girl. this was real, and heeseung was slipping further away from you with every passing day.

you kept up the charade, though. every time heeseung mentioned her name, you smiled and encouraged him, offering advice or teasing him about being “whipped” already.

“she’s different,” he’d said one afternoon when the two of you were hanging out in the library.

“different how?” you asked, trying to keep your tone light even as your stomach twisted.

“i don’t know,” he admitted, running a hand through his hair. “she’s just...easy to talk to. i feel like she actually gets me, you know?”

you nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. “that’s great, hee. i’m happy for you.”

“guess you won our bet huh,” he joked, his full attention on texting hyejin back the second his phone lit up with a text from her.

“yeah. guess i did,” you hummed, too distracted to even fully register what he was saying anymore, too focused on the way his eyes lit up just seeing her text.

─── ♡

YOU FIGURED THAT WAS THE END OF YOU AND HIM.

and you weren’t wrong to think so. you couldn’t bare to see him with her. every single time you did, you felt like smashing your head into a locker just to push away the thought of how you just weren’t her.

plus who would want their talking phase hanging around his girl best friend, and it’s not even like she didn’t invite you to their hangouts. cause she did. and it hurt you more knowing that she was doing it because she didn’t mind that.

because she was perfect, and she wasn’t two faced or anything like how you somewhere deep down hoped she was. you wished you could have a reason to hate her. but in reality, you hated her because you couldn’t find a reason to.

you started pulling away, not all at once, but little by little—enough for heeseung to notice, but not enough for him to call you out on it. you skipped out on hangouts with their new couple group, citing homework or vague excuses about being busy. when heeseung texted, you’d reply late, blaming it on being “swamped with assignments.” you even started sitting a few rows away in class, pretending not to notice when he looked for you.

but the truth was, you were avoiding him because being around him—around them—hurt more than you could handle.

you couldn’t tell which hurt more, talking to him, or not talking to him at all. both equally felt like you were ripping your heart out of your chest and stabbing it with a fork over, and over, and over.

the worst part was, heeseung still checked in on you. he’d send you little messages asking if you were okay, reminding you not to skip meals, and forwarding memes to make you laugh. it made it harder, knowing he still cared in some way, but it wasn’t the way you wanted.

the hardest pill to swallow was you only had yourself to blame it on. not heeseung, not hyejin, or any of your other friends that said they looked cute together.

“you’re being ridiculous, you know,” karina said one afternoon as the two of you sat in your usual spot in the library.

“i don’t know what you’re talking about,” you muttered, not looking up from your notes.

karina sighed, shutting her book with a dramatic thud. “you’re avoiding heeseung like he has the plague. do you really think he hasn’t noticed?”

“he doesn’t care,” you lied, the words bitter in your mouth. “he’s got hyejin now. he doesn’t need me around.”

karina frowned, leaning closer. “that’s not true, and you know it. just because he’s dating her doesn’t mean he’s forgotten about you. you’re his best friend, y/n. don’t throw that away because you’re jealous.”

you flinched at her bluntness but didn’t deny it. you hated how transparent you were, how easily karina could see through the wall you were trying to put up.

“it’s not jealousy,” you said finally, though even you didn’t believe it. “i just... i need space, from him, thats all.”

karina sighed again, but she didn’t press further. fine. but don’t let this space turn into a permanent gap, y/n. he’s going to notice eventually, and it’s going to hurt him too.”

her words stayed with you long after she left. maybe she was right, but you couldn’t help thinking it was better this way. better to let the distance grow now, while he had hyejin to lean on, than to risk clinging to something you’d already lost.

even though they weren’t officially dating, they might as well have been in your head the way you had took a step back from your friendship between the both of them.

so you kept your distance, even as it killed you to do so. you weren’t losing him, because you never had him. because if heeseung was happy with her, then wasn’t that enough?

─── ♡

THE NEXT TIME YOU SAW HEESEUNG FACE TO FACE WAS AT ANOTHER ONE OF THOSE GROUP OUTINGS.

you’d tried to avoid it, of course, but karina dragged you along, claiming you needed to “stop being a hermit” and “face your feelings head-on.” despite your protests, you found yourself sitting in a crowded booth at a diner, stuck between karina and jake while heeseung and hyejin sat directly across from you.

the whole setup was a slow burn of torture. heeseung was his usual self—laughing, teasing jake, and making jokes that made everyone around him burst into giggles. but you noticed the way his attention kept drifting to you, how he’d glance your way every so often as if trying to gauge what you were thinking.

you tried your best to put on your strongest face at least for tonight. pretend that everything that was fine.

“you’ve been quiet tonight,” heeseung said suddenly, his voice cutting through the chatter.

you blinked, startled, as everyone’s eyes turned to you. “oh, uh, just tired,” you said, forcing a smile.

“y/n’s always tired,” jake chimed in, nudging you with his elbow. “or at least that’s her go-to excuse for everything.”

“it’s a good excuse,” you shot back, grateful for the distraction.

heeseung’s gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, something unreadable in his expression, before hyejin said something to him, and his attention shifted back to her.

as the night went on, you couldn’t help but notice how effortlessly hyejin fit into the group. she laughed at all the right moments, added just enough to the conversation without overshadowing anyone, and seemed to understand heeseung in a way that made your stomach twist.

you hated how perfect she was.

“gonna go pay,” you mumbled to karina, sliding out of the booth before anyone could stop you. might as well pick up the bill to make up for all the hangouts you had missed.

once at the front counter paying for your shitty overpriced meal, you looked at the mirror behind the counter, looking yourself in the eye.

“pull yourself together,” you muttered under your breath, closing your eyes taking a sigh, waiting for the people in front of you to finish paying.

when you opened your eyes, you noticed heeseung’s familiar figure behind you when you looked into the mirror. you looked him up and down from the side noticing how tense he seemed.

heeseung didn’t move. instead crossing his arms over his chest. “you’ve been avoiding me.”

you froze, your heart hammering in your chest. “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

he raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “you barely text back, you skip out on plans, and now you won’t even look me in the eye. what’s going on, y/n?”

your throat tightened, and you looked away, pretending to focus on finding something in your bag, fumbling around with the chapstick, wallet, and candy wrapper still remnant in it. “nothing’s going on. you’re imagining things.”

“don’t do that,” he said, his voice softening. “don’t shut me out.”

you swallowed hard, the weight of his words pressing down on you. for a moment, you thought about telling him the truth—about the jealousy, the hurt, and the feelings you’d been burying for years. but then you thought about hyejin, and how happy he seemed with her, and the words caught in your throat.

“i’m fine, heeseung,” you said finally, forcing a smile, looking him straight in the eye. “you don’t need to worry about me, go sit down at the table with karina, jake, and hyejin, i got the bill,”

“okay,” he said quietly. “but i’m here if you need me.”

as he left to go back to the table, your heart felt heavier than ever. because you knew you needed him. you just weren’t sure he needed you anymore.

─── ♡

THE DAYS THAT FOLLOWED WERE A BLUR OF AWKWARD SILENCES AND FORCED SMILES.

you continued to avoid heeseung as best as you could, half-heartedly pretending everything was fine, by smiling when you did happen to see him. but deep down, the weight of the distance between the two of you was starting to gnaw at you.

you couldn’t lie and say that you didn’t make specialized playlists about the breakup that never happened, since well. you were just never together.

what surprised you the most was when hyejin asked you to go get coffee and chat. you weren’t close with her (or at least not anymore), and it confused you even more when she mentioned it would’ve just been the two of you.

"hey," she greeted, her voice soft and calm. "glad you could make it."

“i just wanted to check in with you,” hyejin said, her eyes studying you with an understanding that made you feel both seen and vulnerable.

you slid into the seat across from her, still unsure of why she wanted to talk. "yeah i’m okay. what’s going on? you sounded like you really wanted to chat."

“well, it’s about…you,”

oh.

here's the part where she tells you that you need to stop being friends with heeseung and it’s getting in the way, and she’s not comfortable with him having extremely close female fri-

“thank you for introducing me to heeseung. he’s one hell of a guy, and so extremely kind. but, he’s not mine. i know it. i know his heart belongs to you,” she smiles, a grain of hurt coming from her voice, yet the way she grins, holding your hand in hers is more admirable than you could ever imagine.

you froze, your heart stopping for a moment. "what?" you managed to choke out, almost in disbelief. you couldn’t have heard her right.

hyejin’s gaze softened, and she leaned in slightly, her voice quiet but firm. "y/n, I’ve seen it. the way he talks about you when you’re not around. it’s obvious. and i'm not blind to it. he’s been so incredibly worried that you’re pulling away, and it’s beyond just ‘worrying about a friend’,”

a cold wave of shock washed over you, mixing with a bitter sense of guilt that you hadn't known how to face. you felt like a coward. "but... but we’re just friends. we’ve been friends forever," you stammered, trying to keep your voice steady. “i didn’t want to get in between you two,”

hyejin squeezed your hand gently, her expression still calm but filled with understanding. "y/n, you're not getting in between us," she said softly. "i know you care about him, and i know you’re trying not to ruin anything, but heeseung’s been in love with you for a while now. i can see it just by the way he talks about you, even when he's not trying to." she laughs as though she’s recalling a memory from the back of her mind.

"and you? what about you? you’re okay with this?" you asked, your voice almost breaking. it was hard to ask, but you had to. you couldn’t go on pretending like everything was fine when she had been involved too.

hyejin smiled, soft and understanding. "you’re my friend, y/n. and i want what’s best for you. if that means giving up heeseung, then i’ll do it. you don’t have to worry about me. he’s not mine, and he never was. i’m just glad i got to meet someone like him, but he’s always been yours in a way. i already broke it off with him, we’re just friends now."

there was something in her words, a sense of grace and strength that you didn’t know she had, and it made you feel even more guilty for holding onto your feelings for so long. but it also gave you the push you needed. hyejin had let go, and maybe it was finally time for you to do the same.

"thank you," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. "i didn’t expect this... i didn’t expect you to be so understanding."

hyejin gave you a small, warm smile. "of course. just promise me one thing?"

"anything."

"don’t let fear stop you from going after what you want. you deserve to be happy, y/n. you really do."

you nodded slowly, feeling the weight of her words settle deep inside of you. there was still so much uncertainty, so many what-ifs, but for the first time in a long time, you felt ready to face them head-on.

─── ♡

NO TIME LIKE THE PRESENT IT SEEMED.

as later that day, you found yourself sitting in your usual spot at the library, tapping your fingers against the table, waiting for heeseung. when he walked in, a casual smile on his face, your heart gave a little jump in your chest. but this time, it was different. you weren’t just happy to see him as a friend—you were hoping that maybe, just maybe, there could be more.

though, you knew from experience, it was better to not jump to conclusions and have high hopes.

he sat across from you, his usual laid-back demeanor in place, but there was something in his eyes that felt... different. maybe he was feeling it too. maybe he had been waiting for this moment just as much as you had.

"so," he said, leaning back in his chair, his voice light but with an undercurrent of tension, "what’s up? you seemed a little off the last time we talked."

“i need to apologize. to you.”

he nodded slowly, unsure of what you were going to say and how he’d react.

“i’m sorry for distancing myself after you and hyejin got close. i should’ve been happy for the two of you, i mean hell, i set the two of you up, but i couldn’t find it in myself to.” you took a deep breath, pausing.

"because," you continued, your voice wavering slightly, "i was too focused on my own feelings. i didn’t realize how much it was affecting me until i saw you two together. and honestly, i felt like i was losing you, even though i knew i had no right to. i let my jealousy get the best of me, and i shouldn't have." you looked down at the table, tapping your index finger to distract your hands from doing something stupid.

“y/n i-” he began to respond, not missing a beat. you shook your head before beginning again. “i need to do this for myself,” you mumbled.

“truth is, when i set you up with people, i figured i just needed to get over loving you, and i obviously didn’t see myself fit as i was just your best friend. thing is, i just didn’t get over loving you and i pushed myself away out of fear of fucking things up, i’ve been an asshole and haven’t been giving you the respect and kindness you or hyejin deserve, and i’m sorry. i completely understand if you still like her, but i just need to get it out there,” you gave some sort of snort, before exhaling now that everything is out.

heeseung’s expression softened, and he took a deep breath, letting out a small sigh as he processed your words.

“can i speak now?” he asked softly. you slowly looked up and nodded, taking in the expression on his face, unable to clearly make out what would fall out of his mouth next.

heeseung leaned forward slightly, his eyes intense yet gentle as he searched yours for a moment, as if trying to make sure you were ready for what he was about to say.

“i never wanted to make you feel like you were just my best friend," he began, his voice steady but laced with something deeper. "i’ve always known how much you mean to me, and i’ve always cared about you more than i ever let on.”

a knot formed in your stomach as his words sank in.

“the truth is, i was just as afraid as you. afraid of ruining everything between us. afraid of messing things up, because what if you didn’t feel the same way? what if we couldn’t go back to being just... us?” he continued, his gaze unwavering.

“so i tried to convince myself that i didn’t feel what i felt for you. i never really dated anyone else, hoping that maybe there was still something between us. then, when you started setting me up with your friends, i thought maybe i just needed to move on, to let go of what i felt for you. but no matter what, it never went away.”

you blinked, feeling like your world had just shifted ever so slightly, as if everything that had been buried was slowly coming to the surface. "so, what are you saying?" you asked, barely above a whisper, your voice shaking slightly with the weight of it all.

heeseung gave you a soft, almost hesitant smile. "i'm saying that i want to stop pretending. i want to stop running away from this... from us." he paused, his eyes softening. "i’ve always wanted you. and if you’ll have me, i want to try. i don’t want to hold back anymore."

you took a breath, feeling the tightness in your chest slowly dissolve as you let his words settle over you. "okay," you whispered, your heart pounding as you squeezed his hand. "let's do this."

─── ♡

YOU’D SPENT THE NEXT FEW DAYS HANGING OUT WITH HIM LIKE OLD TIMES

sometimes you’d catch him glancing at you in a way you couldn’t quite place, and other times, he’d drop little remarks that seemed to hint at something more than just friendship. as if you hadn’t already established you were beyond friends. just…not exactly what type of relationship you had.

one evening, as you were both sitting on your rooftop, watching the sun dip below the horizon, heeseung nudged your shoulder with his own.

“so, this is weird, huh?” he said, voice low.

you laughed softly, nodding. “just a little. but we’ll figure it out.”

“yeah,” he agreed, his voice a little softer. “i think we already have.”

you turned to look at him, meeting his gaze. there was something in his eyes—a mix of vulnerability and certainty—that made your heart race. it wasn’t that he hadn’t always been a little guarded, but there was a clarity now. as if you were both stepping into something new, together.

heeseung leaned in a little further, his breath warm against your cheek. you could feel his eyes searching yours, looking for confirmation, for something more than words.

“you still want to try this?” he murmured.

without thinking, you reached up to place your hand gently against his cheek. “yeah. i think i do.”

the space between you closed, with his lips on yours, and for the first time in a long while, everything felt right.

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stellewriites · 2 months ago

Text

simon is a he/him lesbian in this fic. he’s a gender nonconforming cis woman & prefers using a masc name and pronouns

huge thank you to woolie, birdy, gougie, báir & three for being so encouraging and helping me with this fic and to kitty for making all of my oc names as always :3

this is a love letter to butches <33

Riley (he/him), 31, female.

Looking for a roommate ASAP. DM for details, don’t fuck me about.

you’d found the post on an online forum asking for a roommate and hadn’t hesitated to reach out immediately when you saw you were in the same city. your current roommate was only a few weeks away from moving in with her boyfriend, which would leave you with an apartment you couldn’t afford on your own.

although the post left everything to the imagination, the options for roommates were slim pickings and the single room apartments on the market were no cheaper, meaning you were getting desperate.

after a brief back and forth online with riley, he explained that his own roommate was moving out which was why he was looking for someone new to fill the spot. the apartment was cheap for the area - not that he told you where it was- and you’d have your own bedroom but you’d share the living room and kitchen, there were two small bathrooms, and storage in the shallow loft since it was the top floor apartment.

standard stuff but it sounded perfect.

riley was a blunt texter, but you assumed he’d maybe had his fill of people messing him about so far and just wanted to get down to business and find a roommate before he was stuck in the same position as you; paying double rent for a place that wasn’t worth it, digging into savings to stay afloat.

after covering whether you smoked (quit last year), had any pets (allergic), or liked frequent house parties (too shy), he offered to meet up to go into more detail about the place and you’d jumped at the chance, naming a cafe you liked to frequent near your work.

you weren’t sure what you’d been expecting when you arrived and found a table near the window - or more accurately, what you’d been picturing riley to look like - but you’d had to school your features into something less flustered when a tall woman in a baggy hoody and a pair of black work out shorts walked in and bee-lined for your corner.

as he walked your eyes glued themselves to his nike shorts as they rose up his thighs, indecently tight, showing off the thick muscle covered in a smattering of soft, unshaven hair, light enough that it glistened in the afternoon light. as he got closer you noticed a smattering of scars leading up his shins to his knees and stretch marks curving around the inside of his thighs.

you felt the urge to reach out and touch when you felt the weight of his own gaze taking you in for the first time.

“riley?” you’d asked hesitantly, when you finally managed to lift your head up to face him, cheeks ablaze. beneath his hood you could see that the scars continued on his face; almost prominently one ran from mid chin through his lips and up his cheek, another, smaller but thicker, ran from his hairline to two inches down his forehead slightly off centre.

you were mesmerised.

“prefer simon,” he’d corrected but nodded, his voice lighter than you’d expected but thickly accented.

he pulled down his hood with a scant look around the cafe to reveal a short cropped haircut, a little shaggy at the top. he took the seat opposite you and you sat up straight when your knees bumped accidentally. you snatched your legs back beneath your chair and clenched your thighs tightly together as the warmth of his bare skin throbbed through your jeans.

christ what was wrong with you? you had the attention of one hot, tall butch and suddenly you were a bag of nerves and fumbling all over the place. get it together.

“oh! yeah ok, cool,” you said and tried to smile normally. “simon.”

“not what you were expecting?” he asked wryly.

“uhm, no,” you admitted with an embarrassed little huff. “not exactly; i don’t really know what i was expecting though to be fair.”

“want to back out? no ‘ard feelings,” simon offered indifferently. guarded.

“no! no, i’m still very interested,” you insisted, biting your cheek when he raised an eyebrow at you in amusement. “i ordered already, uhm. got here a little early after work so i figured why not? i just got you a latte, i should’ve maybe asked.”

you felt wrong footed in front of his confidence. his legs were spread wide beneath the table, feet planted on the outside of yours and suddenly this felt less like a first meeting for a roommate and instead like your ideal first date.

you looked over at the counter and tapped your leg impatiently when you couldn’t see your drinks.

“that’s nice of ya.”

“i wanted to make a good first impression if we’re gonna be roomies,” you joked.

“mm.” he looked you up and down. “you messy?”

“excuse me?”

“i like to keep the place clean. deal breaker if you’re messy, it’s why soap had to move out.”

“soap? i don’t— yeah, i’m clean. tidy. i can keep my shit tidy,” you insisted. a waitress brought your drinks over on a tray and you thanked her quietly.

he smiled. “good, then this should be fine.” his foot tapped yours under the table. “relax. you said you came here after work?”

“yeah, i work nearby. sales calls, nothing interesting,” you shrugged and took a big sip. “pay is shit, but it covers half of the bills. what about you?”

“construction,” he said simply and your eyes drifted without permission to his hands wrapped around his mug then up to his arms hidden beneath his hoody.

“nice,” you choked out, visions of simon in a sweaty tank top throwing back a sledge hammer, not at all helping with the heat on your face and between your legs. “long hours?”

“sometimes,” he conceded. “s’why i asked about parties. don’t need to be coming home from work to an ‘ouse full’a dick’eads.”

you snorted.

“i can promise no house parties. well, maybe one around my birthday but i mean does inviting four people around for pizza really count as a house party?”

simon squinted his eyes playfully. “guess i can allow a little leniency here and there.”

you grinned behind your cup.

“what about your own friends? they swing by often?”

“not if i can help it,” simon huffed, a smile pulling at his scarred lip as you chuffed a surprised laugh. “tend to go to gaz’s or price’s house if his bird in’t home.”

the idea of a bunch of lads around the flat wouldn’t have necessarily been a deal breaker, but it was a relief to know it wasn’t going to be often regardless.

the pair of you stayed long enough to order a second drink while you discussed rent prices, tenancy agreements, and simon showed you photos of the area it was in.

“can show you the place now if you don’t need to head home yet?” he’d offered. “not too far to walk from here. could get an idea of the place and see if it fits.”

you’d nodded eagerly and followed him a couple of blocks away to a cosy, hidden away flat near the centre of town. you were surprised it was as cheap as he’d said given the location, but when the water refused to get hot in the kitchen sink when he went to wash a singular mug you soon caught on.

“boiler goes every other month, but i know how to fix it,” he’d said with a sigh, popping the kettle on instead. “taps, radiators ‘n shower all go cold.”

you winced, but it wasn’t enough to put you off. “landlord refuses to get it sorted?”

“landlord doesn’t answer my texts or calls anymore, think he got pissy w’me after i complained about him doin’ fuck all about the single glazed windows to the council few winters back.” you pursed your lips in order to not laugh but simon saw your expression and shrugged unrepentant. “arsehole needed tellin’, di’nt he?”

“i think this place will be perfect,” you settled on saying. you looked out of the nearest window and noted the working locks; the traffic was loud outside but you’d always preferred the constant buzz to send you off to sleep, the few times you’d been camping you’d not slept a wink in the silence.

he told you about the few other residents and explained the shortcuts you could take to get to work or for the shops and by time simon had finished giving you the tour of the place - a deceptively long space towards the back, hiding its double bathroom and bedrooms - you’d noticed it had gotten dark outside. when he noticed your furtive glance however, simon offered to drive you home without a second thought.

and again, not thirty minutes later when you were about to climb out of his truck with one last deep breath of his cologne, he offered to help you move in next week.

if that works for you, he’d said.

you’d started packing as soon as you got inside.

the only issue with moving in with simon - an issue you’d only noticed after having lived together for 6 months already, an issue your friends had to point out to you - was that the dating pool in manchester suddenly seemed a little drab. a little pathetic.

“i really don’t think si has anything to do with the fact that i can’t find anyone i’m interested in when we go out anymore, i think it makes more sense that all the hot women are just no longer single now,” you’d laughed when your friend had suggested it.

sure you thought simon was insanely hot, and that opinion had only solidified after spending the last half a year with him; seeing him braless more often than not beneath his muscle shirts when he lounged around the flat on his off days, pressing closer than necessary after a shower when you tried to pass by in the hallway, working out in the living room grunting and groaning as he hit his push-up goal, sweating and stretching obscenely as you tried to keep your eyes respectfully locked on your phone or the tv.

you were well aware that simon was sexy but more importantly off limits, so you didn’t let it affect your dating life. or so you thought.

“doesn’t help that you barely come out on a night with us,” emma pouted. “even less now that you hang out with simon most evenings.”

“when was the last time you hooked up with someone? even just kissed someone?” ash asked before you could defend your lack of social life, their eyebrow raised as if to prove their point.

you sighed. it had been a while, and taking care of things by yourself wasn’t really working out too well. simon always seemed to come home just when the frustration peaked enough for you to grab your vibrator, and you knew from the girls he’d taken home in the first few months that the walls were in fact thin enough to hear everything. with gritted teeth and wet panties, you always had to put it back in your drawer and wait for another day for some ‘me time’.

quotas for no nut november were being accidentally exceeded so much so that you were heading into catholic nun absolution. it was almost mid may; you needed to find someone to break you out of your funk sooner than later. get over by getting under or whatever.

“we’re not trying to guilt you into coming out with us,” emma added kindly, wrapping her arm around your shoulders and pulling you close. “we know you don’t always like the crowd and that’s fine. but we just want you to be getting the dick or pussy that you deserve.”

you snorted and rolled your eyes. “what do you suggest then?”

emma shared a look with ash. “well…”

it hadn’t taken much more convincing from your friends to set up an account for you on tinder after that.

you spent some time on your profile, trying to find the right blend of funny but not too snarky, sexy but still approachable. it was a nightmare but the thought of getting your tits kissed and played with by someone else after almost half a year was enough to keep you on track. you just needed to focus and get it done.

——

as you walked back to your flat with ash after grabbing lunch together, you flicked through the options in your area.

“oh, she’s cute!” ash scrolled through the photos before cackling. “she’s funny too, listen, ‘if you google top places to eat out in the city, i’m the number one spot. better make your reservation quick’.”

you laughed. “oh that’s bad, si would find that funny.”

ash sent you a deadpan stare before going back to the profile. “so swiping right?”

you hummed and glanced at the phone again. “i don’t know, i don’t think she’s my type.”

“the last ten profiles ‘haven’t been your type,’ admit you’re just being picky,” ash pointed out.

“i’ve got standards is all,” you huffed. “i’m not just going to say yes to everyone.”

“she was exactly what you normally go for; strong build, blonde and funny in a dumb way according to the bio, aka you catnip,” they said. “hell, i’m surprised she’s not one of your exes.”

“fuck you,” you laughed and elbowed them. “i don’t even have a type, i don’t know why i said that.”

“oh please,” ash guffawed. “i can and will list the many attributes your exes all share if i have to.”

you sent them a scathing look and they held up their hands in defeat, a smug smile ruining their supposedly conceding pose.

“the only outlier was that weird austrian that i told you not to give the time of day to,” they continued. their face crumpled into a look of disgust, nose wrinkled and eyes pained. “could tell as soon as he opened his mouth that he doesn’t wash his dick.”

you pouted and ground your teeth in a grimace, unable to disagree on any count. he was certainly a lapse in judgement, you wouldn’t deny it.

“i’m just not feeling it, ash. i don’t want to waste her time when i don’t see the attraction. it’s not fair on her.” you shrugged and took back your phone to swipe left. “maybe my type has changed.”

ash stayed quiet a moment, looking contemplative as you both continued walking.

“ok you have a point. there’s no need to waste people’s time, but - and hear me out - everyone on there is just treading water trying to figure out who they want to fuck. she might spend a week talking to you and then ghost,” ash explained.

“great, cheers for that,” you chuffed.

“you know what i mean,” they rolled their eyes. “everyone’s figuring out if they want to go on a date or jump in bed with each other on there, you’re not wasting anyone’s time by giving them a chance. let yourself be wooed.”

“‘wooed’, i’m not looking for a mr darcy,” you joked.

“then actually give these people a shot, it’s not like they’re looking for marriage either,” ash countered. “or maybe you’ve got a specific person in mind distracting you that you’re making unfair comparisons to.”

you glared as you entered the apartment building. “i don’t know what you’re talking about,” you sniffed. you opened the app up again and bit your lip before swiping right on the first five profiles that appeared, showing your friend as you did. “there, happy?”

your phone buzzed and you looked down with wide eyes as all five accounts matched you back. the app directed you to the messaging centre and you looked at ash sheepishly.

“don’t you dare unmatch them,” they warned teasingly, pointing their finger at you with squinted eyes as you waited in the elevator. “go on a few dates and be spoiled for once. if nothing else, you get a good meal and some fresh air.”

you laughed as you finally reached your floor. you unlocked the door to your flat and dropped your coat on the back of a dining chair before slumping on the sofa with ash joining a second after sans their boots and coat.

“fine, fine. i’m on here for a reason, right? i might as well give them a chance,” you agreed a little reluctantly.

“give who a chance?” simon asked as he came from the back of the flat, passing through to the kitchen.

“my lovely bestie is finally on tinder,” ash said with a sharp grin aimed at simon. “hoping to find someone to fuck out the last six months of—“

“yeah thanks, ash! feel free to shut the fuck up, i don’t think simon cares about the details of my sex life,” you interrupted, cheeks hot with embarrassment.

“no?” ash asked playing dumb. they pouted and turned back to simon. “my bad.”

you hadn’t noticed simon had grown reserved and quiet at ash’s outburst, too busy trying to save face and distract yourself with thinking of a decent opening message.

“and anyway, i’m just going a few dates first,” you corrected and looked at simon. “so don’t worry about me inviting anyone around to the flat or anything.”

simon nodded tersely before swallowing. “s’fine.” he looked shiftily over to the kitchen before moving to lean over the back of your seat, arms resting behind your head as he peered over your shoulder.

“show me,” he ordered softly. you shivered at the feel of his breath on your neck as he spoke and immediately opened the app again.

you chuffed an unimpressed laugh at the profile that popped up first. “‘want to surprise my boyfriend with a threesome for his birthday, any takers?’ jesus christ, the dating pool is so dire,” you whined.

simon chuckled behind you. “bloke looks like he’d barely be able to handle ya either, look at ‘im. he’d ruin his pants before you even took ya bra off.”

“at least i’d be able to concentrate on the girlfriend then,” you snickered along with him.

“nah, best you’d get from her is a bit o’ tongue for show,” simon said. “can tell by the profile ‘er heart’s not in it.”

you swiped left and simon was immediately ready to point out the failings of this profile too, and then again when you swiped left after laughing along, and again after that.

the way he leant over you blocked your friend from your view, but simon could see the knowing look ash was giving him directly in his peripheral, but he chose to ignore it. especially when he lowered one hand into your lap to start swiping left himself.

you let your free hand rise to play with simon’s long shirt sleeve before you suddenly took in his attire and frowned.

“why are you dressed for work?” you turned to sit on your knees facing the back of the sofa as he rose up to his full height to see him wearing his work trousers and steel-toe boots, his hi-vis vest tucked into his waistband.

“john rang, asked me to cover soap’s shift when he went home sick after lunch. i’ll be back from the lot later; might be late in the evening if i have to go grab a few things for ‘im from b&q before it closes for tomorrow,” he said, contrite.

you pouted heavy and exaggerated. “movie night’s cancelled? fuck you, john price.”

simon snorted, his scarred lip lifting at one side in obvious mirth. “i’ll tell ‘im y’said that, shall i?”

“fine with me, i’m not afraid of him,” you goaded.

“he’s ex military you know,” simon winced jokingly.

you rolled your eyes. “no duh. so are you.”

he hummed a low single note.

“and you wouldn’t let him touch a hair on my head, right si?” you continued shamelessly.

“i’d tell him there’s no point wasting time trying to teach you manners. any time i try to knock some sense into ya noggin it just echoes,” he huffed, holding back a smile as he tapped his knuckles on your crown for emphasis.

you swiped at his fist with a hiss.

“you can piss off to your job already then if you’re going to take the mick,” you laughed. you kept your hands to yourself otherwise, knowing better than to try and push him away after one too many failed attempts. his stomach was always firm enough to keep your best efforts from moving him, but topped with a thick and soft enough layer that it gave way beneath your prodding fingers and roaming palm.

“i’ll make it up t’ya. another night,” he promised lowly, bending down close again to whisper. as your pout lessened he nodded before heading out.

“wooow,” ash exaggerated and lengthened the word sarcastically as they sat watching you slump back to sit normally now that simon was gone. “it’s somehow worse than i thought.”

“hm?”

“does he always fold like a cheap suit when you flash the puppy dog eyes at him?” ash laughed.

“you’re seeing things, he literally just cancelled on me,” you argued and turned to the tv to channel surf. “are you staying for tea? think i’ve got the stuff in for a curry, could pirate that new horror with kyle gallner.”

ash rubbed at their chin. “don’t think i didn’t notice the subject change… but i’m listening.”

——

you got your movie night with si a few days later with the pair of you lounged on the couch, simon’s heavy, long legs draped across your lap as you waited for the take out you’d ordered to arrive.

your phone buzzed with a notification and simon perked up. “food here?”

you took a moment to respond, looking at your phone and tapping away for a second before shaking your head. “no, just a message.”

you phone buzzed again just before you could put it back down and you unlocked it again with a growing smile.

“oh, ‘s emma asking about dog sittin’ again?” he guessed.

“it’s not emma,” you said easily, without further detail, distracted by your phone.

before simon could ask, a knock at the door had him swinging his legs down and heading to grab the bag of food. he grabbed some cutlery from the kitchen on the way back before slumping heavily down next to you, spreading his thighs wide enough to press against yours.

he frowned when he saw you were still engrossed in your phone, a little secretive smile pulling at your lips. at the smell of the food you looked up and your eyes brightened, you put your phone back on the table and ignored it when it buzzed, helping simon instead, sitting back when you had your share and pressing play on your movie. when the phone buzzed twice more in quick succession you bit your lip and glanced at it.

“answer it,” simon said bitingly, having figured out who’d be messaging you by that point. the stupid, bloody app. “but tell ‘em you’re busy with a woman already.”

your eyes widened and you coughed out a surprised laugh. “si.”

“tell ‘em you’re not hanging out with ‘em next week either, you can’t make it. you’re busy with me instead,” he continued, the weight of his hooded gaze heavy and stifling.

“but i’m not busy, we don’t have plans next week,” you said weakly, confused.

simon huffed heavily through his nose. you’d almost think it was bordering on angry but for the entire time you’d known him, simon had never gotten angry at you, even when you accidentally shrunk his brand new sports bra on a too-hot wash.

you both tensed when your phone buzzed again.

“let me turn off my notifications,” you said and reached for the phone furtively. you skimmed your notifications and felt something bloom in your chest at the mention of a date from one of your matches, but you didn’t mention it to simon. “there we go, now we can focus on movie night,” you said with a grin, scooping another forkful of sweet & sour chicken into your mouth.

simon’s shoulders dropped and he nodded. he looked to your half empty glass and stood up. “want me to grab you another drink?”

you smiled, mouth closed and cheeks full of rice, and nodded as he chuckled. he turned away before the urge to poke your puffy cheeks won out and you accidentally spat rice out on the rug.

——

>> any new matches? 👀👀👀

you pursed your lips as you read the text from emma.

<< a few. might have a date next week

<< depends if she plays her cards right

>> lol is it the librarian or the electrician?

<< electrician. might give me mates rates if i ask her to check out the faulty leccy wiring in the flat :p

>> more like dates rates ;)

>> she was cute 😍 where’s the date?

<< she mentioned getting dinner, a new place that just opened up that she said was meant to be cool

>> the thai place? omgggg i’ve been meaning to go! give me ur review after pls and ty

>> and i mean the food, but any dirty deets are welcome too 👀👀

<< ???

<< i haven’t agreed to go yet

>> 🙄 girl…

>> what happened to giving them a chance, ash said you were on board

<< idk si was acting really weird the other day

<< he got really moody about it all, practically told me to fob it all off and just hang out with him instead

<< i think he’s worried

you had been watching a few murder documentaries lately, and one too many of them had started off as innocent dates or first meet ups that ended in tragedy.

>> i think he’s jealous

you stared at the text as your stomach flipped.

<< ???

>> he’s literallyyyy had a huge crush on u since forever

>> this is not news 😐

you scoffed but felt your stomach clench and hesitated to text back.

>> don’t believe me? just watch how he acts around you over the next few days and see if he does any of these repeatedly

emma sent a screenshot from a website listing ‘things she does if she likes you’ and you snorted. it felt trivial, like you were a teenager again, but you decided to play along.

<< fine. but he won’t.

you sent your quick affirmative back before putting your phone down and finishing your break.

the idea of simon liking you was an impossible one in your mind. simon had brought home women from the moment you’d moved in, it had never been a deterrent and he’d always said you were welcome to do the same as long as they didn’t stick around when he had a day off.

recently though, you thought, there’d been less and less women traipsing out of si’s room giggling and flushed, staring adoringly up at the tall butch woman. sadly, you knew exactly how good simon was in bed from the enthusiastic sounds of his previous partners over the months, so you couldn’t blame them for tripping over their feet as they were ushered towards the exit, an eager ‘call me, yeah?’ breathed out just before the door was closed forever.

that was another reason you’d never made a move. even if sometimes there had been moments where you had thought simon’s gaze lingered too long or his touch couldn’t be excused as just friendly; you couldn’t take being a one night stand. not with him, and not when you’d have to move out when your feelings inevitably bubbled over.

you bit your lip as you cooked that evening. simon was chopping the veg for your bolognese as you were left to watch over the pasta - last time you’d burnt it when you’d turned away and gotten distracted and you refused to let simon hold that over you for any longer.

“you know i can go stay at ash’s or with emma and her partner for a day or two if you want,” you offered out of the blue.

simon stopped cutting and looked at you.

“why the fuck would i want tha’?”

you swallowed. “i just noticed you haven’t had many people ‘round recently and thought maybe it was because i was home,” you said, barely meeting his eyes. “so i can make myself sparse for a few days, it’s no bother. i don’t mind.”

“i had johnny over just the other day,” simon said as though you might have forgotten. the boisterous scot had managed to fondly wiggle his way into gaining your friendship the few times he’d popped by for simon. “and gaz and the lads are all coming by next week. y’dont need t’ leave.” he went back to chopping though much more forcefully now, the chopping board dully thumping with each downward cut he made through the courgette.

“yeah… but what about other visitors?” you hedged. “the walls are thin, si, so i thought maybe you’d want the place to yourself again temporarily so you can—“

“no. i don’t want the place to m’self. i like havin’ you here, like hearing you move around in the night and in the mornings,” he interrupted without looking up. “you stay.” he paused for a moment, doubting himself even as you nodded along. “unless you want to go?”

“god no! no, i just thought i should offer,” you laughed a little awkwardly.

he frowned deeper.

“do you want me to go?”

you paused, you mouth flapping like a fish. this was an option you’d not considered. you noticed simon’s eyes grow more and more desperate, his grip on the veg in front of him tightening as he waited for your response.

“no. never, si,” you said.

he watched you a moment more before nodding. “good. wouldn’t have anyway.”

you snorted a laugh and looked back to the spaghetti, hissing when you saw it had stuck to the bottom of the pan. “shit.”

“…tell me you haven’t managed to burn it a second time.”

——

your conversation with simon reminded you of the article emma had sent you. it took less than a week to notice how differently simon acted with others in comparison to how considerate he was with you.

he made the effort to hold eye contact at the start of your conversations, and if you ever paused too long in your reply his eyes would flicker back up from where they’d drifted to his food or phone to check why. you’d never doubted he was always listening, but seeing it first hand reassured you that he was without fail. and it only highlighted, now that you looked for it, how closely he kept to himself when strangers tried to pick up a conversation with him, how he used as few words as possible on the off chance he did reply.

you wouldn’t hesitate to consider simon tactile, soft-handed and gentle. but you knew that was a privilege. the same with his smiles, spotted in flash of crooked teeth or the slow crinkle of his dark eyes paired with the pull of his scar on the occasion he wore his mask.

at your realisation, you began to check the list religiously each night in the safety of your bed as though trying to convince yourself that you hadn’t noticed the way simon mirrored your own behaviour. how he’d lean opposite you in the small kitchen, tilting his head a second after yours as you complained about work, boiling the kettle for a cuppa after a long day.

you’d pretend not to notice him on the phone twenty minutes later, cancelling going out with his friends, again, so he could stay with you while you relax for the weekend.

you found he’d swapped the brand of peanut butter you usually bought after the last one gave you a tummy ache without mentioning it, he’d asked about your grandad’s birthday even though you’d brought it up offhandedly weeks before, he let you run your hands through his hair near his scar when he napped on the sofa. the list went on.

but you’d already agreed to that date with the electrician.

——

“i don’t know if i’ve come down with something, my stomachs not right. i don’t think think i should go,” you complained as you got ready for your date, your phone propped up on your dresser with ash and emma’s faces on screen as you video called. “i feel queasy.”

“that’s just the nerves, you’ll be ok once you get there,” emma soothed.

“want us to meet you afterwards?” ash asked.

“maybe, yeah,” you hummed. “or maybe call me an hour in just in case it isn’t going well so i can have an excuse to leave?”

“how does ‘your long lost brother just woke from a coma and you’re the only one he remembers’ sound?” ash asked.

“dramatic enough for me to make my escape,” you laughed.

“you won’t need it,” emma reassured. “you’ll be too busy flirting and fawning over her muscles to even answer the phone.”

you laughed harder and the ache in your stomach faded ever so slightly as you pulled on your shoes and got ready to leave. simon was still at work, pulling some extra hours to get the job back on schedule after johnny’s time off, which meant the flat was empty as you left.

you bit your lip and headed to the restaurant, waving shyly from the entrance when you saw jessi, the electrician, already seated and waiting on you.

“hey, been here long?” you asked as you took your seat.

“barely five minutes,” she reassured you with an easy smile. “you look stunning, by the way. worth the wait.”

you thanked her, and took in her styled hair and half unbuttoned dress shirt from across the table. you felt a little underdressed in comparison but hid your insecurity when you smiled at her across the table.

“are you always this shy?” she asked when you stayed silent a beat too long, her grin turning sly and teasing.

you laughed a little self depreciatingly and shrugged. “it’s been a little while since i went on a date,” you admitted, butterflies starting to flutter at her sharp gaze.

“i’ll go easy on you then,” she promised and winked before handing you a menu. “what looks good to you?”

——

you’d thought the date was going fine, good, even. the thought of leaving hadn’t crossed your mind and when emma had called you’d screened it and smiled at the winky face she’d sent a moment later.

jessi was fun to talk to; her humour was maybe a little more forced than what you liked but it wasn’t a deal breaker. you’d thought she was enjoying herself too given the flirtatious comments, the lingering looks and how her ankle kept brushing yours.

but just before you could suggest ordering desserts, she stood and grabbed her coat.

“this has been…” she trailed off. “maybe you’re not ready for dating, you know?”

she’d dropped a few twenty notes on the table and left before you could ask what the fuck that meant.

you called over the waiter, covered the rest of the bill and made your own downtrodden exit soon after, dessert suddenly not seeming so appetising.

“tell me you’re going to her house to stay the night and that this is a safety call,” ash said as soon as they answered.

you huffed a sarcastic laugh. “nope.” you popped the ‘p’ and scuffed your toe along the pavement as you walked.

“fuck, this isn’t a good sign then. no dessert?” you heard emma mumble in the background.

“put me on speaker if you two are still hanging out,” you said and hugged your thin jacket tighter with your free arm as you started heading down the dark street towards your apartment.

“how’d it go?” emma asked a moment later.

“i thought it was going good,” you whined. “she was nice, we were chatting, i was engaging! but she just… left?”

“what were you chatting about?” ash asked.

“just the basics; work, friends, hobbies, roommates,” you listed.

“oh god,” emma groaned on the other end of the line. you heard her voice become muffled as though her face was in a pillow as she grumbled, “you didn’t.”

“what?” you asked with a frown. “it was good, she was being flirty.”

“yeah no shit, it was a date,” ash snorted. “how many times did simon come up?”

“don’t start this again—“

“because you were literally talking about him other day when we walked by a black and white cat just because it had little ‘socks’ and it reminded you to do laundry when you got back.”

“i promised to do simon’s while he’s been picking up extra hours,” you defended yourself. “he literally had to walk around shirtless the other week when i forgot to add them in for him.”

“oh, the grown woman who can and often does do his own washing just had to walk around with just a flimsy little sports bra and boxers on all day? sure, sure.” you could practically hear ash roll their eyes. emma snickered in the background and there was a slight shuffling which was never a good sign. “yep, here it is. and i quote ‘the way he’s built… like a damn chew toy. need to sink my teeth in to him, it’s like my jaw buzzes every time i see him with the urge to clamp down on his bicep.’ those are your texts to our group chat from that same day.”

“the texts i send when im ovulating should never be repeated out loud,” you hissed. “and do we really need more evidence that he’s synonymous with my wet dreams now, i’ve already admitted that i like him.”

“so you know this is a safe space,” ash said facetiously. “answer the question: how many times do you think you managed to bring him up in conversation?”

you chewed your cheek in frustration. ash would know if you lied but thinking back on it you didn’t really want to admit how many times you managed to bring up simon for your own dignity.

“look they had the same boots on, ok? and when she talked about her work it was the only way i could try to relate if i told her how simon had mentioned the same things,” you reasoned.

ash cackled on the other end of the phone and suddenly emma was talking while their laughter grew faded.

“have you looked at that list i sent you?” she asked, her tone oddly low and sobering.

“yeah, i can’t stop thinking about it,” you huffed. you paused to cross the street. “but it feels like i’m just making them up because i like him and he’s just being a normal roommate.”

“you’re not and he’s definitely not,” emma chuffed. “and i think you know that too.”

you were silent as you walked, your steps slow and careful even as the bitter cold wind snapped at your cheeks.

“he likes me?” you asked softly.

“no duh,” ash’s voice rang from the background making you laugh. they got closer and you could picture your friends crammed on emma’s shitty little couch as they spoke to you. “why do you think he’s always walking around flexing his muscles like that, huh? we’re in manchester, i don’t care if it’s almost summer, it’s not bloody warm enough for it!”

“and simon has you as his lock screen,” emma added like a 1-2 punch before you had chance to try and explain any of it away. “he always cancels on his mates to see you instead, and don’t get me started on how touchy he is with you.”

“he’s tactile…” even as you said it you didn’t believe it. though you couldn’t keep count of how many times this week alone si had let a warm hand land on your shoulder, knee, back, wrist, neck; you knew he barely touched anyone else.

"girl. simon?" emma snorted probably thinking the same thing as you.

“he likes me,” you said more confidently into the phone.

“oh thank fuck, she’s finally caught on,” ash said as emma laughed.

“i could literally be swapping spit with him right now and instead i’ve just wasted like two hours on a shitty date, oh my god,” you bemoaned.

you don’t know when you’d stopped walking but in a second you were speeding up to a jog as you said goodbye to your friends and hung up, fumbling to put your phone in you bag. eager to get back home and to see simon.

——

you crammed your key into the front door’s lock when you got home and groaned exaggeratedly when it didn’t turn. simon must’ve left his key in the door, again. of all the bloody times.

you knocked hurriedly, loudly, impatiently.

“siiiimon, open the door, come on i’m cold out here, you wouldn’t leave me shivering and lonely just because you forgot to put your key on the keyhook i specifically bought for—“ you cut off your joking whine when the most stunningly beautiful woman you’d ever seen opened the door to you, a knowing smile on her plush lips.

“oh,” you croaked. almost reflexively, your throat closed up and your eyes started to sting. “i must have the wrong flat.”

“what? no, you’re—” her smile dropped slightly and her dark eyes grew curious, but you didn’t stick around long enough to see.

“sorry, my fault! i’m meant to be on the floor above,” you rushed out and pretended to laugh. “silly me. sorry again.” tucking tail you turned to the fire exit at the top of the small staircase without waiting for a reply.

you knew the short staircase lead to the roof, simon had shown you one time and there were enough signs pointing it out. on the other side of the door was a small, flat balcony that stuck out of the slanted roof, and had old metal ladders that dropped 3/4 of the way down along the side of the building, in between the detached restaurant next door.

given you were the top flat in this little rinkydink building the woman at your door had probably thought you were an idiot and you couldn’t blame her. you decided to stick it out for ten minutes outside before sneaking back down and heading over to emma’s with your heart in your hands ready to be mended with the power of friendship and alcohol and food.

you sat down on the shitty little balcony and groaned loudly, desperately holding back your tears lest you fell into a despair and ended up accidentally falling asleep out of exhaustion and dramatics up there instead.

you’d finally realised your feelings and it was too late; simon had clearly taken your previous offers on board and moved on. you’d given him a free night while you went on a stupid date, what else was he going to do since you’ve been continually - though not purposely - pushing him aside like he was disposable.

“fuck,” you sighed shakily.

“date that bad you’re thinking of jumping?”

you swore in surprise and span in your spot to see simon leant in the fire exit doorway.

you couldn’t help but huff a weak laugh. “yeah it was,” you said before looking back down to your hands. “sorry, i didn’t know you were busy or i’d have gone to a friend’s instead.”

simon frowned and stood up straight. “stop saying you want to go somewhere else,” he said stiffly, swallowing thickly before taking the few steps to sit next to you. “when i’m here.” he knocked your shoulders together. “gaz said you freaked out at the door?”

you looked up at him in confusion. “gaz? that was ky— she’s called kylie, not kyle isn’t she?” you asked with wide eyes. simon’s accent had hidden her real name and convinced you all his mates were men and you’d never thought to second guess it. “christ, i thought she was— never mind.”

simon tilted his head as a knowing smile grew on his face.

“you thought i’d brought someone round for a shag?��

“well, she’s very fucking gorgeous,” you said defensively, crossing your arms. he leant his weight further into your side.

“mm. haven’t noticed.” at your unimpressed look he shrugged. “got my eye on someone else, ‘aven’t i?”

you nodded but avoided his eyes. seeing an unknown woman answer your door - gaz or not - had knocked your confidence more than you’d have liked to admit.

simon snorted.

“talk t’me, thought i was meant to be the quiet, brooding one.”

you looked across at him for a moment before leaning in to hug him tightly. you let the scent of his aftershave soak in and sighed when his own arms automatically wrapped around you too.

“you’re an amazing friend, si,” you whispered. and with how close you were pressed together, you easily felt how he stiffened at the title. you squeezed him harder in response, garnering yourself some more confidence at the same time, and sucked in a cold breath to speak. “and i think i’m a little bit in love with you.”

you felt a whoosh of air against your neck as the breath left simon’s body; he went loose in your hold and you buried your head deeper into his shoulder.

he tried to catch your eyes, ducking his head as best he could, but you’d thoroughly tucked yourself in against him as you felt a stinging heat spread from your cheeks outwards, your heart kicking its way through your chest and likely thumping noticeably against his own.

with gentle and patient cajoling, he managed to nudge you back up to face him and you offered up a wobbly smile.

“are you serious?” he asked breathlessly.

you nodded. “i’m sorry it took me so long to reali—“

simon coughed out a wet and surprised laugh and pulled you in for a kiss, his scar catching against your dry lips before you were able to slip your tongue out to wet them briefly. his hands were firm as they cupped your round cheeks, not letting you break for a breath until the very last second, determined to take all he could get before it came crashing down on him.

“y’r an idiot, so fuckin into ya. been a nightmare living with you, unable t’touch,” he mumbled against your lips and suddenly it was your turn to laugh into the kiss.

“unable? all you do is touch me,” you giggled, gasping when he took the chance to flick his tongue against yours.

“yeah?”

“yeah,” you huffed. “drives me mad, si.”

“only gonna get worse here on,” he promised. “never taking my hands off ya, off your fat arse and soft tits.”

you sucked in a shaky breath. “fuck.” you’d be dripping like a tap at all times if that was the case and going by simon’s smirk, he knew it.

“i’ve had to deal with your dumb mate fucking teasing me about liking ya for months now too,” he grumbled.

“they’re not dumb.” you leant in to bite his lip meanly. “and i’m sure your friends will be teasing me for what just happened too, never mind me being so blind to be on dating apps while we were practically already together.”

simon groaned. “i fucking hated those apps.”

you kissed him sweetly in apology, a soft peck to the lips then each cheek as he greedily chased your lips.

“they’re gone now. my date was ruined because i could only talk about you the whole time. all i want is you.”

“yeah?” his eyes were darker than you’d ever seen them as he tugged your jacket openand slid a hand under your shirt. his rough fingertips teased at the thin material of your bra and your nipples stood to attention under his ministrations and from the chill of fresh air biting at your tummy, bared when his arm rumpled your shirt. “want me right now?”

“always,” you panted. “but…”

you furtively glanced to the door.

“no one comes up here. i can be quick.”

“your friends are waiting,” you reminded him.

“fuck my friends,” he scoffed and tweaked at a nipple, grinning at the squeak you let out.

“would rather fuck you,” you joked weakly even as he pulled his hand back to pluck at your jean’s button and zipper.

“then what are we waiting for?” he asked.

you moaned and gasped when he slipped his hand down the front gusset of your jeans and into your panties before you gained the cognisance to pull it back out with a groan. “later, later,” you promised. “wanna get you naked.”

simon stared at you for a second and you worried he was annoyed at you for putting your foot down. he nodded however, licked his lips as he glanced back to the door and then dipped down to kiss you lightly.

“i’m kicking the lads out then, gimme five.” he stood and took few broad strides to get back to the stairs inside.

you laughed and called after him as he darted back down, taking two at a time as you followed with a grin, struggling with your jeans. “si, don’t be daft.”

“smartest move i’ve made in a long time.” he said as he walked back in to your flat. “everyone out. want some time wiv my girl.”

“ayy congrats!” soap called from the couch.

“that means now, soap.”

“don’t hafta tell us twice,” the scot stood with a slap to his knees and saluted simon on his way out. “ye coming, ky?”

“it was nice meeting ya,” gaz said as she wandered past, winking. you hid your hot cheeks in your shoulders but couldn’t help the flustered grin that spread as simon barely waited for the door to be closed before shedding his shirt, leaving him in a sports bra and his baggy trackies.

“get comfy. not letting ya leave til i’ve had m’fill.”

“funny you think it won’t be me dragging you back for more. let’s see if you can keep up, si. i’ve been told i’m pretty demanding.”

“always loved a challenge.”

you grinned wickedly. “come and get me then.”

butch/stud masterlist

updated mood board below (kept working on it after seeing kitty’s absolutely fantastic oc mood board and felt inspired by them!)

#BWUH IF U SEE THIS I HOPE U ENJOY FELLOW BUTCH SI LOVER #i was thinking of ur butch art when i said reader ruined simon’s sports bra lmaoooo like let the girls go free simon please!!!#this is so self indulgent but i loved it. like we’re sooo back you guys #of course the title is inspired by a raleigh ritchie song bc i’m obsessed like that #oh EXPECT more of butch simon from here on out #bc this might be the only way i want to fuck him lmaoooo #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #fem ghost #butch ghost #fem simon riley #female simon riley #female ghost #think that’s covered all the tags #female reader #fat reader #butch x reader

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cressidagrey · 3 months ago

Text

It's a Love Story - Chapter 3

Summary:

Azriel's shadows find their master a wife.

Azriel would just really like his heart not to get broken again.

And Sky...well, she's just really surprised that that far too handsome male is interested in her at all.

Warning:

Rhys Bashing (as usual), I classified this as Azriel x OC, even when it't technically Azriel x Sellyn Drake (but we kinda know nothing about Sellyn Drake other than that she writes books so Sky is kinda an OC), Cassian is kinda a good guy for once, Azriel has a horrible time, as usual... Stuttering, toxic families (For once I do not mean the IC), Self-Esteem Issues, Secret Identity, Body Image Issues, Fat Shaming, People being utterly horrible.

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

The shadows unceremoniously dumped a whole stack of Sellyn Drake Novels on Azriel’s desk.

Azriel eyed the stack of novels dubiously, wondering how in the Mother's blessed name the Shadows had gotten their hands on these. Or why.

But they stayed silent, clearly waiting for him to outright demand an answer. *Why?* he asked with a long suffering sigh. *What's this about?*

No response.

Azriel reached for one of the books, pulling it off the top of the stack and flipping it over. And immediately he regretted that decision. The cover was…certainly something.

A shirtless man holding a rather skimpily dressed woman up against a wall.

Azriel let out a long, long sigh.

*You need to read the books, Master,* the shadows told him seriously.

Azriel stared at his shadows, then at the books, then at his shadows. *You cannot possibly be serious.* What exactly was this supposed to give him?

He flipped it over, reading the synopsis.

When Lady Eleanor is forced into an unwanted marriage, she despairs—until the enigmatic Sir Tristan, a battle-scarred knight with a fearsome reputation, crashes into her life. Bound by a promise to protect her, Tristan whisks Eleanor away from her gilded prison, thrusting them into a wild escape across enemy lands.

Haunted by his past and wary of love, Tristan tries to keep Eleanor at arm's length. But as they face danger together, a fierce passion grows between them, tempting them to trust in a love that could heal even the deepest wounds.

What the fuck.

*We are, Master.* The Shadows told him, sounding as earnest as they possibly could.

He opened the book. Titled The Dark Knight’s Desire, flicking through the pages. Was this…a first edition?

*It’s important!* The shadows insisted. *You know…to brush up on these flirting skills of yours.*

Azriel shot the shadows an unamused look. *I can flirt perfectly well,* he protested.

*You most certainly cannot.* The Shadows deadpanned. *It’s research! Read them for her!*

*Read them for…* Azriel started, his voice trailing off.

*You found...* he trailed off weakly. They had found a female for him?

The shadows swirled around him almost playfully. *Of course we did,* they said innocently. *We told you we would, didn’t we?*

They were working quickly. It had only been weeks since he had agreed to let them find him a wife.

*You did,* Azriel said slowly, but his mind was working fast, so fast, trying to wrap around the idea that his Shadows were trying to help him find a wife…and more importantly, that they had found a female they thought he would find suitable.

*Where did you find her?* he asked, carefully.

*Here in Velaris!* the shadows answered brightly.

*Here?* Azriel asked, his surprise obvious. The shadows had found...a female...here in Velaris? Someone who was compatible with him? And they wanted him to read...what were these again? Sellyn Drake novels? So he would know how to best romance this female?

*Read the books, Master,* the shadows said with a sigh. So he did.

And that was how Azriel spent his next few hours. Reading a book, and blushing like some sort of adolescent boy when certain…particularly intimate scenes came around. The Shadows cackled beside him the entire time.

How the fuck did Nesta do this with a straight face?!?

Azriel had no idea, but by the Mother, he was never going to ask her. Ever. He would just die of embarrassment.

Though he needed to admit...he actually quite liked it.

The novels, that is. The…intimate scenes. Azriel liked them. A lot. Not even the...smut, like Nesta called it...no, he liked the love story. He liked the two people that came together and would do everything for each other...the falling in love part. He liked that.

But the Shadows were probably never going to let him live this down. Azriel did find comfort in a single thought, though. Whoever this possible future partner was, she was never going to know about this. There was no way in hell he would let her find out that he read smutty books to brush up his flirting skills.

But even that did not stop the nagging thought in Azriel's head, one that made him hesitate, and doubt himself, and doubt the Shadows' judgment. "What if..." he said softly, hesitantly. "What if she just...doesn't like me?"

He knew he had some...rough edges, to put it kindly. And he had his own...troubles. His own...insecurities. Some of the things he kept to himself, so many of his...issues. The shadows knew of them all, of course…There were many nights they stayed up with him, soothing him when the ghosts in his mind became a little too loud, a little too real.

What if that scared her? He didn't want her to be scared. He didn't want to scare her.

*She'll like you, Master.* The Shadows assured him, wrapping themselves around him comfortingly and soothingly. *She’ll love you.*

He exhaled. *Can you read minds now?*

*Only yours,* the Shadows assured him. *But as long as you don't cheat on her with her sister, you'll be doing a better job than her ex-partners!*

What.

"Are you seriously reading a Sellyn Drake novel?" Only 5 centuries of training kept him from flinching as he looked up to find Cassian in his doorway.

"Nesta said it was good," he shot back flatly, not hiding the book, because that would just give Cassian even more reason to tease him.

"You...actually listen to Nesta's...book recommendations?" Cassian stared at him, as if he had grown a third head.

"She is intelligent, and she reads more than either of us," Azriel shot back, sharply. "So yes, if she says it's good, I'll try it."

Cassian gave a slight shake of his head, not believing what he was hearing. "You are…actually reading a Sellyn Drake novel?" He repeated as if he couldn't quite believe that Azriel was actually doing that.

"Yes," Azriel said, his words clipped. "You have a problem with that?"

Cassian just stared at him for a long moment before letting out a quiet laugh. "No, I just never thought I would actually see the day that you read a Sellyn Drake novel."

"Well, I like it," Azriel said evenly. "It’s very are well written."

"And smutty," Cassian said with a grin.

Azriel rolled his eyes. "It’s are more than just...smut, Cassian, It actually has a story, and good characters."

"Characters who can barely keep their hands off each other long enough to solve the mystery, you mean," Cassian drawled, but Azriel ignored him, flipping a page.

."Have you ever actually read a Sellyn Drake novel, Cassian?" Azriel asked, shooting him a look. "Or do you simply judge by the covers?"

Cassian just grinned, clearly enjoying this conversation and how defensive Azriel had become. "The covers are pretty damn attractive though."

Azriel rolled his eyes at that comment, but didn't respond. Just looked back down at the book, completely ignoring his brother.

"Are you coming to dinner tonight?" Cassian asked him instead.

"No," he answered flatly. He did really want to know how the book ended.

*We found a house! We can show it to you!* the shadows hissed at that moment. Huh.

"There is something that needs my attention," Azriel said simply.

Cassian gave him a searching look, a frown etched into his face, but Azriel simple met his gaze.

"Az," Cassian said quietly. "Come on."

"I have something I need to do, Cassian." Azriel's voice was still flat, but more firm, a clear sign that he did not want any arguments.

"Az," Cassian said again, and this time, there was a small thread of pleading in his voice. "Just… come have dinner with us. Please. It'll be good for you."

Good? Good to sit at Rhys' table and be told to "behave"? Azriel would rather eat crushed glass than do that. Which was the reasons why he skipped out of them as often as he possible could.

He knew, he knew that Cassian was just looking out for him, but that didn't mean that he felt like he was obligated to go.

"I have something I need to do," he repeated, his voice even.

Cassian sighed. "You are so goddamn stubborn," he muttered, but he let the subject drop, clearly knowing that Azriel was not going to listen.

That evening, instead of sitting through that dinner, Azriel let the shadows swirl around him in excitement, tugging on his jacket, practically dragging him forward.

*It's a lovely house, Master!* they said as they wrapped him in their embrace.

He blinked twice as he rematerialised in front of a lake. Somehow not quite what he had expected. But then…then he saw the house.

Grey stone and wood and the biggest windows he had ever seen that promised an breathtaking view over the lake… and nobody around as far as he could see. He stared at the house, a brow raised. It was nice…very nice. A little too nice. Exactly too his taste.

Azriel turned towards the shadows as he raised another brow. *And how exactly did you…* he started with a huff. *You know what, nevermind.*

He could already hear the shadows saying that they asked for a favor in exchange. Or maybe they stole it.

The house was still nice though, perfect really. He just…didn't want to know what they had done to get it.

Azriel glanced towards the building again. He could almost picture himself in the space, walking around, just….simply existing. It was peaceful and quiet…and he would not be…disturbed or bothered.

He could see himself reading in front of the fireplace, looking out into the night sky through the large windows.

Azriel walked towards the building, his fingers brushing over the wall. He could feel it already….he could already feel his muscles loosening, his shoulders lowering from their stiff position.

Home, he thought as stepped into the space, the shadows following after him as his lips tugged upwards.

Yes, he could already see himself calling it that. Home. He liked the ring of it.

*You're welcome, Master,* the shadows said as they swirled around him, nuzzling him affectionately. They were happy for him, so very happy for him.

The living room was spacious, filled with overstuffed couches and armchairs made for wings… the view indeed was spectacular. And one long uninterrupted wall was lined with tall, massive bookshelves.

It was perfect.

*Does she like books?* he couldn't help but ask.

*Yes, Master! She loves books!* The Shadows assured him in an excited chorus.

She liked to read. That was the first little tidbit of information he learned about her.

*Will you tell me something else about her?* he asked them softly, as he kept exploring the house.

*What do you want to know?* the shadows asked.

*Did her ex-partner really cheat on her with her sister?* he wondered aloud.

*Yes. They are engaged to be married now,* the shadows answered. *He's an asshole,* they muttered darkly.

Azriel couldn't help but give a nod in agreement. An ass was too kind. Whoever he was, he was more than that. Azriel hated him, whoever he was.

*Anything else?* he asked the shadows, curious, so damn curious, to know more about the female.

*She has a cat. His name is Hector. He may be the ugliest cat in existence,* the shadows said primly, *but she adores him.*

Not what he expected, but it was...sweet. It was kind. She had a pet cat. His lips tugged upwards into an involuntary smile.

*And...?* he trailed off, waiting for a response. He was greedy, so damn greedy for more, so greedy to get to know the female more. His curiosity about her had grown to a fever pitch, it seemed.

The Shadows hummed thoughtfully. *She is very, very kind, Master,* they finally said softly.

Those words caused Azriel's smile to go soft, so damn soft. His heart fluttered at the Shadows' words. She was kind. She was kind and she had a cat that she adored. Her ex was an ass who cheated on her. She read, liked books, which meant she was intelligent, and…

Was he getting excited about someone he had never even met?

*When...when can I meet her?* he asked softly.

*Soon,* the shadows promised. *She doesn't leave the house that often...*

Azriel's brows drew together at that. *Why not?* he asked quietly, not sure if he really wanted the answer to that question.

The Shadows hesitated for a moment before responding. *People...people aren't very nice to her,* they admitted slowly.

Azriel blinked, confused. People...weren't nice to her...? But…why? What was there not to be nice about? From what he had gleaned, she was kind, had a cat, was smart, and liked books. What was wrong with any of that? It didn't make any sense.

*Why?* he demanded shaprly.*Because people are idiots as usual,* the shadows snapped right back. *People aren't nice to you either.*

Azriel gave a small wince at that, the shadows words hitting him like a bucket of ice cold water. But they were right, people weren't all the nicest to him, either.

Still...he didn't like the idea of her being treated poorly. He wanted...Gods, the want was so strong, all of a sudden. The want to…to protect her. To guard her, and protect her. To keep her safe. To make sure she was alright.

*Tell me when she leaves her house,* he demanded.

For a moment he could swear the shadows were nearly frozen in place.

*Change of Plans. Put on a different shirt,* the shadows said quickly. Azriel just stared at them.

*A different shirt?* he asked. He didn't even have any clothing here! That was back at the House of Wind. But the shadows were clearly not taking no for an answer.

He batted away a tendril as it started to unbuckle his fighting leathers and did it himself, only for them to shove him into a shirt that was so dark green it was nearly black and then start fussing with his hair.

Azriel barely had time to even process what was happening before the shadows were pushing him towards the door, still trying to fix and smooth his hair and clothes as they moved forward.

*What is the change of plan?* he asked them

*You are getting to see her right now,* the shadows said with a hint of glee to their voice. *Her sister and some friends are taking her to a bar.*

*The same sister that cheated on her with her ex-partner?* he demanded.

*Yes,* the shadows agreed in a hiss.

Great. So he was going to have to stop a fight from happening, all while trying to meet the female he apparently was connected to? That was a...recipe for disaster right there..

*She'll be at the Crystal Drop* the shadows informed him, and his heart gave a strange little clench at those words. He was...he was actually going to get to meet her. Tonight.

The feeling of excitement was back, rushing through him like a wildfire. But there was also a hint of trepidation, a hint of nervousness. What if he screwed it all up? What if he messed things up? His stomach was suddenly full of butterflies.

Azriel didn't have time to dwell on those thoughts, though, as the shadows gave him a little nudge forward again, all but forcing him to start moving towards the tavern.

He could see it in the distance, the sign proclaiming it as “Crystal Drop”. It...it was right there. She was there...

Taking a deep breath, he headed towards the bar, his heart pounding in his chest with every step that he took closer to the entrance. Gods, his hands were shaking.

He was nervous. He couldn’t even remember the last time he was

He entered the tavern, and his eyes automatically went to the crowd, searching for...something.

The shadows let him towards a place in a corner where he could view the whole bar and he ordered a single fireale, because he was not getting drunk. He wanted his wits about him when he met her.

But right now…right now, Azriel settled in to watch.

He watched the crowd, his eyes roving around, searching the whole tavern once again. He just wanted to know where the group was. He wanted to know where...she was.

*Do you see her, Master?* the shadows asked him, nearly teasingly.

*I have absolutely no clue how she looks, so how should I?* he gave back in a growl. The door opened and he watched as a group of females poured in...and then right there at the edges of that group...

His breath caught in his throat as his eyes fell on her, and...oh.

Between one blink and the next everything changed. A golden bond unfurled in his chest, connecting him to her.

Her.

He knew it.

She was his mate.

Mine. He whispered in his head, barely more than a thought. He knew it with every fiber of his being, every part of his heart.

He took her in hungrily.

She was so beautiful. So, so beautiful. Azriel had to physically restrain himself from going over to her right then and there.

He could hardly breathe. He couldn't form a coherent thought. His whole world had suddenly narrowed to the sight in front of her. His mate.

*Master?* There was alarm in the shadows voices as his breathing became near erratic.

*She's...You found my mate,* he said weakly.

The shadows hummed in confirmation and his eyes were glued to her still, drinking her in. She had long brown hair with soft curls, falling over back, bangs framing a rounded face with high cheekbones and plump cheeks...full rosy lips too and adorable freckles dotting over her nose...

She was the most beautiful being he had ever seen. She was simply...stunning.

And mine, he thought to himself. She was his. She was his mate.

He didn't even look at the rest of the group. Just focused on the one...the one who was at the edge of the group, seemingly trying to vanish, to become invisible.

Even from the distance, Azriel could see the tension in his mate’s form. He frowned slightly at that. He didn't like it, seeing her like that.

He...his instincts were starting to kick in, a soft, protective urge rising up in him. He wanted to go to her, to...to stand by her side and ease away whatever was bothering her. But he stayed rooted to the spot, just...just watching her. Just watching his mate, the sight of her soothing every single little part of him until he felt warm all over.

He let the group settle at a table a few feet away from him, forcing himself to look down on the bottle in front of him and not stare at his mate like a total creep.

If he strained his ears, he could hear the whole conversation. Apparently it was his mate’s sisters Hen Party, the kind of celebration that some High Fae Females had before they got married.

Nice. Why not bring along your sister, when you were engaged to the guy that cheated with you on said sister?

The fact that his mate even came along into this bar that evening was probably a sign of how fucking nice she was. And Gods...no wonder his mate was so anxious...this whole thing was just...a disaster waiting to happen.

He glanced towards the group again, his attention once again immediately falling on his mate. He could see it, the small twitch of her fingers, the tightening of her lips...the small little things, and he felt his heart wrench at the sight.

She didn't talk. She was just sitting there silently, while the other females had a raucous conversation, that she wasn't part of. It made him bristle.

He didn't understand why they were doing that, why she wasn't a part of the conversation. She was right there. But they weren't listening, they weren't noticing her...or maybe they were ignoring her on purpose.

He...he didn't like it. He didn’t like it at all.

Just minutes later, Azriel realised that he should have wished that they kept ignoring her.

Because Azriel was quite certain that he was going to slit his mate's sister's throat with Truthteller if she said one more word.

The blonde, her sister, stared at his mate and this time a sharp, nasty smile curled on her lips. "Oh, what's the matter, little sister? Mad that I nabbed the male you were going to marry?" she taunted with a malicious grin. "I guess he just liked me better."

Azriel was so shocked that he could just sit there, staring.

The other females laughed as the blonde continued, her lips curled in a sneer. "You should be happy for me, really," she said, her voice sugary sweet. "After all, you could never keep him happy. You've always been useless, haven't you?"

The comments made Azriel see red. What the hell was wrong with this female? Who treated their own sister like this?

He had half a mind to go over there and wring her neck.

*Don’t,* his shadows hissed. *You’ll make it worse.*

*Make it worse?! It can’t fucking get worse!* he hissed back.

He itched to go over to the group, to protect his mate from these cruel, cruel words.

*Yes, it can,* the shadows snapped. *What do you want to do? Massacre her sister right in front of her?!* Azriel growled under his breath.

*Normally you are much more bloodthirsty,* he complained to the shadows.

*You are the fucking spymaster. Act like it,* the shadows snapped. *You want us to make her sister’s life a misery? We’ll do it. We’ll do it and it will never be traced back to you. Besides, she deserves worse than a quick death.*

He clenched his teeth.

The other females were laughing, but his mate...wasn't. She wasn't saying a single word, wasn't defending herself, wasn't saying anything. Just...just sitting there and taking the horrible abuse with a neutral, blank expression on her face.

"Cat got your tongue?" her sister asked her with a roll of her eyes. "I mean, it's not like you're good at talking, are you?" she asked her with a cruel little laugh. "Too bad for you that males want females that are able to have a conversation, not awkward little things who can't even speak when spoken to."

Azriel's body tensed as he listened to the words, every muscle coiled tight. It took every ounce of his control not to stride over to the group of females and punch her sister straight in the face. The only thing he wanted to do in that moment was to protect his mate.

The comment clearly found it's target, Azriel could see his mate flinch at the words, her face crumbling momentarily before it smoothed over into a neutral expression again. Gods...it must've hurt so badly to hear her sister speak to her like that…

*We’ll ruin her fucking life,* he vowed to the shadows.

*Agreed, Master.”

Her sister rolled her eyes another time. "Come on, let's go," she told the other females. "You have the bill, don't you, Skylar?"

The words made Azriel snap. So the sister hadn't intended to even pay for her drinks in the first place? It was…they had just used her, he realised suddenly. Used her for the first stop on their tavern tour, to pick up the drink tab…and that was all she was good for in their eyes…

It was...Azriel couldn't stand by and watch this anymore, it made him so angry. So fucking furious.

"Ye...yes," his mate stuttered.

She looked so small in that moment, her eyes averted, her shoulders slumped, her hands trembling. She looked...wounded, so hurt, and Azriel was...he was sick of seeing her just accept this verbal abuse without a word.

They left. They should thank the cauldron that they left at that moment, because otherwise Azriel would have made Cassian at his worst look like a puppy.

He wanted to storm after them, to give every single person in the group a piece of his mind, but that could wait. The most important thing right now was his mate. She was still here, after all. Azriel took a deep breath, and slowly, almost hesitantly walked towards her.

He watched as she didn't move, and he finally decided to speak, his voice a low, soft murmur. "Mind if I sit here?" he asked, gesturing to the chair beside her.

Her head turned, and he felt his heart stop as her eyes met his for the first time. Up close, her eyes were...mesmerizing. A deep, sparkling blue, framed by long, lush eyelashes. He couldn't look away from her.

And she stared at him, her mouth slightly open, her eyes near comically wide.

He gave her a soft, slow smile. "Hi," he greeted her, his voice gentle. She blinked a few times, still staring at him, and he found it so cute, how shocked she was that he was talking to her.

Her mouth opened but no words came out. She was staring at him like a poor bunny rabbit would at an apex predator , caught in his grasp.

For just a moment her scent went utterly haywire.

Caramel and Hazelnuts. So sugary sweet that he would have gladly rolled around in it. And she just stared at him, wide eyed, silent...until suddenly the scent changed to incadescent happiness.

"Oh." A small sound escaped her as she swallowed.

And he knew. He knew at that moment that the bond had just snapped for her.

#acotar fanfiction #azriel x oc #azriel x reader #azriel fanfiction #azriel fanfic #It's a Love Story

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yunhoszn · 11 months ago

Text

save a horse, ride a cowboy

PAIRING jeong yunho x f!reader

WORD COUNT 12.25k

GENRES fluff﹒angst﹒smut

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, reader is a city girl but i tried not using too many gendered terms, cowboy!yunho RAHHHHH, mentions of food, reader has a boyfriend for most of the fic (an oc) but there’s no real infidelity, reader embarrasses themselves on what i’d say is a few occasions too many, yunho is down bad, masturbation (m! and brief f! receiving), lowkey voyeurism, a really bad dad joke, horse riding scene bc i feel that’s pivotal for a cowboy fic, lots and lots of kissing, marking, teasing, vaginal fingering x2, oral sex (f! receiving) x2, multiple orgasms, very slight edging, praise, pet names (baby, babe, and princess oops), unprotected sex (BE SAFE PLS I BEG), cowgirl position, pull out method, missionary position, creampie lol, ending is cute but also kinda up for interpretation? i guess <3

SUMMARY when your grandparents decided to retire and take a summer’s long vacation in celebration, they leave their house in your care. at least you don’t have to worry about feeding the farm animals. but you do have to worry about the tall, handsome cowboy who does.

MORE AND SHE’S DONE oh my god, this fic actually pulled so much out of me i think i was the one seeing stars by the end.. 😭 but i’m so proud of it and the goals i tried meeting while writing. first of all the length??? insane for me. i can hardly get myself to write anything longer thank 5k 😞 THATS ENOUGH ABOUT ME THO,,, this fic was heavily inspired by the django performance if u couldn’t tell by the banner 😝 and i’d first like to thank the academy aka @kimsohn for encouraging me to write this and fueling my delusions ilysm maya <3 i’d also like to give a huge thank u to @bro-atz TYSM FOR BETAING AND HELPING WITH SCENES BRO ur my life saver fr <3 PLS PLS PLS REBLOG IF U ENJOYED!!

Growing up, you weren’t the biggest fan of trips to your grandparents’ farm in the rural countryside.

You were born in a big city, full of all the glitz and glam. There were bright lights that lit the skyline at night, distracting from the stars that illuminated above. The wide open space was blocked by high towers and large skyscrapers. You were accustomed to the sound of bustling pedestrians and the obnoxious honking of cars in the streets. There was seldom an evening of complete silence.

Everything was so tightly packed together, within walking distance if you didn’t feel like hopping in a car for a fifteen minute drive. You appreciated the insanity of the train station in the mornings before school, the metro so busy with students and working class individuals. You came into contact with numerous strangers throughout your day to day life.

However, every summer until you were a senior in high school was a different story.

Your parents wanted to keep you humble, you supposed, shipping you off to your grandparents’ for three months. Living in the city kept people too sheltered, too primped and polished for the real world. They wanted you to have that exposure, to experience what it was like to live without the fanciness of urbanization. The nine months out of the year that you spent in the city stunted that exposure, though.

When you’d arrive at their farm, luggage stacked like you were taking a trip to London or Paris, you felt like a glorified version of Regina George. Maybe Blair Waldorf. Elle Woods? You weren’t even rich like that. Your parents were nice, middle class people. There was just something about cow manure and the fear of stepping on a freshly laid egg that made it difficult to adjust to the setting.

It was most likely your stubbornness throughout your childhood that held you back even as you got older and more educated. You thought after graduating high school, the three-months-long “retreat” would come to an end. You’d only need to visit when necessary, maybe a week max. And that was true to an extent. During your university years, you only visited the farm around once a year. You were too consumed with school to even go home sometimes.

And then your grandparents decided to retire.

Their farm had supplied the town over with produce and other home-grown items for as long as you could remember. But they were getting older and no one in the family was willing to inherit the farm or its responsibilities. In celebration of their retirement, they planned a grand vacation to visit multiple countries. Their itinerary spanned an entire summer, just like your trips to the farm when you were younger.

Because you were the only one familiar enough with the area, they enlisted you to housesit while they were gone. You tried to get out of it, but they didn’t trust anyone else as much as you, despite your convictions about country life. So you reluctantly agreed, packing up your things to prepare for another grueling summer at the farm one last time.

But there was a bit of a setback.

”What do you mean someone’s living in the farmhouse behind their house?” You shriek into the receiver, holding your phone between your shoulder and ear as you zip up your final bag. Your mom sighs on the other end.

”Your grandma just only now told me, apparently it slipped her mind,” you can hear the sympathy in her tone. “He’s this boy who grew up in the town and he’s gonna take over the farm for them on the condition that they still live on the property. She said he shouldn’t get in your way and he’s expecting your presence. You’ll only see him if you ever actually go out to the farm and when he brings groceries to the house.”

”Great. Another thing I didn’t sign up for.” You mutter, giving your bedroom a once over to make sure you’re not forgetting anything. “Is there anything else I should know before I get there, like a secret pet or maybe a family living in the attic?”

”Watch the attitude, Y/N,” she warns, and you shut up immediately. “Look, I know this isn’t ideal. You’re a grown adult and you’d rather spend your summer going out with your friends, but you already told your grandparents you would do this for them. It’ll be over before you know it.”

You sigh, nodding even though she can’t see it. At least you didn’t have to worry about caring for their farm animals. It was time to think of this as a staycation rather than torture. Sure, your friends were going to be living it up in the Bahamas for a week and your boyfriend was going to be here while you were surrounded by nothing but flat landscape for acres.

Perhaps it was good for you that there would be someone else on the property. You might’ve started to feel scared being alone in the middle of nowhere for so long. Though, your boyfriend probably won’t be the biggest fan of you staying within the vicinity of another man for three months. You’d just deal with that later.

The drive to your grandparents’ farm is actually more peaceful than anything else. Driving for long periods of time wasn’t your favorite thing to do, but doing it by yourself with nothing but your music filling your ears was a sort of therapy. It allowed you to come to terms with your fate for the summer and what it could entail, even if it wasn’t exactly what you had in mind.

Seeing the lush greenery for miles upon miles as you neared their home evoked a sense of tranquility within you. If you kept a positive outlook on your situation, you would make it through these next few months unscathed and your sanity still intact. Maybe you despised the wide open space for years when you were a kid, but now that you’re an adult, you think you could learn to appreciate it and its beauty.

As long as the guy living in the farmhouse didn’t bother you like your grandmother said, everything would be—

Oh.

You pull up in front of the house, already thrown for a loop by the tall, very handsome stranger walking his dog back from the mailbox. His dark hair obscured his eyes, a bandana tied around his neck to match with the one hanging off the Border Collie’s collar. The two turn around at the sound of your engine, stopping in their tracks once you’ve parked.

He brings a hand up to shield the sun from his eyes, watching cautiously as you park slowly. You don’t know why you’re so anxious, it’s not like you’ll be interacting with him much during your stay anyways. There’s something about his slender figure and the fact that he was so clearly dedicated to what he does upon first glance that it makes you feel shy. You suck in a sharp breath before deciding to exit your vehicle, wiping clammy palms on your denim shorts. You’re starting to regret not dressing a little cuter, a little more presentable.

His features soften upon recognizing you, the pretty granddaughter that your grandparents showed him prior to leaving for their trip. The hand sheltering his face falls to his side and he gives you a warm smile, somehow warmer and brighter than the sweltering summer sun. You’d always been told not to talk to strangers, to keep your distance for your own safety, but you can’t help mirroring his expression with a small wave.

“H-Hi,” your voice wobbles and you kind of want to die just a bit. “I’m Y/N. My grandparents mentioned you lived in the farmhouse out back, but didn’t give me a name or face to expect.”

He extends his arm out and you shake his hand, albeit slightly nervously. His eyes squint when he glances between you and his dog. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Y/N. I’m Yunho, and this is Yeoreum.”

The name is fitting for the red and white colored Border Collie, her tongue sticking out as she stares up at you with big eyes that almost resemble her owner’s. You bend down to pet her, patting the soft tufts of fur on her head and appreciating her licks of excitement. Yunho laughs, whistling to catch her attention.

“Yunho and Yeoreum,” you repeat, a tiny grin on your face. “Befitting. Does she come with the property?”

“Unfortunately, no. She’s spoken for,” he teases, a pout on his features. “But she can visit whenever you’d like. Jokes aside, did you need any help moving stuff into the house?”

”That would be great, actually!” You scratch the back of your neck, lips pursing. Yunho waits for you to unlock the trunk of your car and places Yeoreum’s leash in your possession, making quick work transporting your bags inside. What was just supposed to be some light assistance, has evidently become him doing everything on his own while you stand and look pretty with his dog.

You didn’t bring too much with you since you didn’t have plans to leave while you were housesitting and your grandparents weren’t so old fashioned that they didn’t have a washing machine. Still, you felt useless allowing this stranger you’d just met to do all this manual labor on your behalf.

”Does he always do this?” You murmur to the Border Collie, falling to a seat on the lowest front porch step. She doesn’t give you a response (not that you expected her to), but pants happily in lieu of one, craning her head so you can scratch the spot behind her ear.

“You’re a guest, it’s just good hospitality for me to help.” Yunho says as he comes out of the house, stationing himself in front of you with his hands on his hips, thumbs in his belt loops.

“There’s a difference between helping and doing the work yourself. You’re just being modest,” you push yourself up to hand him Yeoreum’s leash. “But thank you anyway, that was really nice. I’m so tired from driving up here, so I think I would’ve collapsed doing all that back and forth.”

”You should go rest,” he glances at the house behind you. “There’s a whole three months of farm life ahead of you, so don’t wear your pretty little self out just yet.”

Yunho salutes to you and takes his leave, walking around your grandparents’ house toward what you assume is the farmhouse. Your eyes are wide and your cheeks feel hot, and you’re well aware that it’s not because of the summer heat. Your fingers clutch at the material of your t-shirt and you shake it to fan yourself.

It seemed like you were in for a bumpy ride these next few months. But like you reiterated prior to arriving, everything would be just fine so long as you and farm boy went your separate routes and lived your separate lives.

Yeah. Things would be alright. You hope.

It’s a week into your stay on your grandparents’ farm when you bump into Yunho again.

You’re toweling your neck after getting out of the shower, heading into the kitchen to make yourself another bowl of cereal for breakfast. So far the only downside has been your inability to cook a decent meal. Takeout or your boyfriend sleeping over were usually your saving grace, but without having either of those options, you’ve stuck to microwaveable things.

The sight of Yunho unloading groceries onto the counter has you squealing and nearly jumping out of your own skin. He flinches at your volume, knocking over the bag of rice resting against the vase in the center. Thankfully it was still sealed shut, if not there would’ve been a mess of rice grains all over the island counter. His clumsiness has you slapping a palm over your mouth to silence your giggles, not wanting to embarrass him.

”Sorry, I wasn’t expecting you…” You apologize sheepishly, folding your towel over your arm and placing it on a barstool nearby.

“N-No, you’re fine! I shouldn’t have just let myself in, it’s kinda just a habit. You deserve your privacy without having to worry about whether or not I’m gonna barge in unannounced.” He dismisses your apology with a wave of his hand. “I’ll just put these up for you and then I’ll be on my way.”

”Can I help?” You waddle over to him, fingers laced behind your back. “I’d feel bad watching you put my groceries away for me after going out and getting them.”

Yunho gestures for you to occupy the space beside him with a small smile that takes solace at the corner of his mouth. The two of you do everything in complete silence, still not entirely used to each other’s presence because of the lack of crossing paths. As you’re finishing up, you start grabbing the items you need for your cereal. He raises an eyebrow at you.

”You don’t want something a little more filling?” He suddenly questions, jutting his chin at your bowl.

”I would love that if I knew how to cook,” you laugh. “Ironic isn’t it? The granddaughter of two farmers can’t cook to save their life.”

Yunho shakes his head with a chuckle, ruffling his hair. “Well, I don’t have to feed the horses for another hour if you’d like for me to whip up something better than a bowl of cereal.”

“Really?” Your eyebrows furrow. Despite growing up with the mindset that you were above the farm life your grandparents tried to impose on you, you hated feeling like you were coming across as entitled. You didn’t want Yunho to think you were lazy or that you were too good. “You don’t have to do that. I can survive on instant ramen and cereal, I swear.”

”Y/N,” he says your name with a certain authority to it, and you’ve never loved the sound of your name coming out of someone else’s mouth so much before. “I want to. I’m not the world’s greatest chef or anything, but I have a couple tricks up my sleeve.”

”Okay, then,” you nod, taking a seat at the island. You watch in awe as he dances around the kitchen and prepares something for you. It’s weird, not in the sense that you feel awkward around this complete stranger, but because you feel the opposite. You feel comfortable around him, like you’ve known him for a while. It’s almost like Yunho has been a casual part of your life for much longer than a week. He’s easy to get along with, easy to mold into what you’re used to.

And that’s weird because you have a boyfriend. A boyfriend who cooks dinner for you most nights, but somehow has never made you feel this taken care of. It throws you off. That should definitely not be the case. How is this man doing this in one week and your boyfriend couldn’t in two years?

The guilt settles in the pit of your stomach quickly. Sure, your boyfriend might’ve had a habit of forgetting important dates and didn’t give you half as much attention as he should’ve, but did that warrant the emotions brewing in your chest? Could that excuse this notion that maybe it was time to finally call it quits?

You zone out as Yunho finishes cooking your breakfast, too inside of your head to even fawn over the doting and slight coddling he was doing. Maybe you need to have a long conversation with Seojun about your relationship and where you want it to go. Perhaps it was a nice idea to invite him out to visit the farm, it could do you both some good.

“Ta-da!” Yunho holds out a plate to you, the sparkle in his eyes effectively pushing out any thoughts of your boyfriend and the shame that was picking at you. You can’t help but reciprocate his expression when you see how delicious the food looks.

He’d made you omurice, the ketchup on top in cute squiggly lines to form whiskers and a little dog face. You accept the plate gratifyingly, your fingers brushing as you do so. He smiles shyly, eyeing you carefully while you take the first bite. You don’t remember the last time you had a home cooked breakfast, accustomed to the occasional muffin at the coffee shop near your house.

”’Not the world’s greatest chef’ my ass,” you grumble, pouting at his humbleness and his inability to be bad at anything. “I might just ask you to have breakfast with me every morning if you can chef it up this well.”

That melodic laugh of his rings in your ears, his elbows resting on the island and his chin in his palms. “I’m sure Yeoreum would appreciate a companion who isn’t me.”

“How long have you had her?” You ask, shoveling more omurice into your mouth. If you weren’t so hungry and so appeased by how delicious it was, you’d feel bad for ruining his hard work. The ketchup no longer looked like a dog, but rather a splatter of red all over your plate.

“Almost four years now. I had her for a year before I met your grandparents. She adores them, so it’s no surprise that she likes you too.” He has this fond gaze in his eyes as he talks about his beloved Border Collie and it makes your heart ache.

The fact that he has such a good relationship with your grandparents seals the deal for you. Well, it would seal the deal if you were single. Yunho is like the ideal man that every parent would want their daughter to bring home. He knows how to cook, knows how to clean. He’s adept around the house, skilled in yard work and other random jobs like fixing leaky pipes and installing new appliances. He’s gentle, but doesn’t mind getting his hands dirty.

Your parents would never meet him, though. After the summer was over, you’d be back in Seoul and he would still be here, a distant memory. You forcibly laugh away the thought, excusing it as your response to his words and continuing the conversation about his dog.

Perhaps this stay would be harder to get through than you thought.

As the weeks pass you by, you find yourself becoming more and more infatuated with Jeong Yunho.

Cooking breakfast for you in the morning has become a regular thing. Monitoring him at the stove with sleepy eyes and a mug of fresh coffee in your hands has ingrained itself into your routine. Yeoreum called the spot beneath your stool her own now, laying there as her owner made your food. You think the transition from seeing him as just this comforting presence, this kind individual, to wanting something more was almost too smooth.

Especially right now as you sit on the back porch sipping on some lemonade, admiring the cowboy as he transfers bales of hay from the bed of his pickup truck to the pigpen and the cattle pen. He pauses in between trips, stripping off his flannel and tying it around his waist. He lifts the hem of the white tank top he’s wearing and uses it to wipe sweat from his forehead, revealing the toned abdomen he had been hiding from you up until now.

You feel like you’re going insane, trying to pretend like you’re reading your book as you not so subtly gawk at his muscles straining with each bale he lifts. It’s crazy really, the effect he has on you doing his fucking job. You’ve made it a habit to sit out here and stare at him under the guise of various other things. Aside from being borderline obsessive, it’s horrible because you’re still very much in a relationship.

Most people would feel a hell of a lot worse than you do, like their entire world was crumbling between their fingertips just for finding someone else attractive. But for some reason, as time has continued to roll on, that guilt— that self-preservation— has faded. You’re dipping into another emotion that you’re too scared to explore.

Yunho takes a break from his labor to guzzle down a bottle of water, his chest heaving up and down from exertion. Had you been paying attention to anything other than the view of the handsome man, you would’ve noticed the glass sliding out of your grasp, the condensation becoming far too dense to keep a solid grip on the cup. In the midst of drooling over him, your lemonade falls to the ground with a loud clanging noise.

Your reflexes are only swift enough to save your book, but the drink spills everywhere else and you wince at how embarrassing the situation is. You hurry inside to grab a towel before he can see the mortification enveloping your features. He seemed like the observant type, like one scan of your face could tell him everything he needs to know without a single word exchanged. Your fingers curl around the edge of the counter, blowing a raspberry while you attempt to regulate your blood pressure.

Through the window above the kitchen sink, you make out a confused Yunho, brows furrowed as he looks in the direction of the house. He worried over you entirely too much, particularly when you take into account the fact that all you did was think about him in manners not necessarily safe for work. Maybe you were just delirious. That was the only logical explanation for why you’re spiraling.

The high temperatures of the summer coupled with your surroundings are contributing to your change in behavior. Yes. That made sense. You weren’t crazy.

With a bit more reprieve, you’re able to grab a tea towel and head back outside to clean up your mess. (Not unaccompanied by a couple glances in Yunho’s direction, but that’s fine. Perfectly healthy even. It’s normal to check up on a friend. At least, that’s what you tell yourself, but who’s holding you accountable?)

“You know you’ve been making me breakfast every morning without asking for anything in return,” you speak up one morning, chin resting on the island. “Is there anything I can do to repay you?”

Yunho purses his lips as he hands you your plate. “Nah, I like cooking for you.”

You try to ignore the way that has your heart fluttering in your chest, try to ignore the warmth blooming beneath your skin. Your eyes glance down at your food to avoid eye contact, bringing your chopsticks up to your lips. “Okay, well I wanna do something for you.”

Despite mumbling the words, he hears you anyway and smiles to himself as he takes a sip from his mug. He rolls up the sleeves of his denim button up, reaching down to scratch behind Yeoreum’s ear, the area that you’ve learned is her favorite. She pants joyfully, jumping on his leg excitedly. He looks between the two of you.

”Missy here needs a bath,” he says, cooing at her. “I was gonna give her one later, after I cleaned out the stables, but if you don’t mind doing it.”

”I’d do just about anything for that precious girl,” you nod enthusiastically. “Consider it done.”

This is how you end up out back, dog shampoo in one hand and the water hose in the other.

Yeoreum’s signature bandana and collar lay on one of the rocking chairs on the porch, the dog looking so different without her accessories as you prepare to bathe her. You wet her fur generously, squeezing enough shampoo into your palm to lather it on. Compared to your childhood pets, she’s pretty well behaved.

She’s probably one of the only dogs who’s ever actually enjoyed taking a bath, sitting still for you while you scrub and rinse and repeat. You take your time with cleaning her, wanting to make sure you do your best as a thank you for every plate Yunho has ever made you. Usually, this isn’t something you would jump at the opportunity to do. Somehow, being back at the farm this past month or so has done everything your parents tried to do when you were younger.

It could’ve had to do with the desensitization of being here every summer for so long that it just never stuck when you were grade school age. But now, fully grown and experiencing this all over again on your own, with new faces at your side, it’s like you’re being exposed to something different. You can see why your mom and dad didn’t want the city life to become a dependency.

You preferred the view of cabs and cafés over cows and chickens in the past, but now you found a sense of familiarity in them. You’d always want to go home as soon as you got here. Unlike other kids, you wanted your summer to be over as quickly as possible. You couldn’t imagine going home after this, though. This unveiled attachment to the farm you detested when you were younger could only be accredited to one person, and it was a little frightening.

He constantly brought out parts of you that you didn’t know existed. This enigma, the one that emphasized how big of a role he’s fulfilling in the short period of time you’ve been here, drills itself into your brain every day. You knew you had to acknowledge it sooner or later, but it was just less of a hassle to act like it wasn’t screaming at you. Your fear of change was a more pertinent issue to ignore, so you let it consume all else.

While getting lost in your thoughts, Yeoreum starts shaking and startles you, causing your hold on the hose to loosen, water spraying everywhere. The diversion has you losing your footing and slipping in the mud. You shriek, though it does nothing to block the stream that drenches you, your clothes getting wet. The universe decides it’s not on your side, because you happened to wear a white shirt. Why you chose to do that when you knew you were bathing a dog, you have no clue, but it was a little too late for regrets.

Yeoreum jumps out of the basin you had her in and runs to the farmhouse just as Yunho’s walking out, fresh from the shower. You forgot that he was cleaning the stables at the same time you were giving the Border Collie her bath, but now you’re starting to wish you waited until afterward just in case you needed the assistance. And well, you definitely needed the assistance.

Plucking the tail end of the mishap, Yunho’s initial reaction is to laugh at your misfortune, but the closer he gets to the scene, the laughter dies out in his throat. Your top is sheer enough that he can map out the outline of your black bra. It leaves very little to the imagination and he thinks he might fall to his knees right here.

Since your grandparents told him that you’d be house sitting while they were away and proudly showcased a photo of you, he’s been enthralled by you. You had the face of an angel, or maybe a really enticing demon, he hasn’t cogitated it much yet.

He swallows thickly, hoping to keep his composure as he makes his way to you. His hand is a little shaky when it reaches to take the hose from you, squeezing his eyes closed and switching off the water. He stays there for a few seconds to mentally prep himself for an up-close-and-personal look at you, even going as far as holding his breath.

“Uh— you— um— you should go inside and dry off before you catch a cold,” Yunho keeps his eyes cast downward. He’s grateful that you don’t note how red the tips of his ears are, or how he thinks the sky is suddenly much more interesting than your face.

Your head cocks to the side in confusion. “What do you mean ‘before I catch a cold’? It’s, like, a million degrees out.”

“The temperature drops at night and the sun’s setting soon. I’ll handle it from here. Yeoreum ran off, so I gotta chase after her anyway and I don’t think you want her to soak you more than she already has.” He’s insistent on shooing you away and getting you inside of the house. You huff.

”Okay… If you say so…”

Reluctantly, you spin around and traverse back. The draft of the air conditioning has you shivering, rubbing up and down your arms as you enter the bathroom to inspect the damage. Your eyes almost bulge out of their sockets when you finally see yourself. No wonder Yunho was so adamant on staving you off like you were the plague.

In your defense, you didn’t think the hose won the battle by that much. You assumed you’d just gotten everything above your shoulders wet, but no. You were practically doused head to toe. And the clear display of your brassiere under your clothes was the last thing on your mind.

He was stronger than you. Actually, he was a more respectful person than you. You would’ve gawked at him shamelessly if the roles were reversed. But at least you’re self aware! Right? The first step in recognizing that you have a problem, is admitting that you have a problem. That’s what you think they say in those addiction commercials, but you could be wrong.

Wow. Now you were comparing him to drugs. Though, you suppose there isn’t that huge of a difference. Both had equal success rates in terms of getting people high and then making it hard to wane off their effects.

You really had to quit it with the metaphor usage.

It’s around midnight that night when the lightbulb in the bathroom goes out, halting you from finishing your bedtime routine.

You’re exhausted to say the least, face damp from washing it and one of those fuzzy hairbands with the animal ears perched on your head. You were ready to crash out, but there were still a couple things you needed to do before that. It was proving to be a little difficult in the pitch black bathroom. The window above the shower was too narrow to provide any sufficient moonlight.

With a low grumble, you shuffle into your slippers and make the short trek from your grandparents’ house to Yunho in the farmhouse. You hug yourself when a strong breeze blows past, your flimsy t-shirt and sleep shorts doing hardly anything to block the cool summer night’s air.

A piece of you feels a little bad for bothering him so late, but you have no idea how to change a lightbulb. You don’t even know where the lightbulbs are. Besides, you think you’d electrocute yourself if you made an attempt to do it on your own.

You huff out a sigh and bring your knuckles up to knock at his door, waiting patiently for a response. He’s not asleep, you know this because he’s mentioned that his internal clock doesn’t turn off until two in the morning. Circadian rhythms were an odd concept, so to each their own.

“Yunho! It’s Y/N! Open up!”

When a few minutes have passed, you try the knob. Maybe it was a bit… too presumptuous of you to enter his home without explicit permission. Yes, you’d known each other for the better part of a month and a half, and yes, you’d gotten very close in that timeframe, but did that constitute your actions?

Whether or not the answer to that question was a yes or a no, you really wish you would’ve just waited outside. As you venture further in search of the cowboy, you stumble upon something you shouldn’t have.

Standing in the hallway on the other side of his bedroom, the door ajar at least an inch, you catch a glimpse of him on his bed. That white tank top you’re so used to seeing him in is between his teeth, eyebrows knit together in pure pleasure as he fists his cock with a purpose. His nostrils are flared and whiny moans escape from behind the fabric.

His head falls back every now and then, eyes fluttering shut when he runs his thumb over the slit. He’s so focused that he doesn’t notice you, too entranced with chasing his high. Your lips part as you watch him fuck up into his hand, his shirt slipping from his mouth when he groans out a curse.

Just as quickly as you become distracted by the sight of Yunho jerking off, you become aware of what you’re doing. You flee the scene before you get yourself caught, exiting the farmhouse as quietly as you can. The lightbulb can wait until morning, it wasn’t that important, honestly. You’re in a daze the entire walk back to your grandparents house, goosebumps littering your arms and the image of him in such an obscene state burned into your brain.

You fall backwards onto your bed, staring at the ceiling in hopes of willing away the path your mind is beginning to wander towards. All you can think about is the sight of him so desperate for release, large hand wrapped around his dick, abdomen contracting with need. You know you weren’t supposed to see, weren’t supposed to bear witness to something so personal.

It’s difficult to push out the nasty, inappropriate thoughts clouding your head. His expressions contorted into absolute bliss. His slender fingers could probably do so much more than your own, could probably reach places you’d never even dreamed of. And fuck, his dick, prettier and bigger than any other you’ve ever seen.

Your chest blushes with heat, an embarrassment washing over you when you realize you’re turned on. You should feel terrible for intruding on Yunho’s privacy like that, especially without him knowing, but all you can do is want him more than you already do. That craving for something deeper, carnal, fans the flame engulfing you, dragging you further into the sick and twisted hell you’ve created for yourself.

Yunho has been nothing but welcoming, kind and gentle with you, someone he didn’t even know the name of until last month. Someone who’s done everything in their power to repress this lifestyle for so long. And for some reason, it just comes so easily with him. You don’t feel forced to enjoy living on the farm. He makes you laugh and puts a smile on your face effortlessly. He has you wondering if life can actually be this simple.

But when all is said and done, there will be somebody else waiting for you back home. Somebody who doesn’t know how to whip up omurice with freshly laid eggs. Somebody who isn’t even a dog person, who thinks pets are nuisances. Somebody who doesn’t live in the farmhouse behind your grandparents’. It’s a bitter pill to swallow.

If you touch yourself with tears streaming down your cheeks to the thought of the man who has eyes that resemble the night sky, well that’s between you and whatever higher being exists out there.

You sit across from Yunho with bated breath, afraid that if you opened your mouth he would know your dirty secret. You avoid his eyes for the same reason, like one good look at you would reveal what you were trying to hide.

Yunho himself was doing his best to pretend like he hadn’t masturbated to the thought of you last night. He liked to think he was good at keeping his feelings under wraps. It wasn’t like he didn’t know you were in a relationship, he’s heard you on the phone before. He stays silent as he fries rice in a pan and has some bread in the toaster. The only sounds in the kitchen are sizzling and the pants coming from Yeoreum under your stool.

In the time that you’ve been here, never once has it been awkward between you like this. The conversation usually doesn’t stop flowing, rolling on and on and filtering into things that don’t pertain to the original subject. He rarely has his back to you for too long, turning over his shoulder to shoot you a grin every here and now.

Both of you go to speak at the same time as a means of salvaging the morning from eternal strain. You stare at each other for a few seconds before bursting into laughter. Truly, you were two birds of a feather, or however that saying goes.

”Sorry, I don’t know why I’m being so quiet today,” Yunho says, though he knows it’s a lie. “I guess I had a long night.”

”Oh, that reminds me,” his mention of the previous night has you recalling the reason you went out to the farmhouse in the first place. “The light in my bathroom went out, do you think you can fix it for me?”

“Yeah, for sure,” he begins preparing your plate. “Actually, I have this joke about lightbulbs. You wanna hear it?”

Your lips curl into a smile, already attempting to hold back your laughter. With a raised eyebrow, you respond, “What is it?”

”What did the lightbulb say to the light switch?” He asks nonchalantly, taking a bite from his own piece of toast. You’re failing miserably at acting like you don’t think the joke is funny, although he hasn’t even told you the punchline yet.

”I dunno, Yunho, what did the lightbulb say to the light switch?”

“‘You turn me on.’”

There’s a pregnant pause as the joke resonates and you can’t stop yourself from cackling at how stupid it is. He joins in, but mostly because your laughter is contagious. His chest swells with pride at his successful landing, feeling like he’s on top of the world just for bringing a smile to your face. God, he was down tremendously bad.

Your spoon clatters onto the counter as you lean over, a hand clapped over your mouth as your boisterous laughing simmers into a giggle. Yunho leans into you slightly, matching your energy as he munches on his toast. This is what has you conflicted, so at war with yourself. The proximity should have you pulling away, but something about him always reels you in, despite the consequences that await.

And unfortunately, those consequences come to a head today.

“Are you fucking serious, Y/N?”

You and Yunho jump back, whipping towards the source of the voice. Seojun stands there, his bags at his feet and his face crestfallen, disbelief written all over it. He shakes his head and turns to leave, you stumbling off of the barstool to follow behind him. The guilt you’ve only ever felt momentarily settles deep in your chest and deep in your stomach, though you technically haven’t done anything wrong.

Your abruptness startles Yeoreum and she’s up in a heartbeat, tailing behind you curiously. Yunho has to rush to stop her, but a part of himself wants to do the same. No matter how much he likes you, he’s never wanted to be the cause of your relationship falling apart. He wanted you organically, not like this.

”Seojun! Wait!” You call after him, holding up a hand to block out the harsh sunlight, tripping over your slippers. He scoffs.

“What am I waiting for? You to spew some bullshit about how nothing’s going on between the two of you? I’m not fucking stupid, Y/N. I’m not blind.” He pops open his trunk and throws his bags in haphazardly.

”You’re being unreasonable,” you exclaim, rounding the car so you’re directly in front of him. “There is nothing going on. We’ve just gotten to know each other since we live in the same vicinity. Did you want me to stay here for three months and hole myself away with no other human contact?”

“He was just supposed to be the guy who lived in the farmhouse. He wasn’t supposed to bother you. That’s what you told me, remember?” Seojun is losing his patience, something that has always been the root of the problem when you’ve gotten into past arguments. “How do you expect me to react when I come to surprise you and see you being so close to another man?”

“I was laughing at a joke he told me. You’re making this a bigger deal than it is and blowing everything completely out of proportion. I’m sorry that it never came up that we became friends, but I didn’t do anything wrong. I’ve never once cheated on you in the three years we’ve been together and for you to accuse me of that is so fucking low of you.” You’re not going to cry, not going to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’s won. He thrives off of seeing your vulnerability and you won’t let him have it.

“I saw the way he was looking at you,” he seethes, balling his hands into fists at his sides. “I know that look because that’s how I used to look at you.”

A laugh devoid of any humor leaves you and he blinks. “That’s how you ‘used to’ look at me? When did you stop? And why am I just finding this out?”

”That’s not— that isn’t what I meant, Y/N—“

”No, Seojun. You did,” you glance away from him, nipping at the inside of your cheek. “We’re grasping for straws. We aren’t going anywhere anymore and we haven’t for a while now. That’s why we're standing here arguing over this. I just want to know why you didn’t just tell me.”

”I’m too complacent,” he sighs, breathing through his nose. “I was too comfortable with you and I didn’t know how to let you go or walk away. But you’re right, there isn’t anything for us to save, and it seems like we’re both ready to move on.”

“What does that mean?”

“I saw how you were looking at him, too. You might not have acted on it, but you have feelings for him. I’m not gonna stay and hold you back.” Seojun unlocks his car, opening the door. “And for what it’s worth, you won’t be wasting your time.”

You don’t respond, instead humming and letting him drive off. Once his car is far enough out of your view, you go back into the house. There’s an indescribable emotion that hostages you, binding your wrists and tying you down metaphorically. You can’t seem to shake it.

Yunho is still in the kitchen, sitting on the floor with Yeoreum to keep her calm. He gazes up at you expectantly and you feel the tears you were suppressing from Seojun bubbling up. If you weren’t going to cry in front of your (now ex) boyfriend, you definitely weren’t going to cry in front of him.

With a trembling exhale, you force yourself to say, “I need to be alone.”

He understands empathetically, clipping on Yeoreum’s leash and leaving the house in the same breath. That in itself has you crying like a baby the moment you’re all by yourself. You hold your face in your hands, body shuddering with each sob you release.

I saw the way he was looking at you.

I saw how you were looking at him, too.

You had a lot to think about, and everything always seemed to circle back to Jeong Yunho.

A couple days escape you before you register you haven’t seen much of Yunho. After your breakup with Seojun, you really did need a bit of room to process it all, but you hadn’t realized just how much you depended on the cowboy’s presence until you were missing it.

You hadn’t meant to push him away, if that’s how he saw it. A night of bawling your eyes out with a pint of ice cream and The Vow was enough to cure you. However, it appears that he thought you needed more, going as far as putting a pin in your daily breakfast ritual. You aren’t sure how to extend an olive branch when you weren’t even trying to cause a rift between you in the first place.

Being with someone for three years may not seem like a lot, but that fraction of your life is stuck with you, like a thumbtack that refuses to come out of the wall. You’d had boyfriends before Seojun, but they weren’t nearly as serious. There weren't formal introductions between parents, no late night conversations that bleed into early mornings, no sleepovers and quick kisses before work.

Of course, after a certain point, those had just become habitual. You weren’t doing them because they evoked a sense of love or care anymore, but rather because you were familiar with them. It was safer to continue the pattern of waking up and falling asleep to Seojun on the other side of the bed, the intrusion of sunlight and the cacophony of traffic outside your window, even if you didn’t really want to.

And then you came here.

Somehow, returning to your grandparents’ farm was exactly what you needed to break through that cycle. As much as you would love to attest it to your location and discovering the appreciation your family wanted you to feel for it, you know the real reason. It’s all thanks to a certain cowboy.

Yunho’s feelings for you run far deeper than he could’ve imagined. He doesn’t know the extent of what happened with you and Seojun, but he thinks putting distance between you is better in the long run anyway. On the off chance you’re still together, he wants to preserve his heart. He’s handed it to someone else too easily in the past and he doesn’t want to make that mistake with you if you don’t feel the same.

But even on the off chance that you’ve broken up, he still wants to stop himself from falling further and harder than he already has. Without ill will, he doubts that you would give up the life you have in the city for this, for him. He’ll be perpetually chained to being a faint imprint on your memory of the summer. You’ll think back to the months you spent here and he’ll have played only a minor role.

It was wishful thinking, too hopeful of him to presume this would lead to a happy ending. You were from different worlds, led different lives. It was time for him to be realistic. And that meant implementing the space that was supposed to exist between you from the get go.

Though, you make it difficult when he bumps into you on the way back from the mailbox. Déjà vu, anyone?

Yeoreum is excited to see you, jumping onto her haunches to lick your face when you kneel to her level. You giggle, squeezing one eye shut as you balance yourself and hold her still so her weight doesn’t clamber you both onto the ground. Your fingers pet to top of her head softly as you coo, “Who’s a good girl?”

Yunho physically winces when his chest tightens at the sight of his two favorite girls. The word ‘distance’ bounces around his head like a pinball, reminding him what he’s supposed to be doing. He just can’t bring himself to walk away. Especially when you look at him with those pretty eyes of yours.

“Hey…” You start, steeling your tone to ensure it’s even. “I’m sorry if it seemed like I was avoiding you or something. I needed some time to myself to figure things out. It wasn’t my intention to shut you out and put you on the back burner.”

”No, it’s okay. I had to figure stuff out on my own, too,” he uses his bandana to dab at the sweat perspiring on his forehead. “Did you sort through whatever you needed to?”

“I did,” you nod, standing upright. “Seojun and I broke up, so I had to sit with my feelings for a bit. We’ve been together for so long, I think I needed to remember what it was like to be without him, and then I realized that’s basically what I’ve been doing since I came here.”

”Oh.” Yunho’s lips form an ‘O’ shape, hands dragging down the sides of his pants. “I’m sorry— um— about your breakup.”

”Don’t be,” you smile, dismissing his sympathy. “It was a long time coming, honestly. We weren’t really in the relationship wholeheartedly anymore. There wasn’t a point in stringing it along, you know? But that’s enough about me, did you figure your own things out?”

”I thought I did,” he says, which is true considering he’d been mulling over what to do with his emotions subsequent to your argument with your ex. “And then I kinda steered off course. It’s alright, though, I think I like the new conclusion I’ve come to a lot better.”

You might be on the same page now, but there was an entire discussion that had to happen to solidify that. Following a very emotionally charged past couple days, you could do without that today. You’re both just glad that the air is cleared and you can resume building the bond that began forming the moment you stepped foot onto the farm, no restrictions whatsoever.

“Have you ever ridden a horse?”

You glance up from your book, this time genuinely reading it as Yunho fed the chickens and cleaned up their coop. He towers over you while he asks the question, his shadow thwarting off any direct sunlight. Your nose scrunches.

“When I was in, like, middle school? It’s been a minute,” you answer, making sure to bookmark the page you stopped at. “Why?

”Would you let me teach you how to do it again?” He nips at his lower lip, like he’s nervous you’ll say no. The truth of the matter is you’d say yes even if he asked you to commit arson, which is kind of a problem.

“That sounds fun,” you shrug. “What time should I be ready?”

”Uh, now?”

Okay, so sitting on a horse did not seem this scary when you were twelve.

It probably had to do with you being fearless and whatnot, but also because you did whatever your grandparents asked just to appease them. The faster you got off the damn horse, the faster you could go back inside and situate yourself in front of the TV. They thought they were making progress with you, but really you were outsmarting the outsmarters.

Sweat glazes on the underside of your hands, disrupting the security of your grasp on the reins. Yunho thought it would be wiser if he stayed on foot, guiding you and the horse around the perimeter of the pen. You hoped you didn’t look as afraid as you were, but you’re certain the slight quiver of your bottom lip gives it away.

“You’re doing fine, Y/N,” he reassures, maintaining a comforting amount of eye contact with you.

”Am I? Or does it just seem that way because you’re pulling the horse?” You quip, gripping the reins tighter when it steps over a rock and you sway a little. Your tone is laced with sarcasm, something Yunho hasn’t heard much of from you since you’ve met, but he thinks it’s cute that you resort to violence when you’re scared.

You notice the quirk of his mouth and how he’s trying not to laugh at your terror. It pisses you off solely because his humor isn’t unwarranted. You are being a bit over dramatic. He unties his bandana from around his neck and tosses it to you. “So you don’t callus your hands.”

He’s too thoughtful, too considerate for his own good, but that’s what roped you in. Even when you met for the first time, he had you figured out. The longer you stare at him, the more you realize just how perfect he is. If you were still in school and you were tasked with writing an essay about the summer you spent here, you’re sure the words would flow onto the pages flawlessly, without skipping a beat. Your prose would be so beautifully written, that even the most notable authors would be envious of your experience.

The only downside of this was the fact that time was beginning to seep through your fingers. There was mutuality in your feelings for each other, that was almost unequivocal. You were both just hesitant in taking that first leap. The uncertainty lied with that goodbye at the end of August, the one that’ll hurt a lot more than it was supposed to. But you know that postponing your unceremonious declaration of feelings would just do more harm than anything else.

One consistency you’ve singled out since coming back to the farm is this common theme of divine intervention, or fate, whatever you want to call it. Right when you’re on the brink of an epiphany, you’re always forcefully shoved into it, like a freight train crashing into its platform traveling at full speed. This moment is no different.

Yeoreum barking at a squirrel on the other side of the pen scares the horse who’s back you were currently on. It bucks up and you release the reins in alarm. You fall quickly, but Yunho’s quicker, catching you in his arms like it’s been a childhood dream of his to be a superhero. He searches your face for any indication that you might be hurt, a hand coming up to cup your cheek.

The eyes you’ve grown to adore examine your own with so much care that you find yourself melting in his hold. Your face instinctively leans into his palm, fingers still clutching the fabric of his shirt like he may drop you.

It’s nearly second-nature to minimize the gap between you.

You never understood what novelists meant when they described kissing scenes. And you think that’s because you’d never truly had a kiss like this before. It was as if they were all talking about this second, this blip in time. The sparks that shoot from where your lips meet to the tips of your fingers, the thump-thump-thump of your heartbeat in your ears, the sensation of never wanting to escape, never wanting to stop.

Yunho’s hand snakes behind your head, tangling in your hair to deepen the connection. It’s hungry. It’s desperate. It’s too much. It’s not enough. Everything that had been stacking on top of each other was leading to this, the collision that rivaled the Big Bang. You whine into his lips, an invitation but also an inquiry.

He parts from you just so he can catch his breath, his forehead resting on yours. “Can I take you inside?”

You nod fervently. “Yes. Please.”

He wastes no time hauling you to the farmhouse. His grip on your wrist is gentle as he pulls you into his bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed and trapping you between his legs. Your restraint wears thin, nimble fingers fumbling with the rest of the buttons on his denim shirt. You push it off of his shoulders, a bit shell shocked when you discover that he’s wearing a regular t-shirt as opposed to his usual tank top.

“You would pull something like this today of all days,” you laugh breathily, untucking the shirt from his pants. He reciprocates the sentiment, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck while you undress him.

“Is it evil of me to say I was sorta hoping this would happen?” He speaks into your exposed collarbone, nipping, sucking, biting the skin. Your appreciative sigh goads him, his tongue gliding across the abused surface as a form of relief.

“Mm-mm,” you hum, shaking your head, fast to yank off his shirt and run your nails down his abdomen. “I’ve been waiting for this for too long.”

“Yeah?” Yunho flips the two of you easily so you’re the one on the bed now. He pushes up the hem of your shirt, pecking your stomach to your clavicle as he shows more and more of your skin until the fabric is removed from your body. “Can’t believe I finally get to have you.”

You involuntarily moan, completely untouched and because of his words alone. Every part of you feels like it’s lit ablaze, burning with want and need and everything in between. This ran further than just what-ifs and late night fantasies. Your relationship with Yunho tiptoed on the edge of something you’ve never known before, and that makes this so much more special.

He glances up at you when his fingers reach for the button of your shorts, a silent ask for permission. You give him the green light and hold yourself up on your elbows, watching with your breathing trapped in your throat as he rids of your panties along with them. His hands push your knees to your chest, kissing your inner thighs and right around the place you need him most, but never there.

“Yunho…” You warn, but it comes across as a broken whimper rather than an establishment of authority. He laughs and then his lips are pressing to your clit, a sweet kiss that has all rationality taking a vacation from your brain. Your head tips back and you fist at the sheets.

He drags his tongue through your folds, swirling it around the sensitive bundle of nerves each time it makes its return. It’s almost criminal how good it feels to have his mouth on your cunt, eyes already heavy lidded with pleasure. He sucks on your clit at the same time he decides to insert a finger into your entrance, curling it experimentally just because he can. Like you predicted, it reaches that spongy spot at the crook of your pussy, brushing it once he’s sure he’s found it.

While you walked in on him fucking his fist, the only thing on his mind was you. He was so absorbed in the mental image of what you would look like beneath him, wiggling, writhing, squirming with indulgence. His social awareness was at a zero. This replayed over and over until he came, his thoughts so vivid he could’ve swore it was real.

But this, the actual thing, was so much better; his forearm pinning your hips down, his middle finger curling and uncurling inside of you, his mouth working overtime to inch you towards the edge of that steep cliff. He moans when your eyebrows practically coalesce, bottom lip trapped between your teeth. You look so gorgeous like this, so disoriented all because of the bliss he was providing. The vibrations of the sound have you arching your back, uncontrollable whines running from your mouth.

“Feel good?” Yunho asks, disconnecting his mouth and replacing it with his other hand, ring and middle digits swiping across your clit with practiced pressure.

“Mhm,” you nod frantically, eyes on the brink of rolling to the back of your head. “Feels so good, Yun… Just like that, ‘m almost there.”

That’s all he needs to hear, switching his hand and mouth once again, focusing on alternating harsh and gentle sucks of your clit, adding a second finger to pump in and out of your hole. The doubled change in stimulation knocks the wind out of you, the precipice of your orgasm so close you can taste it. You’d never been brought to the summit this early in the past, and you think Yunho deserves some sort of reward for being the first to do so.

You’d worry about that later though, because you’re blindsided by it before you can even conjure your next thought. You cum with a cry, tears springing to your eyes from the immense amount of ecstasy coursing through your veins, swimming in your bloodstream. Yunho coos at you, not stopping until you’ve relaxed in his hold. “That’s it, baby, you’re doing so well.”

The praise makes your head feel airy, like empty space unoccupied by anything. If you paid attention in chemistry, then you’d know that’s highly impossible, but you didn’t. The only chemistry you even remotely care about is the one between you and Yunho, the tension that has piled higher and higher for days on end until its crescendo now.

You sit up to kiss him roughly, savoring the taste of yourself on his lips. He smiles into it, a hand raising to caress the underside of your jaw. He climbs onto the bed, scooting you up so you’re positioned by the pillows. It doesn’t take much effort for your bodies to swap, his back to the headboard. You clumsily seat yourself on his lap, a knee on either side of him and sighing wistfully when his mouth trails down your throat and sternum, slender fingers sneaking behind you to unclasp your bra.

He aids you in removing his pants, still simultaneously prioritizing kisses all over your bare chest. When you’re both fully naked, you take your time admiring his cock. It’s just as pretty as you remember, long and thick. Your hand wraps around it gingerly, stroking the length as you lean down to kiss him again. You don’t think you could ever get enough of his lips on your own.

“I’m not exactly getting any action over here, so I don’t have any condoms,” he says into your kiss, voice no louder than a whisper.

“That’s okay,” you run your fingers through his hair. “Wanna feel you anyways, all of you.”

”Fuck, Y/N, you can kill a man with those words.” He groans, nails digging into your hips. You giggle, but it’s interrupted by him sitting you fully, his dick slipping through your lower lips. A whine brushes his ear when the tip catches your clit, repeating the movement until you can’t stay still.

The closest you’ll ever get to Heaven on earth is Yunho’s cock pushing inside of you, filling you up so deliciously you think you could die like this. Your jaw slackens, hands coming up to support yourself on his shoulders. Even if this is a one time thing, something that never happens again during your stay at the farm, he wants you to remember this when you go back home. He wants you to recall this sliver in your timeline and never forget it, wants his name engraved in your memory like a branding iron.

Once he feels you’ve adjusted to him well enough, he pulls you off of him almost entirely, just to ram back in without mercy. He punches a voluminous moan from you, eyes watching where he disappears in you and reemerges. You’re tighter and so much warmer than he dreamed you’d be, but it’s perfect. You suck him in like a vacuum, as if his cock was made to be inside of you, as if you didn’t want him to part from you.

“You’re s-so deep, Yun,” you mewl, pulling him in for another headache-inducing kiss. “Don’t wanna stop.”

He exhales through his nostrils, mumbling out a curse when your walls squeeze around him. He wanted to last a while for you, wanted to hold out and prolong this moment until you were both on the crest of passing out. But you feel like a glove, your silk-adjacent cunt begging for more and more.

“Think I might cum soon, princess,” he groans, tossing his head back and just about losing every ounce of his sanity when your lips start marking the column of his throat.

His big hands move under your thighs, holding you in place so he can fuck up into you. The pace at which his cock drills in and out of your pussy has you seeing stars, eyes snapping shut and nothing but colorful spots decorating your vision. You were already abhorrently sensitive following your first orgasm, so it didn’t really take much to introduce the second.

Your hips stutter and it washes over you like a tidal wave, your body shuddering and collapsing into his top half. He pulls out of you quickly, mouth stationed by your ear as he jerks himself off until he’s painting your backside. He moans, a lot like the sounds he was making the other night, and you feel the need to just kiss him again.

Your lips lock sweetly, a stark contrast to your previous actions. Yunho curves a hand on your cheek, seperating from you the smallest distance so he can admire you. The smile that etches onto his expression makes you dizzier than anything else. However, the cutesiness can only span so long before the setting gives way.

Yunho’s hand snakes in between you, his forefinger sliding up and down your slit teasingly. Your breath comes out shaky, your face finding purchase in the crook of his neck. He replaces the digit with his middle finger, parting your pussy lips in search of your clit. It doesn’t take him very long to find it, rubbing tight circles into the engorged skin. You moan into his shoulder, resting your forehead on it to see the way he works your cunt.

“You’re so wet, baby. Have I not fucked you enough?” He whispers into your ear huskily. Yunho talking dirty to you is something you didn’t know you needed in your life. His finger slips downward, thrusting up into your hole with ease. He keeps massaging your clit with his palm, the stimulation making your head woozy.

“Mmmph— Yun, god. Feels too good.” You whine, gyrating your hips on his hand.

“Is that right, babe?” He encourages, adding a second finger and increasing the speed of their thrusts, almost like you hadn’t been in this position already. “I can’t wait to feel this tight little pussy around my cock again. Gonna fuck you harder than the last.”

Your whimpers raise in volume, focusing on the way he curls his digits in you, applying pressure with the heel of his palm to the circles he’s rubbing into your clit. You can sense your third orgasm approaching, warmth flooding your cheeks at how embarrassingly fast he worked you back up. Your walls clench around his fingers, alerting him of how close you are. He pauses, worming his body down so his face is eye level with your cunt again.

Yunho does the whole teasing thing a second time, kissing and suckling the hot skin of your belly, knowingly denying you of your release. You grab a handful of his hair, tugging at the ends to spur him on. He groans, giving into you and licking a straight line up your slit. He inserts both fingers again, this time using his tongue to manipulate your swollen clit.

The heat of Yunho’s mouth makes your insides ache, the necessity to cum intensifying. You keen loudly, desperately, needily, the sight of the brunette between your legs so incredibly arousing. He sucks on your throbbing clit, his long fingers as deep as they can go, and you crumble.

“Oh my god— oh my god— I’m cumming! I’m—” You cut yourself off, convulsing under him. He laps up as much of your juices as he can, coating his chin with your release. You moan as you pull him towards you to unify your lips, a mixture of your saliva and cum connect your mouths in strings. At this point, the sex is messier than anything you could’ve plucked from your wildest dreams.

One hand trails down your body, using your nimble fingers to play with your sensitive clit when he starts fisting his cock in preparation to enter your pussy again. You use your free hand to scratch at his contracting abs. He hisses, propping himself up with one arm next to your head and his eyes trained on the way you finger yourself at the same time. You can feel his breath on your cheeks and being in this proximity to him fuels your yearning.

“Please, Yun… Need you back inside of me,” you whimper. Rubbing your clit with your own fingers isn’t satisfying enough, not with him here in front of you, not when you know how good he can make you feel.

“Fuck, baby, when you beg like that I don’t know if I can hold back.” He chuckles lowly. It rumbles from his chest, shooting to your core.

“So don’t,” you rouse. “This is more than just a one time thing for me, Yunho.”

His eyes widen just a bit, your confession catching him off guard. That’s all he needs to line himself up with your hole, hooking his forearm under your knee as he slides in, stretching your cunt so perfectly with his perfect cock. “Shit— you’re so tight, princess… It’s almost like I didn’t just fuck you within an inch of your life.” He moans and spreads your legs wider. He bottoms out with a grunt, throwing his head back from the feeling of your velvety walls. A near deafening cry is ripped from your vocal cords. He nips at your neck, starting to piston his hips.

His thrusts don’t slow but become calculated, speeding up and diving deep simultaneously. It only took a short amount of time to figure out what you liked and he used it to his advantage. Yunho hikes your knee to your chest, groping your tits with his free hand. He twists and tugs at your nipples just hard enough that it contributes to your pleasure rather than hurts you.

It’s as if he doesn’t feel buried inside of you sufficiently, because he decreases his pace to press and fold your other leg up, his hips ramming into your ass with each thrust now. The tip of his cock kisses at what feels like your cervix. That familiar coil begins to fasten again, keening with every drive into your cunt. The squelching noises would’ve made you cower in shame with anyone else, but with Yunho it turns you on further.

You moan, and he flattens his hand on the lower part of your stomach. Yunho groans, biting the skin where your shoulder meets your neck. Your fingers find your clit again, circling insatiably to get yourself off.

“You gonna cum for me again?” He rasps, his hold on your legs almost painful. The backs of your thighs burn, but you endure it for the sake of the moment. You reach up and behind yourself, grabbing at the headboard in an attempt to match his force.

“Oh my god, yes— yes yes yes yes,” you babble, the syllables blurring together like your mind. “Gonna cum so hard for you, Yunho. Keep going, please.”

His lips attach to yours, tongues tangling sloppily. The position you’re in is on the opposite end of the spectrum from how you were expecting this summer reunion to go. Had you not been made aware of Yunho living here at the last minute, you probably would’ve backed out of your commitment to staying. Deep down you’re a little too thankful that your grandmother mentioned him when it was too late to reconsider.

“I think I’m in love with you, Y/N,” Yunho whispers into your mouth.

You let go of the headboard, cupping his jaw and kissing him lovingly. “Me too.”

Your fingers speed up and so do his thrusts, perfectly timed with each other to shove you both towards your highs. You’re on the cusp of falling apart, arching into him to close the gap between your bodies.

“Wanna cum inside you. Can I?” Yunho grunts.

“Yes yes, please. Fill me up, Yun, want all of you.”

He continues to abuse your cunt, pounding into you like his life depended on it. You sob, clamping your walls around him. He freezes, suddenly spilling into you. “Come on, baby, cum on my cock.” The warmth of his release and his words coax your orgasm, the fluttering of your cunt milking every single drop from him that it can. Even with his dick plugging you up, you can feel it dripping out of you and onto the sheets below.

He rocks into you languidly until you’ve calmed down enough for him to pull out. His forehead is flush on your chest, rising and falling with it, both of you so spent from the intense physical activity you engaged in. You stare up at the ceiling with heavy eyelids, carding your fingers through his hair to soothe him.

“You meant what you said right? About this not being a one time thing.” Yunho says hesitantly, like he’s afraid of permeating the atmosphere you created.

“I don’t think I can go home at the end of the summer and forget the way I feel for you, Yunho.” You admit out loud. There had been a constant struggle in your head over whether or not to follow your heart, but as he looks at you with those sparkly eyes of his, you know your answer. And you feel a little stupid for ever considering the counter.

“And what exactly are those feelings?” He pushes, folding his hands on your sternum and laying his cheek on top. You giggle, brushing his hair out of his view. As tempting as it was to divulge your theatrical journey in assessing your emotions, you’re too exhausted to stay awake. It would have to wait for another day.

“You have the rest of the summer to find out, cowboy.”

#ateez #ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez jeong yunho #ateez yunho #ateez yunho x reader #ateez yunho smut #jeong yunho x reader #jeong yunho smut #yunho x reader #yunho smut #yunhoszn

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missadangel · 5 months ago

Text

The Heart of Rome (Marcus Acacius x OC)

All Chapters List

III. The Intention

"Veritas Odit Moras"

Truth Hates Delay.

"Septimia Aurelia, do you know how much I have searched for you, my lady?"

You regarded him with surprise and were rendered speechless.

The man carefully looked around and then grabbed your wrist to move you to a more secluded spot against the wall. "You've got a lot of attention, dressing like this, it's pretty clear who you are. When did you get here? You've read the letter? Have you told anyone about it? I hope you haven’t."

Your heart was racing, your ears were ringing, and the man's voice sounded distant.

"May I ask who you are, sir?"

How is it possible that you knew nothing while he knew so much more than you?

“I’m Macrinus, my lady. You might not remember me; you were too young. I’m the one who took you to Vicius.”

Vicius was your uncle's real name, the one your father had mentioned in the letter.

“I went to Egypt to find you as your father ordered. However, Vicius was reluctant; I’m not blaming him, but—” he glanced over your shoulder as if he was looking for something behind you."How did you return to Rome? Where is he now?"

You tried to understand what he said, but it was very difficult, too much for one day.

"He has passed away, and I was brought here as a captive," you said in a low voice, your eyes bright with tears as you recalled him once more—especially in this way—stung you anew.

He touched your shoulder. "It seems that your return was unfortunate. You must have opened the letter. You didn’t lose it, did you?"

You dabbed at your eyes with the tips of your fingers, wiping away the tears. "It doesn't matter now, sir. I was brought here as a slave."

“What slave? You are the daughter of a divine emperor. Who purchased you? Who is your master?”

You remained expressionless and refused to give him the General's name. You knew it might put him in a difficult position and you had no intention of trusting him."Sir, I am a slave, and I must live as one."

"You can't be serious, please. This is your birthright, and you must demand what you deserve."

"How?"

"I will present it to the Senate, and it is likely to receive their support. However, I must first weaken Geta," he stated firmly and decisively.

“But-."

"I have to go now before they get suspicious. I will help you. I’ve promised your father."

“Sir I-"

"I have a lot to tell you. Trust me and wait," he said, striding across the temple..

This man claimed to be a friend of your father's, but you were uncertain whether to trust him. The situation was a significant source of distress for you, both mentally and physically. You felt a sense of nausea, pressing your hand and then your arm against the wall in an attempt to regain your composure. You closed your eyes and pressed your forehead to your arm, attempting to gain control of your thoughts. At that moment, you heard a voice you recognized calling out to you.

"My Lady!" Octavius hurried over to your side, looking concerned.

When you opened your eyes, you saw his sandals first because you were glancing down to ground, you then lifted your head up.

“Are you well? Did someone hurt you?” He looked around angrily, ready to draw his sword. You put out your hand and stopped him.

“Calm down, sir. I'm fine."

Octavian pulled his hand away, taken aback by your touch. “I've been looking for you everywhere. The general sent me to find you, he was worried.”

You brushed a few strands of hair from your face with the back of your hand. "I'm sorry, I got a little nervous in the crowd and pulled away."

"Yes, it was unexpected for everyone. The emperors were in a hurry to get to the games, so they cut the ceremony short. I couldn't get you to the carriage in time. Forgive me."

"You still treat me like a lady, sir," you teased him.

He smiled. "If you don't mind, I'd like to keep it up. Shall we? The games are about to begin."

He gestured to the waiting carriage in the distance.

You were mesmerised by the splendour of this building, sitting in the part of the Colosseum intended for slaves and others. From your vantage point, you surveyed the area where the emperors and the General were seated, though they were not clearly visible from your distance. However, when they stood and advanced to deliver their opening speeches, you could see them more distinctly in their white shawls.

Caracalla and Geta raised their hands and greeted the crowd, while they chanted their names repeatedly loudly.

"People of Rome! Today, we gather to honor the glorious, greatest General Marcus Acacius.”

Applause and voices rose as Geta extended his hand to the General, you were filled with excitement. He took his hand, came forward and raised his hand. He looked up at the top bleachers and searched the crowd, his eyes determined to find you, but it was hard from such a distance.

Caracalla grasped the General's other hand. He was between them, the crowd now chanting all three of their names.

"Are you ready to see these magnificent, mind-blowing games to celebrate his extraordinary achievements?”

When the crowd responded enthusiastically in the affirmative, Geta and Caracalla shouted excitedly at the same time.

“Then let the games begiiiiiiiiiiiin!”

The thick iron gates of the arena rumbled open and two chariots thundered in, their arrival accompanied by the roar of trumpets and the beating of drums. They circled round the arena and stopped in front of the general and the emperors. While the emperors applauded them enthusiastically, the soldiers in charge ordered them to step aside and the chariots moved forward, their warriors saluting the crowd.

“Now, Gladiatoooooors!” Geta shouted and pointed to the other door. The crowd continued to cheer louder when they saw the iron-armored warriors coming out one by one. Every step was a sharp noise, echoing through the arena. The gladiators, seven in number, turned to the emperors and saluted them.

“Ave Imperatores, morituri te salutant!” Hail Emperors, those who are about to die salute you!

Caracalla looked at the General, smiling widely.

“Today, the speech is yours, General Acacius!” he shouted and clasped his hand, and sat on his throne.

"Spur them on, you're the expert, I want to see some blood,” Geta said to the general with a wink and sat on his throne, legs crossed, clapping. From a distance, you couldn't hear them or see his face clearly, but you were certain the General was not pleased. As the General raised his arms in the air, the crowd fell silent, and the shouting died down, allowing you to rest your ears a little.

“As a soldier, I can tell you this: When you engage in combat, it is important to maintain a positive mindset and avoid thoughts of defeat. You must only think about winning! However, winning is not easy, not just about killing your enemy or defeating him. Absolutely not. Winning is about being remembered with honor, like a hero, even if you die in the end! A true soldier most likely, is not afraid of death. Neither is a true gladiator! He embraces it, caresses it, and even defies it! Today, we want to see a real gladiator who can kill death itself! Prove you can achieve it and make your emperors proud! Fight with honor and win the crowd!”

The general's speech was a roaring success, prompting a rapturous response from the assembled crowd. The drums beat again, and the gladiators raised their swords in salute to the general and gathered together in a defensive position.

He was the real deal: a genuine commander and warrior. He made your heart beat fast and you admired him.

As the battle between gladiators and other warriors commenced, you began to feel a certain degree of apprehension. You had seen blood and wounded people before, of course, but this was not the point. The point was that these warriors, whose bodies were being ruthlessly cut and torn apart, were being watched with enthusiasm and laughter by the crowd. You were grateful for the top stand, thankful that you were watching from there. You knew you wouldn't have been able to bear to see such an atrocity up close.

The warriors in the chariot had lost all their horses, also torn apart mercilessly, they jumped down and attacked the gladiators with their spears, killing, and butchering a few in the process. Only two gladiators and three warriors remained. They all had cuts on exposed parts of their bodies and blood oozing from their injured areas, but they were completely focused on survival and didn't have time to care. The dusty floor of the Colosseum was stained red, and the smell of blood wafted around in clouds of dust, like the smell of red-hot iron. The gladiators roared their triumph as they slew the last of the warriors, and their voices echoed throughout the Colosseum. The sounds of drumbeats, applause, whistles, cheers, curses, and laughter filled the air.

The emperors rose to their feet and expressed their approval and support for the gladiators through applause and cheers. Once their orations had concluded, the gladiators proceeded through the reopened iron gates, whereupon the drumming ceased. The sole remaining auditory stimulus was the noise of the crowd. The general and emperors were no longer visible, so you decided to leave, as the noise was already causing a headache.

Your legs were aching as you descended the steps, but it was just as hard to get down as it was to get up. After all, you had watched from the top and it was quite high. You had never been up to such a high building before and you were certain that you would never go up again.

When you reached the ground floor, you looked around, but there was no one you recognized. Senators and other dignitaries were leaving the Coliseum one by one, talking among themselves about the evening banquet. You weren't sure that the General would take you there. He was nowhere to be seen, but you kept looking for him. When you took a few steps in the opposite direction to where the people were coming from, you were frightened that you might meet your brothers. When you saw a white shawl his wearing, you approached the General, who was talking to one of the senators. He turned his head and saw you. But you noticed the emperors were walking towards you from another direction. You reeled back in shock and turned on your heel. You were never prepared to see them so close. You strode through the exit and headed for the stairs. Since already climbed and descended quite a few stairs today your feet were no longer firmly planted on the ground. As you quickly went down, you suddenly lost your balance and found yourself on the ground. You shivered when you felt the cold stones against your skin and scowled at the women nearby who were laughing at you as you tried to figure out what had happened. You sat down on the marble stairs, heard his voice and footsteps hurrying down behind you, and soon felt the breeze from his shawl caress your back."Aya!" The General reached out, grasped your hand gently, and lifted you up.

"Are you alright?" He checked your feet and then your face, clearly concerned.

“Ah, as always, our General is a gentleman, isn't he, brother?”

Your heart nearly leaped out of your chest when you heard Caracalla's voice so close. They must have seen the General holding your hand so you immediately withdrew them from the General's and stepped back, bowing your head. However, they were already descending the stairs slowly, their gaze fixed on you.

“Indeed, aren’t you going to introduce us to this beautiful lady, General Acacius?” Geta asked curiously. From where he stood, he looked taller than the general.

“Is she your secret lover or something?” Caracalla chuckled, tilting his head to see your face clearly.

“My emperors, the carriage has arrived,” you could have sworn you'd heard that voice before. When you looked at her, the Empress Julia Domna stared at you raising her eyebrows and came a little closer. You averted your eyes, the feeling that you had seen this woman before took over your whole body and made you even more nervous than your brothers did.

“We just met the General's lover, Mother,” Caracalla laughed.

“Lover?” She sized you up and gave you a stunned look.

“My slave highness,” the General corrected him. You immediately bowed your head and greeted them formally.

“A slave? How fortunate you are, I have never seen such a beautiful slave,” Geta said, his eyes wide, and you felt him tense as the General's body moved slightly in front of yours. You felt grateful as you hid yourself behind his shawl.

“She reminded me of the Germans, remember?" he chuckled and covered his mouth.

Geta accompanied his laughter and punched him jokingly in the shoulder. Then he looked at you again. “Restrain yourself, brother, this is something completely different, you know what I mean?"

Caracalla huffed, “Tempting!"

You had no idea what they were talking about, and despite your best efforts to keep your eyes off Julia, she was always looking at you.

“Bring her to the banquet,” Caracalla said excitedly, clasping his hands together.

“But Highness, you know, women are not allowed there,” Julia said loudly.

“The Empress is right, only senators and patricians, just like any other banquets,” the General said with a sharp tone.

“How boring, I'd like her to serve me, pour me some wine, so I'd see a pretty face instead of those ugly blokes' faces all night.” Caracalla pursed his lips.

Geta sighed at his reaction and put his palm in his foreground. “You’re still a child brother, if you want a girl to get laid, I'll get you one after the banquet,” he turned his head to general. “Spending the night with another Roman's slave would be a bit of theft,” he said with a grin that showed all of his teeth at the General.

The General clenched his jaw and looked at him menacingly. You felt shivers run down your spine. Domna looked at them with concern and tried to ease the atmosphere by clapping her hands. “That's enough gentlemen, I'm famished, watching the games made me real hungry,” she took Geta's arm “Shall we?” She must have been pretty familiar with this kind of situation.

Geta turned to General one last time, ”We wanted to send you a new slave as a gift, tonight,” his eyes searching you up and down.

"That is very kind of you, but I must refuse,” the General said in a firm tone.

He inhaled deeply, "It's not hard to guess why," he smiled crookedly.

“Then I want it for myself, as you promised,” Caracalla whined, taking Geta's other arm.

“Share with me?”

“You just said it's a theft.”

“Cruel.”

They kept up their debate while they walked towards the waiting carriage. It seemed like the tension was slowly easing.

Once they were in their carriage and out of sight, the general turned to you with a look of frustrated annoyance on his face. Meeting your brothers for the first time was awkward, but it was clear that they had always been like that, and everyone, including their mother, accepted it as normal.

“Are they always like this?”

“Worse.”

“They're like spoiled little children,” you snapped.

He let out a little laugh, putting a hand to his mouth, which surprised you. You thought he'd scold you for criticizing the emperors in his presence. But he didn’t, also, his smile was so beautiful that you couldn't help but smile back.

“Have you seen the games? What do you think?” The General asked you curiously.

“Well a bit, bloody.”

He smirked. “But you're used to seeing blood,” he looked around as if he was waiting for something.

“Yes, but I don't like it when people cut each other mercilessly,” you said in a stubborn tone.

“It's called survival.”

“The game of survival,” you murmured. “I don't know, it doesn't feel right,” you said honestly.

“I'm a warrior too you know, I've fought there countless times,” he said with a proud smile on his face.

You looked at him in surprise, of course, you had expected it, but you shuddered when you imagined him there, fighting for his survival. Soon a carriage pulled up beside you both, he touched your shoulder.

"You'd better go to the villa now. They're expecting me at the banquet," he said.

“I want to say thank you, for bringing me here today,” you said softly as he helped you into the carriage.

“The pleasure is mine," he said gently, his eyes meeting yours made you smile undoubtedly.

He then gestured to the coachman and the horses began to move, pulling the carriage forward.

As the carriage carried you away from the General, you continued to observe him from beneath the curtain until his silhouette in white receded from your view.

The next morning, you opened your eyes and smiled when you heard the rooster crowing cheerfully. You sat up with a yawn, you saw that Norell was already up her mattress was empty, clearly started the day before you. You looked out the window while your mind returned to the events of the previous day. You thought about the ceremony, the games, the gladiators, the blood, your first sight of your arrogant and strange brothers, and that brown-skinned man, Macrinus. And of course, the General. When he stood with that golden crown on his head… You smiled to yourself, remembering him, and suddenly your cheeks flushed. You were surprised every time because you had never experienced such feelings in your body before. It was all so new to you.

On the other hand, you couldn't stop thinking about what Macrinus had said. You were sure he was planning something. It was hard to know if it would be right to tell the General everything, how he would react, who he would side with. Then you remembered the letter, and your body stiffened almost like a statue of Venus. It had completely slipped your mind that you had left it in his room. He didn't have a chance to touch his stuff yesterday because he arrived late at the villa, but he would definitely touch it eventually. You quickly tidied yourself and your hair and walked out of your room. As you stood there by the stairs leading up to the General's room, wondering what to do, Norell came up to you, carrying a tray with food on it.

“Are you taking this to the General?”

“Yes, he must be awake by now.”

“I'll take it to him,” you said and took the tray from her.

“Are you sure? The Master has warned us not to let you do too much work.”

“I'll talk to him, don't worry, I need to check his wound anyway,” you said smiling at her.

“Well, I was afraid of dropping the tray,” she gasped.

“What's wrong?” you put the tray on a nearby chair and went over to her, she was pressing her hand to her stomach.

“Well, it’s my moon,” she smiled at you, her freckled cheeks flushed.

“Oh, do you want me to give you an herbal mixture for the pain?”

“Would that help?”

“It works for me.”

You strode into the room and picked up your leather bag, looking through the few remaining bottles of medicine. You were running low on supplies. When you returned to her side, Norell was sitting in a chair, pressing her hands to her stomach.

You poured some of the medicine from the bottle into a bowl on the tray and crushed it, then poured a little wine into a cup, also from the tray, and diluted the mixture.

"That was the master's cup," Norell declared.

"I'll get a new one from the kitchen, drink this, and I'll be right back."

You had to cross to the other courtyard to get to the kitchen, where you had last entered the balneum. You felt your cheeks flush as you remembered the last time you were there with the General there. You returned to the main courtyard with a new cup, put it on the tray, and looked at Norell, who was grimacing as she drank the herbal concoction you had given her.

"This tastes awful," she complained.

"That's why you should drink it all, dear,” you smiled at her.

Then you picked up the tray and ascended the stairs, one by one. You stopped in front of the General's room, propped the tray up with one hand, and knocked on the door with the other. You opened the door and entered. He was sitting at his desk, looking at papers. He seemed busy. You saw the calamus pen and papers in his hand and knew you had to make a plan to get the letter before he found it.

When he looked up and saw you, he raised his eyebrows. "Have you decided to be my slave now?"

"Well, Norell is not feeling well. I'm helping her, at least for today." You put the tray down on the table and turned towards him, your gaze fixed on the wooden chest next to him.

"What's wrong? Is she alright?"

"It's a woman's issue that happens every month," you explained.

"Oh, I see," he murmured and returned to his papers.

“May I take a look at your wound? As your medicus, of course.”

"So you will appear to be both my slave and medicus today.” He put the pen on the desk, took the paper in his hand, folded it, stuffed it into the envelope, and sealed with pressing his own seal on the wax.

"I guess I am, for today," your eyes were still on the chest, wondering how to get the letter without him noticing.

His lips curled into a smile. "I feel blessed.”

Acacius stood, wearing a dark purple tunic with gold embroidery on the sleeves and collar. He walked over to his bed and sat on the edge of it, looking at you. You moved closer to him and had to bend down to check on his wound. Looking at him out of the corner of your eye, you put your bag on the bed, a bit away from him who had rolled up his tunic.

As you stood in front of him and leaned over him, he was surprised to feel the light breeze of your hair hit his face. He leaned back a little, but it gave him a better view of your breasts, he swallowed hard making him stunned. Then he turned his head away, even though it was so difficult for him, but he waited patiently. You were no different from him as you checked his wound, oblivious to everything, touching his skin made you tense every time.

The General's wound was almost healed but you noticed a rash around the cut.

“Do you have any itching or pain, sir?”

“Itching, yes, a little, pain, no.”

There’s pain, thought Acacius, but it's not where my wound is, deep in my chest.

He turned his head towards you again and looked into your beautiful eyes shining like a gem under your long eyelashes, he embraced his pain meanwhile. But it wasn't just it. The general was experiencing a whole range of sensations he hadn't felt in a long time, and it was unlike anything he'd ever fully experienced with a woman. You unintentionally revived memories of his naive and callow youth, but he appeared to find it amusing.

“I need to make an ointment for that-“

But just as you straightened up to reach for your bag, you felt pressure and pain in your neck. Looking down, you realize that the chains of the necklace you were wearing were caught in the trimmings on the collar of the general's tunic, stuck in its threads.

He was taken aback, but perhaps not as much as you were. The expression on your face, as you tried to pull your neck backward in utter shock, made him giggle. Unfortunately, you found it difficult to remain calm and the first thing that came to your mind was to unlock the necklace. So when you reached your hands back behind your neck, you lost your balance and fell on top of him. The General was a trained soldier, with well-developed arm and back muscles and a body that could easily carry such a light load in that position. All in all, he was a man so when you fell and your breasts hit his muscular chest, feeling them beneath the thin fabric, made him fall backward onto the bed.

You gasped as you found yourself in this awkward situation without even realizing how it had happened. With a quick move, you put one hand on the bed to sit up and realized that the other was on the general's chest, you withdrew it and looked at his face to check his reaction. The general looked back at you, his dark brown eyes locked on yours, but you were blinking your eyes in surprise. You frantically tried to stand up, but your necklace, as if mocking you, wouldn't let you. He grabbed your shoulders and stopped you as you struggled over his body. You were making it difficult for him to remain calm with your movements, and he was starting to lose his patience.

“Easy, would you?” He growled. His hands reached behind your neck and he murmured as he unlocked the necklace. "Stay still. I can't restrain myself if you keep moving like this.”

Your face flushed like a crimson hue as you realized what he was talking about, gasped as you felt between your legs, beneath the fabric, a part of his body pressing against your womanhood.

“You really don't know how to behave around a man, you are so careless,” he chastised you.

Once your neck was free from the damn necklace, you stood up quickly, feeling a slight soreness in your neck.

“I've spent more time around men than you think, sir,” you mumbled, rubbing the back of your neck with your hand.

As he removed your necklace from the collar of his tunic, a few threads of the fabric snapped with it. “But you were dressing like them, they didn't know you were a woman,” he corrected you. ‘You have to be careful from now on, especially when you're dressed like this.’

"Forgive me, sir," you said, feeling a little embarrassed to look him in the face.

"Your face is as red as wine," he chuckled, sitting up in bed.

You bit your lower lip and pursed your lips, then went over to your bag and picked it up to make the ointment. The medicine bottles rattled as they came out of the bag, and the general looked at them curiously. "You've been carrying these in your bag all this time?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," you replied, uncapping the green bottle, shaking it, and pouring a few drops into the empty bowl on the tray. As you stirred and softened the ointment with your index finger you murmured, “I made all this myself, but it’s almost ran out.’

“Impressive.”

Once the ointment was ready to be applied, you took the bowl in your other hand and approached the general.

“Sir, I need to apply this ointment to the wound.”

“Careful and don't throw yourself on me this time,” he giggled as he grabbed the hem of his tunic and pulled it up once more.

You swallowed and cleared your throat, trying to stay calm, dipped the tip of your finger into the bowl, took some and applied it to the wound.

"You're making the same mistake again," he teased.

You frowned, not quite understanding what he was saying. You were sure you applied the ointment well, but looks like this was not the issue. When you looked at him, you caught him staring at your breasts. He grabbed your wrist and pulled you to him, his eyes meeting yours. His brown eyes were warm and intense, making your heart melt.

"Never bend over another man like that," he whispers.

As his warm breath brushed against your cheek, your heartbeat quickened. "I-I won't," you stammered.

He released your wrist, and you stepped back and put the bowl on the desk. “It needs to be applied at night too, I think you can handle it,” you said with your back turned. You glanced at the wooden chest out of the corner of your eye. It seemed like you wouldn't have a chance to get the letter, at least not while he was still in his room.

“Yes, I'm grateful,” said the general, standing up and coming over to you taking the bowl and sniffing it.

"The aroma is pleasing; what is this?"

You smiled at him. “Asphodeloideae (aloe vera), sir, it does indeed have a pleasing aroma. It has been demonstrated to accelerate the healing of burns and itching wounds. But I'm afraid it's about to run out, so just use it until it's finished.”

Acacius perched himself on the edge of this desk, looking at you. “Carrying all these bottles in your bag might be a little difficult. Besides, you say you're out of supplies, I will be traveling to the city and subsequently to the barracks tomorrow, would you like to come with me?”

“To the barracks?”

“Absolutely not,” his voice was loud and sharp. “I meant to say, I shall convey you to the city in my carriage, and return for you when I have finished my business.”

Pleased by his offer, “Sir, that would be great, thank you.”

He smiled softly at you and walked over to the table to eat the food you had brought for him. As you grabbed your bag and headed for the door to leave the room, he stopped you by extending his hand.

“Won't you join me?”

You turned your head to him. He pointed to the chair opposite him with his hand. “Have a seat, I need to make sure my medicus has eaten something.”

You smiled, did as he said, putting your bag down. Acacius picked up the wine cup, you reached for the decanter before him.

“Allow me, please.”

He smiled gratefully as you poured the wine from the decanter into his cup.

“You are getting better and better at being a slave, you are willing to fulfill all my needs. Except one.”

You almost spilled all the wine when you met his piercing eyes. You slowly placed the decanter on the tray. While you were calculating what to say, he put his hand on yours which holds the handle of the decanter.

"Don't you have any feelings for me?” He was looking at you from under his eyebrows, eagerly waiting for your answer.

His gaze shifted from your lips to your eyes, you lingered looking into his eyes, even if you said what you felt now, it was very difficult to predict what would happen next. You wondered if he would love you for who you really were.

“It's all so new to me also very hard to say anything for sure. But…"

“But?”

You were trying to think rationally under the influence of his gaze, but you were failing.

“I feel happy when I'm with you, and… I miss you when you're not around,” you admitted, feeling your cheeks burning.

“At least there's a silver lining.” Acacius smiled widely, lifted your hand, and placed a kiss on it.

It was an ordinary day in the streets of Rome, blessed by clear sky and sunshine. The sounds of birdsong were interspersed with those of the rooster. Some people wandered the streets on foot, chatting to each other, while others mounted horses and rode along the stone paths at a pace that caused the hooves of the horses to clatter against the buildings with a distinct echoing sound. The sound of a nearby blacksmith's hammer striking an anvil could be heard in the distance, accompanied by the voices of merchants trying to attract customers to their businesses and draw attention to the goods they were offering for sale. Women often inspected the exhibits before making a purchase and then had their slaves carry them home. Since the clothing and accessories worn by each group reflected their status, it was relatively easy to distinguish between social classes.

You and Norell were walking around the streets in your slave clothes and cloaks to buy something just like other Romans. You still couldn't get used to these clothes. When men and women stared at you, wished you were invisible, as you used to be.

You entered the market street and noticed the large crowd gathered in front of the stalls. There were pots, vegetables, fruits, fabrics, fish, butchers, and plants. The plants, herbs, and flowers on the stalls were very varied and fresh. Once you had purchased what you needed and placed it in your bags, you walked down the street once more, recounting to Norell the events of the previous day and your observations at the Colosseum, as she had requested.

"You know he's in love with you, right?" Norell looked at you suggestively through her yellowish eyelashes.

"Are you talking about the General?

“Is there someone else?" she teased, then inhaled deeply. "I wouldn't be surprised, you're quite attractive."

“Oh, Norell, please," you whined.

“I know you love him too, why are you avoiding my question?"

You smiled shyly, “I’m not sure what I feel. How can you be so sure of his feelings anyway?”

You both waited for a carriage to pass in front of you before crossing the street.

“Because I've known him since I was young and I've never seen the General like this before. Even Tullia is worried, she's angry with you, you know.”

You looked at her with your hazel eyes wide open. “Why? But I didn't do anything wrong, I did everything the General asked.”

Once the carriage had passed, you crossed the street and continued walking along the avenue where the west front of the Colosseum was visible. Norell took your arm.

“I don't know how it was where you come from, but here slaves have to fulfill their master’s every need. So Tullia thinks you’re not obeying him.” You were offended by being treated as a slave, but you couldn't blame her for being unaware of the truth about you. You turned your head to her and kept your voice low. “He said he would not touch me against my will.”

“Oh, that's why he's so upset then.”

You stopped and looked at her. “Upset?”

Her brown eyes looked sad. “Every night before I go to bed, I see him looking deep in thought at his balcony. And during the day, he's there, watching whatever you're doing. It's not like him.”

Was he? Somewhere deep in your chest, you felt a sharp, intense pain.

“Other slaves, the beautiful ones, are raped, killed or sold. Even among the nobles, there are those who are forced into marriage and have to sleep with a man they don't love. I know you've never been touched by a man before and neither have I. But if I found someone who could love me the way he loves you, I would give myself to him.” She blinks at you.

You were absolutely certain of her sincerity, but your situation was quite different from that of other slaves, even from all other Roman women.

“I suppose I should confess my feelings to myself first,” you murmured.

“My Lady!”

You and Norell turned to see who was speaking. You were surprised to see Macrinus standing next to you in his cloak.

"I was hoping to meet you," he said, looking around, then came closer. "But, you are very careless," he said in a low voice. "You attract too much attention."

You couldn't understand what he was saying. "Sir, why do you seem to be hiding?”

"I'm lurking because I've been following you for some time, and luckily I found you without anyone noticing."

"Why did you follow me?"

"We need to talk, but not here. We are too exposed.”

“What's going on, Aya? Who is this man?” You forgot for a moment that Norell was looking at you both in confusion.

Macrinus looked at her and then at you then he turned his head to the street.

“Norell, I'll tell you everything later,” you said, touching her shoulder then turned to Macrinus. “Sir, I don't think it’s the right time-”

He grabbed your arm gently. “You don't realize how much danger you are in, Julia suspects something and it's only a matter of time before she finds you.”

“How do you mean?”

"I'll tell you everything, but right now we need to move." He gestured to you as he walked to the other side of the street, you nodded and pulled Norell's arm, you felt uncomfortable going without her.

"Are you going to tell me what is happening? Who is this man?"

"Trust me and wait, I'll tell you everything at once, I promise."

She wasn't convinced, but she nodded and remained silent.

You and Norell followed Macrinus for a few more streets, maintaining a safe distance from the people around you. It didn't take long for you to notice that the streets were getting quieter. There were fewer people around, and the streets were narrower and more secluded. After passing through a narrow, dead-end street, Macrinus stopped, threw back his hood, and turned to you. When you realized Norell was squeezing your arm, you looked at her. Seeing her looking at a structure at the end of the street, petrified. You turned your head to that direction to find out what was worrying her. It was a large but untidy two-story house. The curtains were blowing out of the windows in the wind, they were all red.

“Gods, it’s…whore house," Norell muttered.

You turned to Macrinus in disbelief. At that moment, two men approached you from down the street, surveyed you both, and continued on their way, laughing.

“I'm sorry, my lady, but this is the safest place to talk.”

"To talk? What are you planning? How could you think I would be in such a place?"

Your voice echoed through the cobbled streets as Macrinus approached you, his expression grave.

"I can't speak to you safely anywhere else, your appearance would draw attention if we were in a tavern or other. But this place is too remote for anyone to think of it, you know what I mean, and nothing will happen to you, the one who runs this place knows me and I trust her."

When Norell grabbed your arm, you moved a little away from Macrinus, closer to the wall.

“Look Aya, I don't know what's going on, but this is not good, if the General finds out about this-.”

"I know. He knows my real family, and I trust him.” You lied. “Don't worry, you go to the place where we'll meet with the carriage and wait for me. I don't want you to go there with me."

"I don't think you should go in there either."

You gave Macrinus a quick look, then turned to Norell. "I know, it won't take long, I promise."

Norell looked at you and Macrinus with concern.

"If you won't be there in time, I'll tell the General everything," she said, sounding more like she wanted Macrinus to hear him. You looked at him in panic, but he didn't look surprised. You knew that moment you had to talk to him, no matter what. You were almost certain that he was planning to threaten the General through you.

Once Norell turned the corner into another alley, you turned to Macrinus. He smiled at you, turned, and walked towards the house. He no longer seemed nervous, as if he comes here, and walks through here often. You, however, were tense, feeling abandoned by Norell's leaving and like you'd put yourself in great danger.

Macrinus lifted the iron knocker of the big wooden door and rapped twice. At that moment, you tensed even more as you heard voices coming from inside, your face flushing red with embarrassment. A short, poorly dressed man opened the door and looked at Macrinus, then at you. When his eyes met yours, you looked away.

"Tell Juturna I'm here."

The man gave you one last look and went inside. Macrinus gestured for you to come in as he moved quickly down the corridor. You swallowed and deliberately ignored the voices as you walked in.

“Did it really have to be here?”

“I'm sorry, I understand why you're uncomfortable, but it really is safer than you think.”

Macrinus smirks, but you grow more and more nervous, everyone here men, and women is almost naked even in the mural pictures dyed on the walls. The voices were getting louder and louder when a middle-aged woman came running towards you. She wore too much make-up and smiled broadly at Macrinus.

"Sire, how good to see you again."

"Private room now."

She tilted her head to look at you with wide eyes, you turned your head and wrapped your cloak tightly around your arms, covering your body. She pressed her hand to her chest, "Gods, it's been years since such a beauty drops in here.”

"Don't overstep your bounds, she's a lady!" Macrinus scolded him.

"Apologies, sire. Have your way to up the stairs and the boys will show you to your room," she said with a grin.

Following Macrinus into the hallway, seeing some young girls, half-naked, talking amongst themselves. As you passed them, they looked at you strangely. You felt sorry for them, but also a bit disgusted.

A young boy gestured to the room, and Macrinus invited you in after he had entered. You were almost startled when the door closed behind you. Looked around quickly to observe, red curtains, orange bedspread and pillows, overturned wine cups and fruits in a bowl on the table, and various colored fabrics on the chairs. And the smell... You couldn't stop thinking about what had happened in this room. It made you feel sick.

Macrinus saw your unease and pulled out the chair for you to sit down.

"Have a seat, my lady."

You gave him a look that said you weren't going to be pushed around and sat down on the chair, crossing your arms to avoid touching anything else. "Tell me what I need to know. I don't have much time."

Macrinus took another wine cup from the other table in the corner of the room, poured wine into, and handed it to you. You made a gesture with the back of your hand and shook your head no.

"Are you afraid of the General?" he asked as he sat down in the chair opposite you. "I know you're staying at his villa. How long has he known?”

"He doesn’t! I can assure you that the General has nothing to do with it.”

Macrinus crossed his legs and took a sip of his wine.

"Of course he does. He'll take you to Geta himself as soon as he finds out."

You thought about him. Would he really do that? You couldn't find the answer, and you hated it.

"The general is a man of honor. He will understand when I tell him."

"Are you saying you can lure him to our side?"

"Our side?" You leaned over the chair towards him, "What is your purpose?"

"It's simple. I'm going to present you to the Senate and get them to recognize you unanimously. You will be formally designated as the heiress to the imperial throne. I really wonder about the emperors’ face when they find out."

Macrinus laughed and took a quick sip of wine.

"How do I know you're not lying to me and you're actually on the emperors’ side at this moment?"

Macrinus narrowed his eyes and looked at you. "I am close to Caracalla. He trusts me." He extended his hand toward you, placing one of the red grapes from the table in it. "I have him right in the palm of my hand, right here, and when the time comes…" He closed his palm and squeezed the grape, the pinkish juice of the grape slowly flowed between his fingers and dripped on the floor. You looked at him in disgust as he ate smashed grapes and licked his own palm.

“And what do you want from me? What will you gain if the Senate recognizes me?”

“I promised your father I would restore peace to Rome, and after he sent you away, he asked me to find Vicius and make sure you were safe. So as I stated before, I went to Egypt to find you, Vicius managed to hide you, he didn't believe me, he was very good at covering his tracks. No wonder he kept you hidden all this time. On the way back, news reached me of your father's death in York, and by the time I got back to the capital, Caracalla and Geta had declared their empire.”

That was four years ago, and it was no coincidence that on that very day, your uncle took you from home to the Valetudinarium in Alexandria. But you still weren't sure whether he had done it to protect you from Macrinus or from your emperor brothers or Julia.

“You said Julia suspected something.”

Macrinus was a man of very calm demeanor; it was hard to tell from his expression what he was thinking. “If Julia finds out you're alive, she'll take your life without a second thought.”

You swallowed hard, you already disliked her when you met her on the day of the ceremony.

“But I'm a woman, I can't be a threat to the throne,” you said looking at him, Macrinus put his cup on the table and leaned forward.

“But if one day you give birth to a son, my lady, you will be the greatest threat of all. She is a woman who keeps the General and her sons in balance, do not underestimate her. She wants Acacius in the Senate, to gain power over me.” He reached for a bunch of grapes and plucked one. “But I have secured my position, and with you we can save Rome from them for good.” He popped a grape into his mouth and smiled at you as he chewed.

“What about the General, what will happen to him?”

He stopped chewing. “He has to choose. But before, he could be charged with treason for hiding you in his villa.”

“No, I told you, there’s nothing like that, he doesn't know about the letter. He doesn't know who I really am,” you yelled at him.

“Do you really think emperors would care about that?”

You knew the answer, your heart began beating in your throat. It wasn't fair that the General should face such an offense because of you.

"If you go to the Senate, there'll be a trial and a judgment, and we'll win. No doubt about it. I'll send the word tonight. The court will convene the day after tomorrow. I can hide you until then," he said, standing up and holding out his hand to you.

You regarded him with a determined expression. "I am grateful for your kindness, but I believe I will be safer with the General, I would like to leave now before he finds me here. Moreover, I am not yet ready to trust you fully."

Macrinus laughed. "My lady, I believe that attitude will serve you well in front of the Senate. It might be beneficial to adopt a similar stance.”

As you left the room, you felt a strong inclination to descend the stairs as quickly as possible, in order to avoid the rather pungent odours and sounds. As you passed the rooms one by one, you heard what seemed to be a cry. Out of the corner of your eye, you thought you saw a face you had seen before. You stopped, and when you wanted to look again to make sure, you turned your head, and lifted the torn red curtain blocking the entrance of the room to see her face. It was her, Decima, the girl you met on the ship and with whom you had the good fortune to become friends. You shared your secrets with her, and you had always assumed that she had been sold to a wealthy man. You hoped that she had been happy until now. You were so wrong. You felt your body trembling as your eyes began to well up with tears.

"Are you all right, my lady?" Macrinus asked, concern evident in his voice which came to you in a blur.

"Decima!" You ran into the room beside her, grabbing her shoulders. She was startled, then looked at you with a surprised look on her face and started to cry. You hugged her and pressed her head to your chest.

"Have you been here all this time?”

She was visibly distraught, and your heart ached for her. "I thought you had forgotten me," she sobbed.

"Never. I thought that nobleman had bought you. What happened?"

"No, he didn't," she mumbled, shaking her head.

Without a second thought you grabbed her arm and pulled her out of the room.

Macrinus stepped in front of you. “My lady, you can't do this, she belongs here now.”

"No way! I'm taking her with me!" You barked and pushed him aside, pulled Decima by the arm ran to the stairs, and kept walking while ignoring the murmuring, and shouting coming behind you.

“Hey! How you? She's my slave, I paid eight thousand sesterces for her!” Juturna, who owned the place got up from her seat and came over to you, she was angry. Two guards at the door came in, blocking your way with a threatening and mocking demeanor.

Macrinus came running behind. “My lady, please, let her go. Those are the rules here. I’m begging you.”

It never felt right, you didn't want to leave Decima there to her fate. Then, someone came running up to Macrinus and whispered something in his ear. He tensed, cursed angrily, and turned his head to you. “Acacius is here. I need to go. Please don't do anything dull,” he warned you. Then he made his way back down the corridor and stepped through the door that led to the rear entrance.

You swallowed hard when you heard the General’s name, you had to think fast, decide fast. Then you opted to follow your heart, rather than your mind. As you grabbed Decima's hand and headed for the door, it opened with a thud and the General stormed in. You both regarded each other with surprise, but his expression soon became one of anger.

“General Acacius, sir!” Juturna approached him.

He didn't hear her, didn't look around, he was as angry as you'd ever seen him, with a piercing gaze that took hold of yours. As he reached out and grabbed your arm, you pulled back with all your strength. But the second time he grabbed again and pulled roughly, you couldn't find the strength to pull back. But you didn't intend to let go of Decima's hand either.

“Sir, please tell her something, she's trying to take my slave.” The woman bowed her head in front of the general and squinted at you.

“She is my friend, please help me, sir,” you said pleadingly.

"I'm a Roman citizen, and this one belongs to me. You clearly don't know the laws. Give her to me now," she said, grabbing Decima's other arm and pulling her along.

“No!”

“Let her go, Aya!” the General roared, but you didn't listen to him. Before you could even think about reaching for Decima, he grabbed your arm again and pulled you to outside, but you struggled with all your strength. The General let out a low growl, and before you knew it, the ground gave way beneath your feet. He grabbed you and threw you over his shoulder. Your face hit the leather armor on his muscular back with a thump, leaving you gasping in surprise. You struggled to get free, but he held on tight, carrying you out.

“No! Let me down! Please!” No matter what you said, it didn't stop him, you tried to lift your head to look at Decima, but when you saw that the door was closed, you got angry.

You started punching his back, but it was like hitting a stone wall. He tightened his muscular arm around the back of your thighs, right near your butt. As he carried you, your loud voice echoed through the whole street. People in the street looked at you curiously as they saw the general had come with you over his shoulder to the carriage. You gave up struggling, and he set you down.

Your hair was a mess, but all you had on your mind was getting back to Decima. He saw you looking back, grabbed your arm, and put you and then himself into the carriage. He ordered the coachman to drive and then he started his horses. He sat you down next to him and never let go of your arm. When the carriage moved, he loosened his grip and turned his head towards you. But you were looking the other way. Norell sitting across from you, her lips tightly closed, so ashamed to look the general in the face, blaming herself. No one spoke the whole way, only the sound of the wheels rolling on the stony ground echoed inside the carriage.

Upon arrival at the villa, Norell regarded the General and you with a timid expression before exiting the carriage. You didn't move, your anger still raw. In the end, your stubbornness made him give up and he got out. "Come out now," he ordered.

He was waiting for you with his hand extended. You inhaled and stood up, but instead of taking his hand, you grabbed the side of the car as you stepped out. You walk briskly into the Villa's garden and leave him behind. As you came into the garden, you saw Tullia and Norell whispering to each other. You glanced at them, and they looked over at the general, who was walking quickly behind you. They seemed tense. As you were heading to your room, a strong hand grabbed your wrist. He pulled you to the stairs this time you didn’t resist. He led you to his room and closed the door.

He turned to you, first his brown eyes met yours and then he calculated what to say or tried to remain calm.

“You will never go there again, do you hear me?”

You glanced over at the balcony, and he stepped a little closer. “How could you go there? How could you put yourself in danger like that? What were you thinking?”

“She's my friend,” you murmured, looking at the setting sun on the horizon through the window.

“Even so, there's nothing you can do for her, the rules apply to everyone.”

“That could have been me,” you turned your head to him. “I could have been one of those poor girls if you-” you swallowed, your voice was trembling.

Acacius' expression softened as he moved closer to you. "I'm truly sorry about your friend, but you need to let it go. I need you to promise me you won't go there again." His brown eyes were bathed in the orangish sunlight streaming through the window. They were looking at you with intensity, delving deeply into your soul. You wondered how you could still be so stubborn, defying him like that. You closed your eyes and crossed your arms, realizing your disobedience, he grabbed your shoulders. "I may be a gentle master to you, but don't even think to test my patience.”

At that moment, the anger that was welling up inside you was trying to get out.

“I am not your slave! I never have been! I'm-”

You almost would tell him everything, but not feeling ready yet, not like this. He was far from being surprised, it’s like he knew you were going to say that.

“As for that, I couldn't find any proof that you were a Roman citizen,” Acacius pulled his hands back, “I recently sent a letter to the governor in Egypt regarding your uncle's funeral. I have received a reply from him today. It seems that he does not have any relatives, only his wife and himself. Interestingly, there is no record of the name Aya.”

It was rather unexpected. You were unprepared for how quickly he discovered the truth. As he approached, you instinctively braced yourself and took a step back. You winced when your back hit the stone wall. Acacius placed his palms on the wall, either side of your head. His brown eyes darkened as he leaned in, almost close enough to kiss you. You placed your hands against the wall behind you, feeling the coolness of the stone in your palms and on your skin, in an attempt to gather your strength. His eyes locked onto yours as if he were questioning you.

“Who are you?”

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badbtssmut · 1 year ago

Note

no.4 .gynecologist taehyung and innocent oc breast touching, fingering, just putting in his cock to 'check' her

Admin note: Changed to doctor

“Hmm… I see.” Your doctor, Taehyung, hummed.

You held in your breath, heat rushing to your cheeks as his fingers pumped in and out of your vagina. His expression was one of deep concentration as he examined you.

You were on the medical chair in his office, legs spread wide apart for him as he checked you.

“I will need a deeper look before I can confirm the diagnosis. Can you pull up your shirt and remove your bra for me please? It will make it easier for me to examine you properly if your chest is exposed. It won't take long.”

You nodded and did as you were told. You unbuttoned the white blouse you wore and slipped the straps of your bra down, exposing your breasts to him. You couldn't help but notice how he seemed to be staring at them a little.

He massaged your breasts and when he was done with that he unbuckled his belt. “Chest is looking great, no problem there.” Taehyung pulled down his pants and briefs, letting them drop to his ankles. He was rock hard, his cock long and thick.

“I need to have a deeper look in your vagina, it might feel uncomfortable but try not to tense up too much. Try and relax, I promise it will be quick, I just need to get a clear view of the cervix and I'll know more then. Okay, darling? It will hurt, but only for a second. Try not to move too much while I do it, alright? And no matter what you do, try not to make any noises. You don't want to disturb the other doctors, right?” He smiled at you. “We don't want to interrupt them, they're very busy and have a lot of patients to see today. Don't worry, I'll be gentle, it'll be over before you know it, okay, darling?”

“Yes, sir.”

Taehyung nodded and positioned his cock at your entrance, rubbing it against your folds. He took his time, coating his length in your wetness, teasing you until you were dripping wet.

And then he was inside you, pushing in deeper and deeper, inch by inch.

You held your breath, trying your best not to make a sound. The feeling of him inside you was overwhelming. Your heart was beating rapidly in your chest and you felt lightheaded. You bit your lip, trying your best not to moan or gasp. You knew you were not allowed to.

“O-oh, too big…” You gasped as you felt him stretch your tight walls.

Taehyung let out a breathy chuckle. “It will fit, I promise, your body just needs to adjust to it.”

You closed your eyes, taking in the sensation.

After a moment, he began to thrust, moving slowly at first, building up his pace. He moved his hips in a steady rhythm, pumping in and out of you, picking up his pace as you started to loosen up.

Your body jerked, involuntarily reacting to the pleasure he was giving you. You tried to control yourself but you were not succeeding, your moans slipping past your lips despite your attempts to muffle them.

It was so good, so, so good. He was filling you up and stretching you so nicely, fucking you deep and hard.

Taehyung noticed this and put a hand over your mouth, covering it and muffling your moans. He fucked you even harder, his cock pounding into you, his hips slamming into yours with each thrust.

Your hands gripped the armrests of the chair. Your eyes were closed tightly, your breathing coming out in sharp, ragged gasps.

Taehyung groaned as he continued to fuck you, his hand still covering your mouth, silencing your moans.

“A-ah!” You weren’t sure what was happening to your body. Your walls began to tighten and contract around him, squeezing him as he drove his cock in and out of you. A warm sensation was building up inside you, starting in your core and spreading throughout your body.

The warmth quickly grew and spread, your whole body beginning to shake as the pleasure intensified. Your legs tensed and shook, your toes curling.

“Everything is looking great, y/n. Get dressed and feel free to leave.” Taehyung told you as he pulled out.

You quickly fixed yourself, putting on your bra and buttoning up your blouse.

You were still feeling a little bit shaky from your orgasm, and you struggled to stand.

Taehyung smiled and patted you on the head. “Let’s have another check up next week, just to double check things.”

You left the office and walked down the corridor, trying to make your way to the exit. You didn’t question any of it, he was a doctor after all.

#bts smut #bts x reader #bts requests #bts smut requests #bts fanfic #taehyung smut #bts smut fanfic #bts request

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lupinqs · 24 days ago

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CHAPTER EIGHT ━━ Be You, Be Great

❀ ━ pairing: paige bueckers x oc (jo jacobson)

❀ ━ word count: 6.2K

❀ ━ warnings: angst, mentions of a panic attack/anxiety, underage drinking

❀ ━ links: my masterlist, nobody gets me masterlist

❀ ━ author’s note: this one is kinda all over the place i was gonna split it in two but i tried and i didn’t like that either so here this is anyways. also not proofread at all soooo

THE END of October brings a drought. Not the kind that wilts leaves or cracks the ground, but one that seeps into Jo’s chest and leaves her feeling parched in a way she can’t quite explain. It’s been weeks now since things between her and Paige started drying up, and, no matter how much Jo tries to ignore it, to act like everything’s fine, the ache of it gnaws at her.

It started just before Paige went back to LA and only worsened when she was there. All Jo got from her was clipped texts and dodged FaceTimes scattered with weak excuses about being busy with rehab. Jo had tried not to overthink it, convincing herself Paige was genuinely overwhelmed and that things would go back to normal when she came home.

They didn’t.

Paige still avoids her—not entirely, of course, because they live together, and avoiding her completely would be impossible. But she’s rarely in the apartment anymore, and when she is, it’s brief and transactional. She’s quiet during their rare interactions, offering half-hearted “hey”s and “what’s up”s before disappearing into her room or heading out the door again.

It’s just so different to how things used to be. Before, Jo could count on Paige to be there—physically, emotionally, all of it. They’d talk about anything and everything, share late-night snacks on the couch, or marathon stupid shows just because they could. Paige was Jo’s favorite person to spend time with. But now, it’s like there’s been a complete flip of a switch.

What makes it worse is the not-knowing. Jo has no idea why Paige is pulling back, why she’s suddenly so distant. She’s racked her brain trying to figure it out, wondering if she said or did something wrong. The thought of it eats at her, but she’s too afraid to bring it up. She’s terrified of making it worse or of Paige telling her something she doesn’t want to hear.

So, she says nothing.

Instead, she busies herself with other people. Ice, for one, has been in a bad place ever since dislocating her knee a few weeks ago. She’s out for the season, and Jo knows all too well how isolating that kind of injury can be. She’s been spending a lot of time with her, trying to cheer her up, keep her distracted. It’s been good for both of them, but not the same.

Nothing is the same without Paige.

And Jo knows that Paige is probably out hooking up with other girls most nights—she’s not stupid. Paige never brings anyone back to their apartment, which Jo is grateful for, but the idea of it still stings in a way she can’t explain. It’s probably just the principle of it, that Paige can go out and entertain these other girls every night while simultaneously acting like Jo doesn’t exist.

And this stupid drought lingers even under the bright lights of Gampel.

It’s First Night, the annual event kicking off the basketball season, and the whole arena is packed. The men’s and women’s teams have been split into two groups for the evening’s competitions, with Andre Jackson and Paige as the respective captains. Jo is on Andre’s team.

The evening kicks off with a dizzying mix of games, dances, and contests, the crowd roaring with every half-court shot and mascot stunt. Jo participates in a few challenges with her team, laughing when Andre attempts to dunk it over one of their managers and fails spectacularly.

It’s fun. It should be fun. But Jo can’t help but feel the weight of Paige’s attention—or lack thereof—throughout the night.

When the three-point contest rolls around, Jo is the last to go. Her name gets called, and the crowd cheers for their new freshman. She steps into her corner, shaking her limbs out. She doesn’t look at Paige—can’t, really—but, somehow, she still feels her gaze from where she stands at half-court. Jo doesn’t know how or why she always seems to register it, but the feeling is continuously at the edge of her awareness.

The contest is a blur. Jo doesn’t miss much, her muscle memory doing most of the work, and when the buzzer sounds, Andre and her teammates swarm her, lifting her arms in victory. She grins, basking in the win of it, but her eyes inevitably find Paige.

The blonde is clapping along with the rest of her team, grinning wide and hyping up the crowd, but when her gaze flicks to Jo, something shutters behind her eyes. She doesn’t approach, doesn’t tease her about beating her team. Doesn’t say a single word.

It hurts more than it should.

Jo retreats back to the sidelines, the cheers still echoing in her ears, though her head has started to hurt a little. Since the day she got here, Paige was always the first to hype her up—always the loudest voice in the room for her. Clearly not anymore.

The rest of the event passes in a haze. Jo keeps up with the energy of her team, but her chest feels heavy, weighed down by everything unsaid and unknown. By the time the night ends, she’s exhausted—not from the competition, but from the effort of pretending that everything’s normal and fine.

As the crowd filters out and the teams gather for a final photo, Jo finds herself standing a few feet from Paige. The photographers are shouting directions, rearranging players into rows, but Jo hardly listens. She risks a glance at Paige, who’s laughing at something Alex Karaban just said, her smile radiant and gummy and perfect under the bright arena lights.

But when Paige’s eyes meet Jo’s, probably having sensed her creepy staring, the smile falters. It’s brief—barely noticeable—but Jo sees it. She feels it. And it twists something deep in her chest.

Jo doesn’t know what she did to deserve this distance, but it’s killing her. Whatever is going on with Paige, clearly it might be bigger than anything Jo can fix.

And as much as she hates to admit it, Jo’s starting to wonder if Paige even wants her to try.

IT’S THE first game of the season—a guaranteed blowout against Northeastern—and the energy around campus is full of excitement. Paige should be, too. The start of a new season is always her favorite time of year, a chance to do what she loves most and remind herself why she worked so hard to get here. But this year, it feels more like a countdown to a role she doesn’t want to play.

Paige knows she should be grateful. Grateful that her recovery has gone smoothly so far. Grateful that she’s still part of the team she’s always dreamed of playing for, even if it’s from the sidelines. But sitting out isn’t what she was built for. She misses the adrenaline of the game, the weight of the ball in her hands, the feeling of sneakers skidding across the court as she runs a fast break. She misses the pressure—real pressure—and the way it forces her into focus like nothing else. Without it, she feels… aimless.

So, she’s determined to channel her energy elsewhere. If she can’t play, she’ll hype. She’ll coach. She’ll be Coach P, the way everyone loves her to be. It’s easier that way. Easier to focus on everyone else than to deal with the mess she’s made for herself.

Jo is a big part of that mess.

Paige hasn’t spent a single night in their apartment since she got back to LA—not one. It’s not like she doesn’t want to. She misses the way things were before, how easy and natural it was to be around Jo before everything got so damn complicated. But the thought of sitting in bed with Jo beside her, watching a movie or eating takeout like they always did, feels like far too much.

So, she stays away. She’s made a habit of bouncing between other people’s beds—random girls whose names she barely remembers by the morning. Paige has always been a little reckless when it comes to that stuff, but lately, it’s spiraled into something worse. A distraction. A way to drown out the feelings she doesn’t want to deal with.

But even in that, she’s careful. She doesn’t bring anyone back to her and Jo’s apartment—not after Jo saw Celeste sneaking out during the summer. Paige doesn’t want to do that—doesn’t want Jo to be dragged into her mess.

Paige tells herself she’s protecting both of them by keeping her distance. If she gives herself a little more time, maybe the feelings will face. Maybe they’ll go back to being normal, just friends, the way they’re supposed to be.

But the truth is, Paige doesn’t think it’s working.

She still catches herself watching Jo during practice, noting things she shouldn’t. The way her hair falls into her face when she’s running drills. The soft laugh she lets out whenever Nika says something characteristically stupid. The way she moves on the court—so quick and sharp, like she’s always a step ahead of everyone else. It makes Paige’s stomach flip in a way she hates.

And the more time that’s passed, the more Paige has wondered if she’s just fooling herself. That maybe these feelings aren’t going anywhere at all. That maybe this is just who she is now—stuck and restless, with a hopelessly crush on her roommate, teammate, someone who’s supposed to be her best friend.

She shakes the thought off as she walks into Gampel for shoot-around. Her teammates laugh and joke as they warm up, excited. Paige pulls on her best version of normal, slinging her arm around Azzi and teasing Nika about her taped-up finger.

It works for a while. Her voice rings out as she cheers for Lou’s perfect three-pointer, then for Aaliyah’s easy layup. She’s Paige—bright and loud and focused on everyone but herself.

Afterward, the team files back into the locker room, their chatter bouncing off the walls. Paige trails behind, mentally cataloging what she’ll say during the pregame huddle. But when she glances around the room, she realizes something’s missing.

Someone’s missing.

Jo isn’t there.

It’s not entirely unusual for Jo to slip away for a few minutes—she’s probably grabbing water or something. But Paige’s chest tightens anyway. She leans toward Ice, who’s scrolling through her phone on the bench.

“Hey, you seen Jo?” Paige asks, trying to sound casual.

Ice shrugs without looking up. “She couldn’t have gone far.” Then she glances at Paige, and gives her a look. Her eyebrows lift just enough to make the blonde feel like she’s been caught in a lie she hasn’t even told yet.

Paige’s jaw clenches. She straightens and brushes it off with a quick, “Thanks,” ignoring the unspoken why do you care now? hanging in Ice’s expression.

She slips out of the locker room before anyone else can ask questions, her sneakers squeaking faintly on the polished floor. The back hallways of Gampel are quiet except for the muffled sound of the crowd filtering in through the concrete walls. Paige assumes Jo’s probably just off clearing her head.

But then she hears it.

It’s faint at first, just a sharp, broken sound that makes her pause mid-step. She tilts her head, frowning as she listens harder. For a moment, there’s nothing, just the distant murmur of the arena. Then it comes again—a soft, muffled sob.

Paige stills.

Her chest tightens as she slowly scans the hallway, her eyes narrowing. She knows that sound. It’s raw, unfiltered, the kind of cry that comes from deep inside. Her feet move before she can think, her pulse quickening as she rounds another corner.

And there, huddled in a little alcove off to the side, is Jo.

Her head is buried in her hands, her shoulders trembling violently as her chest heaves with shallow, rapid breaths. Even from a few feet away, Paige can see how hard she’s struggling, her whole body curling in on itself as if trying to disappear.

Paige stops dead in her tracks.

She doesn’t know what to do. Jo isn’t supposed to look like this—broken and vulnerable and so completely unlike herself. Jo’s the happiest, brightest, smiliest person she’s ever met. But here she is, falling apart right in front of Paige, and it feels like the air’s been sucked out of the hallway.

“Jo?” Paige asks softly, hesitantly. “What’s wrong?”

Jo’s head snaps up, her tear-streaked face whipping toward Paige in a startled panic. Her wide, glassy eyes lock on hers for a split second before she looks away, hurriedly wiping at her cheeks with the sleeve of her warm-ups.

“It’s fine,” Jo blurts, her voice cracking as she waves Paige off. “’M fine. Nothing’s wrong. Just—it’s okay. You can go.”

But Paige isn’t going anywhere.

She steps closer slowly, cautiously, her heart pounding as she watches Jo’s chest rise and fall too quickly, her breathe shallow and uneven. Jo’s hands tremble where they’re clenched in her lap, her knuckles white, and Paige begins to recognize the signs.

“Jo,” Paige says again, firmer this time. She crouches slightly, trying to meet Jo’s gaze. “Hey, it’s okay. You can talk to me. I’m here.”

Jo shakes her head violently, her lips trembling as she stares down at her hands. “I don’t—I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she stammers, her voice shaking. “I just—I can’t—” She breaks off, gasping for air as another sob wracks her body.

Paige’s stomach twists. She drops to one knee, her hand hovering awkwardly near Jo’s arm before she finally touches her, rubbing gentle circles on Jo’s sleeve. “Hey, hey, just breathe,” she says softly, trying to keep her voice steady even though she feels like she’s about to unravel herself. “Slow and deep, yeah? Just breathe with me.”

But Jo can’t. Her breaths are too fast, too shallow, and the tears keep coming, spilling down her flushed cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” Jo chokes out. “I’m so sorry, I don’t even know why—I don’t know why I’m like this. Maybe it’s because I forgot to take my anxiety meds today, or—or maybe it’s just everything. I don’t know.”

“Okay,” Paige says gently, nodding even though she feels completely out of her depth. “Okay. That’s okay. Just take your time.”

Jo sniffles, and Paige watches as the younger girl’s nails dig into the fabric of her warm-up pants. “I’m just so nervous,” she admits, her words coming out in a frantic, breathless rush. “Even though I know—it’s so stupid, I know—we’re gonna win by, like, forty points. But I can’t stop thinking about. I don’t wanna mess up. I don’t wanna disappoint anyone.”

Paige’s heart cracks a little more with every word, though she knows it’s not entirely abnormal for a freshman to feel this way. That doesn’t matter. She doesn’t want Jo to feel this way.

The brunette’s breathing stilts again, her voice rising a little as she continues. “Especially not you,” she says. The words come out so soft, so sad, that Paige almost doesn’t hear them. “I don’t wanna disappoint you.”

Paige opens her mouth to say something, but Jo keeps going, her voice trembling as fresh tears begin to fill her eyes. “I—I know I’ve disappointed you—or—or made you mad,” she stumbles, her breath hitting on a quiet sob. “I had to have, right? Because, I mean—why—why else would you be ignoring me?”

Paige’s heart stutters at the words.

Jo’s tear-filled eyes finally meet hers, and Paige is struck by how wide and vulnerable, like every signal wall Jo has ever built is crumbling down. Her lip trembles as she whispers, “What did I do to make you hate me, Paige?”

The question lingers in the air, hanging heavy between them, suffocating Paige with its weight. The words pulse in her chest, beating against her rib cage, and suddenly, she feels like she can’t breathe either. The guilt crashes into her like a tidal wave, a suffocating, all-consuming force.

She should’ve been more considerate. She should’ve seen this coming—Jo’s feelings. She should’ve taken the time to explain, to talk it out. But instead, she had pulled away, had put this distance between them, thinking about all of her own feelings without even giving a thought to Jo’s. And now Jo thinks she hates her. Hates her. The thought slices through Paige, a sharp pain that she can’t shake. It feels like a punch to the gut. The fact that Jo—perfect, pretty, happy, sweet, smart, everything that’s good in the world Jo—could ever believe that makes Paige realize just how much she’s fucked this all up.

I’ve never hated you, Paige thinks desperately, but the words feel so empty, so hollow. They’re not enough. They’ll never be enough.

The irony of it hits her like a ton of bricks—Jo thinks she hates her, but the truth is far more complicated. Because it’s the exact opposite. I like you too much. The thought pops into Paige’s head unbidden, and her heart skips a beat.

She takes a shaky breath, her hand instinctively reaching up toward Jo’s face. The movement feels foreign, almost bold, but her fingers are gentle as they sweep under Jo’s eyes, wiping away some of the tears that still stain her cheeks. For a moment, Jo doesn’t react, her eyes still unfocused, the remnants of panic still visible in her expression. But then, slowly, her gaze meets Paige’s. Brown on blue, the contact feels like a jolt, like electricity running through her veins.

Paige’s heart stumbles, and she can’t stop herself from cupping Jo’s cheeks in her hands, cradling her face softly. She needs Jo to understand, needs her to hear this. She needs to make it clear—I don’t hate you. The words are stuck in her throat, tangled up with everything else she’s been feeling, but they finally tumble out, heavy and full of suppressed emotion.

“God, Joey,” she whispers thickly, “I could never hate you.”

Jo’s eyes are wide, filled with confusion and hurt, and she opens her mouth as if to protest, but then she asks, her voice barely a whisper, “Then—then why have you been ignoring me?”

Paige feels the weight of that question settle into her bones. She wants to tell Jo everything, to be honest, but the words fall down her windpipe as soon as they’re formed. You’re the reason I’ve been pushing you away, she wants to say. It’s you, Jo. It’s you, it’s you, it’s you. But she’d never admit that. It’s not fair—not when Jo’s happy with Asher. There’s no need to complicate things further for something that will never happen.

So, instead, Paige forces herself to breathe, to steady herself before speaking again. She looks at Jo, trying to read the sadness in her eyes, the confusion, the vulnerability that still lingers despite the panic subsiding. Paige feels another hot sting of guilt—how could she have let Jo feel this way? How could she have been so careless?

“I’ve just been in a bad place in my head recently,” Paige says, her voice quieter now, more measured. It’s not exactly a lie. It’s just that the full truth is too messy, too tangled. She needs a reason that makes sense, something Jo can understand, something that doesn’t risk breaking everything between them. “I’ve been frustrated with my knee, and… I guess it’s just all piled up.”

Jo listens, nodding slowly, her expression still tight with uncertainty. Paige adds, carefully, feeling the weight of the words press down on her, “And—and I really like this girl who doesn’t like me back.” She pauses, her stomach twisting with the admission, even though it’s only half of the truth. “And all of it together—it’s just… it’s made me pull away from almost everyone. I don’t really know how to deal.”

Jo takes in the words, her gaze dropping to the floor for a moment, her fingers twitching nervously against her thighs. Paige watches her closely, hoping that Jo can make sense of everything she’s said, that she can understand why Paige has acted the way she has in some capacity.

“But,” the blonde adds, knowing it’s necessary, “it’s not excuse. None of it is. I shouldn’t of pulled away. I shoulda talked to you, told you what was goin’ on. And I’m really fucking sorry I didn’t.”

For a long moment, there’s silence, and all Paige can do is wait, her heart hammering in her chest. Jo’s breathing has finally evened out, the tension in her shoulders beginning to ease, but there’s still an underlying fragility in the air.

Finally, Jo says quietly, “Okay.”

Without thinking, Paige reaches out, pulling Jo into a tight hug. Her arms wrap around Jo instinctively, holding her close, and for a moment, Paige can’t help but think about how perfect Jo feels in her arms like this. How soft and warm and real she is. The weight of Jo’s body against hers, the way Jo fits into her arms, feels so right that it almost takes Paige’s breath away. She buries her face in Jo’s hair, breathing in the familiar scent of her strawberry shampoo, the feeling of Jo finally grounding Paige in way that she hasn’t felt in far too long.

“’M sorry,” Paige murmurs into Jo’s hair. “’M so sorry for making you feel like that.”

Paige isn’t sure how long they stay like that, locked together, before she feels Jo’s hands move, shifting just slightly, gently beginning to pull away. The movement feels like a cold wind cutting through the warmth of the hug, and Paige immediately feels the absence, the space between them growing far too wide. She wants to reach out and pull Jo back into her, to hold her tighter and never let go, but—obviously—she doesn’t.

Jo’s eyes are still slightly red, but as she pulls back, her lips curve into the softest, most forgiving smile, a smile that feels so Jo—genuine and kind, even when everything else is unraveling. It’s almost unbearable to see, because Paige knows that Jo doesn’t deserve to be this forgiving. She doesn’t deserve to feel like this was all just something to brush off.

“It’s okay,” Jo says, her words wrapped in warmth, in that same kindness that makes her who she is. But Paige knows that it’s not okay. She knows that, even if Jo’s forgiven her, Paige is not so quick to forgive herself, because what she’s done is not okay.

It goes silent between them again for a long moment. Paige can’t think of what to say. She opens her mouth, but nothing comes out. She wants to apologize again, over and over, to make sure Jo really knows. But the clock is ticking. The game is still ahead of them. The pressure of it presses in on her chest, and she knows that they can’t have this conversation now. Not before the game. Not when the adrenaline needs to take over and the court demands focus.

Paige takes a steadying breath, feeling the air fill her lungs, forcing her thoughts to calm down. She needs to help Jo. She needs to get her head in the right space before the game. Jo is here, with her, needing her. And as much as the emotional weight of everything is damn near overwhelming her, Paige pushes it aside.

She reaches forward, gently but firmly placing her hands on Jo’s shoulders, giving her a soft but decisive push to meet her eyes. Jo’s gaze lifts to meet Paige’s with a quiet, uncertain trust, and Paige feels the familiar surge of responsibility that always floods her when her teammates need her. She’s a leader. She has to lead. And right now, Jo needs her to.

“My dad texts me before every game I play in,” Paige says steadily. “‘Be you, be great.’ That’s all you gotta do today, Joey. Just be you, and it’ll come to you.”

It’s simple, but true. Jo doesn’t need anything more than to be herself. She doesn’t need to try to be perfect or live up to expectations that aren’t hers. She just needs to trust herself, trust her game.

Jo’s eyes shift slightly, a flicker of understanding crossing her face. It’s there, but it’s still guarded. The smile that Paige so desperately wants to see doesn’t fully reach Jo’s eyes yet, but it’s a start. She nods slowly, a small motion, but enough to let Paige know she’s listening.

“Josephine fuckin’ Jacobson,” Paige continues, saying her full name for emphasis, “you are such a good basketball player. And you’re gonna do great. Okay? Be you, be great.”

Jo takes a deep breath, and Paige watches as the tension seems to slowly ease off of her. She nods, more definitively this time, the hint of a real smile tugging at her lips. It’s small, but it’s there.

“Okay,” Jo says quietly, before repeating the word more firmly. “Okay.”

PAIGE’S MIND is fuzzy, her limbs heavy with the after effects of one too many dirty shirley’s. Despite the November chill, she feels hot, and her feet shuffle unevenly as she and Jo stumble back toward their apartment. They’re both absolutely hammered—there’s no other way to describe it. The world feels a little hazy, like everything around her is softly swaying. Her head spins, and it’s all a bit much, but it’s also freeing in a way. She hasn’t felt this loose, this light, in a long time.

Their win against Northeastern and the start of the season fills the air, hanging around them like a celebratory cloud. Jo played like Jo—21 points, 5 assists, 4 boards, 4 steals—just as Paige knew she would. A great collegiate debut, and Paige had watched every second of it from the bench, locked in. She’d felt so proud—and even a little awestruck—that Jo went out there and did that, after having such an emotionally charged pre-game.

Now, as they weave their way back to their apartment, arms brushing, legs tangling as they trip over their own feet, that sense of pride is still lodged in Paige’s chest, warm and comforting, like a glow that won’t fade. She can’t stop giggling, low and breathy, as Jo laughs along beside her. Their words are slurred, but that doesn’t stop them. Everything is funny—every little thing. Every misstep, every giggle, every second of pure chaos that they’re living in right now is a spark of joy after having been without it for too long.

Paige’s thoughts drift lazily, floating between the haze of the alcohol and the warmth of the night. She’s not sure when they’d started leaning into each other—just that they are now, and it feels comfortable. Familiar. Nice. Perfect. Great.

“You good?” Jo asks in a voice that’s too loud as she unlocks the front door to their apartment, then bursts into giggles again.

Paige snorts, stumbling a bit more dramatically than necessary. “I’m so good,” she says, her voice sounding more slurred than she means it to be. She throws an arm around Jo’s shoulder to steady herself, but the weight of her makes Jo stumble, and they both neatly collapse into the wall. They’re laughing too hard to care.

As soon as the door shuts behind them, Jo gasps suddenly and jerks her arm away, running ahead, the sound of her feet echoing down the hallway. Paige, still a bit off balance, blinks in confusion for a moment, then laughs drunkenly. “Bro—where you goin’?” she asks, her voice trailing off into giggles as she watches Jo hurry toward her bedroom.

Paige follows slowly. It’s odd, in a way—this whole night, this whole feeling. This morning when she woke up, she never expected to be here with Jo, giggling and laughing and things feeling normal again. She probably assumed she’d just be in someone else’s bed. But she’s not, she’s here—with Jo.

Jo. Jo, Jo, Jo, Jo, Jo. She’s so good at basketball, and she’s so good at being there for Paige, even when Paige fucks up. She’s still here, still making everything feel lighter than air.

Paige leans against the doorframe of Jo’s bedroom, watching the younger girl move around her room, back and forth, rifling through her closet with purpose. Clearly, she’s looking for something.

“Joey, what’re you doin’?” Paige asks. Her question hangs in the air, teasing, but it’s laced with affection—Paige can’t hide that part. Especially in her tipsy state, Paige can’t help but stare at Jo with a smile that feels like it’s stretching her face.

Jo doesn’t answer. She’s clearly very focused on something, her movements a little clumsy but endearing. Paige watches her closely, and she lets out another small laugh without meaning to. Her eyes stay glued to Jo, to how everything she does seems to command Paige’s attention. It shouldn’t be a surprise though—even without alcohol in her system, Jo is always there, always occupying every inch of Paige’s thoughts. Maybe it’s starting to get a little pathetic, actually.

Then, Jo suddenly straightens up, a gleam in her eyes. She pulls something out of the depths of her closet—a gift-wrapped box. She bounds over to Paige with her infectious energy, and before Paige can fully process what’s happening, Jo grabs her hand and tugs her into the room, practically pulling her off her feet in her enthusiasm. The force of it makes Paige stumble a little, but it doesn’t matter—Jo’s laughter fills the room, a sound so bright that it makes Paige’s chest swell.

The door slams shut behind them. Paige watches as Jo shoves the gift into her hands, still grinning, still beaming like she’s giving Paige the greatest gift in the world.

“Happy late birthday!” Jo’s words are slurred but joyful.

It is late. Very late, in fact. But Paige had been in LA during her actual birthday, and when she got back, Jo didn’t really have time to give her her gift for… obvious reasons.

But she’s here, giving her one now, and Paige feels so cared for and seen that she can barely even focus on what’s in her hands. The wrapping paper crinkles under her fingers as she tears it open, the motion slow and clumsy, but she feels her heart beat a little faster as Jo watches her do it with those wide eyes full or excitement.

The gift is a Lego set.

It’s one Paige has wanted for months, one that she’d seen in the store and practically drooled over, but she’d never let herself buy it. Jo and Aaliyah and Ines had been with her there, watching her ponder over whether or not to buy it. She decided not to, deeming it too expensive even if she certainly could afford it. But she already had, like, five sets in her hands—so, it was definitely a no-go that day.

But now she’s holding that set, because of Jo. Jo spent money on it, just for Paige. Just because she knew how much it would mean to her.

“Joey!” she exclaims, her voice full of awe and genuine surprise. She turns to Jo, blue eyes wide.

“Do you like?” Jo asks, voice soft but still excited.

“I love!” Paige responds with a wide, goofy smile. It’s true. She loves the thought behind it, the gesture, the fact that Jo cares enough to get her this, let alone anything.

It’s not long before Paige flops onto her back on Jo’s bed, the Lego set abandoned to the side, her arms stretched out like a starfish. Jo plops down next to her, the mattress dipping under her weight, and Paige has to fight the instinct—drunk and probably sober, too—to pull her closer. It would be so easy. One hand on Jo’s waist, the other around her shoulder, tucking her against her chest. It’s a dangerous thought, one Paige shouldn’t even entertain, but the drunkenness isn’t helping her self-control. Instead, she keeps her hands firmly to herself, pressing them into the comforter. She stares up at the ceiling for a moment before her gaze inevitably shifts to Jo.

Jo is staring at the ceiling, too, wide-eyed, like she’s marveling at the sheer existence of it. Her mouth falls open in an exaggerated “wow,” and Paige bites her lip to stifle yet another laugh.

“The world is spinning,” Jo announces, her voice filled with awe and disbelief, like she’s just uncovered some profound universal truth.

Paige can’t hold back her laughter this time. It bubbles out of her, loud and unabashed. “Bro, you’re so drunk,” she says, turning her head to look at her more directly.

Jo grins and shifts her gaze, meeting Paige’s eyes. “No, you’re so drunk!” she fired back, her words slurring slightly as she pokes Paige in the shoulder for emphasis.

They’re both laughing now, the kind of laughter that comes from being young and carefree and absolutely wasted. It’s the kind of moment Paige wants to capture and keep forever, this version of Jo so happy and light and hers, if only for now.

But then, the sharp trill of a phone cuts through the moment, jolting them both from their drunken bubble. Jo groans, her head tipping back against the mattress as if the mere thought of moving is too much effort. “Ugh, noooo,” she whines, squirming around to try and reach into her back pocket where her phone is ringing insistently.

Paige sits up slightly, propping herself on one elbow, laughing at Jo’s struggles. “C’mon, champ,” she teases, watching the younger girl twist and wriggle until she finally manages to pull her phone free. Jo squints at the screen, her tongue sticking out a little in concentration, before she lets out a soft, “Oh. It’s Asher.”

The name hits Paige like a splash of cold water, instantly sobering her. She forces her face to stay neutral, her heart sinking just slightly as Jo answers the call. She tries to brush it off, but it feels like someone just yanked her back to reality.

Jo’s voice brightens as she presses the phone to her ear. “Hiiii, what do you want?” she greets, the words teasing but affectionate. Paige watches her closely, her eyes scanning Jo’s face, cataloging every expression as Asher’s voice hums faintly on the other side of the line. She can’t make out the words, but she doesn’t really need to. Jo’s smile tells her everything she doesn’t want to know.

“Yes, I’m drunk,” Jo says with a laugh, rolling her eyes playfully. Another pause, another response Paige doesn’t hear. “Okay, yes, I will.” Jo giggles, the sound light and airy, and Paige’s chest aches. “Yes, I love you, too. Byeeee!” Jo hangs up with a flourish, tossing the phone toward the foot of the bed. It bounces off and clatters to the floor, but Jo just laughs. “Oops.”

Paige tries to laugh with her, but it doesn’t come as easily as before. She’s too caught up in the sting of hearing Jo say those words so effortlessly. I love you too. It’s not like Paige hasn’t heard it before, but tonight, when they’ve spent the whole evening laughing and leaning into each other’s space, it feels sharper, harder to ignore.

Before she can think too much, Jo scoots closer, collapsing onto Paige with a happy sigh. Her head rests on Paige’s chest, and Paige freezes, her heart slamming against her robe as a Jo mumbles, “Boys,” in an exasperated tone, as if that single word explains everything.

Paige forces a chuckle, but it’s quieter now, more subdued. Her mind races, but she doesn’t move. She can’t. She doesn’t trust herself to touch Jo, even though she wants to, desperately. She wants to wrap her arms around her, hold her tight, tell her that boys are stupid and unnecessary and that Paige could love her better, so much better. But she doesn’t.

Jo’s breathing slows and it seems within moments, she’s out cold, the alcohol taking everything out of her, her body heavy and warm against Paige’s. Paige shifts slightly, careful not to disturb her, and lets out a shaky breath. She hesitates, then lifts a hand, brushing it gently through Jo’s hair. The soft strands glide through her fingers, and it’s soothing in a way she can’t explain, even if it makes her chest hurt.

She stares at Jo, at the peaceful expression on her face. She shouldn’t feel this way. She knows that. But knowing—or the stupid space shit she tried that was clearly bad for both of them—doesn’t stop the feelings. It doesn’t stop the yearning or the way her stomach flips every time Jo looks at her. It doesn’t stop the way she knows Jo is happy with Asher, that Jo loves him, that Paige will never be anything more than her best friend.

But she decides that it’s enough. That it has to be. If this is the only way she can have Jo, then she’ll take it. She’ll take the laughter, the late nights, the moments like these where Jo trusts her enough to fall asleep on her. She’ll take Jo in any way she’ll give her, even if it breaks her heart a little more every day.

Because loving Jo, even from a distance, even like this, feels like the most natural thing in the world.

#paige bueckers #uconn wbb #paige bueckers fic #uconn huskies #wcbb #wbb #uconn #paige bueckers fluff #paige bueckers series #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers x reader #wcbb x reader #ncaa wbb #nobody gets me #wlw #lgbtq

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roanofarcc · 8 months ago

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ONE DANCE, PLEASE?

pairing: trevor lefkowitz x ghost bride!reader

summary: since your death, weddings at Woodstone have been a source of bitterness for you but that doesn’t stop trevor from attempting to cheer you up with a dance

word count. 1.6k || masterlist

warnings: fem!reader, mentions of death, dead!reader

a/n: this is my first ghosts fic so please be gentle! I love the idea of a ghost bride and debated on making it into an OC or reader story. I think I like having it be in little one-shots! it’s a crime more hasn’t been written for trevor (or any of the show’s characters). feel free to request for trevor or any other ghosts characters <3

“Are you going to mope around for eternity?” Sasappis asked you, standing arms crossed in front of a beautiful garden decorated to the nines. The backdrop to your sulking was stunning flowers tied in bunches and pastel dresses moving around the patio-turned-dance floor.

“Is that not the point of being a ghost?” you replied, jutting out your feet forever stuck in kitten heels and skin-colored pantyhose. Sass lightly kicked your foot with his and nodded his head to the corner just off the dance floor where the rest of the ghosts danced and laughed. A part of you was jealous of how easily they enjoyed themselves at weddings and how they were not plagued with an eternal hatred for them and what they represented.

It always felt like a cruel joke, even though it never had anything to do with you, when Sam and Jay hosted a wedding at their B&B. As much as you loved the couple, you couldn’t stand what most considered a joyous event. The union of two people in love, not tainted by tragedy, grew your restatement each time. Weddings were a part of the business and helped Sam and Jay bring in the money they desperately needed to fix up the mansion, but that didn’t mean you had to enjoy yourself. Instead, you spent each event sulking on the sidelines, ignoring the pang in your chest, and avoiding your ghostly counterparts' advances to cheer you up. The only thing that would’ve cheered you up was a do-over of your big day that was ruined by a strike of unluckiness, resulting in your untimely death.

Sass narrowed his gaze at you but decided against saying whatever he wanted to. Instead, he turned on his heel and headed back to the ghosts. You adverted your gaze back down to the beads sewn into your dress, picking at them with the wish you could pull the garment apart with your hands, but since it was what you died in, it would forever stick to you.

A slow song played through the DJ’s speakers as the sun slowly began to set over the yard. Strung lights glittered warmly, bathing the attendees in a golden glow. The bride had looked radiant since she arrived at the mansion days ago, and all day you had to watch her and her husband’s love run circles around you. Your malice wasn’t aimed directly at the happy couple, but rather at what they represented and the reminder of what you almost had.

Someone appeared beside you, their presence clouding your solitude-sulking. “What a bunch of losers,” the person said, causing you to turn your head and meet Trevor. “I mean, seriously, this song was lame when I went to weddings and people are still dancing to it? I get the appeal of throwbacks but let’s pick this snooze-fest up a little, am I right?”

You rolled your eyes. “What do you know about weddings?”

“I happen to have been invited to a lot of them, thank you very much. Well, the receptions and bachelor parties, usually. Those weddings had a lot more alcohol and single bridesmaids.” You said nothing in response, hoping your dimly lit mood would shoo Trevor away. You were mistaken, though. If anything, your silence only encouraged him further. He moved in closer to your side, standing with his hands on his hips as he gazed out across the crowd. “I think they may need some help livening things up a bit. Care to join me?”

He often tried to do that, brighten your mood by offering to dance with you. And every time you turn him down, not because you didn't want to, but because you’re worried that the second you start to enjoy yourself at a wedding, tragedy will follow a second time around. You liked Trevor and couldn’t stand the thought of enjoying yourself only to hurt yourself, again, or him. In your head, as long as you moped around, everything would stay the same as they were, which you loved more than you’d admit aloud. You liked your ghost-mates and you liked Sam and Jay. If you somehow brought some unfortunate curse upon any of them because you enjoyed yourself just as you had on your own wedding day, you weren’t sure you could cope with that a second time around, not when you hardly coped with it from the first time.

“Trevor…” you sighed, defeated and slumped-shouldered.

Normally, he dropped it after that. He usually sat quietly at your side until his excitement and urge to join the party overwhelmed him and he resumed dancing with Flower or attempting to play pranks on the livings with Thorfinn. That time, however, he took you by surprise. He moved directly in front of you, face set with a certain tone of seriousness that was odd.

“Nope,” he said, simply. “You are not moping for eternity. I won’t let you.”

“That’s not your choice.”

He smirked, cheekily and annoying but stupidly charming. Those three words suited him too well. Trevor extended his hand out, making a grabbing motion with his hand. “One dance, that’s all I’m askin’. That’s all I need to change your mind.” You tightened your grip on the skirt of your dress, unbudging at his request. “One dance. Please?” His voice was a little lower, pleading almost.

One dance. You never got to dance at your wedding. Something bad could happen, it probably would.

Trevor’s fingers grazed your knuckles, tapping them lightly and looking at you in a way, underneath the golden light, that made you consider it. He noticed your hesitation and dropped his hand back down at his side.

“Okay,” he said after a beat before he turned away with a little frown on his lips that made you feel even worse.

There was something wrong with you, maybe it was some kind of ghostly side effect of dying on your wedding day; perhaps you were doomed to live in the murky waters of what-if and why.

The bride and groom were in the middle of the patio dance floor, spinning each other around in quiet fits of laughter and bodies pressed as close as they could get with the bride’s fluffy dress. They were married, dancing as two halves of a whole with nothing bad lingering over their heads. There was no impending doom, aside from you sitting on the outskirts. The doom was you and your mind, rippled with jealousy, sadness, and a million questions of what exactly you could have done differently that day. But the truth was, there was nothing you could have done. Fate was fate, as Flower had once said in one of her more insightful conversations. Fate was messy and included bear attacks, arrows in necks, and accidents. Fate found you there, at the Woodstone mansion forever a fiancee but now entangled with the fates of your ghost friends who also found themselves there forever.

Forever was such a long, made even longer with eternity hanging on your shoulders. How many more weddings would you sit there, watching and sulking in your own unhappiness that others wanted to fix for you?

Something between a groan and a sigh left your lips as you stood up, letting your wedding dress fall back down to the ground in the pristine condition you had died in it in. “Trevor,” you said again, louder as you called after him. He stopped, slowly turning around with a confused quirk of his brow. You nervously picked at the beads again, but that time wasn’t to pick them off but rather settle them back in place in a similar way to how you had picked at them awaiting your turn to walk down the aisle. A dance was not nearly as monumental as that, but it carried a weight that pressed down on your chest.

“One dance,” you said. He stared at you for a moment like he wasn’t sure he had heard you right. It wasn’t until Thor punched him in the arm with a hardy laugh and Hetty pushed him forward towards you.

Trevor approached you, smoothing out his tie. “Really?” he asked.

You nodded. “If anything bad happens, I’m blaming it on you," you said only half joking.

He smiled, wide and toothy and the way that made you subconsciously want to copy it. “The worst thing that’ll happen is me stepping on your feet. I haven’t slow danced since prom.” Despite that, he dramatically bowed and extended his hand. “May I have this dance,” he said in a terrible accent. You couldn’t help but laugh lightly, some of that weight lifting from where it hurt your chest.

Once you accepted his hand, he all but dragged you to a quiet corner of the dance floor, away from where any livings would walk through you two, and away from the other ghosts and their suggestive smirks and comments pointed at the two of you.

When you danced, with his feet clumsily trying to avoid stepping on yours and hands rested on your waist, nothing bad happened. You did not die a second time around, nor did tragedy strike in the way you feared. The only thing that occurred was dancing, peppered with occasional laughter and a quick apology when Trevor stepped on your skirt and halted your movements. You recovered with a shake of your head and a slight lead in the dance, which he didn’t voice but silently appreciated.

#cbs ghosts #trevor lefkowitz #trevor lefkowitz x reader #trevor lefkowitz x you #sasappis #thorfinn #isaac higgintoot #hetty woodstone #alberta haynes #flower montero #pete martino #ghosts fanfiction #cbs ghosts fanfiction

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servicpop · 5 months ago

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HOW WOULD DRY HUMPING WITH UR OCS BE LIKE? LIKE WHOS MORE DESPRATE THAN THE OTHER WHO STARTED IT YK LIKE " U FELL FIRST HE FELL HARDER " BUT WITH DRY HUMPING LIKE IS READER THE ONE THATS IMPATIENT OR THEM ? IF SO WHICH WAY WOULD IT BE WITH EACH OC

wait this lowke don't make sense ✋IM SORRY I TRIED😭

LIKE WHOS DESPRATE U OR HIM

-💋anon

back from the dead 👊👊

glad you asked ! ( sorry this took so long I lowkey left this in my drafts TT )

Adrien would surely be the more desperate one. He's always been a little crazy when it comes to you. Actual sex was hard since there's always been people surrounding them , so at any given moment Adrien would find a chance to grind up against you. It would be in the middle of class during an activity where he's standing nonchalantly behind you, rubbing himself up against your ass, no one could see what was happening behind you. Or it would be at home where he's idly humping your leg like a dog, trying to get your attention if you're on your phone.

Vallen wouldn't be the desperate one or at least it would be rare for him to be. It would be a quiet night except for the soft tapping of keys on Vallen's keyboard. He's busy alot of the time, seeing as he was the CEO of a greatly known company. Lifting his chin up, he could see you slowly make your way to his chair, a cute pout on your face. "What is it?" He would chuckle softly, patting his thigh as an invitation. It's been practically a week without any action, Vallen could scarily contain his desires for ages. He wouldn't even bother giving into your whines and pleads, letting you pathetically hump his thigh, chasing any sort of friction. Truly a cruel man!

Cole would definitely be desperate. When cuddling, you as the little spoon, Cole would find a way to instinctively rub his hips against your back before mumbling a small apology and turning the other way in shame. He can't help it but he feels so embarrassed by it! Everytime he sees you out and about, all prettied up for your shows, he can't help the heat that pools between his legs or those butterflies that violently swivel around in his stomach. He finds himself clinging to your body, grinding against you like a dog in heat. He's extremely patient though, if you don't seem like you want it too, Cole would eventually just opt for cuddling — that served as his pleasure anways.

Callahan surprisingly (or not) would be the more desperate one. After work, after he undoes his tie and slings his coat off, he goes straight to you, placing himself right ontop of you like a big, brown bear. Callahan's body basically blanket's you, and his weight is enough to pull complaints from your lips, but he doesn't care. He shifts you slightly to turn onto your stomach and his large forearms cage your head in. He's pressing you down with his weight, roughly grinding into you through his work trousers. But he gets impatient, its been a long day at work and all he wants is his bratty little boyfriend clawing at his shoulders and tears staining the pillowcase. You can probably tell what happens after.

#servicpop — ocs #💋 — anon #oc x male reader #bottom male reader #sub male reader

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xoxorealitygalore · 26 days ago

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Twin Baby Surprise

Jey Uso x Black OC

Summary: Jasmine experiences severe abdominal cramps and is forced to call for an ambulance. While waiting for help, she lies down in bed, only to be shocked when she discovers a baby crowning between her legs. With no time to spare, her boyfriend’s son must step in to deliver the baby, which turns out to be twins.

The late afternoon sun filtered through the blinds, casting a soft glow across the living room. Jasmine sat on the couch, attempting to relax after a long week of work. She’d planned to spend the afternoon quietly, maybe catching up on a few shows or reading, but her body had other plans.

The first sign of discomfort came as a dull ache in her lower abdomen. At first, she thought it was just indigestion or perhaps a sign that her period was approaching, but the pain grew steadily worse, sharper and insistent.

Jasmine pressed a hand to her stomach, trying to breathe through the cramps. They felt familiar, like menstrual cramps, but more intense. She shifted uncomfortably, hoping the sensation would pass, but instead, it only deepened, tightening around her like a vise.

She glanced at the clock on the wall. It was nearing 4 PM. Joshua had gone out with his twin brother, Jonathan, for a haircut, leaving Jasmine alone at the house with his 12-year-old son, Jeyce. Her mind raced as she tried to figure out what was happening. The cramps didn’t feel like anything she had experienced before. Her hands trembled as she reached for her phone, attempting to call Joshua, but the pain was so overwhelming she could barely focus.

Suddenly, the cramps intensified, bringing with them a wave of nausea. Jasmine staggered to her feet, clutching the couch for support. Something wasn’t right. She needed help.

“Jeyce!” she called out weakly, her voice shaky. She moved toward the hallway, but her legs felt like jelly beneath her. She stumbled, falling back onto the couch, gasping for breath as another wave of pain struck.

Jeyce appeared in the doorway, his phone pressed to his ear. He looked concerned, his brow furrowed as he glanced at her. “What’s wrong, Jasmine? You don’t look good.”

Jasmine tried to speak, but the words got stuck in her throat as a fresh contraction hit. Jeyce quickly called 911. Jasmine winced, clutching her stomach and letting out a soft moan. Jeyce, realizing something was seriously wrong, quickly pulled the phone away from his ear.

“Operator, I need an ambulance,” he said, his voice calm despite the rising panic in his eyes. “My dad’s girlfriend is in pain. She looks really sick.”

He listened to the operator’s instructions, nodding as he repeated the details of their location. Jasmine’s breath came in shallow gasps, and she struggled to sit up. “I… I don’t think I can wait,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Jeyce’s eyes darted between her and the phone. He could hear the calm instructions from the operator, but he couldn’t focus on them. Something felt wrong—this wasn’t just a stomachache. The pain seemed to build, like an unstoppable force pressing down on her. His mind raced, trying to make sense of what was happening, but everything was happening too fast.

“Jasmine, do you want to lie down?” Jeyce asked gently, moving to her side. He was still holding the phone, but the urgency in her voice made him shift into action.

She nodded, her eyes wide with fear, and Jeyce helped her to her feet. With his support, she managed to make her way to the bedroom, where she collapsed onto the bed, her breath quickening with every passing second. The room felt too hot, the air thick with panic, but she couldn’t control the sensations racing through her body.

“Just breathe, Jasmine,” Jeyce said, his voice steady as he tried to offer comfort. He didn’t know what else to do but follow the operator’s directions to the best of his ability. The calm tone in the operator’s voice only seemed to heighten the sense of urgency within him.

But as Jeyce stood by her side, Jasmine’s gaze shifted downward. Her heart skipped a beat when she realized something was happening that she couldn’t explain. Between her legs, a dark shape was emerging, a faint pressure she hadn’t felt before. She froze, her breath catching in her throat as the realization slammed into her like a freight train.

“Oh my God…” she whispered, her voice trembling. “What… what is happening to me?”

Her body responded on its own as if some primal instinct had taken over. The pressure between her legs grew, and she instinctively placed a hand there, feeling the unmistakable sensation of a baby crowning. Jasmine’s eyes widened in horror and disbelief.

No. This couldn’t be happening. She wasn’t pregnant. She wasn’t prepared for this.

“Jeyce,” she gasped, trying to form words as she reached out to him, her hand trembling. “There’s… a baby is coming.”

Jeyce’s face went pale as he looked down, his eyes locking onto the sight of the baby’s head emerging between her legs. His mind was racing. He had never seen anything like this. He didn’t know what to do. He was just a kid.

“I… I don’t know what to do,” he whispered to himself, his heart pounding in his chest.

Before he could process everything, Jasmine let out a pained cry as another contraction rippled through her. Jeyce’s instincts kicked in, and he immediately crouched down beside the bed, his hands trembling as he reached for the towels nearby. His gaze shifted between Jasmine’s face and the baby emerging from her body.

“Jasmine, just keep breathing,” he said, trying to steady his own breathing as he wiped his hands on the towel. “I’m going to help you. Just stay calm.”

Jasmine’s hands gripped the sheets, her knuckles white as the next contraction hit. With a deep, guttural push, the baby’s head fully emerged, followed by the shoulders, and then—finally—the tiny body slipped free, into Jeyce’s waiting hands. He gasped, staring at the small, fragile figure in his hands. The baby let out a soft cry, a sound that echoed through the room.

For a moment, Jeyce was paralyzed, unsure of what to do next. His heart was racing in his chest, but he knew he couldn’t waste any time. He gently wrapped the baby in the towels, trying to keep her warm and comfortable. As he looked down at the tiny, squirming baby girl in his arms, he felt a surge of responsibility he couldn’t explain.

“Jasmine, it’s okay,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “You did it. The baby’s here.”

But Jasmine wasn’t done. Another contraction tore through her body, and she gasped, her face contorting with pain.

“There’s another one,” she whispered in disbelief. “There’s another baby…”

Jeyce’s eyes widened. Two babies. Twin babies. The reality of the situation began to settle in. He couldn’t just sit there and wait for someone else to come. He had to act. He had no choice.

“Just breathe, Jasmine,” he said, doing his best to keep his voice steady as he watched her push again. The second baby came quickly, sliding into his hands just as easily as the first. He quickly wrapped the second baby in a towel, glancing between the two tiny girls in his arms.

Jasmine collapsed back onto the bed, her body trembling with exhaustion, her chest heaving. The pain had subsided for now, but she was still in shock. Twin girls. Twins. How was this even possible?

The sound of sirens could be heard in the distance, and Jeyce’s breath caught in his throat. They were coming. Help was on the way. But for now, he was the one who had delivered them.

Minutes later, Joshua burst through the door, panic and confusion on his face. His eyes scanned the room until they landed on Jasmine, lying exhausted in bed with the two newborn babies in her arms. Jeyce stood beside the bed, his phone in hand, snapping pictures of the scene.

“What the hell?” Joshua whispered, his voice shaking as he approached the bed. He glanced between Jasmine and Jeyce, the overwhelming realization dawning on him.

“Dad, I… I delivered them,” Jeyce said, his voice soft but filled with pride. “I named them. Jamari and Jamya.”

Joshua’s heart swelled with emotion. “Jeyce…” he said, his voice breaking. “I’m so proud of you. Thank you for looking after Jasmine. And your baby sisters.”

Jonathan entered the room behind Joshua, his eyes widening as he took in the sight of the two tiny girls in Jasmine’s arms. He stepped forward, his face filled with astonishment.

“Twin nieces?” Jonathan asked disbelief in his voice.

Jeyce nodded, his smile growing wider. “Yeah. Twin girls. Jamari and Jamya.”

Jonathan immediately pulled out his phone, eager to share the news. “Everyone needs to know. Our family is going to flip out when they hear this!”

As the family gathered around, Jasmine felt a warmth she hadn’t expected—a feeling of safety and love, even in the chaos. The twins were finally here, and despite the shock and the surprise, everything was going to be alright.

She smiled softly as she looked down at the two tiny faces in her arms. Jamari and Jamya—her daughters, their arrival was unexpected but now the greatest blessing of her life.

jasminetheannouncer and uceyjucey

Liked by jonathanfatu, romanreigns, trinity_fatu, and 998,201 others

jasminetheannouncer Unexpected blessings 💕 Two little miracles arrived today—Jamari & Jamya. Feeling overwhelmed with love and gratitude. 💖👶👶 #Twins #NewBeginnings #Miracles #Blessed

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naughtyneganjdm · 4 months ago

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Leather and Latex

Summary: Every year Negan throws a Halloween party at The Sanctuary and this year he asks you to be his date. Endlessly, Negan has asked you to be one of his wives and you have turned him down. So for the Halloween party he tries to get you to dress as one of his wives, but you have something else in mind.

Characters: Negan & the reader (OC, second person)

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59504641

Warnings: 18+, Swearing, Smut, rough sex, unprotected p in v, Halloween themed, no use of Y/N, female reader, little to no plot, leather, latex, Batman references, praising kink, spanking, edging, etc.

Notes: This is day 4 to go with this kinktober list. The prompts I chose were Leather or Latex and Sensory Deprivation.

You never really pictured Negan to be much of a fun guy. Or a good guy for that matter. But when Halloween came around, it was shocking how much The Saviors and Negan loved to throw a good Halloween party. For the most part, Negan did it for the children, which he’d never let people openly know. He had an image to uphold, but over the last few months you had really gotten to know a different side to Negan.

Tonight Negan had asked you to be his date for the party and you accepted. You couldn’t exactly turn down the leader of The Sanctuary. Even though, recently, you had turned him down many times before. Especially considering the situation at hand. For the last few weeks, Negan had been desperately trying to get you to be one of his wives, but you turned him down every time. It was driving him crazy and you kind of loved it. You reminded him time and time again that you didn’t want to be sitting in a room, wearing a black dress like some mindless drone waiting for him whenever he wanted you. No, you wanted to be making a difference. You wanted to be someone that people respected. And to be respected? You couldn’t be one of Negan’s wives.

So the only thing at this point you had really done with Negan was kiss. But you would quickly stop things and shut him down. Hell, you liked Negan, but you had to make a point with Negan. You weren’t just someone who was pathetic and needed him to take care of you.

Tonight, when he brought you your ‘costume’ it had only fueled you more. Negan was specific in what he wanted you to wear. And that costume was a black dress and a nice pair of shoes so that for one night, you could be one of his wives. You played along with it, but when the opportunity arrived for you to pull one over on him, you did. Many times you and Negan had talked about things you liked before the world fell to shit and Negan stressed that he was a big fan of Batman. So when you had gone on a run with the saviors and found a Halloween store that had an extensive Batman costume, you made a deal with Negan. You wouldn’t be upset if he put that on. Even though he originally wasn’t planning on wearing any costume.

So that’s where he was. In the bathroom attempting to put on the costume that you had asked of him. At first, he was uncomfortable with the idea since it had extensive amounts of latex and leather. And he didn’t know if he could fit into it.

Laid out on Negan’s bed, you hadn’t let him know that you were out to surprise him with something while he had been locked away inside his personal bathroom that was in his bedroom. The loud music from the party that was already going on downstairs filled the air and it made you smile.

“You know, this is fucking awesome, but I think I’m going to need some help with putting on all the pieces,” Negan’s voice began, stepping into his bedroom to reveal that he had the cowl on along with a long-sleeved black shirt and the full batman pants set up. At this point he only had on half the costume, but you really didn’t give a shit. Once his eyes fell on you, he came to a quick stop and gave his classic Negan lean. “What in God’s name are you doing?”

“Me?” you questioned, looking down at yourself. While Negan was away in the bathroom you had grabbed a pair of his pants, one of his crisp white t-shirts, his red scarf and his leather jacket that he had set aside to get changed. On your right hand you had snatched the leather glove that Negan often wore and put that on too. Swiftly you had changed out of the classic Negan wife get up and into this which had his hazel eyes gazing over you. “Can’t you tell who I’m going to the party as? If you let me borrow Lucille, it would complete the set.”

“Where’d your dress go?” Negan looked around to see that the dress was laying on the floor at the foot of the bed. “Damn darlin’ you really wanna test the limits with me, don’t you?”

“No, I just really wanted to be Negan for Halloween,” you pulled yourself to the edge of the bed, biting down on your bottom lip. Curling your fingers around the bed, you gave a simple shrug and looked up to Negan with a sense of innocence. Wiggling your finger at Negan had his jaw flexing and in the Batman cowl, it actually looked incredibly sexy. Stepping forward toward the bed, Negan stopped when he reached the area before you. Outstretching your hands, you hooked your fingers with his and heard him growl. “You know…I always had a fantasy about having sex with Batman.”

“I don’t have the full costume on,” Negan pointed out with your eyes gazing over the parts of the costume that he already had on. The top was clinging to his body showing every part of his slender torso and the pants already looked good on him. Taking your hand, you reached out to palm in over the front of the pants eliciting a loud grumble from Negan’s throat.

“Is that you or the costume?” you wondered, licking your lips and dropping your palm between his legs to cup his testicles firmly. Wincing out, Negan tipped his head back and the prominent vein was visible at the side of his neck.

“That’s all me,” Negan responded, sucking in a sharp breath of air. “What about the Halloween party?”

“I think we can have our own party in here,” you suggested, standing up from the bed before Negan. Sliding your palms up over the lengths of his torso, you curled your fingers around his shoulders to get him to lower down closer to you. “Unless of course, you don’t want to have sex…”

“Lucky for you I always had a fantasy of fucking myself,” Negan mused with an arrogant bob of his head. It was such a ridiculous line and the way he delivered it was so cheesy that you couldn’t help yourself with laughing. Grasping your hips firmly in his hands, Negan snickered and drew his tongue out over his bottom lip. “This was a bold decision.”

“I’d like to think of it as smart,” you reasoned with him, tipping up on your toes to press kisses over his jawline. Groaning out, Negan tipped his head back and allowed you to pepper his throat with wet, teasing kisses. “I’m Negan already, so why shouldn’t I look the part?”

“No one gets to wear that leather jacket, I hope you know that,” Negan was letting you know that you were somehow special in the way that he wasn’t angry with you for wearing it. “I will worn you though, this was a bitch to get on, which means it’s going to be a pain in the ass to get off.”

“Well good thing I’m determined and have patience,” you slurred, purring out when Negan’s palms slid in over your sides toward your bottom to give it a firm squeeze. “I’m still not going to be your wife. I need you to know that.”

“No, this is purely Batman and Negan having sex,” Negan snorted and it drew attention to his eyes. Negan had already put the black makeup around his eyes to fit with the cowl and you couldn’t help but smile in how serious he took this whole thing. It really brought out the color of his beautiful hazel eyes and you were actually kind of glad you did this.

Tipping up on your toes, you brought your lips together in a hungry sweep that had Negan clinging firmly to you, pulling him flush against you. With every caress of his lips, you felt your heartbeat growing stronger.

“Fuck me,” Negan grunted, dropping his head down to look between the two of you. “My dick is only just starting to get hard and these pants are killing me.”

“We’re going to have to get them off you then,” you worked with the belt realizing what he meant with it being so many pieces. It took a lot to get them undone and you had to use a lot of strength to tug at the material when you dropped to the edge of the bottom of the bed. Getting the material down to his thighs made you smile when you saw his semi-erect length before your eyes. Caressing your hands up over his thighs and toward his hips had him sucking in sharply. God, his incredible v-line looked twice as amazing in what he was wearing. “Look at the weapon you were hiding on you this whole time Batman…”

“Weapon?” Negan repeated with an amused rumble, humming out when your fingers curled around his shaft. With gentle strokes over his body, it had him growing harder within your grasps. “I like that. It’s both a weapon of mass pleasure and destruction. Because tonight, I’m gonna absolutely destroy your pussy.”

“Now that better be a promise,” you purred, reaching around to grab his small ass in order to tug him forward. A wicked smirk tugged at Negan’s arrogant features when you let the tip of his cock drag over your full lips. Extending your tongue out ever so slightly against the ridges had him breathing loudly. “I’d hate to be let down by my favorite superhero.”

“Oh, that would be a catastrophe,” Negan agreed, his head nodding slowly and his gloved hands hooking around you to grab firmly at the back of your head. Wetting your lips, you pressed teasing kisses over the head of Negan’s cock that turned to gentle flicks of your tongue over the swollen tip. You didn’t want to jump right into this. No, you wanted to make him suffer with continuous wet, hot kisses at the tip that would grow more in strength. So that way by the time you finally did take him into your mouth, his legs were uneasy with his breathing broken. Watching Negan was the key to all of this with you lapping at the underside of his cock and then taking him further back toward your throat. “Y’know, I’ve never missed a Halloween party.”

“There is a first for everything,” you pulled your mouth away with a wet sound, your lips glimmering as you pressed them up to the tip. Extending your tongue out had Negan growling out. “If you’d rather be at the party.”

“Shut up and suck my dick,” Negan scoffed getting you to chuckle against his flesh. It had him tremoring and stepping in closer to you. His free hand wrapped around the base of his erection bringing his cock to your lips. Sinking it between your lips, Negan started to rock his hips back and unhurriedly forward toward your throat. Grasping at his hips, you allowed him this. You knew how bad he wanted this whole thing so you were going to give it to him. It was a mix of him letting you pleasure him and him fucking your throat. When he thought you’d need to catch a breath, he’d loosen up before urging you down his cock firmly. “Good girl.”

After a few firm thrusts to the back of your throat with a gagging sound following, Negan pulled his hips back and away from you. It had a line of spit connecting your lips and his cock. An amused sound escaped him when he pushed into your shoulders to get you to lay back.

“I’ve never given head before with something like this on my head, but let’s give it a shot,” Negan pulled at the pants you were wearing and it didn’t take much to get them from your body. Tearing at your panties had you gasping out, but Negan didn’t take his time. Dropping to his knees, his hands forcefully pushed your thighs apart and it was pretty immediate that you had his head between your legs. A rough, forceful kiss was pressed against your folds causing you to arch your back up toward him. Humming out, Negan dragged his tongue out between your folds teasing at your sensitive body. Slurping faintly at your clitoris had your fingers reaching down in search of his hair, but you realized that he was still wearing the cowl and it made you laugh. “What?”

“This is just new for me Batman,” you liked the smile that he gave you with his head tipped back. This was both incredibly sexy and ridiculous at the same time, but you weren’t going to complain. Dropping his head back down, Negan was very dominant in the way that he ate you out. It was no time before you were a shuddering mess beneath him clinging at whatever you could grab. You may have preferred to see Negan’s face and not so much his Batman mask, but you were making it work. “Negan…”

With your moans, Negan kept up the pace of his mouth and tongue working to bring you right to the edge of your orgasm. Bouncing your hips toward him, you were in desperate need of the orgasm that he was working up inside of you. It had been so long and he was surprisingly doing such a good job even with that cowl on.

Negan’s fingers hooked with yours right when you were about to come and you threw your head back into the pillows. It had an amused rumble falling from Negan’s throat when he sat down at the bottom of the bed. Your thighs were tremoring, your eyes slammed close leaving you with the sensation of spinning. Even though you were trying to catch your breath, Negan was ready to keep going.

In a haste, he pulled you in over him. Together the both of you shakily worked to pull the tight material of the long sleeve that he was wearing up his body to toss it to the floor. Crawling further in over his lap, you curled your fingers around his neck and it felt strange with the way the cowl felt against your fingertips.

“Wait,” Negan demanded, reaching for the red scarf that you had put on. Lifting it, he wrapped the material around your eyes and it had you releasing a shuddering sound. By his low rumble of a laugh, you could tell that he was amused. By taking your sight away, you couldn’t see a thing and he knew that. Maybe just simple shapes, but that was it. Gasping out, you tried to keep yourself balanced by holding onto his shoulders when he firmly tugged the white shirt up over your breasts and yanked down the cup of your bra. Negan’s mouth was quick to cover your breast, his tongue circling the nipple eagerly. “So fucking perfect.”

Whimpering out, you felt the length of Negan teasing at your entrance and you bucked up against him wanting to have him enter you, but he wasn’t giving you the satisfaction of that yet. Instead he continued to pamper your breasts with kisses until he hooked your arms behind your back in one of his hands.

“You are my prisoner after all,” Negan nipped at your neck, having you cooing out at the sensation. You could feel the leather of Negan’s jacket hot against your exposed flesh with Negan firmly rolling you over onto your stomach. Pulling your hips to the bottom of the bed, Negan roughly pushed into your lower back before kicking your legs apart. The warmth of Negan covered you with him wrenching your arms behind your back. “You are a naughty girl.”

“I’m so naughty,” you purred out with Negan’s cock hovering over your bottom. A soft tapping was felt against your cheeks before Negan led his cock to your entrance. In a swift, fluid movement Negan filled you completely having you throw your head back. A loud cry fell from your lips when he pulled his hips back and then firmly smacked forward. The movement was so strong that it had you bouncing forward up the bed. “Fuck!”

“I did say I’d deliver on a promise of destroying your pussy,” Negan growled in your ear and with your sight taken away from you, you felt everything in so much more detail. Every powerful thrust had you moaning out, your cries not being held back with Negan pounding into you with reckless abandon. Loud smacking sounds of your flesh filled the air and he wasn’t letting up on the grasp of your arms behind your back. “Such a tight pussy. It feels like it was made for only me. Who does it belong to?”

“It’s yours,” you whimpered, biting down on your bottom lip with every powerful forward thrust he made inside of you. It was hard to form words with your face buried against the bed and your eyes covered. What Negan was doing to you was both incredible and mind blowing. It wasn’t romantic, but that was never really something you pictured Negan being.

“I asked you who it belongs to,” Negan finally released one of your arms, giving your ass a firm smack. Whimpering out, you clung tightly to the comforter on Negan’s bed.

“Negan,” you were quick to answer wincing when he dropped your other arm. Both his hands were squeezing at your ass while he led you back over him repeatedly. Plunge after plunge of his body was rough, powerful and had you attempting to crawl upwards, but he would pull your hips back to him.

“I know this big cock has to be new for you sweetheart, but you’re going to take it like a champ,” Negan assured you, his right hand reaching out to press between your shoulder blades to keep you in place. Leaning over you, his weight braced against his arms that were beside you. Hooking his left hand with yours, Negan squeezed his fingers tightly with yours when he started rolling his hips forward, his lower abdomen smacking against your bottom. “Good girl.”

There was some racket downstairs from the party, but you were so lost in this that you didn’t care. There was a heat growing in your belly with every deep thrust Negan left you with. Negan’s mouth was covering your shoulder, neck and jawline with hot kisses.

“You feel so fucking good,” Negan growled in your ear, drawing chills throughout you. Turning your head just enough had you begging for his lips to cover yours. Giving you what you wanted, Negan stole a kiss from your lips that had you desperate to kiss him back. “Are you going to come?”

“Yes,” you panted, your body bouncing back into Negan’s thrusts. He had you trapped beneath him, but you liked the way it felt with him surrounding you. The smacks of his testicles against your clit felt amazing with him plowing into you. Grunting against the side of your neck, Negan bit at your jawline and hissed when your body started to tense up. Feeling your body contracting around his, Negan’s hips seemed to falter leaving you with a cry. “Please. Negan!”

“Not yet,” Negan snickered, pushing up and away from your body. The drag of his cock from your warmth was agonizing with him leaving your body. He seemed amused with your whining as he flipped you over onto your back. Crawling in over you, he urged your right leg to curl around his waist and you frowned. “You’ve teased me this whole time and you can’t wait a few extra minutes to come?”

“It hurts,” you frowned getting a deep rumble of a laugh to fall from him.

“And now you know how it feels when you’ve sent me packing with the blue balls every time you made out with me,” Negan breathed against your lips, amused when your hips arched up toward him begging him to enter you again. “You’re a greedy little thing.”

“I thought Batman was supposed to be the good guy,” you reminded him with Negan snickering against the side of your neck. “You’re going to leave a lady aching and in pain?”

“Batman isn’t liked by everyone you know,” Negan reached between the two of you, his lips hovering over yours. Leading himself back into you with ease had the both of you moaning in unison. At first, the roll of his hips was slow. It was almost torture with the slow pull back and the unhurried push forward. It was having him fill you completely and then almost leave your body before smacking forward again. Your arms hooked around his shoulders, you fingers digging into his flesh. “Give me what I want and I’ll let you come.”

You didn’t respond. He wanted you to be his wife, but there was no fucking way. Your silence didn’t bode well for him with his thrusts becoming more forceful having you bounce upward with every movement, “It’s not that hard to just give me what I want.”

“I won’t be one of them,” you denied him, your nails biting into his skin with how hard Negan started to fuck you. It had your back arching with you crying out his name again and again. You were thankful that the music was loud downstairs or otherwise you would have drawn the attention of someone in The Sanctuary. It was so fucking good, but just like before right when he got you to the edge, he stopped leaving your heart hammering in your chest. “Goddamn it Negan.”

“Only good girls get to come and you’re being very bad,” Negan slurred, his mouth covering your exposed breast. Nipping at the taut bud had you purring out, your fingers sliding up toward the back of his head where that fucking mask still was on him. And then he started moving again. Sharp, torturously slow movements that had you gasping with the sensation. “You wanna come? Give me what I want.”

“I’d be miserable,” you whined, your throat tensing up with Negan kissing up over your chest toward your neck to bite at the side of it. That would certainly leave a mark. “I want to be beside you, not waiting for you to return.”

“Goddamn,” Negan snarled, pulling away from you again, but this time he was tugging the blindfold down to get you to look at him. Trying to get the cowl from his head, you helped him when he hissed out and managed to get it off. Tossing it aside made you smile. He was soaked, his messy hair clinging to his head with him rolling you over so that you were on top of him. “If you don’t want to give me what I want then make yourself come.”

You weren’t going to fight that one with you bracing your hands over the center of his chest. Negan’s palms cupped at your breasts while you started to bounce yourself eagerly over his hips. You wanted to feel all of him and you were so desperate for that release. Winces were falling from Negan’s throat, his hazel eyes narrowing while you had your way with him.

Breathy pants were falling from your parted lips. Negan’s hips were meeting yours with every downward thrust you made over him. Your motions went from careful to forceful with Negan grasping to your hips to help you rock over him in swift movements. Your face was hot, your heart hammering when you threw your head back finally reaching that orgasm that Negan had held off from you for so long.

“Don’t stop,” Negan hissed, pushing up so that he could kiss over the side of your neck, forcing you to continue to move your hips over his even though you were already weak from how hard that prolonged orgasm took to get. Grasping at his wet, dark hair you knew he was looking for that same kind of euphoric feeling you allowed yourself to have. Short, pronounced winces were pressing against your throat. A few more powerful thrusts beneath you had you clutching to Negan when his cock twitched inside of you filling you with the first line of his cum. Bouncing up toward you, Negan clung tightly to you until the end of his orgasm, his breath warm against your lower neck. His arms were holding tightly to you and you were clinging to him. “I don’t know why you don’t want to be mine.”

“Because I can be yours without having to be your wife,” you hushed him, dragging your thumb across his bottom lip. Nipping at the pad of your thumb, Negan’s hazel eyes hooked with yours and it made you smile that he still had the Batman make up around his eyes. “I’ve been yours this whole time Negan. You’ve just been too blind to see it.”

----

Tags: @slutlanna976 @fuckthis-and-fuckthat @jennydehavilland @pixelb4rbie @ibelongtonegan

@smallsadjellyfish @labyrinthofheartagrams @msjamesmarch @thebeautysurrounds @hotfornegan

@redmercysugar @caprithebunny @tuttifuckinfruitty @emoryhemsworth @a-girl-interupted

@akumune @stoneyggirl2 @xsarcasticwriterx @haleygreen23 @xhannahbananax03

@sanctuaryforthelost @burningredaffair @killaweiser @dead-of-niight @ayumi-wolf

@promiscuousbarnes @tone-stark @lanadelnegan @peachihellcat

#Negan #negan x reader #negan fanfiction #Jeffrey Dean Morgan #The Walking Dead #The Walking Dead fanfiction #Negan Smith #Negan x you #Negan Smut #Negan Imagine #twd fanfiction #twd smut #kinktober 2024

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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 9 months ago

Text

Chapter 17: How Could I Ever Forget?

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy. This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter seventeen of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 9.1K

Warnings: References to sex, Cursing, Angst, Past Violence reference, Soft Ben, Fluff, Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, completely a little OOC, Soldier Boy is really all you need as a warning.

Note: This is told from the Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. Reader is described as "curvy" occasionally. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Additional Warning: Soldier Boy is again, super OC and fluffy in this chapter. If you do not like that, you probably shouldn't read this?

Guide

Rosemary's Phone

Reader's Phone

You sigh softly as you wake, the light from under your curtains illuminates your bedroom and sends a warm glow over your bed. You had never been a morning person. The only motivation you ever had to get out of bed was the hope of a cup of strong coffee waiting for you in the kitchen. But as you lay there, mind still a little cloudy from sleep you can't help but think that something feels different, that you've forgotten something important.

Maybe a shower will make me remember.

Instinctively you start to move towards the edge of your bed to get up, but something heavy tightens its grip around your chest making it impossible to move from its embrace.

What?

“Where are you going?” Ben’s voice is slurred and muffled against the pillow behind you.

The events of the night before begin to surface from the sweet haze of sleep, Ben showing up, you yelling at him, him bringing you lavender and saying everything you always wanted him to, and finally him holding you while you cried. You still weren’t sure that last part happened. That or Ben's ability to open his heart to you and tell you what he was feeling rather than reverting back into the cold attitude he adopted as Soldier Boy. In fact, you hadn't seen one shred of Soldier Boy yesterday, you'd only seen Ben, and deep down you hoped that you'd never see Soldier Boy ever again.

“Stay.” He murmurs, pulling your back into his muscular chest. “Please.”

His body is wrapped around yours, shielding you from your door, face buried in your hair, while one arm rests around your abdomen and the other is somewhere above your head bracing against the headboard. It feels natural and it makes anxiety electrify your veins.

Because what if he was going to leave again?

You turn your head to look over your shoulder.

Ben’s head is laying on the same pillow yours is, his eyes are closed, and his hair is falling forward into his peaceful face. Deep down another memory of this exact scenario surfaces, of you waking up before him when you were children and wishing that he wanted this as much as you did. Of course now he said he had wanted you the entire time time, and that he wasn’t going to leave, but deep down you dreaded what would happen when he opened his eyes.

Would he go cold again? Push me away? Say that he didn't mean any of it?

You try not to think that. You wanted him to mean all of it. You wanted him to fix it, to make it like it was before, make everything like the morning you woke up on his chest and he smiled down at you like you were everything he ever wanted. You wanted every day of your life to start that way, to be fused with wonder, love, and expectation. That morning you had woken up on his chest after your birthday, was one of the happiest memories you had, but what followed those few moments of happiness tore your heart out.

He said he wanted to fix this, that he wanted to be with me. You bite the inside of your cheek. He’s lied before. The thought fills you with dread.

“You’re thinking too much.” Ben sighs opening one green eye to stare at you. It’s a light green from sleep, but just as piercing as usual.

“I am not.”

Sometimes you though that Ben was psychic, because he was always able to read you, the same way that you always had been able to read him. Even when you were kids Ben was always able to tell what you were thinking, not to mention he always had a habit of showing up whenever you needed him.

Ben chuckles and opens his other eye. “I know you better than anyone else Sweetheart.”

“Maybe a little.” You admit.

“Hmm.”

You turn in his arms so you can look at his face and Ben adjusts his arm to drop over the curve of your hip, gently brushing his fingertips against you the base of your spine. But you don’t smile.

“What is it?” He whispers moving his face closer with a soft smile that tugs at something in your chest. “You can tell me.”

“You know.” You don't meet his eyes, the sour feeling in your chest growing with your confession as you level your gaze at his chin.

“Oh.” Ben's smile drops into a frown.

“It’s a little weird. That you’re here and you want to be-“

“I do.”

“I know. But I keep waiting for you to leave again, for you to push me away.” You hate that you have to say it out loud, but he might as well know what you're thinking. He needs to understand how much he hurt you and how worried you were about that. It was worse to keep it inside. That's what you had been doing for the better part of 40 years and now that it was all out in the open you did feel a little better, but it still hung on your heart.

“I don’t want to leave you-"

“I know that. Or at least a part of me does. The other part…” You trail off.

Ben is quiet for a minute, before he brings his hand up to brush away the strands of your hair that have fallen into your eyes. “Do you still want me here?” His expression turns pained when he asks it, voice barely above a whisper.

You look at him, tracing the strong jaw you’d memorized, the unruly brown hair that you always wished to run you fingers through, the proud arch of his brow, and the gentle bow of his lips. “Yes.” You answer honestly. "I do."

Ben looks relieved. "Then I won't leave."

The weight of those words grounds you to this moment. He wants to be here. He doesn't want to go.

"How'd you sleep?" His right hand is still tracing your spine in smooth comforting circles over the back of your soft t-shirt.

"Good. Did you sleep?"

"Better than I have in forty years."

"I figured." You smile faintly. You allow your hands to rest on his chest, just over his heart between you so you can feel the steady beat against your fingertips. It solidified the fact that he was here with you. You stop the urge to trace your finger across his muscles, but instead focus on the warmth that soaks through his shirt into the palms of your hands. "Probably should get a little more sleep, those dark circles look like bruises." You trace the prominent purple marks that curve beneath his eyes.

You think about everything Ben told you about the lab that he was a prisoner in, all the experiments and torture he went through believing that he deserved it.

He didn't. You think to yourself as you search his face, noting again that Ben looks the same, but also different. I wonder if I'm the same way. Then again I didn't go through forty years of unrelenting torture in a Russian Lab.

The thought makes anger surge against your skin. When you were with Countess you had felt a little guilty about losing control, but now you reveled in it. She deserved more than what I did to her. If I had known what she did to Ben, I would have made it hurt.

You think about Noir, the TNT Twins, and MindStorm. You had been happy to lose touch with them after everything that happened with Ben, happy to leave behind the life you had when you were on Payback, but now you weren't sure. Ben telling you how they betrayed him made you reconsider your life in the shadows, made you reconsider turning your back on your powers. Because they deserved the same thing you did to Countess.

"I was trying to, but somebody woke me up." Ben rolls his eyes at you, bringing you out of your thoughts of your teammates. "I remember you hating mornings as much as I do. Why are you awake?”

"I do hate mornings, but coffee makes them tolerable. Plus, I really need to take a shower."

"Oh good. I didn’t want to say anything but you really stink." Ben teases with a smirk.

"Wow." You scoff. "Big talk coming from the guy who smells like reefer, whiskey, and week old motel."

"You’re right I should probably take a shower too. But I’ll let you go first. Seems like the gentlemanly thing to do." Ben's smirk coupled with the mischievous glint in his eyes makes your heart warm. It was familiar in the best way. You didn't realize how much you missed it, how much you missed him. You'd tried to forget of course, how much you needed him in your life, how much you longed for him to be with you, and how much your friendship meant to you.

"Oh are you calling yourself a gentleman now? Because-"

“I am as much a gentleman as you are a lady and we both know that it’s a close tie.”

“Uh-huh sure.” You roll your eyes. "Maybe I would have been a lady if someone hadn't gotten me kicked out of the Dawson School For Girls."

"I never heard a thank you for that." Ben shrugs. His hand continues to circle at the base of your spine, his touch trailing warmth up your back. You weren't prepared for his touch to do the same thing to you that it did forty years ago.

It made you forget everything else, but him and it scared you. Because again you could feel yourself opening up to him, could feel yourself beginning to depend on him being there with you.

"I'll be sure to write you a thank you note."

“Hmm." Ben breathes. "Don’t use all the hot water.”

“Since this is my apartment and I pay for the water I feel that I should be entitled to use most of it.”

“Are you saying that I have to write you a check to take a shower?”

“Yep.”

“You’re fucking annoying.” Ben rolls his eyes at you playfully.

“I know. I’ve got forty years of sarcasm to make up for, so, might as well get used to it.” You smirk tapping him on the nose.

“I look forward to it.” Ben smiles back.

You try to get out of your bed again, but Ben tightens his grip on your waist pulling you back against his chest so that your faces are inches apart.

“Ben, I can't take a shower if you're holding me hostage." You joke pushing against his chest.

Ben leans his forehead against yours, making the next taunt vanish from your mind. “I missed you.”

You smile despite your mixed feelings over the two of you and the past forty years. It was hard to hold on to the fear of him pushing you away when he was holding you so close to him and gazing at you the same way he did the morning after he gave you everything you wanted.

“I missed you too.” You reply, gently smoothing a wrinkle in the front of his t-shirt.

It wasn’t a lie. You missed him more than life itself. Not just because you loved him, but because he was your best friend. He knew you inside and out, better than anyone else.

His gaze drops to your lips then flicks up to your eyes and you know what he wants but you're not ready.

“Ben-“ You breathe as he shifts his face closer. “I want to take this slow. I need us to take this slow.”

“I know.” He sighs, but then the edge of his mouth twitches. “That’s why I didn’t make a joke about saving hot water and taking a shower together.”

“Much appreciated.”

“Mhmm. It was difficult not to.” Ben pauses, his expression turns serious. “I’m going to make this right I promise. I’m going to fix this.” It wasn't the first time he'd said it, but it was nice to hear again.

The determination in his voice makes you hopeful. It made you understand that he wasn’t going to give up, even if that meant waiting for you to be ready. He was showing a considerable amount of restraint. The Soldier Boy version of Ben was not gentle or patient, but it made you feel special, as if it was only you that Ben reserved this part of himself for.

“I know.”

“I love you.” His hand comes to cup your cheek, bright green eyes searching yours earnestly.

“I love you too.”

Ben's thumb gently traces across your cheekbone. “Maybe don’t take a shower.”

“You said I stunk.” You reply with a snort, leaning your face into his touch.

“You don’t. I actually think you smell a little like me right now.”

“Oh great-“

It wasn’t that he smelled bad. Ben still smelled like his shampoo and aftershave, but there were a few other smells, all of which were stale, and ones that you attributed to the motel room Butcher made him stay in.

I can’t believe Butcher just left.

You hadn't asked Ben how he got him to leave or really why Butcher was so eager to help Ben get out of Russia.

“I like it. Plus that means you'd have to go and I don't want you to go yet." Ben’s voice softens.

Your eyes widen with his confession.

"Stay.” He whispers. The vulnerability in his eyes is back, striking you full on in the chest. You weren’t used to that, used to him being so open about wanting you, about wanting to be with you. Or really his want to do something so intimate without having sex.

"Okay." You relent and he pulls you closer.

Your hands drift up into his hair before you can stop them, rustling through the chocolate strands, smiling as Ben sighs and presses his head into your right shoulder.

And as conflicted you are about all of this, it does something to you, makes a piece of yourself fit back together that you thought you lost long ago, because you saw that Ben was trying. He was making an effort to fix all of this. And you really hoped that he could.

When you get out of the shower Ben isn't in your bedroom and the dread comes roaring back like an old enemy.

Did he leave?

The thought is immediate, followed by how empty your bedroom looks without him in it.

Shit. How can I be so dependable on him being in here already? Why am I doing this to myself again?

"Ben?" You say cautiously, shaking out your wet hair around your shoulders onto your soft t-shirt.

"Out here." Ben shouts from the kitchen.

The amount of relief you hear when he answers in his warm timbre again makes you anxious, because you hated how much your body responded to him and how quickly you had reinserted him into your life. It was like your heart wanted to break again.

You had opted to put the same clothes on that you had been wearing before because the sweatpants and t-shirt were preferable for a lazy morning and you weren't expecting to go anywhere today.

Well, not really. Then again I might have to go talk to Rosemary. How do I tell her that her dad is back and he showed up at my apartment? Or better yet, how do I tell her that he spent the night?

You press your lips together.

I mean I didn't sleep with him, but I did sleep with him and I don’t think she's going to be ecstatic that he's back in my life. Or our lives? Is she going to actually want him in her life?

You think about what Ben said about not leaving and his want to stay with you.

How am I going to explain any of this to her? She's just going to say that I forgave him and not listen to me. She's just so damn stubborn.

Another thought crosses your mind just as quickly.

How am I going to tell Ben that he’s a dad?

You had considered that exact question in the past, when you wondered what would have happened if Ben hadn’t died. If you would have told him that you were pregnant and if he would have even cared. Especially after everything he said that night and everything he did.

And now that he was back and said he didn’t want to leave, you weren’t sure how to tell him he was a dad. He was still trying to get used to living in the present, not to mention you were still trying to get used to him wanting to be there with you and the idea that he loved you.

But I can’t just avoid Rosemary. She needs to know this, needs to know that he’s back. Why is my life so complicated?

Ben's reply is followed by a loud crashing noise and some muffled curses, that draw you out of your thoughts about your daughter.

"Are you okay?" You run out of your bedroom into the hallway, but stop in shock just as you enter the edge of your living room. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Come on you stupid, fucking thing!" Ben shouts. He’s standing in your kitchen, holding your coffeemaker in a chokehold against his chest, and aggressively jabbing his finger against the digital interface.

“Wait stop! You’re going to break it! And I’ll never forgive you if you break Sully!” You rush over to where he's standing in your kitchen, taking the machine from him and placing it back on the counter. It looks okay, but not having coffee this morning was not an option for you. Not having coffee after the night you'd had meant that someone in the apartment was going to die and it wasn't going to be you.

“Sully?” Ben asks confused.

“The coffeemaker.” You begin to hook it up and type in the normal settings you use, before going to look through your cabinets for the bag of coffee grounds.

I know I still have some in here somewhere.

“You named your coffeemaker?”

“He looks like an Sully." You shrug as you look over at him with a smile.

You didn't tell him that it was Lou that named the coffeemaker after you watched Monster's Inc. with her and she imprinted on the closest blue object.

"And what are you doing?” You ask. The smell of the coffee grounds gives you a jolt of energy as you scoop out the correct amount for the machine.

Ben watches you go through the steps. “I wanted to make you coffee.”

The thought was surprising, given that Ben had never made you coffee, ever. Whenever he woke up at you apartment all those mornings you both either went for coffee at the café down the street, or you made coffee while Ben took a shower.

“It’s okay I’ll do it. It’s a little more high tech than what you’re used to.” You start to push him gently out of the way so you can reach the glass decanter where it sits on the drying rack next to the sink.

“No.” He says firmly, refusing to budge. “I want to know how to make you coffee.”

“Why?”

“Because you love coffee and maybe one morning I’d like to- I don’t know- make you some or something?”

“Do you see yourself in my kitchen? Because that’s something I’d never imagine-“ You try to think of him walking around, making breakfast or dinner but the image doesn’t fit. Ben didn’t know how to cook, not to mention his usual misogynistic attitude usually meant that he never set foot in the kitchen except to find a bottle of booze.

He crosses his arms over his chest defiantly. “Well this is where I live. I imagine that I’d be in the kitchen at some point.”

You freeze, your hand still pressed against his bicep from when you tried to move him out of the way.

“What?” Ben realizes what he’s said. “Oh- um- I know you want to take things slow, but I figured I could just sleep on the couch. I didn’t need to sleep in bed with you like last night. I-“ He scrunches up his face, unsure. “I wasn’t lying when I said I wasn’t going to leave you again and I thought I might as well be living here. But if I assumed wrong I can get an apartment if that makes you more comfortable. I mean I didn’t use the one I had forty years ago, I spent most of my time at your apartment with you and I kinda thought-well-“ He’s watching you with wide eyes. “Fuck. I’m sorry I shouldn’t have assumed-“

Ben was blabbering, nervous despite his inability to admit it, afraid in his own way that you were going to reject him, think him less of a man for revealing how much he wanted you to be in his life. And it does something to you, understanding that you're not the only one who's afraid of what comes next.

You smile at his obvious discomfort, heart clenching to see how much he wants to stay, and recognize how much you don't want him to go. How despite everything, you want him to stay here with you, and that you don't want him to live somewhere else. Because living somewhere else means that you wouldn't wake up in his arms and you wouldn't see his sleepy smile when he first opened his eyes.

You hug him around the waist and tuck your face into the hollow of his throat. “You can live here Ben.” You say, your voice no more than a murmur.

“Are you sure? I know that you don’t want to rush things. You want to take this slow and I understand how important that is to you.“ Ben's hands come up around you to hold you closer to him.

“Kinda hard for you to fix things if you’re living somewhere across town.” You mutter into his shirt, nuzzling your face into the soft fabric. “Plus I like the idea of you bringing me coffee in the morning.”

“And I like the idea of living with you.” He whispers into the top of your head. “So does that mean I’m entitled to hot water?”

“We can discuss terms later. Right now I really need some coffee.” You place you chin on his chest and look up into his deep green eyes.

“So you’ll take payment in the form of coffee?” Ben's smile is contagious.

“Perhaps.”

Ten minutes later Sully is buzzing pleasantly as it brews, glinting blue in the light that streams through the large windows on the opposite side of your apartment, and Ben knows how to use it without swearing and breaking it in half.

He drifts over to the part of your living room that serves as your art studio, examining the canvases splashed with color and the half-full sketchbooks on the large wooden table pressed under the windows. It was messier over there than the rest of your apartment, but you thrived on the mess, thrived on the chaos of art supplies that were scattered over the table top like multicolored fish.

“I followed your advice.” You smile leaning against the counter to watch him. “Started selling my art. It’s selling pretty well. Has been for a while.”

It was still weird that he was here in your apartment. Each time you looked up and saw him, you were surprised, but at the same time there was something deep down that was happy to see him there, dressed in normal clothes. Waking up next to him and having him make you coffee was the domestic relationship you had wanted with him so long ago. It was what you used to imagine when you were curled up on your couch in your old apartment downtown.

“Of course it is. You’re talented.” He replies while flipping through your sketchpad, the flick of the pages drowned out by the bubbling of the coffee.

"I actually have a show coming up in a few weeks-" You weren't sure if you were still going to make enough pieces in time, especially given everything that was happening in your life with Ben or what would happen when you told Rosemary.

"Good." Ben glances up from the sketchpad. "I want to go."

"I'd like that." You blush under his gaze before your eyes drift back to the box of letters smiling faintly. “I still can’t believe you kept them.”

“Got kicked out of boarding school number nine because of them.”

“I thought you got kicked out because you were in a fight.” You raise an eyebrow. “You never told me why.”

“Because someone stole the letters and read them out loud in the cafeteria.”

“You’re kidding!” You snort.

“No.”

“So he exposed you for being a simp and your immediate reaction was to fight him in the cafeteria?” Your fingertips brush over the faded script on the sheets of paper.

“Being a what?” Ben looks confused as he walks slowly towards you.

“Oh right.” You press your lips together to think of a way to explain it without insulting him. “It means being head over heels for someone.” It was a bit of a stretch but he didn’t need to know that. He didn’t need to know that the meaning was closer to something Ben would ascribe to being a pussy.

“I am.” His hands go on the counter around you pinning you between the metal and his muscular chest, looking down with so much love and care in his eyes that it makes you dizzy.

It was jarring. How could he flip the switch so easily? How could he be so open now to me and not be like this before?

You think about the moments you spent in bed together 40 years ago, the look in his eyes the perfect morning, how he held you like he never wanted you to let him go and you didn’t want him to.

“Are you now?”

“Mhmm.” Ben tilts his head down towards your forehead, but just before it rests against yours, your phone buzzes where you left it on the counter the night before, drawing your eyes to the illuminated screen.

“What is that?” Ben asks. You gently push him away to pick up the phone that continues to vibrate.

“Shit.” You mutter to yourself. You had ten missed calls from Rosemary not to mention a barrage of texts that each got more and more unhinged as they were delivered.

Rosemary: Hey. Rosemary: Did you land? Rosemary: Mom? Rosemary: HELLO? Rosemary: Mom are you in trouble? Rosemary: MOM. Rosemary: Please you’re scaring me. Rosemary: Pick up the phone. Rosemary: PICK UP THE PHONE Rosemary: PICK Rosemary: UP Rosemary: THE Rosemary: PHONE Rosemary: If you don’t pick up I’m going to buy a plane ticket. Rosemary: I bought a plane ticket. Rosemary: I’m packing a bag- Rosemary: I’m calling Lou’s babysitter. Rosemary: I’m scheduling an Uber!

Rosemary: Alright to whoever has my mom’s fucking phone, I’m coming and when I get there she better be okay. Because if she’s not, there will be nowhere for you to hide.

You tap out a quick message to sate her ridiculous descent into madness, before thinking of what you need to say next.

You: Rosie it’s okay. I’m fine!

She Immediately texts back.

Rosemary: What’s the safe word?

You: Pineapple.

Rosemary: What’s the second safe word?

Your fingertips hover over the screen as you try to remember if Rosemary had decided a second word that gave the all clear, but you can't remember one.

You: We don’t have a second safe word?

Rosemary: I know I was testing you. Where the hell did you go? Why didn’t you text me? I thought the plane was supposed to land early this morning?

You: My plans changed I didn’t have to go to Russia. I’ll tell you later. Lots happened and I need to work a few things out.

Rosemary: What happened? Did you find out he wasn’t there?

You: No I didn’t need to go.

You stop typing to try and think of a way to phrase that her father showed up out of the blue and slept over.

Well he didn't sleep over, sleep over, but he did stay in my bed with me and… she's going to kill me.

Rosemary: Because?

Rosemary: BECAUSE?

You: He kinda showed up here.

Rosemary: HE WHAT?

You: He showed up at my apartment.

Rosemary: Are you okay? DID HE HURT YOU? ILL BE THERE IN TEN MINUTES-

You: No he didn’t hurt me. I promise. All we did was talk. If anything I hurt him.

Rosemary: Good.

You watch the three dots flicker across the screen of your phone to signify that she is responding, waiting with your heartbeat thundering in your ears.

Rosemary: Is he still there?

You: Yes.

Rosemary: Do you need me to come over?

You: No. He’s been through a lot. The last thing he needs is for you to show up guns blazing. I haven’t told him about you or Lou yet-

Rosemary: You fucking forgave him didn’t you? WHY?!!

You: I didn’t forgive him. It’s complicated-

Rosemary: What happened to just slapping him around a bit then telling him to fuck off? That was a good plan. I LOVED THAT PLAN!

You: Well I did tell him to fuck off but it got more complicated.

Rosemary: OH MY FUCKING G-

“Hey you okay?” Ben’s voice jars you from the barrage of messages on your phone. His gaze is leveled on your face, noting the worried frown that pulls at your lips.

“Yeah. Sorry someone was texting me-“ You try to wave him off, afraid that he can see the texts on the screen of your phone.

I don't want him to find out this way. Not by glancing over my shoulder and seeing the manic, overprotective texts from our daughter.

“They were what?” He looks down at the phone in your hand confused, but you lock the screen.

“Oh right. Sorry I forgot that you’ve been living under a rock the past forty years. It’s kinda like sending a message, instantaneously so you can talk to someone else.”

You really didn't feel like explaining texting and Wi-fi at the moment with him. You were too worried about the introduction between Ben and Rosemary that was looming over you like a guillotine.

But he still looks confused.

“I’ll get you a phone, don’t worry.”

There's so much he's missed.

Your phone buzzes in your hand and you know it’s Rosemary.

She's not going to give up.

Ben looks down at it again curious. “Sounds like someone’s trying to get ahold of you.”

“She can wait.”

“She?”

“Friend of mine.” You answer quickly.

Ben raises an eyebrow. “I can tell when you’re lying.”

“I know.”

The phone buzzes again and you sigh, knowing that the longer you ignore her, the worse it will be. And the last thing you needed was for Rosemary to show up and kick down the door of your apartment with Lou in tow.

“Impatient isn’t she?” Ben comments, noting how the phone continues to vibrate.

“Yeah she is. She’s also incredibly stubborn.”

“Huh sounds like someone I know.” The edge of his mouth quirks in a familiar smile that makes you wish that you had the courage to tell him.

“You have no idea.”

“So?”

“Are you going to answer her?”

“I should.” You press your lips together trying to think of a way to bring this up. “Ben I have to tell you something.”

“What?” He brushes back your hair, tenderly stroking his finger along your skin and trailing warmth with his caress. It distracts you for a moment.

“Well after that night we spent together I-um- I stopped being a hero.”

How the fuck do I say this?

“Yes I assumed that given what we talked about at the premiere.” He frowns remembering that night.

“And it wasn’t just because I wanted to leave it was because-um- well, I was different.”

How is he going to react? Is he going to be happy? Angry? Upset that we weren't more careful?

“Sweetheart I know you’re different, that’s why I love you.” He’s watching you softly, eyes a light green, filled with more love than you can comprehend.

It makes it difficult to find your words.

“No not like that I was, well, there’s no easy way to say this.” You pause and take Ben’s hand, raising your eyes to his and stroking your thumb over the warm skin. “I left because I was pre-“

Butcher kicks open the front door of your apartment interrupting what you were going to say next. “Good morning lovebirds. Did you kiss and make up yet?” Butcher flashes a salacious grin, eyeing Ben and your close proximity.

“That’s none of your fucking business.” Ben snaps his eyes narrowed at the man standing in the doorway.

“Touchy.” Butcher raises his hands in a sarcastic surrender.

“Why are you here?” You ask turning to look at him.

Could he have chosen a WORSE time to come here?

Hughie is loitering in the hall behind him as if deciding whether or not to come in. You couldn't blame him. The poor guy looked like a deer in the headlights yesterday when you threw Ben across the room.

Butcher walks into the kitchen straight for the coffeemaker not asking for permission before he pours himself a cup. “Well I found those TNT fucks that your boyfriend was looking for. Thought he’d want to pay them a visit.”

You turn to look at Ben surprised. “You’re going after the twins?”

Ben and you hadn’t spoken about his next move. He’d only talked about his plans to stay with you and hadn’t mentioned anything about going after your old team.

Not that you were against it. You weren't against making them pay for what they did to him. You weren't against making the remaining members wish that they hadn't sold Ben out. Of course, you hadn't said that to Ben. If anything you were going to give it a few days to get settled together before you brought it up. And you certainly weren't going to bring it up in front of Rosemary, who had been less than pleased when you killed Countess, and wouldn't approve of a bloody rampage all over New York. It definitely wouldn't make her like Ben any more than she already did.

"Yeah." Ben's expression darkens as his eyes flick from your face to Butcher. “Where are they?”

“A few hours outside New York. Brought your suit.”

You didn't like how eager Butcher was to help Ben and remember what Legend said about how Butcher liked killing supes. It made you anxious, because why would Butcher want to help Ben? Was it for the thrill of it? But the last thing you were going to do was leave Ben with a guy who likes killing supes.

Hughie holds up a plastic bag that must contain Ben’s old supe suit and you try not to shudder when you remember the last time you saw him wear it.

“I’ll be a minute.” Ben mutters to you squeezing your hand once before taking the bag and disappearing down the dark hallway towards your bedroom.

But you're not done talking about this with him and as you turn to follow, Hughie steps in front of you.

“Hey I just wanted to say that I'm really sorry."

“About what?” You ask confused.

What does he have to apologize for? He saw Ben and me yelling at each other and saw me throw him across the room. If anything I should be embarrassed about them hearing everything that I shouted at Ben yesterday.

“If I had known what happened between the two of you I would have tried harder to keep Butcher from bringing him here.” Hughie rubs the back of his neck and scrunches up his face sheepishly.

Again, what is he doing hanging around Butcher? Hughie seems to care about other people. And Butcher just seems like-

Your eyes skate to where Butcher is drinking from his cup of coffee unamused. And Butcher is just an asshole.

"It's okay. I'm glad you did. I've been holding on to some stuff for a really long time and Ben has been too. I’m glad that we got to talk things out.”

“So you're okay now?" Hughie raises an eyebrow. "He didn't-“ He pauses as if he's uncomfortable saying what comes next and you try to understand why.

“Didn't?” You ask confused.

“He's kinda rough I was worried that he would-“

He thought that Ben would hurt me.

“Ben might seem a little gruff, but not with me. He's never-“ You stop remembering the premiere and adjust your sentence. “He wouldn't hurt me. And if anything you saw that I can handle him pretty well.” You can't help, but smile and nod your head back towards the couch.

“Yeah. That was intense.” Hughie cracks a nervous smile.

“Yeah” You laugh awkwardly. “ I didn’t mean to lose my shit like that. I’m usually pretty good at controlling myself-"

“Is that what happened to Countess?” Butcher interrupts.

You blink at him surprised. “Yeah. She tried to kill me and she- she said a few things not worth repeating. I didn’t go there with the intention of killing her, I actually just wanted to talk but it got out of hand.”

"What exactly are your powers anyway? Vought's files said you were like him." Butcher nods his head in the direction of where Ben disappeared to.

"I am." The lie is easy. It was the secret that you kept for eighty years, the secret that only Ben and Rosemary knew. Because you knew that particular power made you different than other supes. You had been disappointed to learn that Rosemary's power also made her different than the usual roster of other supe powers that you had encountered in your lifetime. And it made you worry about Lou. Rosemary and you were waiting for the day that Lou's powers manifested and you hoped that Lou didn't have any.

Butcher's eyes narrow like he doesn't believe you, but you shrug it off.

“But I’m going to go check on him so I’ll be right back.”

And you leave your kitchen before Butcher and Hughie can ask you anything else.

When you walk in through the door of your bedroom, Ben is changing into his suit. He’s wearing the dark pants, but the top half of his suit is aying on your bedspread, and that means that you can see every perfect indention of muscle on Ben’s torso.

You'd seen him without a shirt before, obviously, many times, but each time it did the same thing. Again you curse him for looking this good after being trapped in a Russian lab for 40 years.

Did they let him work out there? Was the lab the same place Ivan Drago trained before he faced Rocky? How is any of this fair?

Your cheeks warm and your heartbeat thuds loudly in your chest as you gaze at him, so you turn back to close the door behind you to clear your head.

"You also get me pretty excited when you take your shirt off Sweetheart." Ben smirks at you with a wink as he picks up the top half of his suit, sliding it on over his head, but his helmet is nowhere to be seen.

Guess he wasn't trying to hide anymore.

You stand there for a minute watching him. "Are you sure about Butcher?"

"What about him?"

"I don't know. I don't understand why he's helping you with all of this-"

Ben goes silent and he turns towards his toolbelt, gun, and knife on your bed.

"What did you promise him?" You take a step towards Ben, to catch his eye.

He doesn't answer immediately, instead he buckles his toolbelt around his waist. "He wants me to go after Homelander. He said that he would help me find what's left of our old team if I do."

"Homelander?" You sputter. "You're kidding right?"

"What? He looks like a pussy-"

You could see some of the macho version of Soldier Boy beginning to unfold from the man who stood in front of you and you didn't like it. It wasn't that you hated the protective side of Ben, the side that always made you feel safe, it was the other side, the side that beat others into submission after they had surrendered that you didn't like.

"Do you even know anything about him?"

Honestly you didn't know too much about Homelander either, just that he was Vought's new golden boy and seemed incredibly shallow, not to mention each time you saw an interview or a picture it unnerved you.

Homelander's eyes were cold, lifeless, and empty. Each time he smiled you could see a glimmer of something dark behind them. You had seen it before, seen it in the eyes of supes like Liberty who believed that nothing could stop them, supes who believed that they were gods and everyone else was below them.

"Doesn't matter. Butcher thinks that whatever the fuck is in my chest will wipe him out."

"And you believe him?"

"Maybe-"

"Ben."

"What? You don't think I'm strong enough to take him?" His entire body turns back to look at you, something dark lurking behind his eyes that reminds you of the day you stood between him and Noir.

"That's not what I said. It's not about being strong enough to kill Homelander, it's about you trusting Butcher. You don't know anything about him and he's using you to live out his fantasy of killing Homelander. Legend told me that Butcher has this thing about killing supes and he has a bone to pick with Homelander because he did something to Butcher's wife."

"So?"

You shake your head in frustration, trying to get Ben to understand what you were saying. "Ben please, listen to me. I don't care about Homelander, I don't care about Butcher, I care about you-"

Going after Homelander was crazy. The one thing you knew about him, was how Vought continued to stress how indestructible he was, the exact same thing they had said about Ben and you. But leaving Ben with Butcher was crazier. Butcher didn't give a damn about Ben, he was just using him to do the one thing that he couldn't do himself.

"I know that." Ben sighs. "I care about you too."

"And I don't think it's a good idea for you to be doing everything he says-"

"I'm not doing everything he says. We have a deal. And if this is about you being upset with me going after our team, you can't talk me out of it."

“No Ben-“

“Fuck whatever Butcher says about Homelander. I have to do this.” Ben's jaw tightens, eyes flashing with anger as he remembers what happened in Nicaragua.

“Ben-“

“You weren’t there when it happened. You don't understand what they did to me, what it was like to be in that fucking lab! And I’m not going to let those incestuous fucks get away with it.” His teeth grind down together. "I'm not going to let any of them get away with it."

The air in your bedroom begins to get unnaturally warm, a orangish tinge beginning to peak through Ben's suit as his new power begins to manifest.

“Ben!” You shout, stepping towards him and laying your hands against his chest to snap him out of it. Your hands burn as they press against his suit, but you don’t let go of him.

He blinks a few times, gaining control, the brightness fading as he does so, but you don't drop your hands from over his heart.

“What?”

“I know.” You say gently.

“Huh?”

“I know you have to do this and I’m not going to try and stop you from going after our team. They deserve to pay for it. I was going to say that I’m going with you.”

“No.” His answer is immediate.

“What?”

“No.”

“What happened to not wanting to leave me?”

“I don’t want to leave you. But I have to, just for a few hours. I’ll come back I promise-“ Ben's hand falls on your waist, right where your shirt meets the top of your sweatpants, allowing you to feel the warmth of his skin through the fabric.

“No. The last time I let you go alone Countess told me you died and then you got taken away to Russia. I'm not letting you go alone."

The fear of him getting taken all over again squeezes your heart in your chest, because yes, maybe Butcher wanted Ben to go after Homelander, but what would Butcher do when Ben finished the job? Would he send him back to Russia? You weren't going to sit around and find out, you were going to make sure no one did that to Ben ever again. And if that meant him not leaving your sight, you were okay with that.

Ben continues to frown at you, before an odd look crosses his face. "Did you kill her?"

"Yes." You chew the inside of your cheek. "I didn't mean to, she said a few things and she killed me-"

“She killed you?” Ben growls and he begins to lift the bottom of your shirt to find the scar forgetting himself, but you drop your hand over his to stop him.

“It doesn’t matter. She’s dead now.”

She might be dead, but what she said rings in your ears and the proud smile Countess had flashes through your mind. The triumphant look on her face after she told you why she had sex with Ben. The same look that was on her face, before you ripped her head off.

"What did she say?" Ben asks, but then he realizes after the question passes through his lips, noting your expression and remembering what you yelled at him yesterday. "Sweetheart-“

"It's okay-" You shake your head to dissipate the memory of Countess.

“No it isn’t.” Ben's hand cups your face. “What she said wasn’t true. That night meant everything to me. It wasn’t a mistake and it wasn’t disappointing in any way. Believe me.” His thumb brushes against your cheek and you lean into his touch.

“I do. I shouldn't have let what she said get to me and I shouldn’t have believed her. I can't remember the last time I lost control. I hadn't used my powers in a while-"

"Which is why you shouldn’t come."

“I don’t want you to get taken or hurt." Your hand comes up to hold his hand against your cheek.

Ben rolls his eyes at you, cracking a smile. "I won't get hurt."

"It doesn't matter what you say. I'm going."

His smile drops. “No.”

You really couldn't figure out why Ben was doing this. You both had powers and you trained together. You had been on "missions" for Vought before, and before everything happened, you were going to be in Nicaragua with him. So why was this any different?

“Why not? I’m just as strong as you. I’m just as indestructible-“

Ben pulls his hand from your face. “But you’re not indestructible! You die."

"I come back-"

"Have you thought that maybe I don't want you to come because I hate watching you die?" He snaps angrily.

"What?"

"Do you have any idea what that’s like for me?" He shouts eyes blazing through the soft light in the bedroom. “Hearing your heartbeat stop, watching you take your last breath, knowing that there’s absolutely nothing I can do?”

Whatever thoughts or words you were going to say shrivel up on the tip of your tongue. You'd never thought about it like that before. You'd thought that your ability to come back to life after would have reassured him.

He knows what my powers are. He knows what I can do-

"I hate feeling fucking helpless and every time you get hurt I’m reminded that I can’t help you! That I’m not strong enough to protect you!” He sits down on your bed, hands clenching into fists where they rest on his thighs.

"Ben-"

“When you came with me I promised that I would be strong for both of us, that I would always protect you and every time you die it just makes me feel like I’ve failed!” His gaze is leveled at you feet.

You inhale sharply with his confession. It was what he promised you the night he told you to say no to Howard, the night that you thought he was asking you in his own way to marry him. You could remember the promise, remember the way he held you close to him, eyes wide and vulnerable when he spoke it to you. That night anything had seemed possible. And despite everything that happened with Countess, Ben had never broken that promise to you. He had protected you, he had been strong for you when you needed him to be.

You remember the night of your brother's funeral when he drove all night to be there for you, and how he continued to show up in your life when you were having a hard time as if he seemed to know when you needed him the most.

"Ben-” You try again, this time a little softer.

"Do you have any idea what it’s like to exist in those thirteen fucking seconds wondering if you’re going to come back or not? If that’s the last time I’ll ever see you smile? If you’ll ever open your eyes and look at me ever again?" This time he raises his green eyes to yours and you see a lifetime of emotion reflected in them. It's the same look he had when you woke up after you took a bullet for him and died for the first time. He had yelled at you for it, told you never to do it again, shouted that he could take care of himself and he didn't need you to protect him.

And you suddenly understand, you understand why Ben knew it was thirteen seconds, why he was the first one to ever tell you that it was thirteen seconds. Because each time he counted hoping that you would come back to him.

He doesn’t say anything just continues to sit on the end of the bed, dropping his eyes to the floor again, and wringing his hands together.

You sit down next to him, the bed dipping beneath you, and reach for his hands, but Ben has other plans. He grabs your waist and pulls you up into his lap so you're straddling his thighs. You don't have time to be shocked, because Ben presses his face into your neck and brings both of his arms around your torso to hold you to him. Deep down you know that this is the opposite of taking it slow, but you can't bring yourself to push him away. Because again he was showing the vulnerable side of himself that made you want to comfort him, the side of him that he hid from you for so long.

"You’ve seen me die before.” You breathe, running your hand up and down his back in a soothing motion.

“Doesn’t mean it gets any easier.” He mumbles and you feel his lips brush against the half moon shaped scar over your heart, a reminder of the bullet you took for him all those years ago.“I thought I lost you that day.” Ben mutters into your shirt. “I don’t know what I would have done if I had-“

“You didn’t.”

“But I could have. “I hated that you did it. That you were willing to die for me. You’re worth so much more than I am-"

“The fact that you think that means the opposite.” You run your fingers through his hair, feeling his arms tighten around your hips. “Your father may have made you believe that, but I don't. You’re not a failure Ben. And you could never disappoint me.”

“I already did.”

“Hey we’re moving past that. And I’m sure that I’ve disappointed you plenty.”

“Never.”

“I find that hard to believe.” You snort, and for a moment, you think Ben is going to look up at you and smile, but his face stays buried against your chest.

“Hmm.”

You wait for a moment, stroking your fingers through his hair. “How do you think I felt when they told me you were gone? That I’d never see you again?"

“You were angry at me-“

“That doesn’t mean I wasn’t devastated when they told me you died. I thought that the last thing I’d ever said to you was that you were like your dad and that I regretted having you in my life.”

That was something that you had to live with over the past forty years, because even though what Ben did hurt you, you hated that the last time you saw him was like that. You hated the thought that Ben died believing that you didn't care about him.

Maybe in some ways he did die believing that. All those years at that lab weren't easy for him.

“I-“

“I swear if you say ‘I deserved it’ again I will kill you.” You say pulling his face up to yours and frowning at him.

“I won’t.”

"Good. Now are you done coming up with ridiculous reasons why I can't come with you to see our old friends? Because I'm genuinely curious to know if they're still pretending that they're not fucking."

Ben cracks a smile. "Yes. But only if you promise me that you'll stay behind me."

"Can't." You start to get off of him, but Ben tightens his grip preventing you from leaving.

"Why not?"

"Because I've never broken a promise to you and I'm not going to start now."

"I just don't want you to get hurt." Ben sighs.

"I know. And I don't want to lose you again." You press your forehead against his, threading your fingertips in his dark hair.

You weren't sure what it would do to you if you did lose him, if he walked out of your life or if he went by himself to face your old teammates and vanished. You had been destroyed when everything fell apart the first time, and you knew this time would be worse if it happened. You could feel it in every fiber of your being, just like somewhere deep down you could feel that what was happening now between him and you was different somehow, that it had changed, but not in a bad way.

"I don't want to lose you either Sweetheart. I love you."

"I love you too."

And when Butcher beats his fist against your bedroom door a few minutes later, you're still in his arms, allowing him to hold you close and allowing yourself to begin to trust him again.

A/N: Sorry it took me a long time to get this one out! I had a hard time writing this chapter, and honestly it's still not my favorite, but big things are coming!!!

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