#the chosen christmas special | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

yoonia · 10 months ago

Text

A Christmas Fix — 01 (m) | kth

⟶ Summary | One-night stands are supposed to be nothing more than just. It shouldn’t have involved seeing those two red lines looking back at you weeks later without a name or a contact number linking you back to your mystery man. Nothing more but his face. The unforgettable face that would sometimes appear in your dreams at night. So unforgettable that you immediately recognise him the moment he walks into your family home at Christmas, hand-in-hand with your older stepsister.

With special collab prompt: "the holidays aren't so bad with you around."

⟶ Title | A Christmas Fix

⟶ Pairings | Taehyung x female reader

⟶ Genre | Secret Baby!au, Second Chance!au, Strangers to Lovers!au

⟶ Ratings & Warnings | +18 / M for Mature; including: alcohol consumption, mentions of pregnancy, vomiting/morning sickness, surprise babies, miscommunication, profanities/swearing, minor body insecurities (implied), some family drama; involves multiple explicit sex scenes, including: sexual tension, one night stand, drunk sex (with clear consent), minor dom/sub dynamic, brat!reader, size kink, rough sex, light choking, restraint, hair pulling (M, F), protected & unprotected sex, fingering (F), oral sex (F), clit play, breast play, stripping, biting, minor hand job/groping, grinding, masturbation (M, F), dirty talk, implied pain kink, praise kink, body worship, marking, multiple orgasms (M, F), overstimulation.

⟶ Word count | 25,363 words (of 54,773 words)

⟶ Story Notes | Part of the Jingle All the Way collaboration with @leahsfavefics, @kithtaehyung, @kpopfanfictrash, @cybrsan, and @sugaurora | Written in 2nd person POV (in case you’re new to my writing, I don’t use ‘y/n’ coding as all of my lead characters are considered as OCs) | Moodboard was done by me | Posted in: January 31st, 2024 by @yoonia

⟶ Author Notes | I know that this is so late, but December has always been a rough month for me and this time it continued until January. I hope you can still enjoy this story regardless. Happy belated holidays and happy new year, my loves!

⟶ Jingle All the Way collab masterlist | A Christmas Fix: next chapter ⇢

⟶ Main Masterlist | Taglist | Feedback | Mailbox | Ko-fi

⟶ Read on AO3

One month ago…

You already had everything perfectly planned out when you first thought of this trip some long months ago.

Everything.

From your personal bucket list full of wonderful things that you wanted to experience during your time away and the places that you wanted to see, down to the smallest details that you could possibly think of to be able to enjoy every single moment of your secret getaway.

Just like the red dress that you had chosen to wear tonight. The dress you had meticulously picked and bought to wear on the trip as you went to celebrate your newfound freedom.

In your well-thought-out plan, you were supposed to have landed on the tropical island you were headed to by sundown. The warm tropical breeze should have been embracing you at the start of your trip instead of the cold, chilly wind flowing right outside these walls.

By this evening, you should have already settled in nicely in the comfort of your hotel room right by the beachside. The calming sound of the rushing waves outside your window was the sound that you should have been listening to while resting from your long flight.

You had pictured yourself embracing your freedom in a foreign land. To feel the soft sand slipping between your toes as you were playing chase with the rushing waves, and to find calmness that you could only get far away from the treacherous city where you came from.

The trip was meant to help you mend your soul. Perfectly planned out as an escape from reality and leave all of your past hurt behind before starting a new chapter of your life.

And yet, no matter how thoroughly you had it all planned out, somehow life simply found a way to mess it all up. Just like how it had always been. So perhaps you shouldn’t have been so surprised when it happened to you again, just when you thought that you had everything under control.

You should have seen the signs long before everything started crumbling down.

The sky that kept growing darker ever since you left the city. The constant turbulences happening during your first flight that made the trip feel intense. The unsettling feeling you met the moment you landed in this place for your transit. The constant announcements echoing through the airport about flights that were getting delayed and cancelled while you were getting no news about your transit flight’s departure.

You should have been prepared to face reality, keeping in mind that life hadn’t been so nice to you lately to let you slip away that easily. Yet your stubbornness prevailed. And after your most recent predicament, you needed this trip to happen. You needed to be right.

After all, you have made it all the way here. It would have been impossible for you to return home, wouldn’t it?

So you remained in denial and were so stubbornly holding onto hope that you would soon be taken away from this place towards your dream destination. Even when the world around you seemed to be falling apart.

But after long hours of waiting, you were finally forced to accept your fate, letting go of any hope you had left to escape this place when they officially cancelled the rest of today’s flights due to unresolved weather issues. Including yours.

“I’m sorry, but we really can’t promise you anything at this moment. There will be no flights until the storm passes and our pilots are cleared to fly again. Until then, we have nothing to tell you.”

The staff’s swift response to your inquiries about getting on the first flight available to take you to your destination only left you with a dead end. Even flying back home was no longer an option, only because that would only mean that you were admitting defeat.

And that was how you ended up here tonight, stranded right between the daunting city that you called home and the paradise that you wished to be in until an unforeseeable future. Your dream of enjoying the night in the comfort of the beachside hotel room overlooking the wide, clear ocean, had been replaced with the reality where you had to spend overnight at the airport’s transit hotel that the airline staff helped book for you.

You released a sigh as you leaned back against the elevator wall. Recounting the events again only brought back all the terrible mood you were having. And it didn’t help that the last message that your roommate sent you only reminded you of your setback.

From Skye: Just checking on you on your secret getaway. I hope you’re having a blast right now. I wish you’d tell me where you’re heading so I can have a good reason to be jealous. Be safe!

Another sigh came from your lips as you wondered—

Now how am I supposed to answer her text?

Before you could find an answer, the elevator doors opened as it reached the lobby downstairs. You put away your phone as you stepped out, and immediately got lost in your thoughts. Your mind once again getting too loud as it keeps you company.

At first, you had no intention of hiding this trip from her. Yet all the circumstances leading to this weekend had made it hard for you to share anything to anyone.

You were planning to wait until you were finally there so you could surprise her with pictures from the beautiful beach or your comfortable hotel room. Showing her the pretty nighttime scene from the tropical island would have been a nice way to flaunt your secret getaway rather than boasting it when your fate had been filled with uncertainty.

But instead of having an evening walk down the beach, you were trudging across the lobby inside an airport hotel, accompanied by the sound of your heels clicking on the marble floors instead of having sand soiling your feet.

And the view outside the window that you got to see earlier had been nowhere close to the pretty beach with its white sand and rolling waves. Instead, you had a clear view of the dark night sky, painted with the raging storm and its blaring thunders so strong they almost caused the entire bedroom to shake. Neither showed any sign of calming down any time soon, leaving you with no other choice but to do what you could to enjoy your temporary stay.

And you were going to start doing so by having a quick drink to help you unwind for the night.

The red dress that you were wearing might seem a bit excessive for a nightcap, but for a short while, it helped you forget where you were. It felt almost as if you were walking in a dream as you strolled down the lower lobby in search of the hotel bar.

Entering the hotel bar, however, became another wake-up call.

The bar was quite large for a transit hotel, accommodating the patrons filling the place tonight. You had hoped that you could have a dance or two with a friendly stranger before retreating to your hotel room to rest, yet the closed-off lounge area had more space filled with box seats than the open dance floor. The seating area was the only place in the bar which was dimly lit, allowing the guests some privacy while they settled in with their drinks.

The small chandeliers glittering from the ceiling were far from the hanging lights that you pictured hanging in a beachside bar. Just like the one place you had seen pictures of while planning for your trip. The lights you were seeing here made the entire space beneath seem luxurious, spreading a soft golden glow over the wary faces trying to enjoy the night.

The pulsing bass that came out of the speakers was enough to drown the sound of the violent storm happening on the other side of these walls, further helping to create an illusion that you were in another place. That you were somewhere else instead of being stranded inside an airport hotel, together with all the strangers who seemed to be facing the same fate as you did.

You made your way towards the main bar, suddenly feeling hyperaware of your surroundings. Even without looking, you could feel people’s eyes following your movements. Yet you paid no heed to them. You were only here to quiet down the raging storm happening inside your head, after all.

A strong scent of old wood took over the bar area. Mixed in with the excessive scent of air fresheners and cleaners, it was enough to remind you that you were miles and miles away from the beautiful island where you had been so desperate to be.

Smoothing your palms down your red dress, you took one empty seat at the bar. You caught the bartender’s eyes as he walked past, and within moments, a glass of strawberry daiquiri ended up in your hand.

This feels nice, you wondered to yourself as you sat back and tried to relax.

One sip of the sweet alcoholic drink was all that it took to refresh your mind. As the warmth from your drink ran smoothly through your body, any doubt and wariness you felt began to fade.

The next sip of the drink managed to ease your thoughts down a bit more. It helped push away the reminders of your troubles to the back of your mind. Finding calmness, you took another quick look at your surroundings.

The seating lounge seemed to be filled with guests more than the main bar was. Stranded travellers like yourself. At first glance, the nicely dressed men in suits made it seem like you were in a bar downtown. As if they were nothing more than a group of businessmen seeking leisure on a Friday night with drinks.

It only took you looking a few seats away from them for the illusion to shatter. Your eyes fell on a group of men and women wearing their summer clothing who were making a toast, acting as if they were at the peak of their vacation.

Looking at the scene made you realise that you weren’t the only one feeling miserable tonight. You wondered just how badly these people here needed to forget. How many of them here might be similar to you, stranded in an unexpected situation while trying to escape reality?

You raised your glass to hide your bitter smile. The smooth liquid continued to flow through your body and you slowly began to find some peace of mind. Before you knew it, you had finished your drink, though you weren’t exactly ready to return to your cold bedroom.

“Can I order you another glass of drink?”

A deep voice invaded your senses after a long period of silence, and it was coming from your side. You had been far too deep in your reverie that you didn’t even realise that someone had taken the empty seat right beside you at the bar.

Curious to see this friendly stranger, you slowly turned around to look at him. And what you saw in him nearly took your breath away.

A tall, lean man was sitting there. His slick hair had a few curls at the end of each strands, and he had combed them back, leaving nothing more than a few stands framing his handsome face that looked almost as if it had been sculpted by the fine hands of masters in art. His sharp nose and jawline drew your attention, while his deep and soulful eyes that appeared like pools of rich mahogany drew you in, as if he was hiding a story behind his intense gaze. But it was his plump lips that formed into a smile which caught your eyes the most.

At your silence that stretched out while you were busy being captivated by him, he raised his eyebrows. It made you realise that he was waiting for your answer. An answer to a question that you had so obviously missed.

“I’m sorry?”

He tilted his chin to point at your now empty glass. “You look like you could use another glass, and I’d love to get one for you,” he said with an amused tone of voice.

Once again, his deep, velvety voice hit you deeply. It resonated through your body, and a shudder ran down your spine. You refused to believe that he was able to cause this effect on you solely through his voice or his pretty smile.

But how else would you explain the reaction that was drawn from your body?

I don’t think I’m that drunk already, you wondered.

It was probably the way he spoke to you which affected you so much. The way he was asking a question with pure confidence. As if he already knew your answer, and that it would be impossible for you to refuse his offer.

And he wasn’t completely wrong about it.

What remained from your sullen mood immediately shifted in his presence. And while you have no intention of turning him down, you decided that you were not going to make things easy for him.

“An interesting offer that seems like such a waste for me to refuse,” you sweetly said to him, smiling as your eyes fell on his empty hands. “But how would a woman feel at ease to accept such an offer from a man who isn’t even holding a glass in his hand?”

He squinted his eyes at you, which only made his gaze feel more intense. “Are you afraid that I might be planning to get you drunk?”

You softly laughed. “Not sure if I should be so worried about that. Getting drunk tonight has always been my initial plan all along,” you coyly said, hiding the fact that it was never your intention to get wild tonight. But his appearance intrigued you enough to change your mind about ending the night so soon.

The mysterious man remained oblivious to this as he laughed with you. His wide, almost boxy grin mesmerised you in an instant and you were once again left speechless.

He waved his hand to grab the bartender’s attention. It was nothing more but a simple gesture, yet you were somewhat drawn to it. To him.

While he greeted the bartender, you took the chance to have a better look at this man. You noticed that he was a bit different compared to the other men that you saw around you earlier.

Dressed in a black jacket over his plain white shirt, he didn’t seem as sophisticated as the stranded businessmen in their flashy suits sitting together at the bar’s lounge. Yet he had a different level of confidence which was enough to make your cheeks feel warm.

In your eyes, he was alluring, almost as intensely as the dark storm happening outside. And you couldn’t resist being pulled towards him.

“Another glass of the same drink for the lady and a glass of grasshopper for me,” he smoothly spoke as he ordered the drinks for you.

The bartender nodded and went to work, while you slid closer to him. His fresh-scented cologne immediately hit you, and your confidence nearly wavered that you almost slid back. But then he caught you with his gaze as he turned back to you, giving you the kind of attention which boosted every bit of ego you had.

“So you also prefer something light and sweet. How intriguing,” you teased him, bringing back his alluring grin.

“Why do you think I came here to join you? It was obviously for the fruity drinks and to have someone to drink it together with,” he joked.

You rolled your eyes at him and smiled. Before you got to say something in return, the bartender came back with his order. The man took a sip of his drink first before you took yours. Once again, the sweetness from your drink swirled through your body, chipping away at the tension that had been weighing you down ever since the day’s saga began.

“To be honest, I also thought that you were looking a bit rough.” His remark brought your attention back to him. The tease was gone from his voice. All that was left was a gentle concern that seemed genuine. “And you looked like you needed a friend. That’s why I invited myself to join you.”

It makes you feel uneasy to think that you were being so transparent. So much so that a complete stranger like himself was able to see right through you.

“You think so? Wait until you hear how rough I’m feeling inside as well,” you bitterly said to him, drawing a soft smile to his face.

“That makes the two of us then,” he said to you gently with his eyes on his glass of drink. There was a forlorn look in his eyes as he slowly twirled the glass, causing the liquid to swish around before he took another sip from it.

“Care to share?” you questioned him before you could stop yourself, only to pull yourself back. “Sorry, that sounds creepy. We just met and here I am, prying into someone else’s business,” you nervously laughed.

His gaze softened when he looked at you. Furthermore, he also seemed intrigued.

“No, not at all.” His voice was calm, and it somehow helped to calm your nerves. “I was just about to lend an ear in case you needed someone to vent to. I never expected that you would be a step ahead of me before I could make the offer.”

The comment he gave you made you feel warm inside.

“Mine’s a long story,” you bitterly said to him as you raised your glass, almost giving in to the urge to take a hefty drink and finish it off when everything started coming back to you again.

The reason behind this trip, why you were stranded here on your own, while being far, far away from home, and all the drama that had gotten in the way when you had been so desperate to get away from everything.

Unsurprisingly, the man merely shrugged. “I’ve got time to spare. My flight won’t leave until tomorrow. And that is if they’re allowed to fly out of here at all.”

You smiled at him. “Same here. I guess we’re both stranded here all night, huh?”

He leaned in just then, invading your personal space and filling it with his presence. And you didn’t even mind it as you leaned into him, meeting him halfway to welcome him into your little safety bubble.

“And I was worried that I might get stuck feeling lonely while being stranded in this place,” he gently murmured, drawing a smile to your face.

“I doubt that you would end up alone tonight,” you teased him, simply because there was no possible way that someone as attractive as he was would be returning to his hotel bedroom alone.

His smile grew, yet the deep, dark look in his eyes shifted into something else. Something naughty and sinful. It made you feel a new sensation brewing inside even without him ever having to touch you.

“Is that an invitation?” he asked with his deep voice that came grazing at your skin.

Normally, you wouldn’t know what to say in return. It had been so long since you played this kind of game with someone. With anyone. But his presence and his words were drawing something out of you. A part of you that you never thought existed. And you surprised yourself when you played along, taunting danger head-on as you challenged this handsome stranger before you—

“Would you like it to be?”

Something flashed in his eyes. It was dark and intense, and it was sucking you in. It brought a myriad of sensations that unexpectedly went straight down to your core.

In the deep silence that fell right after, the world around you faded. Even before you got to know his name, before you had the chance to share your story, you already knew the answer that he was about to give you as a response to your question.

And you also knew right then, that the sparks that came rising around you were something that you would never be able to easily forget, even if every bit of memory you had about him would fade over time.

Present…

Why do I keep thinking about that night all over again?

You can only wonder, as you keep being reminded of that eventful night.

Weeks, nearly a month have gone by ever since, yet the memories seem to have been engraved deeply in your thoughts. And today, even though you haven’t really been thinking about it since, you suddenly find yourself having no trouble recounting everything that happened then.

Well, almost everything.

Some parts may seem blurry now. All due to the passing of time and the fact that you were partly inebriated at the time. But you can still recall some parts of the night that had clearly left a strong impression on you—the first encounter and the conversation you shared before alcohol took over, the instant attraction that you felt, but most of all, his entire presence.

And they all have been coming into your thoughts while you are sitting here in the corner of your bathroom. Alone. With your arms wrapped around your folded knees and your eyes closed. As if you are waiting for a miracle to happen.

You scoff at the thought.

Right. Miracles.

Years have long passed since you stopped believing that miracles do exist. Life always has its way of blindsiding you with its twists and turns that miracles no longer seem to matter anymore.

Not for you, at least.

Your past experiences have only caused you to look at it with sceptical eyes, sometimes even with bitterness, knowing that life has never been on your side.

But here you are now, wishing, praying, holding onto hope that there would be a miracle to stop you from getting into a messy situation. One that you know you wouldn’t be able to handle on your own.

After all, the perfect season of miracles is right around the corner. So it wouldn’t be so wrong for you to have some faith in them again now, would it?

Your phone starts blaring with the sound of the alarm, snapping you out of it. Slowly, you rise on your wobbly feet. It feels as if your entire body has grown numb even before you get to face reality as it comes glaring back at you.

Clutching onto the edges of your bathroom counter, you try to hold yourself together, and immediately failing, as you look at the two thin white strips lying on the cold counter and feel your entire world tilting off of its axis.

All because of the two red lines that are clearly visible on each strip.

“Oh, fuck,” you softly groan. Deep down, you had already predicted this. Yet you kept denying it, hoping that you would be wrong.

“No, no, no—” you continue murmuring to yourself while wishing that you could somehow turn back time and change everything before things started going the wrong way.

Back to this morning, when your roommate caught you—once again—throwing up last night’s dinner before handing you the unopened pregnancy test packs that she has been keeping safe in her room with the premise, “Just in case.”

Or maybe you could return to last night when she pointed out your odd cravings—like dipping apples into peanut butter and eating leftover mac and cheese straight from the fridge without warming it in the microwave first—and joked about how you have been acting like a pregnant woman with your mood swings.

Better yet, you wish you could go back to that night, back to that many weeks ago, when you allowed yourself to fall for a stranger’s charm which led you to spend the night with him.

You close your eyes, once again murmuring to yourself, “This has got to be a dream.”

But the moment you open your eyes again, nothing has changed. You are still standing there with your hands holding tightly onto the edges of the bathroom counter. And the two pregnancy test kits that you used are still lying on top of the counter for your eyes to see.

A rapid sound of knocking on the bathroom door sends you jumping back.

“Hey, ______? Is everything okay?” you hear your roommate, Skye, calling out for you. Her voice seems calm, yet when you recall hearing the sound of her footsteps moving back and forth outside of the door while you were taking the test, you know that she has been waiting just as anxiously as you were. “So—? What does it say?”

Still in shock, and quite stuck in denial, you open your mouth only to have no words coming out of you. Your brain feels a bit hazy as you walk up to the door and open it for her.

Skye takes one look at your face and her gaze softens. “What did it—” She shakes her head. “Oh, never mind, I’m dying to know. Let me see it,” she says as she brushes past you before you can say anything.

Hoping that there is a chance that reality can change within the next few seconds, you refuse to turn around and once again close your eyes while she suddenly grows quiet.

Maybe you were just imagining things. Maybe you weren’t even looking at the test properly. Maybe—

“So, uhm—” you can hear Skye’s voice trembling a little as she hesitantly asks you, “Two lines mean it’s positive, is that right?”

And just like that, every bit of hope you have in you flies out the window. “I wish I could say that it’s the other way around,” you softly murmur, feeling defeated.

And the feeling grows stronger when you hear her cursing under her breath,

“Well, fuck.”

“What are you doing?” you ask Skye as you gingerly take a seat on the sofa.

Once you both stepped away from the bathroom, she guided you to the living room while she sauntered away to the kitchen without a word. You can hear the noises she makes as she is busy rummaging through the counters. Yet you are too far away to see what she is up to.

“Hang on a minute. Stay there,” she calls out without even looking.

“Okay.”

It’s not like you have any energy to go anywhere, after all. Your head is still spinning and you can barely feel your legs. It feels as if you are stuck in a bad dream and you just can’t get out of it.

It doesn’t take long before Skye returns to your side, carrying with her two clean tall glasses in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. It was the same bottle that you opened when you celebrated your promotion a couple of weeks ago after coming back from the trip.

Holy shit, you inwardly cry out. Your heartbeat rises as your hands find their way to your stomach.

“Okay, let’s try to calm down,” Skye says to you as she places both glasses on the table before you, although it seems to you more as if she is talking to herself instead of reassuring you while you are panicking inside.

A couple of weeks ago? Wouldn’t I have been already pregnant then?

These thoughts keep running through your head as you watch your roommate pouring wine into both glasses, just like the night she did the same when you first opened that same bottle.

Dear God, how much did I drink that night? You ask yourself with a grimace as you try to remember.

Wait, no. I didn’t drink anything, you remind yourself. Relief washes over you look back at the celebration night where you barely took a sip before Skye took the glass away from your hands.

Because you were already feeling sick that day.

You had been feeling nauseous for days, throwing up once in a while and mostly on the days when you were lacking sleep because of the workload you had to handle for the upcoming promotion. All you ever did was wet your lips with the wine after the celebratory toast. That was the only contact you made with the drink before Skye replaced it with a tall glass of alcohol-free smoothie that she made especially for your ‘upset stomach’.

Of course, how did I not see the signs? You wonder again as you remember the sickly feeling you had after vomiting each morning and feeling powerless for the rest of the day. It even got so bad that you had to skip work for a couple of days at the beginning of your ‘sickness’.

If only you knew then.

Your eyes are still on the wine glasses as Skye places them side by side and puts away the bottle.

“Uh—I believe we both just saw the two lines appearing on the test packs.”

She lets out a light scoff and waves her hand at you. “They're both for me. I’m going to need them while I process this,” she says, shaking her head as she sits down to join you on the sofa. “You get to keep that smoothie.”

You follow her gaze and look down at the glass of smoothie that you left on the table during the whole fiasco with the pregnancy test. While you pick up your drink, Skye takes a hefty drink from one of the glasses of wine and sits back.

“So—you’re pregnant,” she murmurs to herself. Her gaze flickers to your face for a brief moment and nods to herself before taking another drink.

Why does it seem like she is the one panicking?

She releases a sigh. Neither of you says anything for a moment. But you can tell when she grows more anxious by the minute. You don’t understand why, until she carefully asks you, “Are you going to tell Han?”

Confused, you look at her with your brows furrowed and ask, “Why would I tell Han that I’m pregnant?”

Skye looks genuinely confused, almost as much as you are, and you only realise the reason why when she asks you, “Isn’t Hansol the father? You guys have been dating for a long time and I can’t remember ever seeing you with anyone else while you’re on a break.”

You wince, realising too late that you have yet to tell her the truth.

“Actually—we’re not on a break,” you slowly admit with a low voice. Months have gone by, and even though it no longer hurts whenever you start thinking about your failed relationship or to mention your ex’s name, you cannot help but still feel bitter about how it ended and you hate talking about it.

That is the reason why you haven’t said anything about it to anyone. Maybe you were just too embarrassed. After all, it isn’t so easy to admit that you may have been the reason why the four-year relationship fell into pieces.

“I lied,” you say with a burst of deep sigh, “It was over, done, finished—”

“So you already broke up?” she cuts you off with a calm voice.

You bite your bottom lip as you slowly nod your head. “Yeah,” you whisper, suddenly feeling like your throat is tightening up. Not because you feel the sudden urge to cry. But only because this is all becoming too much to take at once.

“And the baby?” she carefully asks you. “It wasn’t Han—”

“The baby isn’t his,” you quickly answer before she even gets to question about it.

It’s hard enough to hear his name being mentioned after a while. It feels harder to think that you might be carrying his baby.

But the moment those words come out of your lips, reality finally sinks in. Grabbing the glass of your drink, you take a hefty drink out of it. You wish there was some alcohol in this thing. Maybe it would have helped you think more clearly.

That’s right. It couldn’t have been his.

Sighing to yourself, you begin to do the math. “We’ve been broken up for months, so if the baby is his, I’m sure I would be showing already by this time around,” you say this while gently rubbing your palm over your stomach.

Now that your suspicions have been confirmed, the gesture feels almost natural to you that your hand simply moves before you realise it, though it helps confirm that nothing much has changed with your body.

It feels odd to think that there is a life existing inside you, yet you cannot really see it with just one look. This convinces you further that the baby couldn’t have been conceived while you were still dating your ex. Looking back to it now, once you remember when exactly the sickness and craving started, it would only make sense that the baby was conceived on that specific night.

“So—if Hansol isn’t the Dad, then who was it?”

Biting your lip, you turn to look at Skye. Of course, if there is anyone in this world that you can talk to about this, it would only be her. Just like how she would come to you first whenever she is in a bind, whether it’s about her relationships, about work, or even the smallest things like having a bad day where you end up sharing a tub of ice cream to feel better.

After all, she isn’t just a roommate, but also someone you have known the longest compared to the other friends you’ve made since moving into this city. You have known each other since college, since back in freshman year when both of you were nothing more but young kids from small towns being thrust into the big city.

Being put together in the same dorm room led you to become fast friends. After years of enduring the same hardship in college, the two of you remained so close that you even moved to this city together and continued to live in the same place to keep each other company.

You have gone through everything with her, and you have always been honest with each other. It should have been easy to tell her everything. If only you could find the right words to begin sharing your story.

“I have no idea where to start.”

“Well,” Skye patiently says while twirling the glass of wine she’s holding. You squint your eyes at her when you find it almost empty. So unfair. “Why don’t you start from the beginning?”

“Right. From the beginning,” you say this with a nod. “Do you remember when I went away last month?”

She nods. “Your secret getaway. Still jealous of that, by the way.”

You give her a small smile. “Yeah, well—there’s a reason why I insisted on going alone on that trip. I actually planned it as a surprise vacation for me and Hansol. The original idea was for us to have a romantic getaway for our fourth anniversary.”

Skye raises her eyebrows. “Well, damn,” she mutters. “Let me guess. You broke up before it happened?”

You grimace as you recall what happened. “Close enough,” you answer with a bitter smile. “It was because of the trip that we got a huge fight in the first place.”

Skye tilts her head. “I’m not following.”

Sighing, you drink your smoothie to cool down and swallow the bitter feeling you are suddenly getting. Recounting the break-up isn’t so much fun to do. Not even after this long.

“I planned the entire thing on my own. Booked the flight and the hotel, and rearranged our schedules to fit each other so we could go on that exact date. But I never shared anything with him, except to confirm that it was a place that he also dreamt of going so we could both enjoy it together.” You let out a defeated sigh. “I wanted it to be a surprise. He used to love those in the past, so I figured it could be fun to celebrate our anniversary this way and get away from all the stress both of us had been getting.”

You stop talking for a moment to remember those days. Both you and Hansol had been so busy back then that you could barely spend time with each other.

It was the exact routine every day. Having long hours in the office and since you weren’t living together, you could only keep in contact with each other through texts and calls. By the time the two of you were able to see each other, all the stress had been piling up that you were almost always arguing and fighting instead of making up for all the time you missed while being apart.

“We were talking about moving in together but all of a sudden, we stopped discussing it and I could feel us growing further apart. I thought going away from all the stress for a while would help us get along and make up for all the fighting. Maybe we could have had a chance to talk things out and figure out what to fix.”

You stop with a soft sigh. “We were getting bored. With work, with life, and maybe we did get bored with each other but neither of us could open up about it, much less admit it. Not even to ourselves.”

Skye lets out a groan. “This is why I don’t do relationships,” she mutters before finishing her drink. The first glass. With the second one waiting on the table.

You give her a scoff, but smile at her comment before continuing, “He found out about the trip by chance. I was still logged in on his laptop after I borrowed it to check on my work email while I was staying over on the weekend. He accidentally opened the booking details when he was checking his email, thinking it was his account. He suspected me of planning to go with someone else, but even after I told him that the trip was for both of us, he wasn’t having it.”

Skye leans forward when she hears this. “Wait, he’s pissed about a secret vacation?” she asks, looking unhappy and confused at the same time. You can’t really blame her. Because that is exactly how you feel about your ex’s reaction. “Why would he be? If it had been me, I would’ve been ecstatic about going.”

“I wish I knew,” you groan, feeling just as frustrated as you had been then. “But he wasn’t just refusing to go. He started blaming me. Saying something about me holding him back or something. He said he had no time for a trip when he needed to be there and work for his promotion.”

Thinking back to that day, remembering about the fight and the things you said to each other, you are reminded of the moment the fight left your body. Because you knew then that there was nothing left to fight over.

“He never even brought up the fact that it was the date of our anniversary. I don’t think he even knew or remembered it,” you say with a bitter chuckle. “He broke it off, saying that he wanted to focus on his career and I would be keeping him behind. And I agreed because I knew that we’d wound up hurting each other if we’d stayed.”

“I can understand that,” Skye gently says. The two of you share a sad smile when your eyes meet. “And you still went on that trip,” she guesses, sounding proud. She lifts her glass to you and says, “Good girl.”

You merely shrug. “When I went to cancel the tickets for the trip, I thought it would be such a waste to throw everything away. So I decided that going solo would be a good idea and kept mine. Besides, I needed a moment to heal myself and get away from the city for a short while.”

She laughs, agreeing with you. Then, just as she is about to say something, she suddenly stops. A knowing look comes across her gaze and she slowly gasps. “Don’t tell me—” she says, “You met someone while you were there.”

You nod your head slowly and press your lips together. “Once again, you’re close. But that’s not exactly what happened.” Blowing out a deep breath, you slowly ask her, “Remember when I told you that I got held up for a day in transit?”

“Yeah, I was so jealous of you that I still remember everything you told me about that trip,” she lets out a dreamy sigh, then her gaze snaps back at you. “But, it seems to me that you haven’t told me everything about the trip.”

“No, I didn’t.” You grimace. “Anyway, that’s when I met him—”

The memories return to you again as you share with your roommate about your encounter with the beautiful stranger. You remember vividly the way he spoke, the deep and gentle voice that he spoke to you with, and his captivating smile that made you swoon. Everything about him that made it hard for you to leave and say goodbye to him.

You recount the way you enjoyed each other’s company that even after your terrible mood gradually became much better, and after you finished yet another drink, you simply couldn’t walk away and end the night with him so soon. You stayed longer, losing count of the time you spent with him and the drinks you had.

“And then, one thing led to another, it just happened.”

Skye’s eyes have grown so wide at this point, and her jaw has dropped in her surprise that she looks almost comical. “You hooked up with a stranger during your transit?” she asks you. The moment you nod your head, she switches her empty glass with the other. “I would drink to that.”

You laugh just as she takes a hefty drink as if celebrating on your behalf. “Why do you sound so proud of me?”

“Well,” she slowly starts, “We’ve known each other for so long. You have always been so put together, always followed the rules, and you are always so good at what you do. From school, to work, even the little things you have been doing on the side. But not when it comes to your sex life.”

You know that she is right about everything. But it doesn’t stop you from picking up a cushion and hitting her with it.

“Hey, you know I’m right,” she says while laughing and protecting the precious glass of wine. “Come on, you’ve never had any casual relationships or random hookups, and every chance I could have gotten to hook you up with my guy friends was gone when Hansol came into the picture.”

Pouting, you pull the cushion back and hold it tightly in your arms. “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” you admit with a sigh. “How do you get to know me so well?”

“That’s because I love you enough to pay attention,” she smugly says while waving her glass around, sloshing the wine everywhere. “Why do you think I’ve been so protective of you over the years?”

You roll your eyes and hit her with the cushion one last time, making her laugh, even though she is right. For as long as you have been friends with her, she has always been like an older sister to you. Not only for coming hard like a shield against the guys you ever introduced her to but also for the trivial things that not many people would pay much attention to.

Like reminding you to eat properly when you are stressed out or too busy with work and school.

You feel bad for relying on her so much over the years. But you also feel grateful about it. Just like how you’re feeling right now once you notice that you’re no longer feeling as stressed as you had earlier once you’re done dumping everything to her.

Skye’s eyes turn back to you, landing on your covered belly as she curiously asks, “Are you positively sure that Hansol wasn’t the father?”

You slowly nod your head. As much as you wish that you were wrong, you couldn’t have been mistaken about this.

“What are the odds that it was a false positive?” you suddenly question her, while she shrugs.

“It’s possible,” she says. “But we can get some more test kits and redo the test. Just in case. Or you could make an appointment with the doctor straight away to make sure.”

“Right, the doctor—” You let out a soft sigh and close your eyes briefly. It has been a while since you’ve seen your physician. The last time was before—

Oh, shit.

Your eyes snap open right then. How long ago has it been since you’ve gone to see your physician? The last time was when you went to your regular appointment for your birth control. But that felt so long ago.

Long before the trip.

After that appointment, and once the break-up happened, you simply threw yourself into work so much you completely forgot about everything else. And since you were newly single, getting your birth control was the last thing you had in mind at the time.

Fuck me, you inwardly groan without saying a thing to your roommate who is busy chattering about the doctor, making appointments, and offering to take you there herself. You know that she would lecture you about safe sex like a mother hen if you ever share this with her.

But wait…he wore a condom, right? Yes, you are quite sure he did. The details are blurry when you try to remember, but you do remember protection being involved.

Groaning to yourself, you fall back on the sofa. Your head starts spinning again when you start worrying about other things. Once you start thinking of a problem that you may have to face, another one comes to mind.

“What am I supposed to do with this baby?”

Skye once again raises her eyebrows at you. “I think the right question should be what do you want to do?” she asks, while you can only shake your head.

“I don’t know,” you answer with a small voice. The only thing you can think of right now is how you are going to get through this holiday while being pregnant. You are supposed to be home for Christmas in two weeks, and knowing just how crazy your family truly is, you cannot imagine how they would react if they found out you are with a child.

You close your eyes and let out a sigh. “And my family still have no idea that I broke up with Han.”

“For once, I’m not jealous of your life,” Skye says as she sips her wine. But she is ready for it when you fling the cushion back at her and avoid it without spilling her drink. “Don’t worry. I think they’ll catch on about your failed relationship as soon as you walk into your family home without that hunk by your side.”

Huffing, you hug the cushion in your arms and lean back. “I guess if they’re going to find out either way, I might as well just tell them the moment I got home.”

Besides, it might be even harder to hide the fact that you are pregnant. You might not be showing yet, but there is no possible way you could avoid the questions that may come if you are still feeling so sick right in front of your family, or if your cravings suddenly get out of hand.

Especially if Honey is there. Despite the early signs of dementia showing on her lately, your grandmother has always been so perceptive. And there is no telling what random things she may blurt out once she has some rum in her system.

With so many different things to think about, you almost forget one important matter that you should be thinking about when it comes to the baby. And just like always, Skye is there to remind you of it.

“Do you remember his name?”

You turn to Skye with wide eyes, suddenly panicking inside. You can tell that she can see it on your face and is now sharing the same feeling when she suddenly knocks back the rest of her wine and groans, “Fuck, I’m gonna need more.”

You watch her pour more wine into her glass, hastily drinking it right after, before turning to you again. “You didn’t get his name? At least tell me that you got his number before you went separate ways.”

You bite your lips. “It’s Tae.”

“Tae—what?”

You shake your head. “That’s it,” you let out a frustrated sigh. “That was the only name he ever gave me.”

“Seriously?”

Skye is freaking out, you can tell. But you close your eyes and rest your head back, shutting everything down as she starts ranting about how she was supposed to teach you better about hooking up with strangers and keeping yourself safe.

With her voice turning into white noise at the back of your mind, your memories return to you, taking you back to the eventful night.

You can almost feel yourself being back there again—back in the cold hotel bar with the scent of old wood and liquor lingering in the air; the murmuring sounds of people chatting and laughing, accompanied by the sound of glasses clinking together resonating through the space around you; back to his presence that felt so strong and intense you could barely feel anything else other than him as long as you had your attention fully on him.

“What’s your name?” You remember him asking you with his voice that grew more gentle and deeper the more he drank.

You leaned into him and giggled in response as if he just said something funny to you. “Does it really matter?”

His soft chuckle rumbled around you. The voice was so soft, yet you could hear it clearly because of how close you were leaning into him. “I’m sure I remember being taught not to talk to strangers.”

“Are you telling me that you’ve been a good boy for listening to what your Mom taught you?” you teased him. It was obvious how tipsy you were at this point, which may have been the reason why you were growing more confident.

“Oh, I’ve always been a good boy,” he answered you while looking amused. He went silent right after. His gaze seemed far away just for a fleeting moment before he finally said, “My name is Tae.”

“Tae? That’s it?” you asked, “Is that a codename or something?” You feigned a surprise gasp before you leaned into him further to whisper, “Are you secretly a spy?”

You felt his chest rumbling when he softly laughed. “Something like that, yeah,” he said, as he played along with your joke.

But the moment you leaned away from him, you were surprised when you got to see something in him that you couldn’t see before. His guard was down, allowing you to see the vulnerability that was buried deep under his suave and smooth talking.

For a brief moment, he looked broken. Just like you did.

And from the way he was hiding himself, not only under the short nickname but also from the way he was masking his emotions, you could tell that he was looking for an escape from reality. The same way you did that night.

So you simply smiled at him, choosing not to pry further to see beyond the mask and play along. Because at the same time, you wanted to hide your broken heart and become someone else to be able to forget everything. Just for one night.

“Then you can call me Red. It’s my special codename for tonight.”

His grin widened. You could almost see the relief washing over him through his warm gaze when he looked at you.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you tonight,” he said, still with his gentle voice that almost felt like sin licking on your skin when he called you, “Red.”

Two weeks later…

“Here you go,” your mother’s voice snaps you from whatever stupor you have been stuck in. When you open your eyes, a glass of ginger tea has manifested right before you.

“Drink this,” your Mom says as she points at the drink. “It should be good for your stomach.”

Your breath gets caught in your throat. Furrowing your brows, you keep your eyes on the drink instead of reaching for it. Thoughts of those past mornings when you and Skye spent searching through the internet to find a way to get rid of your morning sickness come through your mind.

Does she know? Did she figure it out already? Is it really that obvious?

You clench your hands and resist the urge to rub against your stomach. It has become a habit of yours to rub around your belly as if trying to feel the baby that is hiding inside whenever you feel agitated.

After getting the positive results through the home test kits, you had gone straight to the doctor only days before you left the city to have it checked, confirming that a baby is growing inside you. It still feels unbelievable to think about it, even after you saw it yourself with your own eyes.

“It’s still really early, and we might not be seeing much yet, but that’s your baby,” the doctor’s voice echoes through your mind as you tighten your clenched hands, thinking back to the day you went to have an ultrasound and saw for the first time the growing fetus that was said to be viable to grow fully as a baby.

Just like how the baby inside you has been nothing more than a blob of mass floating inside your stomach in your mind, your belly itself has yet to change shape. Even if your full awareness of the baby’s presence has only been causing you to find small changes in your body that nobody else might be able to see.

But Mom has been pregnant before, so wouldn’t she be able to see it? Will that be possible?

“Ginger tea is good for nausea and will give you some energy boost. Your grandma always made it for me whenever I had a stomach ache. I’m sure it’ll help get rid of your nausea and your upset stomach will turn better in no time.” Your Mom stops talking and sighs. “You should’ve told me that you were sick. I wouldn’t have let you drive all the way home if I had known.”

Ah.

You breathe a sigh of relief. You should be thankful that she believed you when you told her about having an upset stomach from the long drive home from the city. It was the only thing that you could think of as an excuse when your Mom wondered why you hadn’t been eating well since you got back home and why you were feeling sick.

It makes you wonder why you have been feeling unwell since you got home. Just when you had purposely waited until you were well enough and had stopped throwing up when you planned for the drive.

It’s almost as if the baby is deliberately making you sick to let everyone know about your secret.

“Thanks, Mom,” you say to your Mom as you reach for the tea, hiding your relieved sigh as you gingerly drink in small sips.

You have lost count of how many times Skye has made you this drink specifically to stop you from vomiting in the morning before going to work. It has been helping a lot to ease your ‘sickness’, and you are feeling it calming your stomach already as the drink warms your body.

You can feel your mother’s eyes on you, making you feel uneasy to be under her watchful gaze. “I think it might be better if you get some rest and take things easy. But are you sure you’re okay?” your Mom asks again, still worrying about you.

You continue drinking the ginger tea slowly while pressing down your guilt. You hate lying to your Mom the most, and now you are starting to regret driving home on your own. If the baby hadn’t been the one responsible for your current sickness, then perhaps driving the long distance has been the reason why your nausea is now coming back with a vengeance.

So much for trying to not draw any suspicions.

“I’m fine, Mom. Really,” you sigh as you place the glass down. “The tea is helping me already. I’ll feel better soon, I promise.”

Your Mom says nothing for a moment, but the crease you see forming on her forehead says differently. “I’m not just talking about you being sick. Maybe there’s another reason why you’re feeling faint?”

You look up at her just then. The moment you catch the pitiful look she is giving you, you finally understand what she is trying to say.

Just as Skye predicted, it didn’t take long for your family to take notice of your solo arrival. In the past, Hansol would have joined you to visit your family for a day or two during the holidays before he would return to his family on Christmas day. So his absence was quite obvious from the get-go.

And with the big lie that you have to hide from everyone at home, you had to at least give them one honest truth the moment they started asking.

“We ended things a few months ago,” you admitted to your family during the first dinner you had since you got home. By that time, you had already tried to avoid the questions for long enough. Nobody has brought up about it again since then.

Until now.

“If you’re talking about the breakup, there’s nothing to worry about. I’m okay, Mom. It’s been months since it happened. I’ve been trying to move on.”

In fact, you haven’t been thinking about your ex at all for a long time. Not until you brought it up to Skye and then again when your family started questioning. The only thing you have been worrying about lately is the baby growing inside you and finding a way to search for the father of the baby.

It was the one thing that you talked about with Skye before you left. While you are capable enough to raise the baby on your own, you decided it would be the best course of action to contact the father and let him know.

In Skye’s own words, “Just in case.”

Just in case the father would care enough to know that he has a son or a daughter coming into this world and wants to be in their life.

“But if we fail to find him or he wants nothing to do with the baby, then we’ll deal with it on our own. You just got your promotion, I got my good pay. We can raise the baby together. You and me, just like old times.”

Skye’s words put a smile on your face. She always knows how to lift your spirit up whenever you feel like giving up, and those exact words have helped boost your confidence and made you believe that you could get through this.

But first, you just need to get through spending this holiday with your family.

“I know you said that. But as your Mom, I can’t help but worry. I thought you were serious and we’ll be hearing some good news about you getting married this year.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. “Yeah, that’s not going to happen. Sorry, Mom,” you tease her with a bitter chuckle. You don’t bother to mention that the two of you had never once talked about marriage throughout your relationship.

Yet another sign that you overlooked. At least you never got to waste anymore time with him.

“Things just didn’t work out between us. It happens when a couple grow into two different people in the course of their relationship. Which was exactly what happened to us. Hansol wanted to focus on his career, in return, I also got the chance to focus on mine.”

Just as you said the words, you realise that this is true for your case.

Hansol has always been career-driven, and it has been growing stronger lately for him with the constant rise he was experiencing in his current company. And breaking up with your long-time boyfriend has allowed you to turn your focus on your job. The recent promotion you gained was a testament to your hard work to show you that there might be a silver lining to everything that has happened.

“I suppose you’re right,” your Mom says with a smile. You are beginning to feel a bit relieved that she seems to understand. You are hoping that she would start talking about something else when she adds, “I just feel sad that it didn’t work out for you. And we were all expecting to have Hansol joining us again this year. I guess it’s too late now to let your sister know about this since she’s supposed to arrive today.”

Stepsister.

You lift your glass and slowly drink your tea to stop yourself from correcting her. For some reason, you feel a bit bitter having your mother mention her all so suddenly.

It isn’t that you hate your stepsister. It’s hard to feel something so extreme when you barely had any relationship with her at all. Back when you were younger, your mother did try to get you two to get along and be friends.

To make her happy, you tried your best to act friendly, or at least to be cordial whenever she was around, even when the only thing she showed you over the years had been nothing but contempt.

But things changed after a drunken fit that she had last holiday season, when she got drunk and tried to make a move and openly flirted with your then-boyfriend. Even if nothing ever came out of it except for her own embarrassment, as Hansol openly rejected her and stayed away from her for the remaining time he was here, the incident still left a bad taste that made you feel bitter.

That was when you finally decided that you would stop trying to be nice.

You put down the glass and try to remain calm. What’s done is done. All you have to do is focus on getting through this holiday before going back to the city and start with your mission to search for the baby’s father.

“What does Alia have to do with my break up?” you ask your mother, hoping that she wouldn’t bring up the drama from last year.

“Oh, it’s nothing serious, really,” your Mom answers with a soft chuckle, “It’s just that Alia called home sometime last week, asking if she could bring someone over this Christmas. She said that she’s been seeing someone new and since she was bringing him to meet her mother, she wondered if it would be okay if she could bring him along to meet us too.”

Your Mom sighs, looking a bit guilty when she adds, “We figured since you might bring Hansol with you, it would be okay if she has her new boyfriend along. Maybe the guys could get along and spend time together while you and Alia catch up.”

You try to imagine you and Alia catching up like old friends or—just like what your Mom has been wishing you to be—as sisters, and you almost shake your head.

Yeah, that seems unlikely, you bitterly wonder to yourself, yet you don’t have the heart to tell your mother that there is not much hope for you and Alia to be good friends.

“I guess it’s a shame that Hansol isn’t here,” you simply say to your mother while you inwardly wonder just what your stepsister is really up to this year.

“Yeah, it’s unfortunate,” your mother says with a sigh. “But I’m glad that at least both of you girls can make it home this year.”

“Me too, Mom,” you force a smile, silently hoping that you can start talking about something else. Something that doesn’t concern your bitter stepsister coming home or bringing up any dark thoughts about your ex. “So, what are we having for dinner? Want my help in the kitchen?”

Your question immediately puts everything into motion, drifting her attention away from your sappy story and the false hope of sisterhood that may never happen between you and your stepsister. Your Mom tries to stop you from helping out in the kitchen at first but finally gives in when you keep insisting.

At least, this way, you can keep your mind busy enough to stop it from thinking about unnecessary thoughts the way it often does when you are alone.

Things seem to be going on well enough at first, until your sickness returns and you have to give up trying.

”See, I told you that you should be resting until you feel better,” your mother complains as she watches you bending over, keeping away from the stove and what is currently cooking on top of it which seems to be making you feel dizzy and sick.

After garlic, lemon-scented air freshener, and coconut milk, seems you are going to have to add raw chicken to the list of things that may trigger your nausea.

“But then I’ll be bored like hell,” you argue, “I’m fine, Mom. Just let me take a quick break for a minute.”

Your mother looks as if she wants to say something, but the sound of a car coming into the driveway interrupts her. Both of you turn to look out towards the living room, just in time to see your stepfather, Cliff, turning in the corner of the hall and rushing towards the front door.

“Honey, they’re here!” he calls out, and you urge your mother to join him.

“Go, Mom. I’ll finish things up and make sure nothing gets burned before I join you guys.”

Once your mother is out of the kitchen, you can no longer resist pressing your palm on your stomach.

“Seriously, baby,” you whisper to the non-existent bump under your sweater, “Please take it easy, will you? I’m really struggling here, and you’re not making things easy for me. Trust me, it would be too soon for everyone to find out about you. At least wait until we can find a clue about your Dad, okay?”

As if the baby inside you is listening, even if it is still barely full-grown at this point, your body grows calmer and the nausea slowly wanes.

“Thank you, baby,” you whisper to your stomach once again before finally focusing on the stove and the oven, deliberately taking your time with what you do just so you can have a reason not to join the dramatic reunion happening right this minute.

From this side of the kitchen, the front door isn’t completely visible. But you can hear everything as the door opens and your stepfather joyfully welcomes his daughter.

Hearing his voice makes you smile. You may have had a tumultuous relationship with your stepsister, but the same cannot be said with your stepfather. Cliff has always been a great role model, and your relationship with him has always been great from the start.

It makes you feel guilty when you think about the previous encounters where you and your stepsister simply gave each other cold shoulders or when you were met with altercations just because of how different the two of you are. But there is no helping it. Nothing has changed over the years no matter how hard you tried. Not even once you have become adults.

You can’t even remember how it first started. And frankly, you no longer care. Last year’s incident was already enough to let you know that the sisterhood that your parents have been forcing you into was beyond saving.

The voices coming from the front door continue for a moment longer. This time, you get to hear your mother’s voice joining in the conversation and Alia’s soft voice answering her questions. You make no effort to listen to what they are saying and tune out their voices, until your mother’s voice calls out to you.

“______, your sister is here. Come and say hi.”

Your mother’s words make you stop. Slowly, you turn down the heat on the stove and turn to make your way towards the front door to join the family reunion.

“It’s stepsister,” you mutter under your breath as you drag your feet, taking your sweet time while you try to compose yourself before having to face the unwanted guests.

As you turn around the corner, merely moments before the front door finally comes into view, you get to hear another voice speaking. The voice that you couldn’t clearly hear from the kitchen while you were tuning their conversation out.

“I’m sorry for intruding. But thank you for having me here.”

That voice.

You immediately come to a halt. An uneasy feeling runs through your body when you realise that you recognise this voice and have grown to know it quite well.

There is no mistaking it. You may not have gotten his full name on the night you met, and his face has somewhat become a faint mirage in your dreams at night whenever you are taken back to the night of your hookup.

But you cannot say the same about his voice.

That deep and gentle voice will always be engraved in your memory. Even now, the only thing you would need to do is close your eyes and listen, and allow the voice to take you back to that specific night once more, where he used this voice to say sinful words that you could feel caressing your fragile heart while he was bringing you to the peak of pleasure.

And now you are hearing that voice here, at your home, idly chatting with your mother by the front door.

“_______, are you coming?” your mother calls again, and you know that there is no avoiding it. You have to face reality, even if that means you must come face to face with the man who is responsible for placing you in this situation.

Tamping down the rush of nerves going through your body, you slowly march ahead. Bracing yourself as you turn around the corner and enter the living room where everyone is currently gathering in.

Your eyes fall on your stepsister first.

Alia has always looked so vibrant and beautiful, drawing all kinds of attention from everyone in the room whenever she is present. Yet when you look at her now, there seems to be a new kind of light emerging from her. Even her smile seems brighter as she chats along with your stepfather.

And you soon realise the reason why she is shining brightly today as you turn your gaze to look at the person standing beside her. To finally see him.

He looks just like how you remember him. Tall and lean, with his arms and chest filling up his sweater. He has his hair falling over a part of his face, just enough of a mess that seems as if he has been running his fingers through the wavy strands. As he converses with your mother, he shows his boxy grin that seems familiar to your eyes.

Too familiar.

Because it looks just the same as the wide grin that was teasing and flirting with you on one eventful night at the transit hotel weeks ago.

No. That can’t be.

The baby’s daddy is here. The man who you were planning to look for once you return to the city.

He is here, today, appearing at the front door of your parents’ home together with your stepsister. His long fingers that had once entangled between the strands of your hair are now entwined with your stepsister’s dainty fingers. And there is no mistaking the matching couple rings that are glowing under the sunlight coming from their entwined hands.

Before you get the chance to process what is happening, you hear him introducing himself to your stepfather, “It’s good to see you, Sir. My name is Taehyung.”

No.

You stifle a gasp. It feels like you have been sucker-punched right in the chest that you can barely breathe.

Taehyung, you wonder. Tae?

All of a sudden, you feel as if the ground beneath your feet is tilting over, slowly taking you down with it. And since you seem to have lost the ability to move your feet, the only thing you can do to stop yourself from falling is to clench your hands tightly by your side. Tight enough to feel pain as your nails are sinking into your palms, convincing you that this is not a dream.

Yet you are still in denial as you watch the interaction happening right before your eyes. Because there is no way this is happening. There is no possible way that it is truly him.

Please. Please don’t let it be him.

It must have been your mind playing tricks on you. Because there is no way that he is here. Not as your stepsister’s new boyfriend.

This must be a mistake. Yes, you are probably confused and all the thoughts of finding your baby daddy are messing up with your head, forcing you to believe that your stepsister’s new boyfriend is your mysterious baby daddy. The fact that they have the same name must have been pure coincidence.

For once in your life, you don’t want to be right. You have to be wrong.

Please tell me that it’s not him.

Just then, as if life was listening to your prayers, as if life has yet to have enough of its games to play around with your heart, the man turns his gaze away from your parents. And those pretty eyes land on you.

As if there is a switch turned, the brightness in his gaze fades. His beautiful eyes are filled with recognition. It is so subtle that you are quite sure that nobody else around you notices it, but it is enough to let you know that your memories have been right all along.

Because those are the same eyes that you saw looking back at you with pure lust and sin while he was bringing you wanton pleasure, when you made love as if both of you had been under a spell, right on the very night that may have changed your fate forever.

Fuck.

Me.

At one glance, this moment would seem like any other pre-holiday family dinner. It may seem picture perfect, even—if you had been a stranger looking in.

There are still a couple of days left until Christmas Day, yet the festive mood has already filled the room. From the living room, all the way to the dining room, Christmas decorations are already plastered across the walls and hung from the ceiling. On the dining table, the delectable meal that your mother worked hard to prepare—with your poor assistance—had been perfectly laid out.

With Alia’s arrival today, the immediate family is now complete. Ever the charming daughter, Alia takes up the attention of everyone around her as she shares her story—about how she has been travelling between different states and some neighbouring countries, changing jobs, finding new hobbies, and even planning to adopt a new pet.

Sitting at the head of the table, your stepfather is soaking it all in, enjoying the time he has with his daughter whom he rarely gets to see throughout the year. Your mother sits on his right, getting the front seat of their merry reunion. She would sometimes chime in, never failing to try to get you into joining their idle chat even when you are not feeling up to it.

Other times, you would have been able to easily play along. From making cordial comments and joining with all the light jokes shared by your family, or feigning interest in anything that Alia might be sharing at the table—even when she rarely would share the same courtesy when you did the same.

Tonight, however, it feels like a struggle for you to focus on the conversation shared at the table, let alone pretend to be interested. Not when you are busy trying your best to calm your nerves.

You can't even embrace the same warm atmosphere that everyone seems to be sharing.

For you, the air around feels stifling and tense. It has been this way ever since you sat down right next to your mother for dinner. Because due to the seating arrangement, the special guest of the night is now sitting right across from you at the table.

Taehyung.

The last person that you had ever expected to see. Not here. Certainly not at your home or sharing the same space with your parents.

It seems surreal to meet him here like this. Even more so when he was introduced to your family as Alia’s new boyfriend.

Judging from the way he reacted when he first saw you, you can tell that he never expected something like this could ever happen. You know that he has questions, perhaps just as much as you do, yet the situation that you found yourself in right now isn’t allowing you to even show any sign that the two of you know each other or to have met before today.

But there is something in the way he is looking at you that doesn’t sit right with you. Aside from the lingering shock you see each time your eyes accidentally meet each other, there is a look that shows a semblance of guilt, despair, and at the same time, filled with wonder.

Was it because he never expected to see you again after that night, much less to find out that you are somehow related to the woman that he is dating? Or was there something else going through his mind?

“This is Alia’s sister, ______,” was what your mother said when she first introduced you to him. At that point, you and Taehyung were stunned to silence, and for a brief moment, neither of you reacted.

Thinking about it now, you can’t even remember how you managed to join your family in the living room. The moment you saw Taehyung standing there, your legs nearly gave out. It was a wonder how you managed to stop yourself from falling or tripping as you walked over to them in a state of distraught.

“Hi, it’s good to see you,” was all that you managed to croak out of once you snapped out of it. You didn’t even give him a chance to respond when you suddenly turned your attention to your stepsister, forcing a smile on your face when you greeted her, “Hey, Alia. It’s good to see you. You seem well.”

You can’t even remember the expression that Alia gave you when she responded to you, “Uh yeah, thanks. You too.”

“Right. Well, I’ll let you guys settle in. I left the stove on, so—”

That was the last thing you said before you turned away and quickly left the room, practically running away from him to hide back in the kitchen. The last thing you heard as you walked away was your mother’s voice saying something about you being her assistant of the day in the kitchen while you were feeling unwell, as if excusing you for your unmannerly attitude.

By the time you got back in the kitchen, your hands were shaking, your heartbeat was racing so fast you could barely breathe. It took a long time for the shock to wane, and you had spent the rest of the day staying away from both of them, avoiding him entirely until you were finally called to join dinner.

And you are still avoiding him even now, keeping your head down as much as you can and resisting the urge to look his way. As if it isn’t hard enough for you to have him sitting right in front of you, you can feel the heat of his gaze constantly following you whenever you are not looking.

He doesn’t make it so obvious, and it doesn’t seem like anyone else has noticed it yet. Perhaps you are just too hyperaware of his presence that you caught on to it so easily.

You sneak a glance at your stepsister, wondering if Alia has taken notice of her boyfriend’s wandering gaze or where he has been directing his eyes. It takes you watching the conversation between her and your parents more closely to see it.

Because it turns out that she also has her own gaze wandering to questionable places at the same time that she isn’t paying much attention to her boyfriend.

Each time Alia turns to regard your mother or speak to her, her gaze flickers away briefly, ever so subtly landing on the seat to your right. At the seat that Hansol would usually occupy whenever he joined you during these holiday visits.

It is easy to catch it when you are seeing it from your angle. And it is easy to guess what is going through her head when she keeps doing it with a curious look written all over her face. An unspoken question seems to linger, while the incident from last year keeps flashing through your head when you picture Hansol being present beside you.

Even if nobody notices her intention, you doubt that anyone would question her about it, seeing that the seat that was supposed to be left empty has been taken by someone else.

While you are busy trying to make sense out of everything, your grandmother makes a disapproval noise with her tongue, grabbing your attention. “Are you still feeling under the weather? You’ve been drinking that boring thing the whole day,” she says, referring to the glass of iced tea that you have just put down after taking a drink from it to cool down.

You turn to look at your dear grandmother, Honey, and smile at her. She probably hasn’t realised what a saving grace she has been for taking the unoccupied seat to your right the minute she came in for dinner.

And she is now helping you again by drawing your attention away from the source of your dismay. Immediately, you feel better the moment you are met with Honey’s smile.

“I’m feeling much better, actually. I’m just being careful not to drink anything that might get me sick,” you answer carefully, hoping to sound reasonable enough without making anyone question your ‘sickness’ any further.

The more you lie to your family about it, the more guilty you feel. You don’t have much choice at the moment but to hide it just a bit longer.

At first, you couldn’t share the news with your parents simply because you were still clueless about how you were going to find the father of the baby with only limited information you had of him. But then things only got even more complicated for you to ever come clean when he walked through the front door of your parents’ home.

What are the odds that the man you hooked up with turns out to be the man your stepsister is currently dating? And here you are now, stuck in the same room with them while hiding a secret which may change the course of everyone’s entire life.

Yeah, miracles don’t exist. Not for me, at least.

Honey taps at your hand on the table as you grow silent, oblivious to the thoughts running through your head. “You know what you need?” she asks, whispering in a conspiring tone that she barely keeps down so that everyone at the table can still hear her voice.

And she does it while looking at you with her wide, expecting eyes, with the barely concealed mischief written all over her face. It makes you smile, knowing where this is going. So you simply play along.

"No, Honey. What would that be?”

Her mischievous smile widens as she leans closer. “A hint of rum. With a few drops into that boring tea of yours, you’ll feel better in no time,” she says, lifting her hand and showing you a pinching gesture with her thumb and forefinger nearly touching each other, “Just a pinch. Or better yet, just trade your whole glass—”

The sound of your Mom’s frustrated sigh cuts her off. “Mom, I already told you, giving her alcohol isn’t going to make her feel better. I’ve already given her some herbal tea, that should be enough until she can get a proper rest.”

“Oh, posh,” Honey says, waving her hand at your mother. “Ignore your Mom,” Honey says just as you are about to respond. “I’m telling you. Alcohol is best to cure your heartbreak,” she adds, and you certainly have no arguments against that. Alcohol might be able to help you forget.

But, alas…

But, wait a minute. You stop and look closely at Honey. What is she talking about?

“What do you mean?” you question her while tilting your head, wondering deep down if she had noticed something. Surely, she wouldn’t be able to tell the high tension rolling between you and Taehyung through dinner.

Nobody else could. But you also know that if there is anyone in your family who might be able to catch on with the tension rolling between the two of you, it would be Honey.

Once again, Honey reaches out and taps her dainty fingers on the back of your hand. “Isn’t that why you’re feeling down, peaches? I know you’re still thinking about that good for nothing—”

Honey stops herself and bites down her smile before you can figure out what she is about to say. But you have heard enough to understand who she is referring to.

Relief washes over you when you realise that she was talking about your ex, Hansol. She must have thought that you have been stressing over the breakup and you have been feeling unwell because of it.

Honey leans in, this time lowering her voice just enough only for you to hear. “You must’ve taken it from me. I also get a stomach bug when I’m stressed out. Just like last summer when I lost a go-stop game against the ladies from the block,” she says, before she continues blabbering about how she had made bets during the game and went all-in only to lose everything.

“You might think that they’re nothing but small pennies used for gambling coins, but I spent a whole week collecting them. How am I supposed to replace all of them before the next game?” she continues to complain, while you laugh at her.

Her story takes away the tension on your shoulders for a brief moment before she adds, “And then you had to come here and watch these two being all lovey-dovey with each other.”

As Honey mentions the pair sitting across the table, waving her hand at them to make a point, your eyes are drawn towards them once more. And your gaze lands right on Alia’s hand which is now resting on top of Taehyung’s.

Seeing this makes you feel tight in the chest. Bitterness fills your mouth which you can barely hide with a tight smile. Honey may not have been entirely correct with her assumptions, yet her comment still hits the mark somehow.

Not about Hansol, obviously, as he is the one to occupy your mind the least. Yet she wasn’t too far off when she talked about the new pair of lovers before you. Seeing them does make you uncomfortable, miserable even, but for entirely different reasons.

Looking away from their joined hands, your gaze meets Alia’s. She is wearing an unreadable expression on her face as she listens in to Honey’s words. And the strange look that she is giving you now is making you feel uneasy.

Just as you start wondering if Alia has noticed something, she instead asks you, “You guys broke up?”

She throws a quick glance at Honey’s seat with a frown. For others, she might seem concerned, yet there is a look in her eyes which tells you that there is something more. “I was wondering why I haven’t seen him around. He was with us last holiday.”

Her comment rubs you in the wrong way. You have no idea why she would care when your relationship has nothing to do with her. But you try to not let it bother you. “Yes, it’s been months now since we broke up. I only told Mom and Dad yesterday when I first got home.”

“I see,” she says. Her voice comes out so softly that it almost comes out as a murmur. She pulls her hand back and places it on her lap. “That’s too bad. I’m sorry,” she adds while offering a small smile. And for some reason, she also seems guilty.

Does she think it has something to do with what happened last year?

Her words remind you of something that she said to you last year, back on the morning you confronted her after her drunken blunder which happened the night before.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking. I didn’t mean anything, I swear. It’s just drunk talking.”

That incident shouldn’t be bothering you today. Yet it still makes you feel bitter when you think about it. The feeling only grows worse when you glance at Taehyung who is showing a sudden interest in this whole thing.

“It’s fine. Sometimes things just don’t work out,” you simply repeat the same thing you said to your mother earlier while biting back the real question that is hanging right at the tip of your tongue.

But what’s in it to you?

No matter how curious you are to know what kind of scheme that is going through her pretty little head, you know it’s not worth all the drama that it might cause. You cannot even possibly imagine the drama that would unfold once this whole baby thing comes out.

God, just thinking about it is already making your stomach churn. Your lower abdomen suddenly feels hard and heavy. As if you have a full-size lead inside instead of a small, growing blob that is about to form into an actual living baby within a few weeks from now.

Thinking about the baby, your eyes find the man who is behind all of this. He has grown oddly quiet while you were conversing with your stepsister and is now staring at his food with a frown on his face.

“So tell me,” you ask calmly while clenching your hands, doing your best to hide the trembles, “How did you two meet?”

This question immediately draws Taehyung’s attention. His eyes snap up, but the moment he looks at you, his face seems to grow pale and he becomes awfully nervous.

“We, uh—we used to work at the same company before Alia left to venture into other things,” he says, almost stuttering. He also keeps stealing glances at Alia, as if begging her to help him out.

Huh, strange.

What is it about answering your simple question which makes him so nervous?

Or perhaps…

Have they been seeing each other when the two of you hooked up?

Fuck.

The moment this thought crosses your mind, you suddenly feel sick. Your stomach grows heavier with anxiety. Meanwhile, Alia’s smile seems to beam brighter.

“We didn’t work in the same division back then, but we would frequently meet during breaks and company hours. Had it been, what, a year after we last met?” Alia turns to Taehyung, who stiffly nods his head. She grabs his hand once again and looks at him lovingly as she continues, “We met again last summer by chance while I was travelling and started talking since then.”

Last summer? But that was before—

Your head starts spinning. You grab your glass and take a couple of small sips of your tea to regain composure, yet the drink suddenly tastes bitter on your tongue.

Honey’s voice barely registers in your brain when she responds with a hum. “Travelling in the summer? That sounds like a charming way to meet a new lover,” she says, lifting her mug to her lips as she continues marvelling at your stepsister’s story. “You must have felt some sparks when you two met. I bet you’re still feeling it now, aren’t you?”

You have no idea what she has inside that ceramic mug, as she had been nursing the same drink since even before dinner started. You can bet money that she had more than a pinch of rum dropped inside that drink of hers, seeing how talkative she is becoming.

Oh, how you wish you could have a taste of it. Just a sip would have been good enough. Maybe it can also help to stop your hands from trembling.

“And the ring?” Honey asks again with a teasing tone as she points at their entwined hands. “I noticed that you two are wearing matching rings. You can’t possibly be engaged already, can you?”

Almost choking on your drink, you slowly set your glass back down and pull your hands onto your lap, hiding them from prying eyes just in time as they begin to shake.

“But it wasn’t that different back in the day,” Honey continues, “I remember that Russ—that’s my dear late husband,” she explains to Taehyung, “he bought me a cheap ring at the beginning of our relationship to show me and my parents that he was serious about courting me.”

On any other times that Honey would speak about your late grandfather, you would always enjoy listening to every word, admiring how she would always share her story with pure love in her voice and wonder glowing in her eyes.

But not this time.

Ever since she pointed out the ring and started talking about your grandfather’s old promises, you start having trouble breathing. The more she speaks, the worse it gets, and now there is a ringing sound echoing in your ear that seems to be coming from different directions.

“I still keep the ring with me, side by side with the wedding ring that doesn’t fit anymore on these wrinkly fingers of mine,” Honey keeps gushing. She raises her hands and starts wiggling her fingers to show them off, while your whole body grows tense.

Alia shares a nervous laugh with Taehyung and waves her hand at Honey. “Oh, no…it’s actually a part of a joke that we—”

You try to tune out the voices, the words that are being said, while clasping your hands tighter together on your lap, but the shaking doesn’t stop. Alia’s voice fades in and out beyond the loud ringing in your head as she continues to tell her story about how they started dating and the ring came to be. With everything that is going on, added with your awareness over Taehyung’s intense gaze that doesn’t seem to waver, it becomes too overwhelming that you feel as if you are slowly being swallowed into the ground beneath you.

With a sharp gasp, you slowly push yourself out of your seat. “Excuse me, I have to—” your voice cracks as you speak. As you stand, you notice that everyone has their eyes on you, all curious to know what is happening with you.

“_______?” you hear your mother calling you.

You can feel the blood draining from your face under all the unwanted attention, making you wish that you could just fade away right at that moment. But then your hand find its way to your stomach, and it almost feels like there is a touch of warmth forming under your palm. It helps you force a smile and gather yourself just enough to say, “I’m sorry, but I’m not feeling well, so I’m going to step out early. I hope that’s alright. You guys enjoy the rest of dinner.”

You don’t wait for anyone’s response as you turn away, finding your escape merely moments before you get into a full-blown meltdown right in front of everyone.

Your legs are wobbly as you walk down the hall, yet you still manage to slip into the guest bathroom downstairs. With trembling hands, you lock the door behind you, shutting yourself from the world outside.

And that is when you fall apart, turning into a heaving mess as everything that you have been bottling up inside comes flooding out of you.

“Breathe,” you command yourself while you fight back against your nausea. Holding onto the bathroom counter, you keep yourself and try your best to focus on controlling your breath.

Take a slow, deep breath. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

Little by little, all the tension, the trembling, and the tightness in your chest begin to wane. But once everything is gone, once you begin to find calmness, your emotions seize control of you.

The next thing you know, an unstoppable flow of tears comes running down your face and you start sobbing, crying in defeat.

“Shit. Fuck. What a mess,” you curse between each sob, feeling absolutely helpless and alone. You close your eyes, hoping that you can clear your head by doing so. Yet your mind keeps going to dark places. Constantly wondering and questioning about all of this.

About him.

“Did he ever mention anything that was related to his personal life that night?” you cannot help but wonder out loud.

Only silence answers. Because you hold little to no recollection of the details from the conversation you shared with him that night. Whenever you try to remember, it always feels like there was a part of your memory that had gone missing.

You haven’t had the slightest clue of the things you shared with him at the bar once the drinks started coming more frequently. Which is a wonder, because you are completely sure that neither of you had gotten drunk enough to experience a blackout, much less lose a memory.

At least for you, the alcohol was just enough to burn through your nerves and help build your confidence to take the lead and openly show the attraction you had for him. Even if he did end up taking back control the moment the two of you finally gave in to temptation.

Your head starts pounding, aching the more you try to remember the missing details. Meanwhile, all the questions won’t stop coming, making it harder for you to regain a peaceful mind.

Did he ever mention having a girlfriend, or at least give any hint that he was taken?

Was he wearing that ring on his finger when he was touching your skin under the dim light of his bedroom suite?

You shake your head and close your eyes again when you still remember nothing. The only thing that remains in your memory is the look you saw in his gaze that night. The pitiful look that seemed to mirror yours, making you believe that he was looking for the same thing you did that night.

An escape. A way to forget even if for a moment.

But what if that was all just another lie?

Your stomach churns. A sharp pain comes shooting through your body. It starts from your lower abdomen, causing you to almost double over.

Fuck. Now what?

Your hand instantly comes down to your stomach, pressing and rubbing gently against it until the uncomfortable ache ebbs under your touch.

Right, I’m supposed to avoid any form of stress, you remind yourself as you recall what your doctor told you the last time you went to see her. Something about getting your blood tension rising when you are stressed, and that it wouldn’t be good for both you and the baby in the long run. Closing your eyes, you try to think of happy thoughts, all while keeping your palm pressed on your stomach.

To your surprise, rubbing your palm against the barely-there baby bump on your belly isn’t just helping you to soothe the pain away, but also to calm yourself down.

With a sigh, you gently wipe your tears and look down. “I’m sorry for swearing so much, baby. I promise to stop doing it once you’ve grown big enough to start hearing things so you won’t learn any of it too soon. But fuck, this is too much.”

It feels odd to speak like this to the living being growing inside you that is barely more than a piece of flesh. Yet speaking to your growing baby seems to help ease your anxiety a little.

Better yet, it helps make you feel less alone.

“Let’s not think any bad thoughts. Let’s not assume that your Dad is an asshole, okay? Not until we get to hear the full story,” you whisper to the tiny human growing inside you. The more you speak to it, the more it seems to be helping you to find some ease of mind.

But even if it turns out that he was…

“Then I can deal with it later with my head held high,” you murmur to yourself in a soft, yet reassuring tone of voice. And you repeat it again, and again, almost as if you are chanting a spell which would be able to give you a boost of confidence.

It may not immediately change the way you look at things, yet you can feel it slowly rising within you. It feels like a ray of light, the first spark of hope that you get to feel amid all the uncertainty which surrounds you.

Soon enough, the strong urge to cry no longer overcomes you. Even your hands have stopped shaking. All that you have left is exhaustion. It rolls through your body with a vengeance, and there is nothing that you want more right now other than to curl up like a ball on your bed and sleep it off.

You raise your head to look at yourself in the mirror, and instantly a bitter laugh escapes you at what you are seeing.

Because you look like a complete mess. Your life is slowly turning into shambles, and it seems to be mocking you through your own reflection that is now staring back at you.

“Just exactly what I need,” you whisper with a sigh.

I need to be stronger, if only for the sake of this little one in me, you tell yourself as you splash cold water at your face to wash away all the mess—the drying tears, your swollen eyes, and the skin on your face which has yet to regain its normal colours.

It feels therapeutic to be washing everything off, leaving nothing more but your swollen eyes which you can explain as a part of your sickness. You may not be strong enough to take on the world, but at least now, you are prepared to face the reality that is waiting for you right outside of this door.

No matter how fucking messy it is.

Having this new revelation should be giving you a newfound credence that could push you forward. And yet there is none of that here. The only thing you are feeling now is the new bout of anxiety rolling up through your body, starting from your stomach as it churns painfully.

“Yeah, now I feel sick,” you groan as you rush to the toilet bowl, seconds away before you start dumping the small amount of food you had during dinner into waste.

It takes a bit longer than expected before you finally find the courage to step out of the bathroom.

Soft murmurs filter into the bathroom the moment you open the door. You can tell that the voices are coming from the living room, which means that the family has gathered there after dinner. It allows you to breathe a sigh of relief. At least this way you wouldn’t have to hide or make excuses if you have to bump into someone on your way to your bedroom.

Stepping out of the bathroom, you are relieved that nobody is around. Everyone should be in the living room, so you make haste, hoping to be able to escape before anyone notices.

But as you turn to the next hallway, someone is standing in your way. The light is dim, yet you can easily recognise him before you get any closer. Standing with his back leaning against the wall, he has his hands tucked into his pockets and his eyes looking absently into the distance.

As though he has been waiting for you.

Taehyung turns when he notices you coming. Before you can start to wonder what he is doing here, a smile grows on his face.

“Hey, is everything okay? Everyone was worried,” he asks you, sounding genuinely concerned.

The calm tone of his voice might be a bit deceiving if only you are not looking into his eyes. His gaze keeps wavering as he speaks, as if he is unable to look at you for too long. The same guilt you saw earlier is still present in his eyes. And you hate seeing it there.

It only tells you that he has a secret that he is keeping from you. You have no idea how to feel about it. But if it has to do with his relationship with Alia, then—

“I’m fine, it’s just—”

Your cheeks grow warm the moment you speak, feeling embarrassed at how dry your voice sounds. “It’s nothing. You heard my Mom, I’ll be better in no time.”

You have so many things to say to him. So many questions that you would like to give him. But you are too tired to do anything. Much less to talk. As much as you can convince yourself that you are ready to face anything, now is not the right time to do it.

So you keep your mouth shut and try to walk past him instead. Only that he isn’t letting you go that easily.

“You know, it really is nice to see you again, Red.”

His voice sounds so subdued that you almost miss it. You come to a halt. Your heartbeat starts picking up again. If you ever needed confirmation that the sinful night you shared with him truly happened, and that he remembered any part of it, then this is it.

His comment which instantly brings you back to that fateful night. The nickname that he used to call you then.

You close your eyes, refusing to remember the way he managed to draw out a myriad of sensations with his voice alone. You refuse to be brought back there again. Not now, when your mind isn’t clear enough to be dealing with this. Taking a deep breath, you compose yourself just enough to face him.

Only to be met with his amused smile as he looks at you.

“I was surprised to see you. I never would have thought that you could somehow be related to Alia.” He lets out a chuckle. It sounds empty and a bit bitter, mirroring exactly how you are feeling right now.

Your chest feels tight, hating the way he is saying her name. Nor do you enjoy seeing the way his gaze changes when he does it. Annoyance fills your chest that you can barely speak, while he remains in his blissful ignorance as he continues talking,

“Funny how life works, doesn’t it? I kept thinking about you after we met and wondered if we would ever see each other again. I regretted that I didn’t ask for your number before we parted ways. I didn’t even get to ask for your real name.”

The tightness in your chest grows tenfold.

You never admitted it before—not to yourself, and not even to Skye, when you first talked about him—yet there was some point between that night and the day you found out about the pregnancy that you spent your nights wondering if you would ever see him again.

If there had been one thing that you regretted about that night, it would be the decision you made to leave the next morning without asking for his real name or leaving any means of contact.

A night to escape from reality.

That was all it meant for you at the time. So when the morning came, it was time for you to return to reality. Your reality. Your real life. And you were too busy preparing yourself to face all the hurt, the bad memories, and the stressful life that had nothing to do with the desirable woman that he brought into his bed the night before to even consider exchanging contacts with him.

It didn’t matter if you were still riding the high of that night’s self-gratification and wanton pleasure through the rest of your trip. The moment everything ended, you simply moved on from it. Putting everything about that night to the back of your mind as you returned to your normal life and quickly fell back into your normal routine.

Until weeks later, when life decided to fuck you over and you ended up with a baby growing inside you, and you had no way to find or contact him to inform him about it.

“I guess it can’t be helped, given the circumstances.” Your conviction quickly melts into dread once you are reminded of the current circumstances. “It’s kinda too late now to talk about it and regret what didn’t happen, don’t you think? Seeing that you’re now dating my stepsister.”

Taehyung winces. For a brief moment, you almost believe you can see a glimpse of hurt flickering through his gaze. And for some reason, it only pisses you off.

So he doesn’t like being reminded of the fact that he is here for someone else?

“Look, about Alia. I was hoping that we could talk. Maybe when all of this is done, or maybe after the holidays we can—”

He continues talking, but you aren’t hearing anything. The questions that flooded your brain earlier come flashing back. The ringing that pained you returns. Everything lasts for a few more seconds before your mind clears out, and only one question remains.

“Were the two of you already dating when we slept together?”

He falls silent, taken aback.

“No!” he immediately says, almost shouting. But he quickly reins himself before his voice would reach where everyone is and draw their attention. “Fuck, no. Is that why you’ve been sulking all through dinner?” he asks you with a hiss. He seems offended and hurt at the same time. “I’m not that kind of guy. Trust me.”

“Sulking?” you let out an incredulous laugh. Is that how he saw it? When you were coming close to breaking apart right in front of everyone because of him?

“How am I supposed to trust you when I barely know you? How am I supposed to know that you’re telling the truth?” you snap back at him with a hiss. “Just because we fucked it doesn’t mean that I’d magically know everything about you.”

Again, he winces at your question. As if your words come to him like a slap on his face. He takes a deep breath and speaks more calmly in response, “Look, we should talk. Soon. I can explain everything. But not now, okay?”

As much as you hate to admit it, or to agree with him, you decide that he is right. There are a lot of things that you need to discuss with him, and now is not the right time to do it. Not when your emotions are all over the place and when he has his girlfriend keeping him in close sight most of the time.

“I agree. We do need to talk,” you finally agree, even though you know that both of you have different things in mind.

You have no idea what he intends to discuss with you. The only thing that matters to you is to talk about the baby that you conceived together. And hopefully, decide what will happen next.

“I should go,” you sigh, feeling exhausted and drained. “I need to lie down. This is too much for me to process.”

You try to walk around him so you can continue on your way. Your head is pounding, and you have the dire need to rest in your comfortable bed, where you would be able to feel safe and hide away from all of this.

“Wait,” Taehyung stops you before you can go too far.

“What?” you ask him, feeling exasperated—both from the stress and from the way your body still tingles each time you hear his voice. You really need to get away from him.

“Nothing, it’s just…” he starts, suddenly looking nervous with what he is about to say. The sound of laughter echoes from the living room, making him glance over his shoulder briefly before speaking to you with a lowered voice, “Can you do me a favour?”

You frown at him. “What is it?”

He looks wary, and it makes you feel uneasy in the stomach as you wait for him to speak.

But what he says next makes you feel even worse. “Please don’t tell Alia that we’ve met before, more importantly that we hooked up that night.”

You say nothing at first. Even if you are well aware of the situation and where Alia’s position in all of this, it still doesn’t stop the sharp pain you feel in your chest as he mentions her name, or to express his request.

Taehyung steps closer when you remain quiet. His voice comes as a desperate whisper when he pleads with you, “Please? Can you do this for me?”

You grit your teeth. “Fine, I won’t,” you finally say to him. But you refuse to give in that easily.

Taking a step closer to him, you point at him and demand him, “But you need to tell her.”

He clenches his jaw as he listens to your demands, but you ignore it and continue to talk. “She needs to know—” your voice nearly wavers, because you know what would happen once everything is revealed.

Telling your stepsister that you had slept with her boyfriend would not only be hard, but it would be ugly.

But it would be better than keeping it a secret for much longer. Because secrets don’t always remain hidden, no matter how hard you try to keep them in the shadows. And things would even get messier once the baby comes while she is still being kept in the dark.

It’s better to bite the bullet as soon as possible, rather than waiting and living your life in uncertainty until the day comes.

“If you don’t, and we keep this a secret much longer, things might get messier if she somehow finds out on her own. The last thing I’d ever want is to get into any drama. Not with her,” you try to convince Taehyung, despite him looking like he would rather bolt and have nothing to do with any of this.

After all the drama that happened last year, the last thing you need is to get involved in another.

“I’ll tell her myself if necessary.” There is a bite in your voice when you are telling him all of this. To his credit, Taehyung—despite looking shell-shocked and cornered—seems to respect and understand your request.

He lowers his head and nods. “Give me time. I’ll—”

You are surprised to see him looking defeated. It makes you wonder if there is something more about their relationship that you need to know before going further.

As Taehyung raises his head again, he seems more resolved. He looks straight into your eyes as he promises, “I’ll tell her myself once I get the chance to. I promise. But we’re going to have that talk first, and soon.”

“It’s a promise.” You bite back the ache that suddenly pierces through your heart, seeing how he is so adamant about protecting his relationship with your stepsister. Trying not to look too deep into it and get yourself hurt further, you avoid looking into his gaze and start walking away from him.

“Goodnight then—” you whisper to him as you turn away from him, biting back the sound of your defeat when you call his name, “Tae.”

The moment you are within the safety of your bedroom, your knees buckle. Thankfully, you still manage to close the door and lock it behind you, once again shutting yourself from everyone to give you some moment of peace.

Although it doesn’t stop him from entering your mind in the silence that follows.

As you lie down in your bed, curled up in a fetal position with your arms wrapped around yourself, your mind wanders back to the conversation you just had with Taehyung in the hallway.

You can’t help it. His words keep coming back to you, and you keep finding yourself dissecting everything he said. You close your eyes, and keep telling yourself to stop. The situation that you are dealing with right now already seems absurd enough for you to waste your energy trying to understand him.

You begin to wonder if things would have been better if you hadn’t come across each other again. Things would probably turn out differently. You may have to keep the baby’s existence a secret from him, and the truth about the father a secret from your family.

You may have to deal with everything yourself.

The possibility seems petrifying, but it still sounds a lot better than having to go against your stepsister. Better than causing your frail relationship to become even worse. This time, you know that this would be big enough to ruin any chance for you and your stepsister to have any kind of relationship at all.

He was right. It’s funny how life works. If only it doesn’t have to be this hard to laugh it off.

Stop it.

Keeping your eyes closed, you let out a deep sigh and force yourself to think about something else. Anything. As long as you are not thinking about him. His face, his voice, the scent of his cologne, everything that belongs to him.

Your head starts swimming. No, everything about him now belongs to someone else.

Once again, you force yourself to start thinking of less stressful things. Like Skye’s text message from this afternoon suggesting that you could run away with her to a secluded place somewhere in Europe so that the two of you could raise the baby together. Or the little stories that Honey shared about the cute new gardener now working at her apartment complex—the complex specifically built for elders like herself—that she wanted to introduce to you the next time you come by to visit.

You regret forgetting to pick up the smoothie that your mother made for you while you were throwing up in the bathroom, all due to Taehyung’s distraction. You wonder if having the smoothie would be able to help you feel better. Picturing the drink being left attended in the kitchen, you can picture your grandmother—the sweet little mischievous angel that she is—sneaking in a few drops of rum into the smoothie when your mother isn’t looking.

This thought makes you smile. It replaces every ugly thoughts that keep circling inside your mind and calms you down.

Your heartbeat is no longer beating like crazy. The more you fill your head with wonderful thoughts, the sooner the uneasy feeling in your stomach begins to wane.

And soon enough, you start drifting away to a restless sleep.

But just like how he invaded your home with his sudden appearance, Taehyung invades your sleep once your mind is left unguarded.

Speaking to him, albeit briefly, brings you back to that night. The moment you close your eyes, you start seeing everything from back then that you couldn’t remember in your waking hours. Even the smallest details that your conscious mind has forgotten. Everything comes crashing down on you as you toss and turn in your bed, unable to give in completely to a peaceful slumber as memories continue to flood your dreams.

Six weeks ago…

You opened your eyes and squinted.

The overhead lamp above your head was bright, and it was hurting your eyes. You could barely see a thing through your bleary eyes, until your gaze drifted further, looking into the dimly lit bedroom far across the foyer.

The room looked more spacious than yours, albeit a bit messy. The massive bed looked comfortable, and there were two lounge seats set up near the windows that looked more luxurious than the ones you had in your room.

“Your bedroom seems a lot more cozy than mine.”

The words came out of your lips with a moan. The sound seemed foreign. Barely recognisable through your hazy mind. But there was a familiar sensation slowly rising in your body that hadn’t at all come from the alcoholic drinks you were having tonight.

“Hmmm…You think so?”

A deep, sultry voice spoke as a pair of hot lips made their way down the side of your neck, tracing your skin with delicate kisses that made it even harder for you to think straight.

Shivers ran down your body. Heat rolled through your chest. And it almost seemed to you that your skin was becoming even more sensitive to the touch when even the most subtle caress of his fingers was able to light up your senses.

Right after the voice spoke to you, he suddenly switched and started kissing his way up. You blinked, and his face came into view just as he looked down at you. The beautiful face that captivated you when you first met him at the bar was presented right before your eyes.

So close. So tempting. And his eyes were so intense that you nearly lost your breath. He smiled and leaned down, capturing your lips with a kiss.

“You haven’t seen anything yet,” he murmured against your lips, drawing another moan out of you which snapped you from your daze.

You sighed as you gave in to the chaste kiss he was giving you. “It’s kind of hard to look around and see anything when you have me pinned to the door.”

He let out a soft chuckle and once again pressed his lips on yours. As if he was both pleased and amused that he got to put you in this position. When he pulled back, the look in his eyes softened.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself. It’s all your fault for teasing me all the way here while I couldn’t allow myself to touch you with so many eyes paying attention,” he said without any hint of regret in his voice.

“Well, forgive me because I wasn’t aware,” you taunted him back, knowing fully well what you had done to tease him until he was on the verge of breaking apart even before you reached his hotel suite.

As much as you wanted to hold back, you were quite sure that you hadn’t gotten things wrong. You couldn’t have possibly mistaken the chemistry that kept sparking between you. And the way he kept openly staring at your body was enough to make his intention clear, as his eyes seemed more honest than the words he gave you.

But back at the bar, you had let him be the first one to make the move.

With his sturdy hands, he was the one who pulled your seat closer. By placing his arm on your backrest, it may have seemed as if he was marking his territory for anyone else at the hotel bar to see. Normally, something like this would’ve put you off. But there was something in the way he did it that made you feel otherwise, allowing you to give in and lean more into his warmth instead of pushing him away.

That was when you reciprocated his actions with your own. The light and subtle touches of your fingers on his arm drew soft shudders through his body. The accidental brushes that happened when you moved against his body pushed him into wrapping his arm around you, keeping you close before he finally pulled you out of the bar.

When you leaned close enough to whisper softly against his ear, you could feel goosebumps rising on his skin, his heartbeat escalating under your palm, and he could barely hold himself back from devouring your lips right there at the hotel lobby. Right where everyone could see you falling into pieces under your sinful desire.

By the time you were alone with him in the elevator, the tension between you just kept escalating until he finally snapped.

He nearly dragged you across the hallway leading to his bedroom suite in his rush to get you alone. The moment he pulled you in through the door, every bit of his composure simply left him. He barely gave you a chance to catch a single glance of the suite, as he immediately pushed your body against the door and kept you there.

Until this moment.

His eyes grew dark after listening to your answer. His breath is still ragged after the hot kiss that he gave you once he got you pinned between his hard body and the locked door behind you.

With his broad chest locking you in place, his hips pressing against your lower body, he left you with nowhere else to go. But this didn’t seem to be enough for him. Looking into his eyes, you could tell that he needed to see you become even more vulnerable. Almost as if he wanted to punish you for putting him on the edge.

And he did exactly that as he slipped one hand around your neck and pulled your hair, tilting your head back so that he could continue exploring the column of your throat with his sinful lips. Instead of resisting it, you simply gave in. Arching your back to him further as he trailed kisses on your skin, your hands clutching on his jacket to hold on.

He used his other hand to explore the rest of your body. Starting from your waist, he continued to move further down to your hips. Tracing every curve, every dent along your body with his firm fingers pressing through your thin dress.

Just as he was about to reach the hem of your dress, he suddenly stopped and pulled back.

“Tell me again. Are you sure this is what you want?” His voice was quiet when he asked you this. It sounded as though he was caught between convincing himself that this was happening while giving you an out for one last time before getting too deep.

But you had gone deep.

And you knew then that the moment you let everything happen, there was no going back from it. Everything about this was new to you; hooking up with a complete stranger while you were in the middle of nowhere, and knowing that once the night was over, both of you were going to move on with your lives.

It felt thrilling to think about it, and the liquid courage should help you in letting go of your inhibitions. Yet you couldn’t deny the fact that you are feeling slightly nervous about jumping fully into this.

When you failed to answer him, Tae leaned down, pressing a chaste kiss right below your ear and whispered, “Well? Talk to me. Because there is no going back from this once we begin, and I won’t let you go until you tell me what you want.”

The way his breath tickled your ear and caressed your skin broke you out of the walls you put up. Every flicker of doubt you felt immediately melted. You brushed against him, allowing him to feel every bit of heat coursing through your body before you answered with a whisper, “Yes. I’ve never been so sure in my whole life.”

You could feel the way his breath was caught as you pressed your palm on his chest. Pressing against him, you raised yourself up and nipped his chin with your teeth.

“This is what I want.”

You weren’t completely sure if you ever got to finish your sentence when all of a sudden, his lips came crashing into yours, pressing firmly as he kissed you, barely concealing his desire for more.

The kiss unleashed your own desire. You opened your mouth for him in return, allowing him to devour you, to have a taste of your demands as he thoroughly kissed you until you were left breathless in his arms.

His hand began to move again just then. Tracing down your hips, he pressed the tips of his fingers harder into your flesh. He made it seem as if your dress had melted into your skin with the heat of his touch that you felt completely exposed to him. And he didn’t stop until he finally found the exposed skin of your thigh.

Your body quivered upon contact, and you could tell that he felt it too. He began stroking your skin, moving at a slow, agonising pace just to put you on the edge.

And he easily succeeded. Already, you could barely breathe, even when he was still far from touching any part of your body that needed him the most.

Overcame with need, your body started moving on instinct. As if his touches were controlling you as you lifted your thigh for him. His grip on your thigh tightened, helping you to keep your leg up and open yourself to him while his kiss became sloppy yet gentle as he released his hold on your hair.

He moved his other hand down, brushing against your covered breast with a brief contact and continued trailing down. You felt him pressing at your hips, before pulling the hem of your dress upward until your lower region was completely exposed. His hand continued its travel as it climbed up your inner thigh. So you opened your legs to give him better access. A move which he appreciated with a deep hum, before you felt his thumb brushing up just an inch away from your throbbing core.

“Should we move this someplace else? Somewhere that would be more comfortable for us?” he asked you with his lips hovering close to yours.

It took a moment for his words to sink in. Too lost in the sensation that you were made to feel, you felt as if you were drunk and high, not from the alcohol that was no longer running wildly through your veins, but from his entire presence alone.

All thoughts faded further as his thumb grazed across the front of your panties, finding your folds through the fabric before he pressed down, enough to give pressure on your covered clit. Sparks flew through your half-lidded eyes as pleasure came rushing through you in waves. You couldn’t stop the moan slipping out of your lips, nor the way your hips rocked into his touch to feel more.

“So responsive,” he murmured against your neck before he planted a light kiss on your skin. “I would have loved to watch and enjoy every reaction that you would give me, every sound you make, while I have you lie down on my bed and fuck you senseless.”

Your breath hitched and caught in your chest. Not only because of his words, but also from the way his thumb continued to rub against your covered clit. It felt sinful, yet so delectable the way he kept drawing more and more sparks and shuddering pleasure through your body.

After being deprived of such attention for quite some time, your body became more sensitive to every friction, every treatment he was giving you, and you simply wanted more.

“Then take me there. Take me to your bed.”

As if you had flicked a switch in his brain, his expression changed. His gaze darkened as he captured your lips with unrestrained need, yet he was careful when he picked you up, pressing you against his chest when he turned and moved to take you away from the door.

You wrapped your arms and legs around him for balance, while your lips remained locked in a deep kiss. You could feel his long stride as he began carrying you across the room. His kiss and his firm hold on your bottom cheeks were enough to draw your attention away from his clumsy footsteps, but not enough to deny you from sensing the changes happening around you.

The scent of his cologne grew thicker as he went deeper into the room, and you were getting more and more lost in him. Drowned in his heat, his kiss, and the traces that he had left behind all over his bedroom, you felt him everywhere all at once that you felt like you were being put under a spell.

All so suddenly, you were pulled out of it when he broke away from the kiss. He laid you gently over the cold white sheets of his partly-made bed. Instead of joining you right away, he chose to pull back. His eyes seemed to glint in the dimly lit room as he took this moment to take you in.

“Beautiful,” he murmured softly, drawing heat back to your face.

He kept his eyes on you as he shrugged off his jacket and began peeling his shirt from his chest. Desire pulsed through your body as you watched every move he was making without ever drawing his attention away from you.

The more you watched him, the stronger the pull that you felt towards him. Once the need to touch him took over, you reached up and tugged on his pants, hoping that you could quickly shred them off of his body.

You barely grazed against his covered hard-on when he stopped you by catching your wrists. Like a disappointed teacher, he made a disapproval sound with his tongue.

“Patience, Red,” he teasingly said to you as he grabbed the hem of your dress and pulled it off of you with one swift move. You fell back to the bed with a gasp, shocked to see how easy it was for him to take over until you were left with nothing more but your lacy underthings.

The intensity you felt from his gaze made you want to wrap your arms around yourself and hide. But being half inebriated was making you slow in thoughts and movement that you couldn’t do anything but lay still. At the same time, you enjoyed the way he was looking at you, loving how he was losing himself to you the same way you did to him.

But it was the words that he said next that further brought out your wanton needs.

“Be a good girl and stay still. I want you to stay just like this,” he said with a murmur while his eyes ran down your body, “I want you to lie on your back while you are screaming out my name.”

If only you hadn’t been so lost for words, perhaps you would have challenged him in return. Instead, by the time every piece of his clothing was gone, you felt like you had melted further into the sheets. The raw passion you saw in his gaze and the way he was tracing his fingertips on your skin had locked you completely in place, leaving you with no other option but to surrender as he took control.

He bent down, his lips came down to your neck. Planting his kisses on your skin, he kept your attention away from his hands as he snapped off your bra and went down to pull your panties down your hips. As he dragged your panties down your bare legs, he continued his kisses further down, not stopping until he reached your heaving chest.

You couldn’t even remember what happened to that flimsy piece of fabric that he took from you. Everything else faded as his tongue grazed across your chest, drawing a gasp out of your lips. His firm hands returned to your hips right then, holding you down while he captured your taut nipple between his teeth.

The feeling that coursed through you was heavenly. A shooting pain came with a flare as he bit down, yet it was quickly replaced with an overwhelming feeling of pleasure when he lapped the pain away with his sinful tongue.

“Tae—”

His body quivered against yours at the sound of your voice. He pulled away with a grin, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he watched you arching your chest as if you were chasing him.

He ran his gaze down your body. Perusing you while silently admiring what he was seeing while he licked his lips. As if he was picturing the way you would taste.

“Tell me how badly you want this, Red,” he taunted you with his hand reaching out to the nightstand. You vaguely saw him grabbing a condom while you were struggling to breathe. Your eyes fell on his exposed, throbbing cock, and words simply left you.

Seeing its impressive size and girth, your entire body erupted with a pulse. It started from deep inside your core, right where you wanted to feel him the most. Astonished, you failed to remember that he was still waiting for your answer with his eyes locked on your face.

And he made you struggle further to find words when he reached down, wrapping his long fingers around his cock and started giving himself slow, lazy strokes. You could see the bead of his pre-cum glistening under the dim lighting. It took everything in you to stop yourself from leaning forward and lapping him dry. To have a taste, before you let him devour every drop of your essence.

“Red? Talk to me,” he spoke to you again with a curious tone in his voice.

He knew that he wasn’t getting any attention, as your eyes were locked only at one place that was not his face, and he seemed to be curious to know what was making you so lost in thoughts.

Instead of answering him, you continued to watch, completely transfixed by his actions, as he slowly spread his pre-cum along the length of his cock. You licked your lips, almost as if you could taste him. A barely concealed whimper slipped out of your lips when you watched him slowly roll the condom to cover himself from the tip of his cock and down to the base.

Seeing him covered with protection seemed to snap you back to the present. Even if your pulsing need still refused to tame down.

Resting back against the pillows, you dragged your eyes away from his impressive cock to his beautiful face.

“I want you here. Inside me,” you finally responded to his question. Placing your palms on the underside of your thighs, you parted your legs open, making him see the mess that had been building up right between your legs while you were enjoying the show he was giving you.

Now it was your turn to give him a show.

Reaching between your legs, you moved your fingers to find your folds. You bit back a gasp once the tips of your fingers were met with your wet arousal. It felt slick as you moved your fingers around, parting your nether lips so he could see your swollen clit, before you moved your fingers in circles, pressing at yourself the exact same way you wished he would.

“Please, fuck me, Tae. Fuck me good.”

His pupils dilated at the sound of your voice, at the pleading words you were giving him. You loved the way he was reacting to you just as much as he did with you, yet you decided to push his buttons further by adding, “And then I want to hear you scream my name while you cum inside me.”

He raised his eyebrows. “What a little brat,” he said, chuckling. “So you like to play games, hmmm?”

You bit your bottom lip, holding back a moan that was threatening to come out when your touch inadvertently pushed against the source of your heat. “Oh, I do. Games are always fun.”

While he continued stroking his cock at a lazy pace, he used the other hand to grab your neck. His palm fit perfectly as he wrapped it around the column of your throat, putting pressure that was not enough to choke you, yet enough to show you who was in control.

“Then let’s play,” he groaned while he pressed you back down on the bed. “But this time, I make the rules.”

You felt the electrifying pleasure surging through your body as he brushed your hand away and lined himself against your entrance, shutting down the circuits inside your brain for a moment and stopping you from wiggling too much beneath him just to feel more friction.

A sharp moan was drawn from your lips as Tae slammed his full length deep inside you. The sensation that you felt from being filled by his width was so feral and explosive that you were sure you immediately experienced your orgasm right then and there.

Your body must have been shaking, which was a response that you failed to notice as you had your senses filled with the steady pulse of pleasure pressing across the girth of his cock. He must have noticed it when he came to a halt, giving you a chance to process everything and adjust to his presence inside you.

Nothing made sense to you beyond the pulsing pleasure that you felt from your hot pussy. Your senses were filled with the sound of your racing heartbeat, the soothing touch of his fingers on your skin, and the whispers of his voice calling you back to him.

He only managed to bring you back to the present by pressing gentle kisses on your lips, nose, and then on the rest of your face, stopping only after he kissed your lips again to draw your attention back to him.

Your legs were quivering when you opened your eyes to see him, yet you could already tell from the way the pulses that came right where you were joined started to settle, that your body had adjusted perfectly to his size.

But it didn’t mean that you would simply take it without sharing your thoughts.

“You’re—big,” you complained with a soft moan when you felt him growing harder inside you. It didn’t stop you from rocking your hips, trying to feel more friction, while he merely chuckled at your words.

“And it’s perfect for your tight pussy.”

His words drew a gasp from you. But he didn’t pay much attention to it, as he slowly began to move. He started with a slow pace, which was torturous and agonising, forcing you to feel the delectable way his girth was brushing against your pulsing walls.

Back and forth he went, going so deep you could almost feel him pressing up your stomach before pulling out until only the tip was buried inside you. He kept moving at the same pace, until you began to feel more desperate. Even your body was shaking with the need to feel more.

“More—!” you whispered with a strangled moan, “go faster.”

Hearing this, instead of doing what you were begging him to, Tae denied your plea by doing the opposite. With a wicked grin on his face, the fucker slowed down, bringing the pleasure that had been rising back down a notch.

You opened your mouth to protest against it, and he moved his hands down your hips, stopping at your thighs where he gave you a tight grip.

“You want more?” he asked you, his voice almost seemed to grow deeper, and you could feel a tinge of danger when he spoke. The same danger you saw coming through his gaze as he slowly brought your legs up.

You expected him to stop once he got your legs up his shoulders. But he just kept going. And going. Until you were nearly folded with your legs almost pressed to your chest.

“Tae—!”

It made you feel vulnerable, with nothing but your hands to use to hold on while he had full control of your body. He was still buried inside you, and this position allowed you to feel him more. As though you had grown tighter around him and he was growing bigger. His entire length and width made you feel full, as his cock was pressing tightly against your hot walls.

“You wanted more,” he murmured as he began moving, rocking his hips slowly back and forth, going in and out of you, drawing more and more of that shuddering pleasure out of your body as he continued fucking you gently. “I’m giving you more.”

He began increasing his pace. Going faster the more he heard you moaning in pleasure. “Lift your arms, Red. Bring them up and hold the pillows.”

It took a moment for his words to register in your head. Your hands had been clutching tightly on his forearms and it was a struggle to let go. And he waited, tormenting you by keeping his pace much too slow to your liking until you followed his command.

Your hands trembled as you unlatched them from his skin. You could barely feel your fingers as you dragged your hands up, as every part of your body grew more sensitive the more you opened your entire self to him. Keeping your eyes on him, you got lost in his intense gaze.

It was then when you finally came in contact with the soft pillows above your head, and your fingers easily sank into them, latching onto them as you did when you were holding onto his arms.

“That’s it. Good girl,” he murmured gently, and you were pleasantly surprised to realise how much you loved hearing his praise. Warmth bloomed in your chest, and it easily made its way down right to your core. “Now hold on tightly and don’t let go.”

And you did just that. Holding on tightly the way he wanted you to.

Only once he gained complete control of your body, once you fully submitted to him, he finally fulfilled your wish. He held firmly on your thighs to keep them folded and open for him, and he began ramming his cock deep inside you.

He was doing it faster. Harder. Sending you high in pleasure while all you could do was take his constant pounding. The only leverage you had to hold on was the tight hold you had on the pillows and the weight of his body that was pressing you down each time he pushed deeply inside you.

The anomalous sounds coming out of both of your lips kept bouncing off the walls. Followed by the sound of flesh clashing against flesh, the slick sounds that came from right where you were joined, and the creaking sound of the bed beneath you.

He kept going, relentless in his rough thrusts and his need to push you over the edge, until you could feel the rise of your orgasm coming in waves. The wanton pleasure that was hot and intense came rising inside you, growing rapidly with his deep thrusts until you finally succumbed to it, coming into your climax with a scream.

“Tae, I’m coming,” you cried out to him as you fell over the edge, though you weren’t completely sure if the words coming out of your lips were as coherent as you thought they would have been.

The sound of your pounding heartbeat seemed to drown everything away. Except that you could still hear the sound of his breathless grunts as they grew clearer, and the strangled moan that came out of him when he shouted, “That’s it, Red. Fuck, I’m coming!”

With a sharp intake of breath, he came to his climax. You felt every pulse of his release as he came inside you, and the tremble in his chest that surged through him with his deep groan as he relished the pleasure. Even after his release, he kept moving, rocking slowly and steadily until the spasms of your orgasm slowly began to wane down.

He remained buried inside you when he gently released you from his hold. You could barely feel his lips pressing on your quivering thighs before he lowered them back on the mattress, yet his gentle fingers remained hot on your skin when he brushed up against you.

He reached up and gently pried your fingers away from the pillows before slipping his fingers between yours. The way your fingers were entwined together felt so intimate. So unlike anything that you had ever thought about what a one-night stand would entail.

Your body felt hot, and your muscles were lax, but there was a series of small spasms still going strong from deep inside you, coaxed by his incessant rocking. You should have been pushing him off of you, instead of embracing his weight as he lowered himself, covering your body with his own.

“Tae—” you whimpered against his lips as he kissed you. Holding your hands in his, he continued to rock his hips.

How he managed to remain so hard and stiff even after his climax was beyond you. He still felt thick as he moved. His cock brushed against your pulsing walls as he went in and out, awakening all sparks of pleasure that were supposed to have dwindled.

And with how sensitive your body was, it rose and peaked so quickly and you had no power to stop it.

“Too…much…” you cried between the strangled moans coming out of your lips, right before he swallowed them with another kiss.

“One more,” he groaned as he picked up his pace. “Just do it one more time for me, Red.”

You were so sensitive it was beginning to hurt, but the pleasure was also maddening that you didn’t want to stop. This time, he wasn’t holding you down so strongly, allowing you to move beneath him. So you rocked back against him, pushing up each time he was thrusting into you. It only took a couple of more strokes before the coil in your core snapped, and you were sent to another climax.

And he joined you in your release, falling into a smaller climax of his own as you clenched tightly around him.

He came with a deep groan. His whole body quaked against you before he finally fell on top of you. While you were trying to control your breath, his lips came brushing your neck, kissing you gently to help soothe down the shudders running through your body.

“Fuck…so perfect,” he sighed between his kisses, his voice came in and out through your senses, and the sparks you felt rushing through your body started waning as you were slowly drifting away into the night, with his words echoing in your dreams,

“You are perfect.”

Author’s Note 2.0 | Thank you for reading so far. Any likes, kudos, comments, and feedbacks will be appreciated. The story continues in part 2.

⟶ Jingle All the Way collab masterlist | A Christmas Fix: next chapter ⇢

#k-vanity #bangtanwhq #taehyung smut #bts smut #taehyung fanfic #taehyung scenario #taehyung angst #taehyung x reader #bts fanfic #bts scenario #bts angst #bts x reader

2K notes · View notes

b14augrana · 5 months ago

Text

Nenita

You plan a surprise for Irene’s birthday

Irene Paredes x teen!reader

Part of the Scrubber universe

masterlist

Warnings: pure fluff, no warnings needed!

A/N: in honour of irene’s birthday, i decided to write a little fic. there will be a new section in the scrubber masterlist for all the blurbs about cute moments with scrubber and the girls! i hope you enjoy 🫶🏼

Your calendar was very significant. You marked off your birthday, upcoming matches, Christmas, but most importantly… all your big sisters’ birthdays. Each of their birthdays were marked on your calendar in pink glittery gel pen.

You were giddy the night before their birthdays, probably even more excited than they were. Tonight, it was Irene’s big day that you were looking forward to as you laid on your bed stomach-first, filling in a card you made yourself.

Birthdays were a big deal for you because it was probably the most appropriate time to tell someone just how much you loved them.

Your captain was a very special woman. She was your second mother, mentor, and friend, all in one. Everyone needed an Irene in their life, but unfortunately there was just one, and not-so-unfortunately, she ended up with you and your team.

Those were the words you wrote on her card before sealing it in the envelope. With a smile, you placed it on top of the neatly wrapped gift stashed in your closet… that was piled on top of what looked like a dozen more.

The morning of the 4th of July, you were up before Irene. Carefully and quietly, without hitting the walls with your tower of gifts, you walked out of your bedroom with them and placed them on the coffee table. You placed your card in front of them and scrambled to the fridge to pull out the cake you made for her.

You weren’t a professional baker, but you knew how to make simple things like a cake. Irene loved red velvet cake, so when you stacked it all together with a homemade cream cheese frosting you had worked all week on (almost) perfecting, the end product was a birthday cake. You decorated it with the help of Fridolina, using sprinkles and cake toppers she had chosen, then two big ‘3’ candles right in the middle.

You were proud of your cake, even if it wasn’t the best. You figured that it would be nice to test out your baking skills instead of buying a red velvet cake that already cost you an arm and a leg without extra decorations.

Your culinary creations didn’t stop there. Next on the menu was french toast that you dusted with powdered sugar, drizzled with maple syrup, and garnished with strawberries and blueberries. It made you feel like a proper chef, and once you finished constructing your meal, you looked at it in pride. It almost looked good enough to go in your stomach.

“Irene,” you whispered, nudging her bedroom door open as you carried her breakfast and a cup of coffee into her room, on a tray. Your grin was hardly containable.

She rolled over, looking at you through squinted eyes. Her expression brightened and her eyes widened when she realised what was happening, and she sat up while a smile flashed across her face.

“Meu nenita, moltes gràcies,” she replied, her smile widening as you placed the tray on her lap and put the coffee on her bedside table.

“After you eat, come to the living room. I have to give you something!” you chimed, skipping out of the room and leaving the woman to eat her food.

When she emerged out of her room, you were standing in front of your gift tower with your arms behind your back and a beaming smile on your face. You moved to the side, gesturing to your gifts. “Surprise! Feliz cumple, hermana!”

Irene gasped quietly, placing a hand on her chest as she looked at you in surprise. Before even paying another thought to her gifts, she pulled you into a tight hug, squeezing you gently. “Nenita, you didn’t have to. How did you get all of this– no, how did you hide all of this?”

“I can’t tell you that,” you responded, “I’ll have to do it again next year. Open the card!”

You picked up the envelope and handed it to her, almost bouncing off the walls in excitement. She tore it open carefully and pulled out the card, taking a minute to read it before lowering it and looking at you with glossy eyes.

‘Dear Irene,

From the very first day I played with you in Barça, I’ve seen you as a second mother to me, away from my home. Not only do you take care of me and let me live under your roof, but you inspire me and teach me to be better than what I am capable of, on and off the pitch. I am lucky to spend my days with you; a beautiful, loving, and talented person. Being under your guidance and having you by my side during every game has made me the player I am today and I will always be grateful for having you in my life now, and hopefully forever.

Feliz cumpleaños, hermana! T'estimo per sempre.’

You were the one to initiate the hug as you wrapped your arms around her. She was quick to react and do the same, embracing you affectionately. “T’estimo, meu hermanita,” she mumbled.

Once you had pulled away, your grin hadn’t faltered one bit. “When all of the girls get here, we can have cake!”

“What do you mean, all of the girls?” Irene questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“Y’know, all the girls. Alexia, Mapi, Frido, Ingrid– who else.. oh, Caro, Marta, Aitana, Lucy and Ona,” you answered, “Now go on, go get ready. The icing is going to start melting!”

#scrubber #fc barcelona femeni #fcb femení #fc barcelona #woso #woso community #woso imagines #woso x reader #woso one shot #woso fanfics #woso blurbs #irene paredes #irene paredes x reader #fcb femení x reader #fc barcelona x reader #fcb femeni #fcbfemeni #b14augrana’s gifs

338 notes · View notes

redroomreflections · 4 months ago

Text

Out of Office

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: R gets a special surprise to her office

The Loud House Universe (this is not an au of the au. This is real life =))

W/c:3.8k

Play this when you read it https://open.spotify.com/track/4isk4UYRcmslphcTq61xUg?si=1vKGqQ_uQ2-Go9CEdnRq_g

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI

One of the perks of being the Assistant District Attorney of New York City is having your own corner office. The large windows offer a stunning looking of the bustling skyline of New York City. Of course the perks go beyond just the offices. There’s the satisfaction of tackling high-profile cases, the thrill of courtroom victories, and the respect that comes with the title. Today, you’re enjoying one of those benefits that’s seeming to be more like a con.

This meeting was boring to say the least. The topic had been on a rise of criminal activity in the area and how to prevent it. Normally, you would have been all ears. However, this meeting was anything but normal. It was the first meeting after the holidays and your coworkers were still in the post-Christmas mood.

The usual professional atmosphere was gone.

You sit in a chair across from the head of the long table, listening as best you can to the discussion.

"How about we continue this tomorrow?" Alex Cabot, your DA and overhead suggested. "Y/n? Any objection to that?"

You look up in surprise, wondering if you had missed something.

"No, not at all."

Alex smiles at you and then at the other two women.

"I think that's a good idea." You agree. "I'll get back to you with my thoughts on the Coleman case."

The three other women begin packing up their bags and heading out.

"Thanks for the meeting." You say as you get up and gather your things. "It was very informative."

Alex chuckles, clearly seeing right through your fib. "You used to be a much better liar than that."

"I'm just trying to be polite." You smile. "After all, we are in a room full of lawyers."

Alex laughs. "That we are. I'll see you tomorrow then?"

"Tomorrow."

You leave the room, feeling like you could breathe again. You head to your office and stop by your assistant's desk in order to check mail and messages. The meeting was supposed to be thirty minutes and lasted more than an hour. You were more than tired. You were ready for the day to be over.

"Hey Y/n, a message came in for you earlier." Your assistant, Haley says. "You still need to review the police report for Jones and Jones. Also, an interview with Cass Daniels."

You sigh and look down at the file you're holding.

"Great, I'm swamped. Is the file with the Jones's case available?"

Haley nods and hands you a brown folder.

"Anything else I can help with?"

You shake your head and smile. "Unfortunately, not this time around."

"Hey, y/l/n, “ Your colleague Doug Stone greets. He does a little jog over to the desk.

"Hi, Doug, " You return. "Just the man I was looking for."

He looks confused. "Really?"

You hand him the file. "I just spoke with Alex. She says she wants you to handle the Jones case."

"But what about the-"

"I already reviewed it and made notes." You interrupt. "Just make sure to check out the new witnesses and that'll be it."

"Okay, so no problem." Doug nods, looking unsure. "Anything else I can do?"

You smile and shake your head. "Actually," You smirk. Just to get under his skin.

"Oh no," Doug shakes his head.

"I need you to get me a copy of the police report." You finish.

"You have one."

You shrug. "I think it would be a good idea to double check."

Doug rolls his eyes. "You know I came over here to see if you could ask the misses to go ahead and make some of that special eggnog she made over the holidays. Special order just for me."

You move to rebuttal when you hear a familiar husky voice behind you. You turn to see your wife standing there with that familiar smirk on her face. Natasha stepped further into the floor, her presence commanding attention. She had chosen a slightly floral midi dress that hugged her curves, the soft fabric contrasting with her typical demeanor. With her red hair pulled back and her eyes sharp and observant, she exuded a mix of elegance and strength.

"You can ask me yourself," Natasha grinned. She stepped closer to you and wrapped her arm around your waist. You landed a quick kiss to her head before looking over at Haley with questioning eyes. She's supposed to remind you if something important like your wife visiting.

"Sorry," She apologizes, quickly. "I was just about to tell you."

"It's okay, Haley," You wave off, smiling. "What brings you by, baby?"

"Can a girl come visit her wife in her office? I'm sure Tammy comes to see you all the time right, Doug?" Natasha tilts her head.

"Uhh..um, yes," Doug stumbles over his words.

Natasha gives him a smile. "Good." She looks up at you. "So, how's your day, babe? I didn't catch you at a bad time, did I?"

"Not at all," You answer.

"Actually, y/l/n has some errands to run," Doug cuts in.

"And Doug has a case to take over," You reply. Natasha looks suspiciously between the two of you.

"We're not going to have a problem, are we?" She asks.

"Of course not." Doug assures.

Natasha nods and smiles. "I'd hate to have to break up this lover's quarrel you two are having. But I would like to spend some time with you before your lunch is over." By the look in her eyes, you know exactly why she's come to your office so unexpectedly.

"Not a problem," You nod.

"I'm free for the rest of the day," Doug says. You send him a glare. "I'll just get a start on those files." He adds before making himself scarce.

You give him a thumbs up. "Perfect. Haley, cancel my meetings for the next hour."

"Sure thing,"

You take Natasha's hand and lead her down the hallway towards your office.

"I love it when you get bossy," Natasha whispers, biting her lip. You feel the blush creeping up your neck.

"That was nothing," You wave off. You walk before her into the office to clear up a few things on the couch. The last thing she needs is to see how messy you are at work. "Where's Luke and Paige?"

"I left them with my mom today," She says disinterestedly.

"Oh, that's cool then," You nod.

"Now do you want to hear about Luke's diapering schedule, or should we talk about other things?" She steps over to you. It's then you notice the heels she's wearing. Those sexy Manolo Blahnik pumps in a deep blue that accentuates all of her curves.

"I think I want to talk about whatever you want to talk about," You answer honestly. You place your hands on her hips and pull her close. She giggles, placing her hands on your chest.

"Good," She leans in for a quick peck. "You're in a good mood today."

"That's because you're here." You hum. "You taste good."

"Lemon and ginger," She smiles.

"That's what it was. You taste delicious." You lean in again and capture her lips in a deeper kiss. Your tongue glides over her lips, coaxing them open. "Mm, I think you should surprise me in the office every day."

"If only I could." Natasha sighs. "Your coworkers would get tired of me or become jealous of you."

"I don't care." You whisper against her lips. "I only care about what's happening right now."

"Oh, is that so?" Natasha bites her lip.

You nod and reach around, smacking her ass. "That's what you're here for right? You couldn't wait for me to come home?"

"Something like that." She grins. She leans forward to kiss you again. This time as a distraction while she unbuttons your silk button down with her nimble fingers. Her lips are soft and warm against yours.

You pull away from the kiss and smirk. "We can't have sex in the office."

"That's a first." Natasha chuckles. "Why not?"

"I don't know if I'll want to stop after one round," You sigh when her hands find bare skin underneath your shirt.

"Hmm, we'll have to be quick then." Natasha murmurs, pressing her lips to your neck.

"I don't know," You groan when her teeth scrape across your pulse point. "You're quite loud."

"I guess you'll just have to keep me quiet," Natasha bites down on your neck. You let out a whimper, your body shivering.

"Damn it, Tasha," You growl.

She pulls back and flashes you a wide grin. "Do you think you can keep me quiet?"

"I don't know if I want you to be quiet," You open your eyes.

"Oh, is that so?" Natasha grins. She pulls your shirt down off of your shoulder, revealing your lacey black bra. She moves to do the same to the other side.

"Natasha," You warn.

"I'm just looking," She says as her eyes roam over your torso. "Admiring."

"Yeah, admiring is going to get us in trouble," You shake your head.

"Fine, fine," She steps back, taking her warmth and heat with her.

"Are you pouting?"

"I am," Natasha lowers her hands onto her hips. "You're denying me what I want."

"Come here," You offer a hand. She takes it and you lead her over to the couch. You sit down and pull her onto your lap. She settles her knees on either side of your hips and rests her hands on your shoulders. You begin rubbing her thighs, smoothing your hands across the smooth nylon of her leggings before you rip them. The sound drowning out the harsh breaths both of you are taking. You're so glad this office is at the corner and also doesn't have glass windows. Of course, she always gets what she wants.

"I thought you said we can't have sex."

"We're not," You murmur, your eyes focusing on the swell of her breast. "But we can do other things."

"Other things," Natasha nods. "Like what?"

"Just sit there and let me touch you," You say, pulling her down for a kiss. "You don't have any objection to that, do you?"

"None," Natasha says softly, her breath fanning over your lips. At the first press of your thumb against damp panties, Natasha lets out the sharpest squeak deep from the back of her throat.

"Told you that you would be loud."

"Shut up." She moans, her hips canting forward, chasing the contact. You give her another rub through the soaked material, her wetness seeping through. "Are you going to tease me?"

"Yes," You answer simply, kissing the exposed skin of her chest.

"Fuck, baby." Natasha groans.

"Shhh," You tsk, "Be a good girl and stay quiet for me."

"I want you inside," Natasha lowers her head to look you in your eyes. She reaches behind her back to unzip herself. She lifts her dress over her head and drops it onto the floor. She leans back over you and presses her chest to yours.

"I have a feeling this isn't going to end well." You groan, your eyes focused on her soft and supple breasts.

"I don't think we're going to get caught."

"Maybe." You murmur.

"Y/n, are you listening?"

"Huh?" You snap out of your daze. It's then you feel another wave of arousal as she releases her hair from its ponytail. She leans back on her hands and gives you a smug smile.

"Are you listening, Mrs. Romanoff?"

"I'm listening," You swallow thickly. You can't help but take her in.

"So, how about it?"

You look at her confused. "How about what?"

"I knew you weren't listening," Natasha laughs.

"I was thinking about how gorgeous you are," You admit. "How sexy you are. All the things I want to do to you."

"Oh yeah?" She grins. "Like what?"

"Well," You start, running a finger across her cheek. "First, I would have you sit there and watch as I undress."

"I'm interested," She looks you over. You should probably take those pants off unless you want them to be ruined with her juices. Not that you would mind it that much.

"I would go slowly. I would leave on my heels and my bra."

"Your bra?" She arches a brow. "No, take off your bra."

"Are you going to be difficult, or can I finish?"

"I'm sorry, continue," She waves a hand.

"Anyway, I would leave my heels and bra on. Then I would lay back on the couch and spread my legs for you. I'd want you to use your mouth and fingers."

"Mmm," Natasha hums.

"I'd have you fuck me with your fingers until I came all over them." You whisper, tracing her lips. "Then I would do the same to you. Just how you like it."

"How many times would you make me come?"

"Until you can't take it anymore." You answer. "Then I would clean you up with my mouth. Would you like that?"

"Fuck, yes," Natasha moans, her hips bucking against yours.

"Are you turned on, Tasha?"

"I'm beyond that," She admits. "I've been thinking about this since this morning."

"Yeah? You couldn't wait to have my hands on you."

"No," She whines.

You tap her thighs, instructing her to lift up so that you can strip yourself of your clothes. You rush over to the office door, locking it to ensure you won't be disturbed.

"What are you doing?" Natasha calls.

"Just making sure no one comes in and sees you like this," You explain, stepping back over to her. "They can't see what's mine."

"Would you let them watch?" She dares to ask.

"No," You growl, pulling her into your arms.

"And here I thought the idea would turn you on." She teases, trailing a finger along your collarbone.

"It does," You answer truthfully.

"But," She raises her brow.

"It turns me on to know that they can't have you," You admit. "Only I can touch you and see you."

"Touching has been minimal," She raises a perfectly arched brow.

"You're right," You smirk.

"How about we fix that," She whispers.

You nod and sit back down, taking her with you. You help to slide her panties off, tossing them to the side, before you get an idea. You pull her over to your desk, her eyes following yours quizzically before you bend her over. Your hands rub against the expanse of her back. You can't take your eyes off her perked-up ass and pussy on display for you.

"What are you doing?"

"Getting an idea."

"For?"

"This," You say, sliding a finger inside of her. Her walls tighten around the intrusion, and you let out a low moan.

Natasha's back arches and she hisses. You know it's not a sound of pain but pleasure. She wasn't expecting you to do it but she for damn sure loves it.

"I knew you'd be turned on by this," You tell her. You pump your finger a few more times before adding another.

"I am," Natasha agrees.

"Is this what you want, Tasha?” You slap her ass. "For me to fuck you like this. Have you dripping all over my desk?"

"Y/n," Natasha groans. "Stop teasing and give me what I want."

"What do you want, Natasha?" You question, curling your fingers. Twisting them as you thrust back into her.

"I want you to make me come."

"Not yet." You tell her. "I want to hear you."

"Baby," She whines, her hips rocking against the desk.

"What is it?"

"You're driving me crazy." She pants. "You have no idea what this is doing to me."

"I have some idea," You say cheekily as you watch your fingers, glistening with her slick, slide in and out of her with ease.

"Stop teasing and fuck me," She hisses.

"You want me to fuck you?"

"Please, y/n." She moans. "I'm so wet for you."

"I know," You hum. You push her legs open a bit wider. "Stay still for me."

"Fuck," She whimpers.

You lean over and pepper her back with kisses. Her skin is so warm and soft. You wish you could take your time, but you're both already on borrowed time. You speed up then, using your hips to add the slightest bit of force behind your thrusts. You know she likes it, her body shivering beneath you.

"That's it," She coos.

You place a hand on her back and move your thumb to her clit. You begin rubbing it in slow, circular motions. Natasha turns her head against the cool surface of the desk, her nipples becoming hard pebbles against the wood.

"I love seeing you like this," You whisper. "Taking everything I have to give."

Natasha's only response is a deep whimper. Not good enough for you.

"You love taking my fingers," You taunt. "But not as much as I love giving them to you."

"Shit, y/n, fuck." Natasha's body begins trembling. Her breathing becomes uneven. Her pussy walls fluttering against your fingers.

"Are you going to come, Tasha?"

"Yes, fuck." She cries. "Make me come, baby."

"Fuck, I love it when you call me that." You groan. You add a third finger, pumping faster. Her body quakes as you hit the right spot. Her toes curl as her orgasm tears through her body. Her moans are unbridled now, and you reach forward to press a hand against her mouth. That seems to turn her on more. Her body shaking beneath yours. Her body jerking from the aftershocks.

"Are you okay, baby?"

"I'm better than okay," She grins. "But if you don't fuck me again in the next five minutes, I'm leaving."

"Turn around," You instruct her. You help her on shaky legs to turn around and sit on your desk. This is going to be a bit more difficult to maneuver but you do. You drop to your knees and grab her thighs to pull her to the edge of the desk.

"I've need to taste you all day," You murmur to yourself.

"Baby," Natasha whimpers, her fingers resting atop your head. "I need you."

"You have me," You reply before swiping your tongue through her folds. She's so warm and delicious.

"Don't tease," She gasps, her legs trembling.

You look up at her from your place between her legs. Your eyes never leave hers as you wrap your lips around her clit, sucking.

"Just like that," She adds the gentlest bit of pressure for you to bob your head. The slurping noises for added effect have her head dropping down she can't handle it. "So close, baby. Don't stop."

"Never," You murmur against her. "I love this. Love eating you out."

"Y/n," She gasps, her hips lifting off the desk.

"Come for me, Natasha," You coax her.

She's so close to the edge, and she can't help it. She's helpless against the orgasm that rips through her body. She can barely hold herself up as you suck her through the orgasm, lapping up the juices spilling from her.

"Fuck," She whimpers.

You stand and kiss her, your tongue tangling with hers.

"Let me," She finally pulls back. She pulls you down to the floor before she pushes you onto your back. Rug burn be damned.

"Tasha," You gasp when she wastes no time in slipping two fingers inside of you.

"You're so wet," She groans. "I love you." She nuzzles your neck.

"I love you too." You murmur, reaching down to guide her thumb to your clit. "Harder."

Natasha's body covers yours. Her lips latch onto your neck. Her teeth scrape along the flesh. You know you're going to have a hickey there tomorrow. It doesn't matter. You're hers and she's yours.

"Tasha," You groan. "Please."

"Shh," She whispers, her other hand caressing your breast. She pinches your nipple, delighting in the shiver that runs through your body.

"Please," You beg her. "Make me come."

"Anything for you," Natasha smirks, curling her fingers. She thrusts harder. Faster.

"Fuck, I'm going to come." You warn her, your body tensing.

"I've got you," Natasha tells you. "I've got you, baby." She coos as you whimper pitifully.

"Don't stop," You beg. "Oh my god, don't stop."

"Never," She growls. "Come for me, y/n. I want you to soak my hand."

You cry out as you reach your peak. Your back arches off the carpet, and you ram yourself onto her fingers. You don't want to lose this feeling.

"Fuck, I can't," You sob.

"You can," She whispers, her breath fanning across your lips. "One more. Come on, baby."

"I can't," You sob. "Tasha, please."

"I've got you," Natasha promises.

Your body begins shaking as a second orgasm rips through your body. You're unable to form words as you're consumed by your desire. You don't even remember that you're at work and the possibility that if anyone were to come by your office, they could probably hear you.

"There you go," Natasha smiles, her eyes focused on you. "I'm right here, baby."

"Tasha," You whimper.

"Right here."

"Don't move," You pant.

Natasha uses her unoccupied hand to open the bottom drawer of your desk and take out a towel.

"What are you doing?" You ask her.

"I'm going to clean you up," She says, gently wiping your inner thighs.

"Thank you," You whisper.

"Always," She smiles.

"You're so good to me."

"You're pretty good to me," She winks, kissing the top of your head.

"What time is it?"

"Time for us to get the hell out of here." Natasha laughs.

"You're right," You sigh. "Can we go home?"

"I was thinking maybe we could order a pizza, put on a movie, and have dessert later."

"I think I could deal with that." You nod. "I can't walk just yet."

"I'll carry you," Natasha teases with a smug look.

"Shut up," You laugh, swatting her away. "You know you're a little cocky after we fuck."

"And you're cute."

"Stop," You groan.

"I don't want to," Natasha replies.

"What do you want?"

"You," She answers. "Always."

"I'll be yours forever."

"Forever," She repeats.

"We should go," You whisper.

"I'm ready when you are."

"Let's get out of here."

Coming out of the office would be a little awkward. You should probably open a window. Your cheeks heat up at the thought. It was some of the hottest sex you had with her, and you can't believe that it happened here.

"You look nervous," Natasha notes.

"I'm not," You say.

"Liar."

"Tasha, come on. Let's go home."

"Whatever you say," She grins, taking your hand in hers.

"You're annoying," You mutter.

"And yet, you still love me."

"Unfortunately," You grin.

"I heard that," She calls.

"I meant for you to hear it."

"Brat," She says affectionately.

You really do love her.

#natasha romanoff #black reader #natasha x reader #black widow x reader #natasha romanov #black widow x female reader #natasha x you #natasha romanoff smut #minors dni #Spotify

217 notes · View notes

patriwoso · 11 months ago

Text

angel down

alexia putellas x child!reader

Christmas was all new and exciting.

Now you had turned 3, you understood the excitement of santa claus and the presents and yummy food.

You were even getting the first experience of a nativity play.

Mami had signed the form for kindergarten to allow you to participate in the christmas show, and you’d been given the role to be an angel.

For weeks at mami’s training, you’d been telling everyone you were going to be the angel. The excitement grew and grew until the day finally came.

Mami had booked 6 tickets for all your supporters. Herself, Mama Jenni, Tía Mapi, Tía Ingrid and Eli and Alba.

Abuela Eli wanted to treat you to special dinner before your big star role of the show, so Mami made sure to get you ready a few hours earlier to meet your family in the restaurant.

Mama Jenni helped you to put on your shoes and held your hand as you left the apartment.

“Are you excited to be an angel?” She smiled, swinging your arm back and forth as you skipped down the pavement.

“Sí!” You grinned, getting all excited. “I be the best angel in the whole world!”

Jenni scooped you up and kissed you on the cheek. “You are the best angel in the world already.”

“Love you mama”

“I love you too, very much.”

The restaurant Abuela Eli had chosen for you was in the centre of Barcelona, not far to walk.

Mami helped you with the reading and you chose a pasta dish on the children’s menu.

“This comes with ice cream for desert too baby.” Mami tells you.

The sound of that is enough to make excitement burst out of you.

“ICE CREAM!!” You shout, quickly getting quietened down.

“Sshhh, inside voices.” Mami reminded you.

“Lo siento.”

When you pasta arrives, Jenni helps you eat it.

You have the grasp of holding your own fork but sometimes it’s still a struggle.

“Yummy?” She asks, chuckling but when you eat fast she reminds you to take it easy. “Slow down a little.”

Wrapping you hand around hers you help to stab the fork into the pasta and eat it.

“Good girl, bebita. You’re doing so well!”

“I’m a big girl!” You tell her.

“You are, that’s right. Do you still want ice cream?”

“Sí, sí sí sí sí” You nod.

Mami Alexia finishes her meal then helps you to get the last few pieces of pasta onto your fork, letting Jenni eat her own food.

“When I be an angel, Mami. You watch me?” You ask, trying to understand what happens.

“Sí, you will be the angel with all your friends in the nativity and Mami, Mama, Abuela Eli and Tía Alba sit and watch. Tía Mapi and Tía Ingrid are coming too.” She tells you.

“Lots of people watch?” You ask, starting to feel a funny feeling in your tummy.

“Sí, all the mami’s and papi’s.”

“I get scared?”

“No! No, princesa. You’ll be ok! You dress up in your angel dress and be the best angel ever! You won’t get scared.” She promises, holding your hand and stroking the back of it with her thumb.

“Ok”

When you arrive at kindergarten, Mami gives you over to your teacher and she leaves to go and find Mama Jenni, Alba, Eli and Mapi and Ingrid.

They take their seats in the hall and Mami sits beside Mama Jenni, and Alba. Eli on Alba’s other side and Mapi and Ingrid on Jenni’s left.

Alexia takes out her phone to take a photo of you when you walk on stage. The group of women adoring your cuteness. The small dress was a little baggy and the angel wins were twice the size of you but nonetheless, you looked beautiful to them.

The nativity starts well, you sit on the small spot on the stage and wait until you line.

Nervous flutters in your tummy come back again and your eyes get hot and begin to gloss over.

“y/n!” Your teacher whispers from the side of the stage.

You look over and realise you were suppose to stand up and say your line.

The long dress gets caught under your princess shoes you insisted Mami to let you wear and while trying to stand up you trip on the fabric, falling onto your hands and tummy.

“Oh, bebita.” Alexia gasps, grabbing Jenni’s leg. “Don’t cry, don’t cry.” She whispers to herself.

“Angel down.” Alba blurts out, earning a smack on the arm from Eli.

“Oh she’s going to cry, bless.” Jenni looks up over the rows infront and looks at Alexia.

You stand up and tears roll down your cheeks, chewing your fingers, you look at the teachers and cry. “Want Mami!” You gasp out and look around for Mami, walking to the edge of the stage.

The tears get bigger and heavier and you have lots of emotions building up, fast.

“Shit.” Alexia curses, standing up so you can see her.

You climb down and run through the aisle in between all and mami’s and papi’s to get to your own mami.

Tía Ingrid sticks her arm out for you to see which row to come down.

“Mami!” You sob, putting your arms up.

She picks you up and puts you on her lap, your angel wings getting in the way.

Alba pulls them off and holds them, giving you more space for Mami to hold you.

Your loud sobs turn to heavy breaths as you calm down a little.

“Your okay bebita.” She whispers, trying not to make too much noise as the nativity show carries on.

“Mami, I got scared!” You wipes the tears off of your face and grip onto her shirt. “Lo siento!”

“You don’t need to be sorry, y/n. It’s ok.”

Jenni holds your hand and places a soft kiss on your cheek. “You did such a good job, our little angel. It’s ok, everyone gets a little scared sometimes.”

“But I fell over and everyone will laugh.”

“No, no, no. No one will laugh sweetheart. Everyone’s forgotten now.”

“You promise, mama?”

“I promise, bebita.”

553 notes · View notes

charlesslut16 · 11 months ago

Text

-Visiting his family-

summary : you and lando visit his family on christmas but in the end you discover something unexpected...

PAIRING : lando norris x fem!reader

WARNINGS : none

note : i love this one sooooo much!

december masterlist ; masterlist

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

You found yourself standing beside Lando Norris, your boyfriend and love of your life, anticipation tingling in the crisp winter air as you approached his family home for a special Christmas gathering.

The pathway was adorned with twinkling lights, guiding you towards a cozy house filled with warmth and laughter. Just standing in front of the home made you feel welcome and home.

As you step inside, the joyful chaos of a family reunion enveloped you. Lando's parents welcome you with open arms, their smiles infectious and their hugs genuine.

The aroma of holiday delights filled the air, enticing you towards the dining room, where a feast awaits. All the Norris family gathered on the table ready for the festive time.

The table was adorned with festive decorations, and you joined the Norris family for a delicious Christmas dinner. Conversations flowed effortlessly, stories and laughter intertwining in a symphony of happiness.

Lando's nieces and nephews, lively and full of energy, immediately took a liking to you. They tug at your hand, begging you to join their games, and soon enough, you're fully immersed in their world of giggles and imagination.

Lando watched with a soft smile, his heart-warming at the sight of you playing with the little ones. You caught his gaze, and there was a tender sparkle in his eyes, something that speaks of a future beyond this magical evening.

Lando loved children, and to his luck you loved them too. And now that you and Lando have been together for a while, he couldn't wait until you had children of your own.

As the night progresses, the family gathered around the Christmas tree. You distributed presents, each one carefully chosen and wrapped with love. Lando beamed as he watched his family unwrap their gifts, his happiness reflecting the joy of the moment.

Then, something changed. As you hold one of the youngest family members in your arms, cuddling and playing, Lando's expression shifted. There's a glimmer of something deeper in his eyes—a longing mixed with a newfound tenderness.

Later, while sipping hot cocoa by the fireplace, Lando leans in and whispers, "You're really amazing with them, you know? It's like you were born to bring happiness to kids."

A bashful smile graces your lips as you thanked him, feeling a warmth spread within you. The evening wore on, and as the clock ticked towards midnight, the house was filled with joyous laughter and heartfelt conversations.

Before the night drew to a close, Lando pulled you aside. His eyes searched yours earnestly as he took a deep breath. Your eyes clicked together and love and honesty just flowed.

"I think seeing you with them… it made me realize something," he began, his voice soft yet determined. "I want that, someday. A family… with you."

Your heart skipped a beat, feeling the weight and sincerity of his words. You reached for his hand, intertwining your fingers as you shared a meaningful gaze, a silent understanding passed between you.

As you bid farewell to the Norris family, the memory of this beautiful Christmas lingers in your heart. It was more than just a festive evening; it was a glimpse into a future that might hold endless possibilities—a future that, with Lando by your side, could be filled with love, laughter, and the pitter-patter of little feet.

726 notes · View notes

angelwings-crossbowstrings · 11 months ago

Text

Let Your Heart Be Light

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Setting: Alexandria Era

Warnings: None

Summary: You want to make the holidays something special for Daryl. Throw in a little Christmas magic and it just might mean something more to you too.

*gif is not mine

This run hadn’t been about gathering supplies or intel. This run had been about making a holiday for Judith. The adults understood that just being alive and together were gifts. But little Jude? Smart as she was— and she was smart —hadn’t yet grasped that concept.

Things had already been gathered for her by everyone else, but Daryl had never really celebrated as a kid. Never gave gifts or received them. Before Alexandria, there was never a reasonable sense of safety that allowed for celebration. This would be a first for the archer. When you asked what he had found or made for the little girl he so obviously adored, he had appeared gutted. Of course, you had offered to go with him and help him find something.

The sky was thick with purple clouds as you burrowed into Daryl’s back and tilted your face upward just enough to watch the puffs of lavender magic float carelessly across the limitless expanse. The wind was icy but the elements never seemed to bother the hunter. You, on the other hand, were freezing your proverbial balls off. Your heavy jacket, gloves, scarf, and toboggan hat did little against the onslaught. You couldn’t help but wonder how Daryl hadn’t turned into an ice archer. You also weren’t above pondering why the fuck he had insisted on taking the motorcycle!

When the bike rolled to a stop outside a little strip mall, you could hardly wait to jump off. You squealed about your ass being numb and zipped past him and up to the first door. Daryl started to intervene but swiftly shut his mouth when you acted accordingly, tapping the blade of your knife against the window to lure any walkers.

When none shuffled forward, you gave him a thumbs up. “You start on that side, I’ll go here. Look for coloring books, crayons, stuffed animals. Nothing with small pieces that she could choke on.” You advised, watching him nod blankly. You smiled at his adorable cluelessness and ducked inside, willingly leaving him on his own. Usually you would pester him to stay together but you had your own search to conduct. Judith wasn’t the only one getting a gift this year.

You did intend to help Daryl as you’d promised, but you had some selfish reasons for coming along as well. You hadn’t heard if anyone else had come up with something for the archer, but you sure as shit would. He was your best friend. Your person. This would be the start of happy memories for the season.

None of you could be sure when Christmas actually was but hell, it didn’t really matter at the end of the world. Decorations had been found here and there, enough to decorate Rick and Michonne’s house. You’d all gather there so it made the most sense.

The store you had chosen appeared to have once been a pawn shop. Toys were in abundance so you took a moment to grab a babydoll and a stuffed monkey before heading to the display cases. The glass had long ago been broken and weapons all swiped. That wasn’t what you were looking for anyway. You wanted something less—violence oriented. No jewelry either. He wasn’t the type. You would know the perfect gift when you saw it.

And you did.

Grabbing it up, you stuffed it and the toys into your rucksack and headed to the next mall space, hoping it held what you needed to go along with the first present. Considering how certain items were treated like gold in those times, you didn’t hold your breath.

You had to be sneaky or Daryl might catch on, considering the type of store. You watched for him while repeating the process to check for walkers. Met with silence, you ducked inside. Pickings were slim— almost nonexistent—just as you’d expected. You had just allowed yourself to be bummed when you spotted one peeking out from beneath the counter. After a short happy dance, you hid this one in your bag as well. You grabbed a few newspaper pages to use as wrapping paper and started to open the door when you saw the archer walk by and into the pawn shop you had just vacated.

Perfect!

Stepping outside, you moved off the walkway and waited for him. He emerged a moment later, looking a little concerned.

“Thought ya’d still be in there.” He huffed, holding out two coloring books—one of safari animals and the other, Dora the Explorer—and a box of crayons with two missing.

“Were you worried, mister Dixon?” You smiled sweetly while taking the items to place in your bag. “Hey!” You dissolved into giggles when he pulled the front of your toboggan hat down over your face. He was already walking back toward the back by the time you fixed it. “I found a couple of toys too!”

“Got what we came for.” He swung a leg over to straddle the bike and waited for you to climb on. “Let’s head back. Snow’s comin’.” You grumbled and secured your scarf around the majority of your face. “S’the matter? Don’t like snow?”

“I love snow. Just not on a motorcycle.” Taking your place behind him, you wrapped your arms around his middle and went ahead with burying your face in his back. You felt more than heard his chuckling.

Without a way to predict the weather, there was no way of knowing that scattered flurries would soon turn into a complete whiteout. Daryl had pushed the bike as far as he could before the snow on the ground became too dense. You hated watching him leave it behind, but if he was distraught, he didn’t show it.

You both had your packs, yours full of gifts and Daryl’s stuffed with a little food, a canteen, and scant medical supplies. You’d be okay for a day or two until the weather cleared. You had radioed home while the archer brought the fireplace to life. Your signal was choppy but the message was received.

A little while later, the snow was surging down outside, making it impossible to see even the trees that were littered around the small cabin the two of you had stumbled upon. Literally. You’d almost walked into the side of it with the limited visibility.

Your coats were hanging up near the fire to dry. You had a small meal of jerky and an apple. Now the two of you sat quietly, the silence not uncomfortable. You were bummed that you couldn’t make it back for Daryl to give Judith the gifts. More disappointed for him, really. This was supposed to give him good memories.

Your gaze left the winter wonderland on steroids to shift over where the archer was perched by the fire. He was holding the stuffed monkey while he stared into the flames. Standing from the chair by the frosty window, your bare feet hardly made a sound as you padded across the room to sit cross-legged by his knees.

“Don’t be sad.” You folded your hands on his thigh and rested your chin on them, looking up at him from under your lashes.

Those ice blue eyes slid over to you and held your gaze before he looked away with a dismissive pfft, tossing the stuffed animal on top of his rucksack. “Ain’t sad.”

The smile you gave him was soft, sympathetic. “Yeah, you are. But you shouldn’t be. She’ll be just as excited tomorrow as she would have been today.” Your head tilted, smile broadening. “Judith doesn’t care what day you give her a gift. You’re Uncle Daryl. She’ll beam at you like you hung the moon no matter what.”

One corner of his mouth ticked upward. He hummed and ruffled your hair, the other side of his lips mirroring its counterpart. Sitting back, you swatted his hands away with an exaggerated series of waves.

“We can still make this special.” Teeth worried your bottom lip but you fought to push down the anxiety slithering around in your tummy. When the archer tilted his head, waiting for an explanation, you crawled across the floor and reached into your bag. The newspaper wrapping was sloppy with no tape or bows to make it nice but it was the end of the world. You worked with what you had. Shuffling back to him on your knees, you sat back on your heels and held out the black and white papered mess. “Here.”

His face was unreadable, that scowl firmly in place as he stared at your offering. You would have felt dejected had you not seen the myriad of emotions steadily streaming through those pretty blue eyes. After what felt like hours, Daryl cleared his throat and reached for the wadded mess.

“Ya didn’t—uh—ya didn’t hafta do nothin’ like this.” It was easy to discern the slight tremor in his hands.

“Yeah, I did. I wanted to.” You wiggled back and forth, both eager and nervous for him to unwrap it. When he just held it, you stilled. “What’s wrong?”

“I, uh—” The archer carefully lowered the gift to his lap but kept his hands around it, his thumb rubbed back and forth across the newspaper. “Never really had stuff like this growin’ up—presents an’ shit.”

Rubbing your lips together, you placed a hand on his knee, just beside the gift. He didn’t look away from it. “Just open it when you’re ready. I’m in no hurry.” Keeping your hand where it was, you maneuvered into your previous position: cross-legged with your chin on the very edge of his leg.

He was committing the moment to memory. You could tell by the way he studied the object, tilting it back and forth just so. But this is what you wanted; to break through the past he had suffered with thoughts of a future full of new memories to make. And to share.

He cleared his throat again. It was then that you noticed the shine of moisture holding steady on his waterline. “I—got ya, uh—I got ya somethin’ too.” He balanced the gift on his lap with one hand and dug around in his pocket before finally pulling out a small, blue drawstring bag. So much hesitance; he started to hand it over before pulling it back. He did that three more times before he allowed you to take it.

Now, your eyes began to leak. “Oh, Daryl.” You pulled the little bag toward you and pressed it against your chest. Whatever was concealed inside was hard and twisted but you didn’t venture to guess. You wanted complete surprise.

His eyes flitted between your gift and his. Still, he made no move to open his own. The present you’d given him was quite a bit larger. Maybe he was worried that that somehow bothered you. When he finally looked up at you, your heart clenched. He was adorably lost.

“Open it?” You suggested gently, lowering your hands to your lap with the small bag visible in your cupped palms. He was chewing on the inside of his bottom lip for several seconds before he slowly began to unfold the paper. You watched with bated breath as the items were revealed, studying his demeanor as discreetly as possible. If he didn’t like it, you wanted to know for next year.

Next year. A bittersweet thought. How many of you would even still be there to see it? You minutely shook away the distressing notion and just in time, too.

The corners of his mouth slowly lifted into the smallest yet most genuine smile you’d ever seen him wear. A calloused finger traced over the image of a motorcycle on the shiny Zippo. There was a carton of cigarettes and a small container of lighter fluid as well but the lighter had his complete attention.

“Now look, mister. I don’t condone your habit but I figure we all need our guilty pleasures now more than—”

“Thank you.” So soft that you barely heard it.

You melted in an instant into a gentle smile that he didn’t see, hiding behind a fringe of dark hair. “You’re welcome.” You waited him out. He was having a hard time with the entire concept and you may have heard a quiet sniffle but no, you didn’t.

“Ya gonna,” he cleared his throat and sniffed, “ya gonna open yours?” You looked down at the bag, seeing him wipe his face on the back of his hand from the corner of your eye. You’d never tell him, though. You’d let him keep that one.

You were careful with your expression, keeping the excited gleam in your eye as you pulled the top of the bag open. It could be an acorn and you’d adore it because it was Daryl who went through the trouble of finding such a pretty little bag for it. Just for you.

You dipped two fingers inside, curling them around cold metal, prodding your curiosity. What you began to pull out was a thin, braided chain. It was still a shiny silver. You weren’t even sure what it was made from and it didn’t matter. It would remain around your neck even if your skin turned green. Still, once the entire thing was revealed, it wasn’t the chain that held your focus.

Your inquisitive gaze lifted to find his cheeks a shade of pink and one hand rubbing at the back of his neck.

“S’a—well, s’a hex nut.” Your head tilted. “From my bike.”

You stared at him in complete awe, knowing that when he finally looked at you, he was going to panic but you’d settle him once you worked through your own emotions. You carefully placed the chain over the edge of your hand so the nut laid in your palm. It was small with small knicks and dark areas, indicating use. You were so enthralled with it that you didn’t feel the tear escaping down your cheek.

“Know s’stupid but—”

His arms shot out to the side when you collided with him, your arms tight around his shoulders and face against his neck. Once the initial surprise had worn off, he wrapped one arm around you and then the other, his cheek against the top of your head.

“Thank you.” You whispered. “This is the best gift anyone’s ever given me.” When he huffed out a laugh, you sat back and wiped at your face with the tips of your fingers, the necklace he’d made for you still dangling from your hand. “Don’t say a word. I’m not just blowing smoke up your ass. It’s really the most thoughtful gift I’ve ever been given.” Your hand traveled out to rest against his cheek. “And I love it. Will you put it on me?”

“Um, okay.”

You beamed at him and held out the chain, spinning around and gathering your hair out of the way. Daryl was hesitant, you could just picture him trying to work through how to get it around your neck without invading your space. You knew it was impossible but you’d let him figure that out on his own.

Finally you felt him reach over your right shoulder, then your left, to part the two ends and pull them back to fasten against the back of your neck. Your breath hitched when his fingertips lingered against your skin for a moment longer than necessary.

“There ya go.”

Your skin felt colder when he pulled away but you didn’t linger on it. You turned to face him, holding the piece out so you could look down at it with a brilliant smile.

“Thank you.” You said again, twisting the gift back and forth.

“You’re welcome.” He mumbled.

Shimmying closer, you laid your head against his leg and looked at the fire, fingertips still brushing against the cool metal hanging from your neck. Above you, he was flipping the lid of the Zippo open and closing it repeatedly, as if it was the first one he’d ever seen. You were admittedly surprised he hadn’t already lit up at least three cigarettes.

“You did replace the nut you took from the bike, right?” You erupted into giggles when he bounced his leg and jostled your head.

It was almost comical to you that Daryl was this tough badass but so shy when it came to even someone as close as you were to him. It was incredibly endearing. Tilting your head back, you smiled up at him. He responded by placing his hand over the entirety of your face, his expression remaining neutral. You still saw the twinkle in his eye when you freed yourself.

Then your smile disappeared, replaced with a sudden look of bewilderment. The archer noticed immediately, brow drawing in concern.

“What?”

You weren’t looking at him though. You were looking past him, at the ceiling. Slowly you sat up straight, tilting your head while holding your gaze steady. Daryl finally followed your line of sight to the area above your heads.

There, hanging from the wooden rafters, was a branch of what appeared to be fresh mistletoe. A red bow was tied prettily around the stem.

“Is that—” You began.

“—mistletoe.” Daryl finished.

Both your heads lowered, your eyes meeting. You could tell from the way he looked at you that he wasn’t ignorant of the tradition. Your own cheeks had grown warm just as you watched the subtle flush settle over his.

You should have been questioning the presence of the plant. How it got there. Why it looked new in an otherwise desolate, dusty cabin.

But those inquiries paled in comparison to the way Daryl’s eyes flitted down to your lips and back up.

“Be a shame to go against tradition.” You reasoned.

“You’re the expert.” He gave a single-shouldered shrug.

With a soft breath past your lips, you sat up on your knees, inching a little closer. Daryl moved toward the edge of the chair, leaning down slightly. You were so close that you could feel his breath against your lips.

“Merry Christmas, Daryl.”

A beat.

“Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

When your lips met, nothing else mattered.

Not the snow that now fell in gentle flurries.

Not the motorcycle that now leaned against the wall just outside.

And certainly not the bare rafters above your heads where nothing was hanging.

356 notes · View notes

animeomegas · 1 year ago

Text

The Quest for a Second Life - Part 5 - 50 Shades of Audacity (1)

KAKASHI X ALPHA!READER

Summary: If suddenly waking up in an uncanny office had been bad, this time was worse, because you had a job interview, and the guy before you had just stormed out in tears. Why did you pick this world again? And why is your boss an asshole? And sexy? And with a nice voice? Fuck, this wasn't going to be good. GN!Dom!Alpha!Reader x Multiple

Word Count: 10.8k

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, sex while both parties are a little tipsy, workplace violations, questions about someone not eating lunch due to being a workaholic, and overuse of the world asshole as an adjective. All alphas have dicks, fyi.

A/N: Happy Holidays everyone! And a special happy holidays to those who guessed that our next omega was going to be Kakashi!!! December is well underway and I'm working hard to get all these chapters finished in time for the epilogue to be released on Christmas! The dynamic is different with this one, but I hope everyone enjoys nonetheless <333 I hope you enjoy the choice for the second character, @omeganronpa I'm honoured to call you my friend <333

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Epilogue

In the span of one blink, you went from standing in the library with James, to sitting on an uncomfortable chair in some kind of office waiting room. No matter how many times you jumped between realities, you swore you would never get used to the complete sensory change that happened in milliseconds. You had changed positions, clothes, company and scenery just like that.

Trying to gain your bearings, you tried to take in your new surroundings. Your first thought was that you had some serious déjà vu, as James’ uncanny valley of an office sprung to mind. Seriously, how many times were you going to suddenly gain consciousness in a soulless office?

At least this one was a lot less creepy, you admitted. It had doors and windows for starters, but the cavernous size of the room also helped diminish the claustrophobic feeling. Rather than beige, the room was decorated in a tasteful, modern, monochrome, boring but inoffensive, and better than too much beige in your opinion.

The copious amounts of soulless corporate art on every surface were the final touches that convinced you this was a real office and not set dressing for purgatory.

The waiting room was full of people though. You hadn’t seen this many people in one place since Itachi took you into town, and the general air of anxiety coming off them all was putting you on edge.

You fidgeted, uncomfortable at suddenly wearing formal business wear. The blue folder that was sitting on your lap shifted slightly, but you paid it no mind as you straightened everything out and readjusted yourself into a more comfortable position. To your left, what you could only describe as the combination of a modern water feature and grandfather clock chimed, signalling it as 09:00 AM.

‘James? Can you hear me?’

‘I can, human alpha.’

‘Great. Can you give me a run down of this pocket dimension please? It’s been like, two weeks since I read the blurb.’

‘Of course. ’50 Shades of Audacity’ follows MC, an alpha graduate student who lands the role of personal assistant to one of the most famous CEOs of the time, omega, Kakashi Hatake. MC discovers that Kakashi is hiding a submissive streak, and together, they explore their relationship while preparing for the yearly Autumn Company Party.’

You nodded idly as James explained it, vague memories coming back to you. The man next to you shot you a weird look, and you realised you were nodding at seemingly nothing. You cleared your throat and shifted awkwardly. Whoops.

Regardless, the blurb put your current situation into perspective. When you had chosen the book, you had expected to enter the world already working as a personal assistant, but you had a sneaking suspicion that this was the job interview and all the people sat with you were competition.

To confirm your suspicion, you opened the folder on your lap, and yep, it was filled with important documents, including your CV, degree certificate, and several references. Damn, for someone decently young, you seemed to be the perfect candidate. That did relieve some of the tension. The world was literally set up to push you into the role, and you were the perfect candidate, surely there was nothing to worry about. For now, you decided to try and relax. Job interviews were a pain in the ass, but this one hopefully wouldn’t be too bad. And you could always talk to James to pass the time.

‘James, I know you must be thinking something along the lines of, ‘what kind of human picks a life where they have a job, when they could choose to not have a job?’’

‘I have never had such a thought.’

‘But I’m playing the long game, James,’ you continued, ignoring her response. ‘This Hatake guy must be rolling in it, and so once we’re serious, there would be no reason for me to work anymore! And it’s not like we’d get divorced in an erotica novel, that wouldn’t make sense, so I just need this job to meet him, make him fall in love with me, and then, if I stay here, I’ll have a fancy CEO husband, and everything will work out great.’

‘I see. I believe humans term that strategy, ‘gold digging’.’

You were planning to argue back, but your outrage died on your lips when you realised that she was kind of right. You were only going to choose this omega if you actually loved him, of course, but you couldn’t deny that the main reason you had chosen this book in the first place was the money and possibility of a cushy life. And being able to retain access to the internet which was something you’d have to give up for a life with Itachi.

‘What backstory elements are set in stone here?’ you asked, realising that the amnesia trick wasn’t going to work a second time.

‘Primarily your qualifications and educational history. You also own both a flat and a car, although how you obtained those is up to you.’

Nice, that gave you a lot of freedom to work with. Also… was your flat nice? And what about your car? You hoped so, but even if they weren’t, you could get Hatake to pay for a nice upgrade.

A man with a clipboard walked out of the office door to your left and everyone in your vicinity snapped to attention. He had brown hair and intense, dark eyes that were a little unnerving. “The interviews for the personal assistant job have now begun. You will be called up one at a time. Ren Shimomura.”

The man who had given you a strange look earlier got up and walked into the office with a confident smile, his briefcase swinging gently by his side. When the door closed behind him, everyone relaxed a little and went back to their pointless busy tasks.

‘So, James, what can I expect from this job interview?’ you asked. You figured it wouldn’t hurt to be prepared, even if the universe was going to intervene for your success.

‘That question is more difficult to answer than you might think, human. Despite this pocket dimension being one of the most popular in the erotica category, no one has ever successfully passed the interview and obtained the personal assistant job.’

Your stomach dropped. What? That couldn’t be right, could it?

You laughed nervously, sure that you had misheard. ‘What? Surely the universe needs the person to get the job.’

‘Yes, it has been causing quite the issue. This world has been scheduled for removal for being too difficult to follow. You will be the last person from your realm to ever enter this one, whether you decide to stay or not.’

‘Thanks for warning me before I picked it,’ you ‘said’, your mental voice taking on a tinge of bitterness. So, you were pretty much doomed to failure here? Great.

‘I didn’t warn you, human.’

‘I know.’

Your mental conversation ended as the door to the office opened and the man, Ren, stormed out, looking like he was holding back angry tears. He exited the room swiftly, without so much of a glance back.

That certainly didn’t make you feel any better about your chances.

Neither did your name being called seconds later.

The man with the clipboard smiled at you as you stood, folder in hand. “Just in there, Mr. Hatake is waiting for you.”

You nodded and approached the door. Right, this was fine. You took a deep breath and reminded yourself of your situation. You didn’t need this job. You wouldn’t run out of money without it, you wouldn’t get blacklisted or arrested if something went wrong, you couldn’t die if something went very wrong. The very worst-case scenario was that you bungled this, spent the next two weeks enjoying some alone time in this world, and then returned to your beautiful witch.

So, really, what reason did you have to be nervous?

With that in mind, you took a fortifying breath and walked into the office with your head held high. This CEO couldn’t scare you.

The design of the office was much the same as the waiting room, with a monochrome colour scheme and minimal furniture. The entire back wall was glass, which bathed the office in natural light, but cast shadows around the impressive desk in the middle of the room. Behind the desk was an imposing desk chair that was currently faced away from you. The back of the chair was so high that you couldn’t technically tell if Hatake was sitting in it or not. In front of the desk was a much less impressive desk chair; presumably that chair was for you.

You walked towards your chair, marvelling at how cliché the whole ‘tall chair spin reveal’ thing was. What was he, a Bond villain? The main question though, was if he’d also be accidentally flashing his nipples at you. You stifled a laugh imagining a scary CEO turning around in his chair only for the buttons on his shirt to come flying off.

“Did I say that you could sit down?” The voice came from the highbacked chair, which was still facing away from you.

The CEO’s voice was hot, you couldn’t deny that, but his attitude was already ugly. What kind of high and mighty asshole spoke to people like that? Were you supposed to just stay standing until he offered the seat when he couldn’t even be bothered to face you? Fuck that.

Suddenly, what was remaining of your nervousness bled out of you, replaced by annoyance. Honestly, you had already accepted that you weren’t going to get this job or this omega as soon as James had explained the situation, but maybe you could still get something out of this. Like catharsis. You could berate Hatake on behalf of every shitty boss you couldn’t berate in the past and then this world would still be worth it.

“Unless you’re suffering from short term memory loss, there’s no need for me to answer that question.”

Finally, that seems to goad him into turning around. The chair swivelled, revealing Kakashi Hatake in all his glory. He was dressed in the exact kind of suit you expected for someone like him, expertly tailored, incredibly expensive, and in a tasteful blue colour. Just peeking out from his collar you noticed some clear scent patches, and you imagined you’d find the same ones on his wrists. He had grey-silver hair styled in a way that must have required a significant amount of hair wax, and equally grey eyes, one of which had a vertical scar running through it. He even had a frankly adorable beauty mark, what the fuck.

Fine. He was hot. That didn’t mean he wasn’t an asshole.

The look he was giving you was somehow both disparaging and uninterested, like he was looking at a badly painted wall.

“Why do you want this job?” he asked, voice bored and condescending. “You don’t seem like you’d be particularly good at it.”

You grit your teeth at his blatant disrespect, “Jobs provide the money which can be exchanged for goods and services required to facilitate survival, you see. Perhaps the silver spoon in your mouth prevented you from learning that dichotomy.” You missed your witch.

Kakashi raised an eyebrow. He held out a hand, and you wordlessly passed him your folder of documents. You were honestly surprised that he hadn’t just kicked you out already. His motivations became clear however, when he picked out your CV, ripped it in half, and then tossed it in the bin.

This asshole! You were furious.

Hatake pressed a button on a raised box on his desk and began to speak into it, presumably to dismiss you and ask for the next person to be sent in.

You didn’t need this job, you couldn’t get into any meaningful trouble, and this man was royally pissing you off. Something in you just snapped.

“Tenzou, send—”

You grabbed him by his boring, blue tie and stood, pulling him partially over the desk and towards you. He gasped in surprise, letting go of the button as both hands flew up to grab your wrist. You expected him to immediately pull you off him, but he didn’t. He was still, staring at you with wide eyes. For the first time since you’d walked into his office, it felt like he was properly looking at you.

“I am the best fucking personal assistant out of any of those people out there, and I will not have some bratty CEO talk down to me, understood?”

“I’ll call security,” he said quietly, voice strangely hoarse.

“Don’t bother.” You let him go and he fell back heavily into his ridiculous chair.

“Senpai?” The clipboard man’s voice floated through the speaker on the black box. “Is everything okay? You cut out.”

The man didn’t reply to the message, he only stared at you. His face was blank, but you had the feeling that there was a lot going on inside his head.

‘Remember the story, human.’

For a moment, you thought James was encouraging you to play nice for the sake of the story, but then you realised that she meant. Fuck, that’s right, Kakashi Hatake was a secret submissive. He was probably very turned on and very confused right now. You sent him a cocky grin.

“The job starts Monday, yes?” He nodded, dumbly. “I’ll see you then, 08:00 sharp. All my documents are in the folder.” You walked to the door confidently, and just as you reached it, you turned. “Have a good day, sir.”

You opened the door just as the clipboard man tried to do the same on the other side. You paid neither him nor any of the other candidates any mind, you just strode towards the exit, adrenaline rushing through your veins.

The fresh air and sun hit you as you stepped outside into the office’s car park.

‘James, oh my god, I grabbed him by his tie.’

‘I saw, human, it was very unexpected. No other human has attempted such a method.’

‘I would so be blacklisted if this were real, James. Did… Did I do a good job? It felt like I did at the time, playing up to his submissive side, but now I just feel like I was crazy and there’s no way he’d give me the job.’

‘Only time will tell, human, I do not have the answers.’

‘Time… I can do that.’ You gazed out over the sea of cars, all shimmering in the sun. ‘Now, James, which car is mine?’

…

Once you had successfully found your nicer than expected car, you headed to your mysterious flat. It took longer than you thought, but at least you’d learnt some more about James; she was terrible at giving directions and did not know what a roundabout was.

Your flat, much like your car, was nicer than you expected for a recent graduate that worked as a personal assistant. It was stylish and cosy, with lots of wood tones and warm, textured fabrics. It could have fallen out of an interior design magazine, right down to the perfectly placed bowls of fruit. The flat even had a guest room and a home office.

You were going to put this one down to porn logic again and figure out some sort of explanation for why you had the money for this in your backstory.

After doing some snooping around the flat, you flopped down on your bed, feeling strangely exhausted. You pulled out your phone (and how strange it was to have modern technology back!) and checked the date. It was Friday lunch time, and you didn’t have to go to the job, presuming you even got it, until Monday. That meant you had an entire weekend to do what you wanted. That was the best news you’d heard all day.

‘James, is the entire world, I guess, loaded, for want of a better word? Like, theoretically, if I travelled across the world to a random village, would the people there be real? Does the world function outside of the story?’

‘Once you choose to remain in a world, it functions exactly like the one you came from, yes, complete with up to billions of people who each have their own lives. Not everything is ah, loaded, in this demo though. I would recommend staying firmly within this city for the time being.”

‘Amazing! That’s so exciting, James!’

‘If you say so.’

Alongside modern technology, staying in this world would also give you more chance to travel. With Itachi, you would be mostly going on foot, perhaps on a horse if you were lucky, but here you could be on the other side of the world in a day.

That was for future you to weigh up though, right now you needed to find a bank statement of some kind, because you wanted to spend this weekend pampering yourself and you needed to know your budget. You could think about Kakashi Hatake and this world later, once you had your thoughts in order.

The weekend passed in a blur of bubble baths, food delivery apps, and films. You’d even gone for a dip in your complex’s pool. It had been nice to recharge. You had enjoyed spending time with Itachi immensely, but you’d had almost no proper alone time for over half a month, and it was sorely needed.

The only other thing of note happened on Saturday, when you received an email from Hatake’s company, which contained your new company account and login details.

…

Walking into work on Monday was a surreal feeling that you couldn’t put into words. No one acted like anything strange had happened. You were treated like a normal new hire, which you suspected meant Hatake had kept the details of your interview to himself.

Speaking of Hatake, he was apparently in meetings all morning and so you wouldn’t see him for a few hours. You didn’t know if you were irritated or relieved that your likely awkward reunion would be postponed.

“So, here is Kakashi’s calendar, which kind of functions like the core of your job,” Iruka, the man who was training you, said. “You’ll be in charge of organising his appointments and commitments and reminding him to attend them.” The last part was added with a tone that suggested Hatake had not always been the best at either being on time or showing up at all.

“Got it. No double bookings, and smack Hatake with a ruler if he tries to escape.”

Iruka snorted, but quickly smothered the laugh with a hand. “Pretty much. For today, I’ve gone through your inbox and marked the emails that require appointments as urgent. You just need to schedule them and add them to his calendar. It’s pretty busy at the moment because of the Autumn Company Party at the end of the month, so don’t worry if everything’s a bit much. My desk is over there, so you can ask for help at any time, okay?”

“Thanks, you’re a lifesaver.” You grinned at him, and he smiled back.

“Good luck!” With that he was gone. That wasn’t the first time the Autumn Company Party had come up, but you still weren’t sure what that had to do with the plot of his pocket dimension. It certainly wasn’t as straight forward as ‘collect the potion ingredients’.

‘James, what’s the deal with this party? What’s going to happen at it?’

‘There are many, many ways the event can play out, human. Seeing that you are the first to make it past the interview, I cannot even tell you which outcomes are most likely.’

‘Damn. Well, thanks anyway.’

You ended up whizzing through your work. It was incredibly simple, which could have been because they were taking it easy on you for your first day, or because work in general was easier in porn universes. You finished before Hatake was freed from his morning meetings, so you decided to do a little googling on your new boss. As such a high-profile CEO, you were sure you could find some information on him.

You put his name into the search bar and scrolled through the top results.

There were mostly news articles and links to the company websites, but eventually his Wikipedia page popped up and you clicked on it, skimming down the paragraphs immediately. Your eyebrows kept rising up as you read. His father, the original founder of the company had committed suicide when Kakashi was four years old, leaving him an orphan. He had been immediately added to the company’s board of directors (at four years old?!), and when he’d turned eighteen and those overseeing the company didn’t seem keen to pass it back to him, Kakashi had staged a business coup and seized control by force.

Jeez, what a life story.

Closing the Wikipedia page, you opened a couple of articles instead. One was a gossip magazine speculating on his famous bachelorhood and why he hadn’t settled down yet. Another was talking about the large donations he had made to several dog and animal welfare charities. The third was just a listicle of pictures of him from various point throughout his life. Ha. He looked like he was such a cute, grumpy kid.

You had to admit that his character was perfectly set up to redeem him for being an asshole at your first meeting. Dead parents, a tragic backstory, betrayal from those supposed to look after him, an animal lover… You bet that he had been forced to supress his emotions to avoid being manipulated as a child, too. That was about as stereotypical as you could get. Were he a fictional character, his fans would easily excuse any rudeness and ruthlessly defend him online. And that was fine, but they weren’t the ones who had to be on the receiving end of his rudeness.

Ugh, you didn’t know what to do with him. On one hand, you were happy ignoring him for being mean to you in your interview, but on the other, you kind of wanted to get to know him to see what the story was about. Maybe you’d put in a bit of effort as a show of good faith, but if he insisted on rebuffing you, you’d give up and find some other way to enjoy yourself. Yeah, that sounded like a good plan.

Dog lovers were your weakness, so you couldn’t give up on him completely, not just yet.

You closed the tabs and, checking the time, you realised you still had some leeway before Hatake was free. You needed to come up with your backstory sharpish, because you didn’t have amnesia this time, and people would likely start asking questions about you once lunch hit. Best get your story straight first.

You grabbed a post-it note and jotted down your favourite acronym, MLHH (Money, Love, Health, Happiness), to keep you on target.

Loving parents, you definitely wanted those. Were they the ones you wanted funding your lifestyle? Hmm, no, how about a rich, eccentric aunt that sent money all the time? Yes, you’d always wanted a fun, rich uncle or aunt to spoil you. Perhaps she had been the one to buy you the house and car. You jotted it all down. You also crafted yourself two best friends and a couple of hobbies, just to enrich your life. As per James’ instructions, you left the academic stuff alone.

“Am I paying you to write details about your own life on post it notes?” A sudden voice from behind made you jump, smacking your knees on the underside of the desk with a bang.

You laughed awkwardly as you came face to face with the man of the hour, Kakashi Hatake, who had chosen a charcoal grey suit for today, giving him an overall monochrome vibe that matched the office building. He was staring at your post it note, unimpressed.

You snatched the note and put it in your pocket. Quick, find some way to change the subject!

“I’ve updated your calendar with more meetings and commitments. This afternoon you only have a phone call with a representative from a company that sells… custom dog bandanas?” You decided not to question it. “The rest of the afternoon is business as usual.”

He watched you for a moment before he nodded, and turned to enter his office door, which was only a few feet from your desk.

“Just so you know,” he said, turning to look at you over his shoulder, “more work is periodically added to your task list, you just need to refresh the page.”

The door slammed shut behind him. You made a frustrated noise. He was so rude, with his annoyingly hot face and perfect voice. God, he got on your nerves like no one else. Ugh, you already regretted deciding to give him a chance.

You refreshed the task list and watched it fill up with new tasks.

Why did you pick a world where you had a job again? Oh yeah, you were playing the long game. The long game sucked.

You spent the rest of the workday completing tasks and flip flopping on whether it was worth trying to chase the plot and romance Hatake. Instinctually you led towards no, but when you remembered how he’d responded to you in the interview, you wavered. Ultimately, your curiosity was too much to resist, so you hatched a plan to spend some time with him.

…

“Did you have someone sneak you lunch through the window, or have you not eaten yet today?” you asked, waltzing into Hatake’s office at exactly 17:05, coat and bag ready to leave.

Hatake finished whatever he was writing before putting down the pen and giving you a flat look. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business, and I’m certain I told you to knock before coming in.”

“Firstly, the workday ended five minutes ago so you’re not the boss of me anymore. Secondly, that was the clearest no I’ve ever heard. You should make time to eat lunch, you know, it’s good for you.”

“If you don’t have anything of use to say, then leave.” Ugh, why were you dealing with this asshole again?

“Actually, I do.” He raised an eyebrow at you, like he was already dismissing your message. “Get dinner with me.”

That actually seemed to catch him off guard, if only for a moment. You had honestly been wondering if the side of him you glimpsed in your interview was some kind of hallucination, but there was a flicker of that same man now. Unfortunately, although you could see that, you could also see the moment he shut down the reaction and returned to his flat, impassive stare.

“I’m busy this evening—”

“I already moved your appointment to tomorrow morning.”

He narrowed his eyes at you. You didn’t know if it was irritation at your messing with his schedule or at interrupting him, but you did know that you were getting on his nerves. Good.

“And I suppose, if you’re inviting me, then you’re paying?” he challenged. “Fair warning, I have expensive taste.”

‘James, quick, what’s the best restaurant in the area?’

‘Kakashi Hatake often visits a restaurant about two miles from here, called La Liaison. It’s French, and incredibly pricy.’

Right, you tried to remember what you’d seen you your bank details. You could definitely afford one fancy meal; it was affording everything else after that that was the problem.

Hatake’s smug face at your hesitation spurred you on. You wracked your brain for some kind of solution.

‘James, if I decide that my rich aunt sends me large lump sums of money every month, will my bank account automatically replenish by the end of this demo?’

‘Technically, yes, although it will only happen if you choose this dimension permanently, as your rich aunt does not yet exist. You must also remember to speak or write any information you want to be true for it to take effect.’

Perfect. You could wipe that smug look off Hatake’s face, live a bit more frugally for the rest of the demo, and if for some unknown reason you chose to stay here, you’d have your money automatically replenished. You just had to remember to write the details down after dinner tonight.

“Of course, it’ll be my treat,” you smiled, tips tight. “Do you like French food? I heard La Liaison is lovely.”

Kakashi studied you for a moment, like he was trying to figure out what game you were playing. Just as you thought you’d won the little verbal exchange, Hatake sent you a mocking eye smile. “And how are you planning on gaining a reservation at such short notice? The next available evening bookings are for two months from now.”

You tensed up like you’d been dealt a physical blow. Fuck, you forgot about bookings. There was no way you could allow him to win just like that, though. You took a deep breath, porn logic, I believe in you, please help me out, I’m trying to woo him, just as you wanted. Kind of.

“I’m sure it will all work out!” You voice was artificially chipper, and you could tell that Hatake was picking up on your anxiety. “Come on, what’s the harm? Let’s go!”

He watched you evenly. That was one thing you’d noticed about Hatake; he always thought before he spoke, choosing each action and word carefully. It made sense once you considered his childhood and was equal parts sad and irritating.

Just when you thought he was about to refuse and dismiss you, Hatake chuckled and stood, closing his computer and grabbing his suit jacket from the back of his ridiculously dramatic desk chair.

“I’ll have my chauffeur drop us off,” he said, walking to the door. You followed, kind of stunned that he had agreed at all. He locked the office door behind him. “There’s no parking available at this time of day in the town centre.”

You walked through the office side by side, watching your coworkers pack up or work late.

Everyone noticed you two, armed with bags and coats that made it obvious you were leaving together. There were gasps, there was gossiping, there were whispers. The man with the clipboard, who had introduced himself to you as Yamato, looked like he had seen a ghost. Was it really that strange to see this CEO leave work on time, or was it because he was with you?

Hatake paid them no mind, and you tried to do the same.

It was strange that he agreed to join you, but you didn’t get your hopes up that this meant he suddenly liked you. It was more likely that he was coming in order to force your hand. If you were humiliated by there being no tables, or not being able to afford the food you said you could, it would likely stop you from bothering him outside of work again.

You just really, really hoped there would somehow be a table.

Once you arrived at the car park, there was a sleek, black car waiting for you. You weren’t sure if Hatake had somehow called ahead without you noticing, or if his car was already ready for him, but it was very convenient. If the chauffeur was surprised that Hatake had a guest, he didn’t mention it.

The car was so obviously expensive that you felt a little uncomfortable sitting in it. You had never been so conscious of your hand placement in your life. The brat of a CEO didn’t seem to have the same problem, relaxing easily against the leather, looking right at home. He gave the driver the name of the restaurant, and you were off.

You took a moment to beg the pocket dimension that somehow you would be able to get a seat. ‘Porn logic, I’ve always loved and respected you, please pull through for me, just this once! I won’t be able to handle Hatake’s smug grin without punching him in the face.’

‘My name is James, human, and I cannot control these pocket dimensions.’

You snorted, ‘I wasn’t speaking to you James, sorry.’

“What’s so funny?” Hatake asked, breaking the silence. Oh, you had laughed out loud; you had to stop doing that. Were you also doing it when you were with Itachi, but there were just fewer people around to comment on it? Itachi seemed like the sort who would take a lot of weirdness in stride.

“Your face.”

Hatake let out an amused breath, “Are you always so childish?”

“What can I say? You bring out the worst in me.”

“Approximately five minutes until arrival, sir,” the chauffeur said, speaking through a speaker that connected the front and back sections of the car.

“Just Kakashi is fine,” he sighed. “I’ve told you that a hundred times.”

“If you say so, sir.” Hatake rolled his eyes but dropped the issue.

The final five minutes passed it silence.

…

La Liaison was a small modern building nestled at the very end of the high street, decorated in pastel blue and covered in artificial ivy. The whole building exuded a timeless elegance that made you glad your work dress code was formal. Stepping through the doors, you were welcomed by warm lighting, live piano music, and an impeccably dressed host. This was the exact kind of place you could see Hatake fitting right in.

“Good afternoon, and welcome to La Liaison. Can I take the name on your reservation, please?”

You could practically feel the amusement radiating off the smug asshole behind you as you were faced with the exact situation he had predicted. You just had to go for it. You believed in the porn logic!

(And if it didn’t work you were going to return to your flat with your tail between your legs, make James pull you out of this dimension early, and then ask Itachi for a potion that could remove memories instead of bringing them back.)

“Ah, well, we don’t technically have a reservation, but an acquaintance of mine mentioned that they just had to cancel theirs, so we were hoping there’d be a free table.”

Please work, please work, please work.

The two seconds between your request and the host’s response felt like an agonising eternity. Failure wasn’t an option; you couldn’t lose to your awful boss.

The relief you felt when the host’s face melted into a smile almost knocked you to your knees.

“Is that so? Yes, I just got off the phone with them, you’re lucky no one else has claimed the table yet. If you’ll pass my college your coats, I’ll take you to your table.”

Yes, yes, yes!! You loved porn logic so much. It seemed like anything was fair game as long as it pushed you and Mr. Smug together. Speaking of Mr. Smug, you mouthed ‘I told you so’, as you walked to your table. He did not respond.

The table was, unsurprisingly, very romantic. It was secluded away in the corner, pressed up against a window and yet sectioned from the rest of the restaurant by a divider. The table sat two people, and its white tablecloth was covered in candles and rose petals. Of course, the cancelled reservation was for a romantic date. You weren’t going to complain though; a table was a table.

You both sat down. You briefly debated pulling out the chair for Hatake, but you decided against it at the last minute. You were both handed menus and informed of the soup of the day before the waiter left you in peace. The illusion of privacy helped you relax, despite the stuffy atmosphere.

“An acquaintance, huh?” Kakashi asked, unfolding his napkin and laying it over his lap. He obviously didn’t believe your lie.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re incredibly annoying?” you said, instead of answering his question.

“Once or twice.”

“Well then,” you shot him a sarcastic smile, “I’m glad you have such honest people in your life.”

“As am I.” The eye smile he sent you this time seemed more genuine, and you had to hold back your laugh.

The conversation faded for a moment as the background chatter from the rest of the restaurant filled the space. It was weird to be here with him, and maybe you were still riding the high of getting a table, but you were already enjoying yourself.

“So… you come here often?” you asked, picking up the menu. You supressed a wince at the prices. “It seems like you’re right at home.”

“It makes for a convenient location to dazzle those who demand such treatment before they’ll sign anything.”

“Ugh, so this is where you take people to schmooze them? Gross.” You flipped over the menu to find the drinks section, only to belatedly realise that the drinks had their own menu already on the table. “I can’t imagine you doing that successfully; you’re so rude.”

“Maybe you just bring out the worst in me.”

The way he reused your words from earlier reluctantly brought a smile to your face. Okay fine. Fine! You’d admit that he was witty, and you had some good chemistry. And he was hot. But that was it! That didn’t mean you were going to fall in love with someone so annoying!

‘I believe you were also interested in his love for dogs, human alpha.’

‘James, I’m trying to live in denial here, and you’re ruining it.’

‘My apologies. Does that mean that I should also refrain from mentioning your obvious obsession with his beauty mark?’

Sometimes, you weren’t sure that James wasn’t an elaborate troll.

Scanning the menu, you decided the vegetarian pasta looked nice. And if it was also the cheapest thing on the menu, well that was just a coincidence. This better be one of the best meals of your life.

Kakashi left his menu completely untouched. Right, he’d been here countless of times to charm people into signing away their money. He was probably treating this dinner as something similar, but with you wanting something from him instead. You doubted he’d believe you if you said you were doing this out of curiosity. But the questioned remained, how could you make this feel different for him?

Suddenly, it hit you; he liked when other people took control. You had an idea.

‘James, can you tell me what Kakashi normally orders from here?’

‘He always orders one of the seafood dishes, accompanied by a white wine.’

Right. Perfect. What you were about to do would be so out of order in real life, but you had plot armour, and honestly you wanted to see what would happen.

When the waiter returned, he directed his, “Are you ready to order?”, towards Kakashi. He probably recognised him if he was a regular, and figured he was schmoozing another hapless soul.

That didn’t fit what you had in mind though.

“Yes, we are,” you said confidently, before Kakashi could speak. “We’ll have a bottle of the Chateau Sixtine Blanc and some still water for the table. For food, I’ll have the vegetarian pasta, and he’ll have the Coquilles Saint-Jacques.”

Kakashi’s stare was intense, but he didn’t intervene. The waiter seemed taken aback that you were ordering for the table, but when Kakashi made no move to dispute what you’d said, he nodded, collected your menus, and left. You expected to be admonished in some way, but Kakashi remained silent.

Drinks arrived quickly. The waiter poured you both a glass of the wine and some water before he was gone again. Kakashi picked up the wine glasses and swirled it dramatically before taking a sip.

When he spoke, you had expected a question about how you found out his usual order, or perhaps a comment on the wine, but no, instead, he was his usual blunt self.

“I wonder what it is you’re hoping to gain from this.”

“That’s fine, you can wonder all you like.”

He sent you a measured look, “Has anyone ever told you you’re incredibly annoying?”

You grinned, “Nope!”

“I see. Well, I hope you’ll be blessed with some honest people in your life soon, I’ve found having them around to be extraordinarily helpful.”

You snorted mid sip of wine, which probably didn’t look attractive. Coughing, you looked up, expecting a judgemental look for behaving such a way in a fancy restaurant, but Kakashi just looked amused.

“Can I ask you a question?” You dabbed your lips with your napkin to soak up any stray wine drops. “What was the deal with that interview? It didn’t seem like you even wanted any applicants there. Was it just some weird form of employment hazing?”

“Simple. I didn’t want an assistant; I work better alone.”

“Then why hold the interview at all?”

“The board of directors were very… persistent. I knew they’d only shut up if I scared off every personal assistant in the city.”

You sent him a searching look, “But you hired me.”

“I did.”

“Why?”

He shrugged, “You had comedy value.”

Comedy value!? This dick.

“Liar,” you shot back. “You just think I’m hot, admit it.”

You got another one of his infuriating eye smiles. “If you say so.” God, you wanted to punch him, and maybe kiss him. Fuck.

“Whatever, just know that it’s your turn to pay for dinner next time, an I’m ordering the most expensive thing I can find.”

“If we go out for dinner too often, people will talk.”

“As if they aren’t already,” you said, referencing the sate of the office you’d left behind. You’d bet that they’d all stayed late to swap theories. “Yamato looked at us like a child who’d just walked in on his parents having sex.”

Kakashi seemed amused, “He would not appreciate that description.”

“That doesn’t make it any less true.”

As the conversation flowed, so did the wine. You were surprised by how much fun you were having. Hatake was a great conversationalist and the rapid-fire banter had you laughing out loud more than once. The food was just as good as you’d hoped as well.

To your utter delight, Hatake’s face turned pink as he drank. So cute. You couldn’t stop yourself from reaching out to feel the warm skin. Kakashi leaned into the hand in an almost nuzzle. You did not expect him to reciprocate. Shocked, you froze, hand still on his cheek.

Hatake seemed surprised too because he suddenly wrenched himself away from you. You pulled your hand back like it’d been burnt.

You’d bet anything that he was touch starved.

“Sorry, Hatake, I don’t know why I—”

“Kakashi,” he muttered, “you can call me Kakashi. Everyone does.”

“Kakashi,” you repeated, sending him a small smile. Maybe he wasn’t so bad. You kind of wanted to lick his face.

Kakashi’s phone buzzed in his pocket, shattering the moment. Disappointingly, he immediately slipped it out of his pocket and checked the message. You weren’t exactly surprised that he put checking his phone over your conversation, but it was still rude, whether you expected it or not.

Kakashi made an amused noise as he saw the expression on your face. “I only have audible notifications on for important people; I’m just checking to make sure nothing is wrong, there’s no need to look so offended.”

You sputtered, face heating up, “I’m not offended! I was just thinking it was rude to check your phone at dinner.”

“Ruder than ordering for someone else without their permission?”

“Whatever,” you mumbled, crossing your arms. “You liked it.”

Kakashi didn’t acknowledge you as he checked his messaged. You watched his eyes move from side to side as he read, before he eventually barked out a laugh and put the phone away.

“What’s funny?”

“One of my friends evidently found out that I was out to dinner. He has wished us luck on our youthful endeavours.”

You pulled a face at the weird phrasing. “He sounds… interesting.”

“You have no idea,” Kakashi said before emptying his wine glass.

“People seem so surprised about this. You don’t get out much then?”

Kakashi barked a laugh that sounded surprisingly bitter, and then didn’t elaborate. In true erotica love interest fashion, there was something brewing below the surface. Touch starved, orphaned, rich, but lonely, he was about as stereotypical as it got. You wondered if he’d also killed someone like Itachi? Hmm, probably not. This was a modern universe, and there were normally more severe consequences for things like that. It would have at least been mentioned on his wiki page.

By the time you had finished eating, the city outside the window had lit up in the darkness. The traffic had died down once rush hour ended, but the occasional car still passed by. You checked your phone and realised you’d been having dinner with Kakashi for almost two hours.

Your pride didn’t stop you from admitting that the time was flying because you were having fun.

Still, it was getting late, so you waved down a waiter and requested the bill. You were hoping that, seeing as you’d taken charge with ordering, that he would… yes! The waiter put the bill down in front of you instead of Kakashi.

You grinned at him smugly; you’d been assigned dom by wait staff.

He rolled his eyes at you, but you could see the smile on his face.

The bill wasn’t great, but it could have been worse. Clearly you hadn’t managed to keep your grimace supressed completely though because Kakashi noticed.

“Having second thoughts?” He was annoyingly observant.

You had never pulled out your card faster, grateful that you’d found your pin number written down in some old documents in your flat. Kakashi watched you pay, a strange glint in his eyes.

Did he assume you were going to dine and dash and make him pay or something? No… that wasn’t it. His ears had gone red too, and not from the alcohol.

He liked it, you realised gleefully. He liked that you ordered for him. He liked that you paid for him. He liked that you had decided on the place and time and dragged him along. It fit his reaction and it fit his character.

You were certain that most of his acquaintances either saw Kakashi as some kind of aloof, ‘didn’t believe in love’ character, or as a hard dom. And on the surface, sure, you could understand why they thought that, but how could anyone continue to think so once they spoke to him properly, when he was practically crying out for someone to take care of him?

Exhilaration ran through you. Maybe you were in this for more than just curiosity now.

“Come on,” you said, standing. “It’s getting late, and I still need to get my car—Shoot, I’m probably over the limit. I guess it’s a taxi for me then.”

“I can drop you home.” Kakashi stood as well, and you both walked to collect your coats. “It won’t be a problem.”

“Thanks,” you said relieved. You needed to at least try to budget after the amount you just spent on dinner.

Just as you were putting on your coats, Kakashi’s phone ran in his pocket. Remembering what he said about only having important people on vibrate, you remained silent as he took the call. You couldn’t quite make out the murmurs on the other side of the call, but Kakashi didn’t look pleased.

“Right… Okay… And there’s no alternate route? Of course… It can’t be helped, just meet me at the office.”

Did he have a last-minute work obligation perhaps?

“Yes, okay, I’ll see you soon.” He hung up the phone and slipped it into his pocket. “Bad news, there’s been a minor accident on the road and my driver can’t get to us. We can get through on the pedestrian pathways just fine, so we’ll have to go back to the office on foot.”

“Oh, that’s not a big deal, it’s only about twenty minutes, right?” You didn’t understand why he seemed so serious about a minor hold up. Did he think you were going to be mad at him or something? Kakashi relaxed imperceptibly as it became clear that you didn’t mind.

It only occurred to you later, once you were well into the walk, that Kakashi was used to schmoozing a bunch of hoity toity rich people at La Liaison who probably would throw a fit at such a minor inconvenience. Those kinds of people were the worst.

“Why did you ask me to dinner tonight?” Kakashi asked. He spoke casually, but in a way that suggested the casualness was being used to disguise a more serious question.

You knew that he wouldn’t stop until he got an answer that satisfied him, and you didn’t want your relationship to be stained by doubts as to your intentions, so you decided to give him an answer as close to the truth as possible. If you started talking about erotic fiction, he’d probably call some kind of doctor.

“Because you seemed miserable, and I was curious about you. Figured this would kill two birds with one stone. Also, you piss me off, I won’t lie.”

“You took me to dinner because I piss you off?” Kakashi asked, a ghost of a smile on his face. “Is that some kind of fetish or is it a psychological defect?”

You squawked indignantly and tried to hit him on the arm. He dodged it, laughing.

“You’re one to talk! You hired me after I grabbed you by the tie in a job interview. That’s got to be a fetish and a psychological defect!” You shoved him on the shoulder, and he immediately shoved you back, and before you knew it, you were having a children’s battle on the street.

A random woman from across the street gave you a dirty look, you stuck your tongue out at her. Kakashi giggled, like, actually giggled, and that sent you into hysterics.

Maybe you’d had more to drink than you thought.

“You know,” you said, throwing your arm over his shoulder, “next time I take you out, we’re going to McDonald’s. It’s cheaper, and I think it’ll be funny to watch you sit there in your suit. Wait, have you ever been to a McDonald’s before?”

“I’m wealthy, I’m not an alien.” He rolled his eyes at you. He seemed to do that a lot. You couldn’t imagine him sitting in a McDonald’s. “I go every other week because my dogs like the carrot sticks from there.”

“You feed your dogs carrot sticks from McDonald’s?”

“Yep.”

“Have you ever considered, I don’t know, buying a pack of carrots?”

“No, because they like the ones from McDonald’s.”

You shook your head in disbelief. Rich people were crazy. “How many dogs do you have anyway?”

“Eight.”

“EIGHT?!”

…

Car parks at night, familiar or not, were unnerving in the way that liminal spaces always were. At least you were almost at the office doors, where Kakashi’s chauffeur was going to pick you both up. You were glad to finally get there, because as fun as the walk had been, the Autumn night was surprisingly chilly, and it was taking genuine effort to remember all of Kakashi’s dogs’ names. You were honestly surprised that the porn logic didn’t add any strange occurrences on the walk.

Naturally, the second that thought formed in your head, something happened.

As you passed round the side of a tall fence, your shirt got caught on a stray piece of metal. What would have been a minor inconvenience, barely a rip, in your old reality, was a complete pornographic disaster in this one, as every button on your shirt somehow ripped off, leaving your shirt hanging open.

The cold air hit your skin and goosebumps erupted all over your chest. Yelping, you dragged the pieces of shirt back together and held them firmly closed. Obviously, you weren’t fast enough to stop Kakashi from getting a look. The way he was pointedly looking away from you, rosy cheeked, said it all.

“Stupid fence,” you grumbled, giving it a dirty look. This wasn’t exactly the first time, or even the coldest time, that porn logic had decided to spontaneously strip someone, but it always managed to catch you off guard. Did the people who lived in erotica worlds always carry spare changes of clothes just in case?

“Are you hurt?” Kakashi asked. He sounded a little awkward, but ultimately sincere. It was nice that he’d decided to go for genuine concern over sarcasm, and you decided to do the same.

“I’m fine, it just caught me by surprise. At least it’s dark so no one caught an eye full.”

Kakashi coughed. Okay, no one apart from him.

“I’ll send a message to maintenance in the morning, but for now, I have a spare shirt in my office that you’re welcome to borrow for the evening.”

Huh, what do you know, people did keep spare clothes around. You were about to decline, citing the late hour and the fact that you were wearing a coat that you could do up, when you realised what was happening. You’d bet anything that something sexy would happen if you followed him up to his office.

“That would be great, thanks.” You weren’t going to let this slide from your grip when he was so pretty. And honestly, he was starting to seem like less of an asshole in general. He was fun, traumatised, and had eight dogs, if that wasn’t your type, you didn’t know what was.

…

Flickering the lights on in his office, Kakashi went into one of the cupboards to look for the shirt while you snooped at the ornaments he had on his shelves. Notably, there were no pictures. You picked up a weird ceramic circle statue and turned it over to see if it did anything cool.

You had passed a security guard on the way up to Kakashi’s office, that looked very intrigued as to why you two were together so late, and why your shirt was ripped open, so you resigned yourself to the rumour mill only getting worse by tomorrow.

“Are you nosy by nature or just interested in my office in particular?”

“Shut up.” You put back the ornament and turned to face him. He was holding the spare shirt in his hand. “You want to fuck me so bad, don’t deny it.”

You expected another eye roll.

“Oh, you have no idea,” he growled, watching you intensely. Oh, that wasn’t an eye roll.

One moment you were staring at him, unsure of what to say, and the next, you were crashing together, lips, tongue, and teeth, in a horny and aggressive kiss. You didn’t know which one of you moved first, you didn’t really care, you only knew that Kakashi was hot and infuriating, and you wanted to kiss him until he couldn’t make that smug face anymore.

Kissing Kakashi was giving you whiplash. He was different to Itachi in every way you could think of. He was confident, aggressive, he fought with you, clashed with you, and he seemed to determined to kiss you twice as hard as you kissed him.

It was obvious that Kakashi’s submission wouldn’t be freely given like Itachi’s, no, you would have to earn it. The challenge scratched at your instincts, and suddenly you wanted to prove to this omega that he could trust you. A good orgasm should lay the groundwork for that.

Both coats were quickly discarded as you kissed, and your ruined shirt fell off moments later.

You had been consciously avoiding his hair in fear of the amount of wax you figured he used to keep that hair style, but one weak moment, as Kakashi’s hips jolted forwards towards yours, you forgot, and ran you fingers through it.

To your surprise, your fingers glided through the soft strands easily. You were so shocked that you broke the kiss. You furrowed your eyebrows as you examined his hair.

“What are you doing?” he panted, confused.

“How the fuck does your hair stay up like that without any hairspray or wax?”

“What?” He sounded baffled. “This is just what my hair looks like. Does it matter?”

“I guess not.”

The kiss resumed, somehow more desperate and aggressive than before. Kakashi grabbed your waist so hard that you could feel the pin pricks from his nails digging into your skin. In return, you made use of your new found knowledge and grabbed a handful of Kakashi’s hair.

You pushed him backwards, never once breaking the rhythm of your kiss, until his upper thighs made contact with the front of his desk. His pot of pens fell as the desk jolted, scattering the expensive pens all over the ground. Neither of you paid it any mind.

When you finally pulled away for air, Kakashi wasted no time, immediately latching onto your neck with reckless abandon. There was something feral about him that was making you hot. He didn’t hold back. You could tell that he was experienced, and he was using every drop of that experience to his advantage.

While he was distracted, you worked on undoing his buttons. It was harder than it looked to remain focused while Kakashi was doing his best impression of a vampire on your neck.

“You have way too many fucking buttons on this shirt.”

“It’s a normal number of buttons,” he murmured against your skin.

“There is literally nothing normal about you.”

“And you say I’m the rude one.”

“That’s because you fucking are.”

Eventually, you managed to undo the last button. Your noise of triumph morphed into a moan as Kakashi nipped around your collar bone. You used his hair to tug him back before loosening his tie and pushing the shirt off his shoulders.

The way his torso looked, bare but with a loose tie hanging over it, unlocked a kink you didn’t know you had. In fact, everything about him was hot. As you dragged the shirt down his arms, you could feel his muscles flexing. Kakashi was strong and broad, and he wore it so well.

You didn’t bother pulling the shirt off all the way, instead letting it bunch at his wrists, acting as a semi-restraint. He tugged at it experimentally, and when he found it restricting his movement, his pupils dilated.

You cooed as you ran your hands all over his naked torse. That’s right, he was a forceful person, certainly, but any shows of dominance were likely performative or learnt behaviours, because this man was a giant sub at heart.

You grabbed his bottom lip between your teeth and pulled it lightly. Kakashi growled at you, but you knew what he was doing; he wasn’t telling you to stop, he was challenging you. You growled back, stronger, louder, and just as you thought, his growling stopped, and his scent took on a delicious hint of submission.

“God, you really are annoyingly hot,” you growled, biting along his jaw. “Emphasis on annoying.”

“Takes one to know one,” he fired back, squeezing your waits.

“Mutual handjob?” you whispered against his skin, already undoing his trousers, before doing the same with yours.

“That the first intelligent thing you’ve said all night.”

“Fuck you.”

You grabbed Kakashi’s muscular thighs and lifted him slightly until he was perched on his desk. A stack of papers tipped over and fluttered to the ground, but that wasn’t a problem for present you, so you happily ignored the chaos in favour of the panting omega in front of you.

You took your dick out from your pants and did the same for Kakashi. They bumped up against each other, searingly hot and unflinchingly hard. You let out a whistle of appreciation at his cock. It was big, bigger than most alphas you’d met, and certainly bigger than any omega’s cock you’d ever seen. In fact, just eyeballing it, he was roughly the same size as you. His shaft was as pale as the rest of him, but the head was an angry red. It was girthy too, and it felt hot and solid in your palm.

Purposefully, you thrust your hips forward, guiding your cock against his with both of your hands. Kakashi moaned, thrusting up to meet you. He could only watch, his hands restrained as they were.

You kept your hands around the dicks, keeping them aligned as you both started to rut against each other. Beads of pre cum quickly made their appearance, which only made everything else feel that much better.

There was something deeply satisfying about what you were doing, especially because you were both still half-dressed. It made it feel desperate, like you couldn’t wait long enough to get your clothes off, too desperately attracted to each other, and had instead chosen to rub off on each other like horny teenagers.

You made out messily while you grinded against each other. Maintaining a consistent pace was a little difficult, especially as things got wetter and wetter, but you managed. There was something sexy about the chaos. The increased sensitivity from being in the erotica world didn’t hurt either.

Your moans and groans increased in frequency as you got closer. If felt like every nerve ending you had was on fire, and Kakashi looked much like you felt, covered in a thin sheen of sweat that was obvious under the hard corporate lighting.

Technically, with it being so bright inside and so dark outside, anyone who happened to glance up would have got a glimpse of you, but you were both too far gone to care.

“You love having someone take control of you, don’t you Kakashi,” you moaned, pressing your lips against his. “You’re tired of always being in control, aren’t you? The big CEO, everyone’s relying on you, but who do you get to rely on? Who looks after you? You want someone to do that, don’t you? You’re a walking, talking CEO stereotype.”

“Who says I’m going to give control to you?” he panted, licking his lips. “Aren’t you getting ahead of yourself?”

“Hmm, nope, I think I’m right on track,” you teased. Already picking up on his proclivity for biting, you gave a bite in return, just shy of where a mating mark might theoretically go. Kakashi gasped, his hands straining at the shirt that restrained them. “I’ll get you to submit to me properly, one day.”

“We’ll see.”

The alcohol and the increased sensitivity were mixing together to make this tryst shorter than expected, but Kakashi seemed to be in the same boat, so you couldn’t bring yourself to care. The banter ceased as the final stretch towards your orgasms started.

As your ending approached, you bent down and sealed your lips with Kakashi’s once more. Suddenly, everything crested, and pleasure flowed over you in waves. Your thrusts got sloppy, but neither of you cared. Kakashi came with a guttural moan. His stomach muscles flexing in a hypnotic dance.

The extra cum afforded by the porn logic soaked both your dicks and your hands, staining both pairs of trousers too. It dripped onto the carpet, and if the security guard didn’t spread a rumour about you and Kakashi hooking up, one of the cleaners probably would.

Some of Kakashi’s cum had even landed on the spare shirt, so you now had a choice between a torn shirt, or one covered in cum to match your stained trousers. Great. Why did horny you always make such bad decisions?

You and Kakashi remained leaning against each other for a while, just catching your breaths and marvelling at how fast your relationship had move. You wouldn’t have believed it if someone had told you during your interview that you’d end up grinding on that asshole’s desk a few days later.

‘I would have believed it.’

‘Thanks, James.’

Kakashi opened his mouth to speak, but the door to his office suddenly opened, cutting him off. You both stiffened, snapping up to face the intruder like a pair of deer in headlights.

There, standing in the doorway with the expression of a man who was entirely done with life, was Kakashi’s chauffeur. Instead of an apology of any kind, the man just sighed.

“The car is downstairs when you are ready. Please try and clean up before getting in, the leather won’t forget these kinds of smells easily.” With that, he left, shutting the door firmly behind him.

You and Kakashi looked at each other, then to the door, and then to each other, before you both burst out laughing.

What a way to end the night.

Next Chapter

#the quest for a second life #kakashi #kakashi hatake #kakashi x reader #alpha!reader #alpha reader #omega!kakashi #omega kakashi #a/b/o #omegaverse #alpha x omega #gn reader #sub kakashi #sub!kakashi #dom!reader #dom reader #n-sfw #reader insert

393 notes · View notes

belokhvostikova · 8 months ago

Text

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐨𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐞 (𝐒𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐚'𝐬 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧)

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 | There comes a period where most relationships fall stale, yet Eddie never thought it'd happen to him and you, in fact, maybe even worse. With an intimate date planned in the comfort of your home, Eddie hopes to coax whatever thoughts are troubling your mind.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Swearing, crying, yelling, brief mention of drugs, mentions of financial insecurities, pregnancy, and discussions about abortions; open ended decision about the pregnancy, don't be alarmed, baby wanters/deniers :)

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | This is, of course, my participation to @carolmunson's The Boy is Mine writing exercise! Rules can be found here, and you can check out everyone else's interpretation of my boyfriend here! I wasn't aware of any deadlines, so I sincerely apologize if this is coming too late, I just really wanted to be included, lol! <3

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 5.9K

Like clockwork, the small pebbles of the man-made driveway had clung to the soles of your shoes.

There had been nothing innately special about the four concrete steps it took to reach home, but today—much like the last few—had you yearning for the time in which the four concrete steps it took to reach home actually filled you with contentment.

Happiness.

Though now, nothing but dread resides within you, as your steps stomp out the once embedded pebbles to clack against the concrete stairs. Because now, a simple look to his face would tighten your chest with the burdens of guilt, as your newfound routine of rejecting his loving advances had suddenly taken over the once usual intimate greeting of a kiss hello. But as complicated as the situation had been, the explanation was actually the most simple: you’d just ruined Eddie Munson’s life.

But that’s quite the funny thing about communication. It breeds an eternal misery far worse than hope ever could, when chosen to be ignored for the sake of a peaceful calm. Because that’s all you were grasping for. Clammy fingers aching to hold onto the last snapping threads of tranquility if it meant keeping the peaceful life you both worked so hard to achieve. But the battle of the tumultuous anxiety you were fighting off to hold onto those threads was ultimately transpiring for the worst.

Because in return, Eddie Munson was beginning to fear the worst: he’d finally become nothing to you.

Which is why, in a desperate attempt to rekindle the spark he still very much felt on his end, you would walk into the cozy trailer to find your eyes lit with the warmth of technicolor shadows, all casted from the benignity of yellow lamps illuminating soft duvets and sheets of creamy pastels and fuzzy neutrals. A childhood’s finest: a blanket fort. Strung along the comfy fortification had been dozens of twinkling Christmas lights that cascaded warm glowing hues against the cramped four walls of your home.

A wonderland of innocence.

With the loose hinges of the door announcing your arrival, Eddie has scampered out of the delicate fort of blankets, and peaked through his frizzy bangs, until his round eyes landed against yours. With a stool there, that one chair there, a tight tuck into the couch cushion, and a broomstick that played into the laws of physics to surprisingly stand on its own, the mastery of the ultimate blanket fort consumed your living room. All curated from the hands of Eddie Munson. Just for you.

“H-Hey,” his stiff bones popped with the movement of his body, as he stood before you. “I, uh, can I just-”

Eddie’s hands worked to pry off the purse that slung itself over your shoulder, with your jacket to follow, before he crouched to the height of your feet to free you of the confinements of uncomfortable shoes.

“What’s all this?” Tired from a slaving eight hour shift, your voice had only but a couple of octaves to work with.

You watched his throat bob with a nervousness he never had with you before. Until you scared him. “I wanted to do something for you.” See, I still love you. “Y’know, f-for us. Just for us.” Don’t you? Your heart sank at the underlying worry that was tainting his sweet face. Because of you. Because you were ruining him right before your eyes. “H-Henderson came over and helped me out a bit, stopped by the Byers, too. Stole these off of ‘em,” his hands wavered to the strings of Christmas lights that glowed the dark walls into a fairytale setting, “can you believe they got, like, a shit load of ‘em?” He huffed out a laugh, in hopes of being some source of amusement for you, like he once was.

But with your guilt silently afflicting you, you found little reason to smile, which misinterpreted itself to the cementation that you were, in fact, sick of Eddie Munson. Long gone was the look of love that once beautifully invaded your eyes when you stared at him.

“You didn’t-” Your voice got caught in your throat, not wanting to ask the question that would proffer the conversation you most dreaded. But it was Eddie. Your Eddie. With a soul like his, he deserved the honesty of your burdens. “Why did you do this?” You quietly asked.

Humorlessly, the softest chuckle of disbelief scoffed from his nose, as his brows raised at you. Yeah, you, too, knew it was a stupid question. “I- you- something’s wrong.” His eyes pleaded for you to understand.

Your eyes shamefully peered down at his bare feet, as your head shuffled in the smallest nod you could give. “I- um, yeah. C-Can you invite me in?” You gestured to the blanket flap that acted as a doorway to the fort.

“Of course.”

Despite being a moment of financial insecurity, where Eddie couldn’t lavish you with dinner at Enzo’s to hash out the sudden shift in your relationship, perhaps the sentimental idea of a blanket fort was found to be quite perfect under the guise of appeasing the apprehensive worry from both parties. Because as two adults crawled on their hands and knees to enter the constructed tent of blankets and sheets, Eddie swore he heard the soft jubilance of giggles gently escape from your mouth; a sound he tortuously hadn’t heard in days.

Your face glowed under the vibrant hues of string lights, as your hands and knees sunk into the soft cushion of blankets that displayed themselves against the carpeted floor of the living room, where the second-hand thrifted couch pillows propped themselves for your comfort to lean against. Unplugged from its usual habitat of the living room television stand—thoroughly just a small end table, secured from a flea market—Eddie had placed the small box TV within your newfound fort; a tranquil excuse of a buffer, in case the necessary conversation turned sour, and something was needed as a break to mitigate the tense discussion.

Eddie would always allow you your Golden Girls. It always was quite the destresser for you. So, he’d risk the higher-than-usual light bill and the potential fire hazard it was to run an extension cord to, not only plug in the TV, but provide you the serenity of colorful lights, if it eased you to just finally talk to him.

“It worked.” You turned your head to his lilted voice, as you awkwardly stationed yourself criss-crossed on the floor. “You’re smiling.”

It felt quite awful how relieved he’d become with the barely-there smile you’d succumb to. You wished he hadn’t found such joy in something so small, because it only led you to believe you’d given him so little lately, that he was only forced to lavish in the bare minimum.

If only your mind hadn’t manipulated his happiness to be rooted in such cynicism. Because, yes, Eddie Munson did find such joy in the simpleness of your small smile. But Eddie had profoundly loved you enough to find appreciation in the most miniscule details of your beauty.

Because what you hadn’t seen was that your barely-there smile had bloomed the suppleness of your cheeks to glow with the joy your mind so badly suppressed from you, as your eyes twinkled with the liveliness of your soul.

To you, it really may have just been a barely-there smile.

But your barely-there smile had been utter perfection in the eyes of Eddie Munson.

“T-This is really nice, Eddie.” You sincerely spoke, as he found himself a cramped spot in front of you, lanky legs struggling to mimic yours. “Thank you.”

“You don’t gotta thank me.” He softly smiled back. “It’s been a while since I’ve done something nice for you.” Eddie Munson always did nice things for you. You don’t know where his admission came from. Yes, bills took over fancy outings, but wildflowers were picked in a bouquet of appreciation for you, home cooked dinners were attentively attempted to be served for you (he was slowly getting better by the days), and sentimental songs were delicately strung on his guitar to the lyrics dedicated for you. Yeah, Eddie Munson always did nice things for you. “I’m really sorry about that.” But his cynicism couldn’t help but match yours, where his mind believed that his love had to be showcased where it hurt his wallet the most.

“Don’t say that. Don’t be sorry, please.” Your hands interlaced with his, as guilt ate at you. “Please, don’t- I- you’ve done nothing wrong.” Your mouth spewed in damage control. “Really, Eddie-”

“No?” His brows cinched in desperation for answers.

“N-No,” You stuttered under his scrutiny, as your hands brushed away from his to shield your eyes from the frustration that fermented in you. “It really isn’t- you didn’t do anyth-”

“Then what the hell is going on?” He pleaded. Eddie didn’t want to yell, never to face like yours, but the agony of being left in the dark was driving him to the precipice of exasperated resentment that he adamantly never wanted to feel towards you. Your mind raced about how you’d explain the turmoil you were in. His urgency had been lackluster in terms of support to your heaving chest, but you couldn’t blame him. He, too, was beginning to feel the crashing end of your relationship. He was frightened. “B-Because you’re never like this- never mean! And you-you’re not talking to me, n-not touching me, not even wanting me near you! I-I’m sorry, but I just can’t believe you when you say it’s not me, because it clearly is!”

You could see the stinging tears torment his sweet eyes. It choked your throat, nearly having you projectile your breakfast in disgust with yourself. “N-No, it’s not-”

Rude, perhaps, but Eddie's endeavor to cut you off had been quite useful in derailing your rambles that typically ran in circles for the sake of avoidance. He knew you. “Then just tell me! O-Or, give me, I don’t know, some idea of what’s going on, b-because this isn’t okay-”

“I know-”

A single tear seared his cheek. “So, if you don’t want to be with me, just say that! I’ll change!” You broke. Sobs wailed from your mouth, as your head sunk into the comfort of your hands. Eddie’s jaw had fallen slack in panic, as he never once saw you cry—let alone was the reason—with such anguish that it stabbed him with such profoundness. His hands worked without hesitation to bring your shuddering body close to his. “No, no! I-I’m so sorry, sweetheart, I’m so sorry.” Secured in his lap, Eddie’s neck became dampened with the hot stream of tears that were coaxing out of your. “Sh, sh. Don’t cry, please, don’t, I’m so, so sor-”

“I’m pregnant.”

Where he once caressed your back in soothing rubs, he now stopped at the sudden revelation, as your eyes screwed shut with fear. He felt you tense, in fact, you both did. Stood still, you held your breath, feeling the bob of his throat, as you anticipated the next words that would come out of his mouth.

You severely underestimated the duration of fifteen seconds.

Because every second of silence felt like torture to your heart, and Eddie was agonizing you with his quietness. Your heartbeat was bleeding into your ears, body flamming hot with intense feelings, as you tried to find comfort in his hard body, but his arms weren’t holding you in the manner you needed most.

You pulled back. “God, Eddie, just say something!” Your wails had managed to snap something within him.

His eyes blinked straight, mouth moving to speak the words he had difficulty finding. Eddie’s hands instinctively found your back once more, loving on you properly, as your body was finally able to melt into his. He cradled your head, attempting the slight movements of rocking back-and-forth to soothe your sobs. “I-I’m sorry, I’m so sorry for everything that’s happening!”

“No, no, no, no. I-It’s gonna be okay, alright? It’s not your fault- holy shit…” Eddie whispered into your hair.

“A-And I-I don't know how it h-happened,” your anguished face pulled from his chest, as you sniffed the snot that congested your nose, while Eddie made quick work to smear off your hot tears. “I-I didn’t know how t-to tell you, I got so scared, I am scared!”

“I know, sweetheart, I know.”

You coughed out the weeps that burrowed in your throat. “I didn’t want this to happen!” You choked. “I- we were safe, I-I don’t know what happened! I’m so sorry, I didn’t- I don’t want to stress you out-”

“No, baby, no.” His face fell in torment of seeing you in such despair.

“I just- I didn’t know how to tell you, Eddie.” You cried. “I know you don’t want t-this, and I panicked, because I don’t want you m-mad or-”

“Hey, hey, hey, I’m not mad at you.” His hand firmly cupped your burning cheeks, as his head confirmed his words with a fervent shake against your thoughts. “I- how could I be? I did this, too. I’m right here with you.”

“We-we just have a lot going on, I don't know what we’re going to do! A-And I just don’t even want to think about it!” Your body wracked with your spilling tears.

“We- no, baby, we have options, y’know? If we’re not ready, we don’t have to do this. There’s, um, there’s adoption, right? Someone- we could help someone.” You shook your head adversely to his advice, as your words were true: you didn’t want to think about it. “O-Or, they- we can, y’know, get rid of it.” For lack of a better term. Your eyes sealed shut, head gnawing with pain. “You can totally do that, it’s okay, we don’t have to tell anybody if you don’t want to, just between us, and-”

Despite his best efforts, his words were doing little to soothe you over, as—though it was the necessary discussion—you weren’t looking for next-step solutions to your problem. “Eddie.” You quietly pleaded.

“No, I’m serious. Don’t feel bad if you don’t want it. Or, maybe you do, a-and that’s okay, too. I’ll help, I’ll do everything. We can… c’mon, sweetheart, you know I wouldn’t leave you alone with this baby if you really wanted it-”

“Stop, Eddie! Please, stop!” You cried. “I don’t want to hear that, don’t want to think about it!” Your vision blurred away his pretty face. “I-I can’t right now! It’s all I-I’ve been thinking about for the past days, I’m t-tired, and just wanna-”

“Okay, so just cry.” His arms had tightened around you before you could process his movements. “Just let it all out.” Eddie had laid you down against the cushioned floor, letting your head fall back against the crocheted throw pillow threaded by his late grandmother, with its couple of loose strands of yarn soaking up your tears.

Eddie Munson, as always, had laid with you, yet he never felt how utterly desperate you were in needing him than he did right now. You endured the humid heat of your cries in the crook of his neck, if it meant embedding yourself into his body.

Just to feel him.

With how much you deprived yourself from his touch, it felt dire to suffocate in the familiarity of his smell to drown in contentment.

You grappled onto any piece of skin he had to offer through his faded t-shirt, as you frightfully clung to him. Your tears bled through the fabric of his clothes, as he gave you nothing but the safe embrace of his being that managed to make you break down in his arms.

It was everything you needed.

It was 7:03 P.M. Your sobs had knocked you into a deep sleep, where your mind was finally at ease from the troubles that tormented you.

And Eddie Munson hadn’t taken his eyes off of you for exactly seventy-two minutes.

You looked so peaceful, despite the rawness that rimmed your eye sockets. For once, the fresh air was able to seep into your nose, and fan out through the small opening of your mouth. Your face had cemented itself into Eddie’s chest, and from every chance he took to make slight movements for his comfort, it seemed your subconscious wasn’t ever planning on letting you leave his touch. So, despite the unfortunate circumstance, his mind was able to come to the realization that you did, in fact, still love him.

Because you desperately were in love with Eddie Munson. Things had just gotten scary.

It was getting late. Dinner should have been happening now, and given how long Eddie took to dice an onion, he knew dinner would take nearly an hour and a half to make—it was blanket fort date night, for crying out loud, he couldn’t do the usual spaghetti. It had to be gourmet. Like, lasagna.

Yeah, spaghetti’s older cousin, that’s totally gourmet! But now, wait a minute, how does one exactly make la-

You suddenly shifted, and Eddie quieted his thoughts, despite them never even being spoken aloud. If he knew anything about you, it was your ardent stance on never eating dinner without television. And with episode twenty-three of season four of your four favorite ladies airing at 9:00 P.M, it seemed your subconscious knew, too, to wake you up for the occasion.

You freak.

Through the soft murmurs of your waking, Eddie could hear the rumble of your tummy. You had been in a rush this morning, but even then, you promised him to never again consider a vending machine’s pack of peanut M&Ms lunch. Clearly, you did today. Liar.

Because of his quick movements to get up, his aimed forehead kiss misdirected to your eyeball, forcing it to flutter open much earlier than you wanted. You groaned at his departure, watching him quickly crawl away through your bleary vision.

Despite your head feeling like thirty pounds of cement, and the suffocating heat the blanket fort was harboring, the commotion that occurred just outside within the kitchen interested you enough to slowly sit up against your sore back’s protest.

After a minute of his bare feet pattering against the linoleum, Eddie’s head emerged into the blanket fort. “Here, grab this.” His arm extended out the overly large latched-lid mason jar—once occupied by honey, before it inevitably ran out a year ago—filled to the brim with iced water, and garnished with the two recycled straws from a once Benny’s Burgers milkshake. Your little face scrunched with tired confusion. “I ran out of, like, nice cups. This okay?”

Ran out? Eddie just didn’t want to do the dishes. You huffed out a chuckle, “Yeah.” Your hands grappled to hold onto the cold jar, its condensation drenching your fingers.

“And I- ugh.” He grunted, as his large body entered the tiny space. “Got some, uh, other things.” His prized notebook flew in with intentions of being used later. Perhaps for the excuse of giving him something to do, while you watched The Golden Girls. He wasn’t fooling anyone, though, he always eventually succumbed to the TV show, despite how cool he wanted to look.

“Why do you have that?” You tiredly giggled, as he settled in with a tub of vanilla frosting—Wayne’s fifty-second occurred three weeks ago, of course, you both had to make a cake… even if the older man grimaced with a faux mm to, at least, satisfy your efforts—and two spoons. The small ones, Eddie was quite aware of your love for tiny utensils.

“Well, I, uh, I know it’s no better than those M&Ms you ate for lunch.” Caught. Your lips flattened into a straight line. “Yeah, caught your ass,” he laughed, “but I’ll give you a pass, since I put a baby in you.” And he laughed even harder at your unamused face. “Actually, no, I take that back, I need you to actually feed my kid, because what baby ever looked cute while looking like they’re on a keto diet?”

You didn’t want to laugh, damn it. “Eddie!” You whined. But his humor was surely putting a suppressed smile on your face, which totally would have shown if it wasn’t for your stubbornness.

“Alright, alright, but I do know pregnant ladies like random shit, hell, I like random shit, so until dinner’s ready… bon appétit!” The French heritage he didn’t have came out with a horrible accent. “It’ll make you happy, right?”

Sugar in a tube, how could it not?

“I don’t know… kinda makes me teeth hurt-”

“Oh, my god, woman, you’re killing me!” His dramatic flair sent him falling back.

There was your sweet laughter. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” You giggled with liveliness. “Thank you, thank you for the food… ish.”

You pried open the container lid, as Eddie handed you a spoon to down mouthfuls of whipped sweetness. There was a quietness to the moment that you didn’t want to disturb.

The creaminess of frosting, as it scooped; the clink of silver from the spoon clashing with your teeth; the melodic swirl of ice cubes floating in the water; the soft squeak of your lips sucking through the straw to retrieve the refreshment.

It was all too perfect.

Eddie’s hand had brandished your ankle, twiddling with your sock, as his eyes never left your figure. You could feel his eyes burning into you, waiting for the moment you’d speak about the situation. But it wasn’t coming like he hoped. You quite hated how those who never knew him could brand him with that trait of immaturity, when really it was you picking at a container of frosting to avoid communication.

“So-”

“Do we have any Doritos left?” You interjected.

Eddie blinked. “Uh… no, don’t think so. Think I took the last bag to practice.”

You dramatically frowned at him, as he softly chuckled at your exaggerated disdain. “Want some with the frosting.” You muttered, clearly unbothered by his grimace, as you scooped another spoonful into your mouth.

“Christ, you really are pregnant.” Eddie Munson had you heartily laughing.

“No, I used to do that way before I was pregnant, when I was a kid.” You defended.

Eddie playful scoffed. “And I’m the one who got bullied when I was a kid.” His hand splayed over his chest.

“The sweetness goes really well with the savoriness!” You proclaimed. “Plus, you know Doritos have, like, a little tang, especially if they’re seasoned well, so it balances it out perfectly!” Quite the defense you had there.

“And you like that?” What a big bully. You giggled at his face of disbelief.

“I don’t want to hear any of this, it’s your child inside me, God knows they’ll probably make me eat even weirder things!”

Humor. Eddie Munson clocked it. You were only going to get through this with humor. “No, no, I’m making this kid normal, it’s your Doritos-dipped-in-frosting genes that are gonna wonk ‘em up!”

“No, I’m not!” Laughter flooded your mouth that dropped in disbelief, and suddenly you were flinging your spoon to traject whatever bit of frosting that was left to hit him. “You’re just as weird as me, if not, even more!” Eddie’s stomach was cramping at your utter offense, as he scraped off the white cream from his face, only to eat it.

“Okay, well, listen if that’s the case, then can I show you something weird?” He proffered a shy smile. “But I’m already telling you now it’s weird, so you can’t be weird about being weirded out just because you find what I’m about to show you to be too weird. Alright? No weird comments.”

You snickered. “That was a lot of ‘weirds.’” Eddie raised a pointed brow at you. “Okay, I promise I won’t be weird, show me.”

With your promise, Eddie had reached to grab his small notebook, and maneuvered his way to sit himself right beside you; knees knocking and all with how close he wanted to be.

The pages had bulked up between the binding with just how much his pens and pencils engraved into the paper. You watched him flip through sketches and lyrics, a plethora of campaign ideas, even an old math equation here and there from when he attended school, and decided to actually pay attention, only to realize calculus could be fun if he just understood it.

When it came to a particular page, dated on the fifteenth of seven months ago, Eddie had come to a halt, and your eyes inevitably landed on the detailed sketch of a sleeping figure that looked oddly like you (not oddly, two years in his presence was like being the muse for Johannes Vermeer).

“Um, I, uh- I mean, of course, my number one choice for a name is Ozzy.” He awkwardly laughed, as his finger fidgeted with the page, where your eyes were finally able to analyze the random scribble of names that blended aside the doodles of dark wizards.

“Ozzy? You thought of names?” You incredulously peered up at him.

Eddie laughed. “Before, b-before this whole thing happened, if that even makes it any less, uh, weird.” It was quite evident his sudden shyness was forcing him to stumble over his words. “Y-Y’know, just like one of those mindless things you think about when you’re, um, like, bored. And, w-well, really this is actually your fault, because you fell asleep on me,” his finger reverted back to the sketch of yourself, “so, really it was like you were forcing me to come up with these names, since I had nothing to do.”

“And, of course, you landed on Ozzy.” You giggled, as your head dropped to his shoulder.

“Well, duh, what Ozzy isn’t cool? Like Ozzy Osbourne, and… y’know… that other famous Ozzy from… history- but don’t worry about that! Just think about how perfect it’ll be when this kid becomes a rockstar like his old man,” Eddie proudly pointed to himself, “and they already got a metal name like Ozzy!”

Eddie Munson never failed to make you laugh. “Okay, but, like, what if this kid doesn’t want to be a rockstar? And y’know, now we’re the ones responsible for putting an Ozzy into the, I don’t know, medical field. Would you really trust a Dr. Ozzy to do your colonoscopy?”

He pondered for a second. “Boom!” His fingers snapped. “Okay, we’ll do Oswald! If I can make Edward work, this kid can make Oswald work!” He protested.

“Oh, great, just like Oswald Mosley.” Your eyes playfully rolled.

“Yeah, see! A cool Ozzy!”

You laughed. “Eddie, I’m, like, a hundred percent certain that dude was some British fascist.”

“Shit, okay, well, scratch Oswald; Oswald sucks. We’re going back to Ozzy; Ozzy’s cool.” Christ, he was too perfect to handle.

Your cheek squished against his shoulder, as you looked up to smile at him. “And if she’s a little girl?”

Eddie beamed, coming down to plant his lips to yours. “I got that basis covered, too, babe.” You looked to where his finger was repeatedly tapping, and squinted your eyes to ready his barely eligible chicken scratch.

“Ar… Arwen Munson.” You eyed him suspiciously. “What Arwen have you met that’s got you wanting to name our future child that?”

He chuckled. “From Lord of the Rings.” And he chuckled even more witnessing your dramatic eye roll, because how predictable! “But not just Munson, I got your last name down with it, too, if you’re more into that. Totally with that feminist shit, if you want me and the gremlins taking your last name.”

“Oh, yeah?” You preened.

“Mhm!” He smiled. “Could definitely hyphenate, but imagine the curveball the county clerk would get when they realize I’m changing my last name to yours. Think your folks would be okay with me becoming one of them?”

Despite the fervent shake of your head, your smile never disappeared. “They’ll probably hate you for getting me pregnant before marriage.”

Eddie snorted. “Ha! Our kid’s a bastard. Even I wasn’t. Jesus H. Christ, we’re really screwing him up.”

“Him?”

“Ah, shit, just kinda came out as the default, maybe I’m not with that feminist shit as much as I thought.”

Eddie Munson was always one to make your cheeks hurt with how much he made you smile. “You’re so stupid.” You giggled, as he winked at you.

You fell back against the pillows, as Eddie followed suit. Looking up was quite pretty. No matter how cramped or hot it was becoming in the blanket fort, the bleeding of twinkling colors made it all bearable.

Like a little world just for him and you.

You breathed heavily for a second, your hand linking with his. “Do you really want babies?”

You heard his prolonged sigh. “I don’t know.” His eyes absentmindedly counted the individual bulbs of Christmas lights. “Don’t really like that white-picket-fence bullshit-”

“Prefer the trailer park chain fence?”

“Shut up.” He quietly laughed. “But, uh, I don’t know, I kinda like the idea of some little thing looking like you.” His hand squeezed yours.

Heat flooded your cheeks, as your heart pattered with anticipation. “Even if it cries and poops all the time?”

“Hell, you and I already do that all the time now, think we can manage a third.” Then he paused. “But… I also kinda like just having you to myself, too. Just you and me holding down the fort.” He felt quite proud of irony.

Giggles were bubbling in your chest, before you took a minute to rationally think. “Eddie.”

“Yeah?” He whispered.

“We were barely able to pay our light bill this month.”

“And we’re shit cooks.” He added.

“And our home smells like weed.”

“And you like to eat Doritos dipped in frosting.”

You both finally turned to one another, as his eyes met yours, where you laughed through the glassy tears that were flooding your eyes. “Having a baby sounds really scary-” Your voice broke like the little girl you suddenly felt like you were. Your soft cries were wiped by Eddie’s chest, as his arms protected you. “B-But getting rid of it a-also seems scary.”

His lips brushed against your cheeks in gentle shushes, as his whispers of, “I know, I know, I know,” bled into your ear.

Twenty and twenty-two with ambitions that ran higher than the sky. And yes, perhaps grueling shifts at Joe’s Auto Repair or long hours at B. Dalton Bookseller weren’t exactly the desired dream, but they were stepping stones to the fruition of your aspirations.

A little mini Munson wasn’t exactly going to fit in as easily as the housewives of Hawkins, Indiana made it out to be. Not in a trailer. Not in your life.

“I just- I just don’t want to regret my decision. I don’t want to be selfish.” Your body shuddered into his body.

His hand caressed your hair, as you felt his head shake to reject your thoughts. “Aw, no, baby, c’mon don’t be like that.” His lips soaked in your salty tears with his delicate kisses. “That’s not even true. Nothing you decide to do will be selfish.”

“No, but it is! W-What if I do what them, b-but money becomes an issue, it a-already is! They won’t have g-good clothes, a nice crib, not even their own room-”

“So, I’ll pick up more shifts at the shop, baby-”

You bore into his eyes. “But I want you to be happy, Eddie.”

Two years ago, when you both were still roaming the halls of Hawkins High, Eddie Munson had vowed to stick by your side through it all. High off of weed or not, the promise was real, cemented into his heart, and devoted to keep up with.

Eddie whispered against your lips. “Being with you is what makes me happy.”

“But you deserve a life outside of this trailer.” Your hand crept to his cheek. “And anything I decide seems to not make me a good person. I just want to be a good person.” You sniffled. “If I have the baby now, it’ll be for my own selfish reasons of just wanting them. If I don’t, I’ll be for my own selfish reasons of not wanting to give up my life.”

Eddie didn’t even mind you coughing in his face. “Y-You were right before, we could, y’know, help a couple out, but the pregnancy- I-I want my body, I don’t want to change, not if I don’t get to keep them. And even if I do, w-what if I take my baby home only to not feel anything for them like a mother should? Then what?”

Eddie sighed, as his thumb swept under your eye. “I don’t know why you’re making those things out to be a bad thing.” Your brows furrowed. “This is between us, and only us. Not a goddamn person in this world deserves to know what we know, and they sure as hell don’t get a say in it.” His eyes blinked down the soft tears that invaded his face. And he graced it with a smile on his face. “You wanna baby, I’ll get Claudia to give us all of Henderson’s baby shit, lord knows that poor woman still hoards it.” You giggled through your congestion. “And if you don’t wanna baby, I’ll hold your hand for as long as the doctors will let me, and hell, I’ll take you to Vegas the next day to party your heart out.”

Laughing as the tears poured down both your faces, you crept in closer to smush your nose against his to glue your lips together.

Despite the salty taste invading your tongue, you devoured his mouth with the fervency of your love.

A sorry for the lack of communication; a thank you for being the greatest person ever.

With your teeth sinking into his lips, Eddie begrudgingly had to be an adult. “Fuck, if you don’t stop, we’re gonna cotinue having the same problem of you getting pregnant.” Even in the scariest of times, your Eddie was able to dissipate the fear in your heart, only to consume it with utter awe at the man before you. Your foreheads stuck together, as his hand circled your back, before whispering close. “Do you, and only you, have any idea as to what you wanna do?” He kissed his support to your lips.

You sighed.

You found out you were pregnant one week and three days ago. In fact, the four sticks—excessive, yes—continued to remain in your purse for Eddie’s own peace to never discover. As much as you could go back-and-forth in logistics and dreams, there was always the truth of what you wanted for you and Eddie that seemed to circle back whenever you decided to give your mind a rest.

It was always there, just hidden in the tangle of overthinking burdens. Eddie Munson would never let that be a bad thing, he quite liked your mind very much.

So, you wouldn’t let it be a bad thing.

You could hear his voice already, “It just means you’re thorough. I, sure as hell, am not.”

You delicately smiled, as you peered into his eyes. “Yeah.”

And Eddie was there to smile right back at you. “And how do you want me to help?”

“I don’t want your help. I just want you there with me through it all.”

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you

274 notes · View notes

georgiapeach30513 · 2 months ago

Text

A Snowflake Melts, Part 3

Summary: it's spring time...or is it?

Pairings: Steve Rogers X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content, stalking, voyeurism, unprotected sex, PIV sex, creampie, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 4.9K

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

You take a glance out the window, eyes raking over the still powdery white lawn. Winter is lasting too long. You had chosen this place because of its long winters, but this has gone on far longer than anticipated. You catch a glimpse of Steve, tending to the animals with a much larger Sugar Cookie and Mistletoe trailing behind. He looks towards you, winking, and your cheeks flare up like the heat of coal.

You look down to the sourdough, trying to avoid his lingering gaze. Steve gives you a boyish grin that you don’t see, his face just as heated as yours, despite the never ending snow. The two of you had too many moments of getting too close, and still it isn’t close enough. You don’t know how much longer you could withstand not touching him.

Especially if the temperature continued to plummet. You fear for the livestock. They’ve been cooped up all winter, and there should be signs of spring arriving. Sighing, you take a glimpse at your phone. You know what you have to do. Your dad had a busy Christmas season, and now he’s in a hibernative state until preparation for the next Christmas season begins.

He would know what to do. He would know how to get in touch with Jack, and demand that he stops the winter. This isn’t right, and he wouldn’t be aware of it if you didn’t tell him. Gulping, you pick up the phone. Steve still had a while before he would come back into the house, you really didn’t want to explain either man to each other.

Rolling your eyes, you call up your dad, waiting until his jolly voice answers the phone. Tapping your fingers on the counter to the merry tune, you nearly lose your voice when he says your name. How long has it been since you’d fully heard his deep timbre, ��Babydoll!” You want to cry. He sounds like home.

“Hey, daddy,” the overwhelming feeling of just wanting to crawl into his lap hits you like a ton of bricks. He always knew how to make things better.

“I have so much to tell you, but it doesn’t even matter. It’s good to hear your voice. The few photos you’ve shared haven’t been enough. Did you and Jack make up?” You shake your head like a nerd, but your silence tells him everything. “With it being winter I should have known. To what do I owe the pleasure of this conversation?”

“Can I not just call you?” His laugh jingles in the air. Everything he does always seems so magical. He is your hero in so many ways. “Well, it’s still very cold.”

“Some places the winter takes longer to fully defrost, you of all people should know that,” it wasn’t just the cold. It is frigid. Steve could only stand to be outside for short bursts to tend to the livestock, and let the girls run around. They love being in the snow.

“There’s no patches. Ste — umm, the lake is still frozen. There’s no melting to see earth. And the snow is still falling,” silence befalls the conversation, and you can only hope it’s a good thing. Your father rarely involved himself in Jack’s business, but Jack to your knowledge has never been so vindictive. His superior is your father.

“Daddy, his tracking works better in the winter. I swear I smelled peppermint, and Missy hissed at me to get back inside,” your father didn’t want to believe that Jack could be mean to you. But he wouldn’t never deny Mistletoe’s unwavering intuition concerning you. She is special, and she takes her job very seriously.

He takes a deep breath in, a low growl spewing out of his mouth, “I’ll take care of it,” the line ends quickly, and you turn your phone off. Laying it on the counter, and watch Steve. You hate to call it frolicking, but you didn’t know how else to describe it. He runs around with the girls in the snow, smiling and teasing them. Missy looks to be playing a game of tag as she bounces between the two of them.

You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face, and you wish that you could be out there with them. Frolicking in the snow, and throwing snowballs at Steve. His cheeks are more red when he’s outside. The prettiest shade of pink. You’re happy that they had someone that could get them out and running.

Nearly returning back to your bread, you notice Missy pausing. Her crystalline eyes darting around the clearing before a gut wrenching scream echoes through the forest. You watch in terror as she sprints to the house, and Steve and Sugar Cookie follow swiftly. They didn’t know what her battle cry was for, but you did. You take tentative steps away from the window. He’s here.

Too scared to even start pulling down the blinds. Huffing and rustling noises sound outside, and you collapse on the floor. Scooting away from the entrances and windows. Clenching your eyes as you cover your face. Rocking back and forth when Missy hisses as she approaches you. Her thick muscular body stalking around you. Followed by Sugar, and you look up to see Steve bring in a wheelbarrow of firewood before he slams the door shut.

He makes quick work of placing the board over the door. He stomps around the house, closing every blind and curtain before he sits on the floor behind you. Steve wraps his arms around your body, and he rocks the two of you much slower than you had been. A steady rhythm before you even dare to speak, “Why did she scream?”

You don’t know if Steve happened to see anyone, or if it was just her instincts. There’s a reason she was yours, but you were also hers. And she immediately liked Steve, even brought him to you. It’s something you struggle with ignoring. It meant something good.

“I believe she smelled peppermint. You want to tell me about this ex?”

“He’s a bounty hunter. The best in the world, and he flourishes in winter,” your words clip off as you look up. The cabin is cast in so much darkness and shadow, and the wind roars outside. Your father clearly spoke to Jack. “There’s going to be a blizzard,” you answer with finality. “The cows and horse?”

“They were fed, and I made a covered cat walk to get to the barn earlier this winter. Nothing will stop me from getting to them. Not snow, not ice. But we’re not dealing with a normal man are we?” You shake your head no. It’s too difficult to explain everything. “Peppermint. Is it like your never ending scent of marshmallow?”

“You smell me?” Everything is caked in terror right now, but Steve can smell you. Mortals didn’t have the gift, but he smells you. That can’t be just luck or coincidence. That’s fate.

“Yeah,” he chuckles. He slides his body from behind you to in front of you. You two stare at each other, sitting on the floor like children. “It’s a very strong scent. Sometimes you smell like roasted marshmallows,” you look away from him, while your embarrassment radiates through your body. He could smell the change. Did he know what that change meant? Did he know that whenever the two of you fell asleep, and you woke up with his arm around you that your body burned for more than his arm.

You’ve tried to remain cool with him living with you because he’s been the biggest help. But simply put, you want him. You like him. You want to feel him all over your body. “What do I smell like?” A bit of pink stains his cheeks, and you look down at your lap, wondering if he’s been feeling the same way you do.

“It depends,” his brow cocks up as he looks at you with a mischievous grin. “Most of the time you smell like pine. Fresh, a bit of darkness, but also bright. But sometimes — sometimes your scent is like burning embers in a fire. That brightness is still there, but it’s smoky, and…deep,” you gulp, and Steve shuffles around on the floor. Making it no secret of adjusting himself. Surely you aren’t alone in these feelings.

“Why,” Steve clears his throat, his eyes cast down your body, staying on your neck and chest. Your body heaves with how deeply you’re breathing. “Why does one’s scent change?”

“Well,” your throat is parched, and you need a tall drink of water, or just him. You aren’t sure, but you’re not the only one uncomfortably swishing around. His scent is so heady and deep that it makes you dizzy. Your vision blurs everything out, but him. He’s more clear than you’ve ever seen him before. “Generally speaking, it’s during heated moments.”

“And what does that mean?” He smirks. Is this flirting? Is he toying with you because he wants you to be explicit about why his scent is changing?

“When,” you close your eyes softly, unable to look at him anymore because emotions are running like crazy in your mind. You try to focus on anything but the quickened beat of his heart. You’d heard about how scents of true mates mimicked one another in some way. Your dad smelled like cinnamon, and your mom like cookies. They complimented each other.

You forced yourself to believe that marshmallows and peppermint worked, but you were the warmth, and he was the cold. You are the very heart of Christmas, while he is the crystal on the trees. Steve’s scent is warm, and harmonizes with yours, and you’re terrified as to what that means.

“Holly?” He pries for more information. His body scoots ever so slightly closer.

“When your scent gets darker like that it’s usually because you’re aroused,” you look away from him quickly, but he captures your chin, forcing you to look up at him. “I’m sorry, this close proximity is getting to me. Fear is elevating it. And…”

“You don’t find me attractive?”

“I didn’t say that,” your voice is timid as you look at him, wishing you could shrivel up inside yourself. His eyes flick down to your mouth, and you forget to breathe. It was only a split second and it stole your thoughts. “You know you’re attractive.”

“To you?” You nod your head, and he inches even closer, “Breathe,” impossible. You cannot breathe currently. You’re struggling to stay afloat here. Your body screams for him, and your mind is saying there’s a blizzard outside due to Jack’s anger of needing to cut winter, and let the spring prevail. He is probably running through the woods looking for you. He’s close, but Steve is closer. “I’m right here.”

Steve holds your gaze, and you wish he’d just close the gap. Wish he would end your misery, and judging by the tightness in his pants, his own. What did you have to lose? You’d been here for months with Steve, growing to know him. And nothing happened. The most that had happened was snuggling. Giggling. Smiles. Fun. Warmth despite the cold. Home.

It’s hit you in this moment, while you missed your parents and ‘home’, you’d miss Steve even more. He is home. Wherever he is, you want to be.

“Kiss me,” you whisper because you dread the rejection that’s about to follow. Instead Steve adjusts himself to his knees. Leaning forward too slowly, “Steve?”

“I’m taking my time, but I do plan on kissing you,” he studies you from this angle and closeness. Looking at you like he’s never seen you before. Never seen anyone but you before. Everything freezes and stands still as you study him. Nothing before now mattered, and nothing else will ever matter but him. Home.

The two of you create a snow globe with this tiny little cabin. The snow may swirl around outside with Jack’s fury, but you’re safe with him. Right where you belong. Jack’s need to isolate you, made you want to truly be alone, and in that journey, you found Steve. A friend. And now…

He inhales briskly before he closes the gap. A tingle of a snowflake surges through you the moment you touch, and then your body lights up with a cozy fire. Immediately you pull him back with you as you lay down on the floor. His body hovers over you, and this just doesn’t seem enough. Months of being separated by clothes, and all you want is him all over you, and in you. Two people becoming one.

His tongue instantly brushes against your lips, and hungrily you open your mouth to grant him access. Home. You can’t explain it. It’s just a perfectly fuzzy feeling. Like Christmas morning with people you love. People that you need in your life, and you claw at the material daring to keep the two of you separated.

Howling winds beat at the doors and windows as each of you pull and tug desperately at the other's clothes. Swirling hands and arms wrestling to get each other naked. To feel him in the depths of your soul. Your hand runs up his bare chest, resting over his heart, and you take comfort in knowing his heart is bursting to get out, too.

“Are you sure?” Steve asks. Giving the two of you a moment to realize that you are as naked as the day you were born. You hadn’t even given yourself a chance to stare at the most perfect man in existence. Hadn’t even gawked at the steel rod he’s kept hidden. Has it been as hard for him these past few months as it has been for you? “We can wait.”

He tries to keep his eyes on yours, but he curiously glances over your body. Tracing the gentle curves of you, until he sees your weeping cunt, and a squeak exits his mouth. “I don’t want to,” he grips tightly to the base of his cock, and smooths it through your folds. Your mouth gapes open at the erotic feeling of his wet skin on yours. You’ve never wanted anything more.

“Steve, I want,” his hips jut forward, and the crown of his cock rests at your entrance. “I want you.”

“Shh,” he looks down between the two of you. Silently gawking at his head just kissing against your entrance. “They say when a woman really wants a man,” his mouth lifts into a smile, while yours turns into an O. Arching your back, while you look up at the ceiling. “That her body just sucks him in.”

If you didn’t see it happen or feel it, you would laugh and think he was crazy. But your cunt pulls him into you. Sucking him like a lifeline, and he sinks into your wet heat slowly. Making your body mold to him. Letting you feel every ridge of his cock, and follow the vein on the underside of his length. He doesn’t stop until he is balls deep, and the cabin rattles. Shutters trembling when he fully seats himself into you.

Your arm wraps around his neck because you’re obsessed with this feeling. The feeling of having him so close, and still it didn’t feel close enough. The lights fade in and out. The power suffering from the connection, but you still only see Steve. You see nothing but the man that changed everything.

Grunts, sniffs, snorts, howls, screams, and a world of horror rages outside your bubble, and you don’t hear the torment of Jack’s wrath. The storm of his power failing to break in, and rip the two of you apart. You don’t hear the lashing of his anger. Water immediately turns to ice. You only hear Steve’s heartbeat.

Steve pulls himself out of you, snapping his hips quickly back in place. The feeling of not being in you, torturing him to the point of a quick return. Grabbing onto his ass, you pull him more into your depths. Pleasure wraps you into a cocoon with every roll of his body into yours. Had it been so long or was this really that great? You’re guessing it is that great because immediately you're dumb off him.

Your vision is blurry with anything that doesn’t involve this moment. Hell is happening in the forest. The demons of winter come out as reinforcements for Jack, but inside is the brightness and warmth that winter can have. The Spirit of Christmas being reborn, and coming into its own power. Sobbing out his name when a crash of lightning rockets the most intense pleasure in your body, and Steve halts his movements to stare at you.

“What was that?” He smiles down at you.

“I wanna ride you,” you knew Steve was a strong man, but the ability he has to lift you up without leaving your warmth. He walks you over to the couch. Sitting down, and immediately you start bouncing on him. Bringing his hands to your chest, letting him knead the spheres, while you ride him. Pressing your forehead against his. Breathing in his smoky scent. Fusing the two of you together for all eternity.

Breathing so deeply you see stars, and you crash your lips into his like your life depends on it. Swallowing all his moans, and all his sweet pleasure. Because each of you owns that. You’re claiming the other’s euphoria as your own.

“Son of a bitch!” Jack curses. Looking up to the sky when another crash of lighting lights up the cabin and your silhouette. “Such a fucking whore!” He kicks a tree, knocking it down to the forest floor. Bringing other trees with it, creating so much chaos, and you don’t falter your movements. You hear nothing.

“No! Nonononono!!!”

His eyes turn to pure ice. Gathering up all the cold he can muster until a figure lands in front of him, punching him in the chest. “That’s enough of that,” he cracks his neck as he looks to the cabin. Another round of lightning illuminating the two of you.

“You get off on watching your ex? I’m sure her father wouldn’t think too kindly of this temper tantrum.”

“Why are you here?” Jack grunts, and crawls out of the snowflakes. He glares at the head of the soldiers of winter. He’d known where you were all along. Of course he did.

“Well, I am her personal bodyguard, and your time is up. You’ve extended winter, were told to cut it out, and now you’re sorely pissing me off by making this storm, and more damn snow. She doesn’t realize you’re even out here, you know why, don’t cha?” Jack glares up at the tall soldier. His eyes are nearly as icy and cold as his own.

“There’s nothing you can do now. You chased her right into the arm of her mate,” it’s the very thing Jack has been refusing to admit. To see. The reason he was trying to break into the cabin, and stop this foolishness. You belonged to him, and instead, just like the whore you were, were spreading your legs for an idiot.

“He’s a mortal!” Jack growls. He bounces up, and stands nose to nose with the soldier. “He’s nothing. He’s not good enough for her! She belongs to me, and I will destroy him!”

“Are you threatening the Spirit of Christmas’ mate?” Jack doesn’t back down, but the soldier sees in his eyes the fear. “You’re already on probation. You were supposed to return north.”

“And what about her!” He shouts, and it isn’t lighting that lights up the house, but something else entirely. A warm glow encapsulates you and Steve, and the soldier grimaces as both of you scream out in pleasure. And the glow remains, and all anyone can see is you two sharing breaths.

“It’s done. You can’t fake that, and he’s not ready. They have seasons to get through. And nowhere does it say she belongs north. You do. So get your ass back where it belongs, and deal with your consequences. She wasn’t ever for you. You dulled her light. You were with her for years, and never could produce an heir. Because she wasn’t yours!”

“You’re playing the old man’s politics again, soldier. It doesn’t look good on you,” Jack cocks up an eyebrow, but the soldier knocks him again, sending him to the icy floor. “Would you stop?” Jack had forgotten how deadly the soldier could be.

“Go home.”

“I don’t want to. I have business to attend to.”

“Go home!”

“She is mine!”

“She’s been fucking claimed, you creep. Do you see that glow? Do you see the two of them wrapped in it? If you stayed in contact with the boss you would have known,” the soldier looks back to the cabin, and still that glow radiates around the two of you. Growing brighter. Warmer.

Jack rolls his eyes as he starts to walk deeper into the woods. “The fucking cat again?”

“She’s not an ordinary cat. You hate her because she’s never liked you. Kris just tolerated you because he thought you made Holly happy. And you’re not walking that way,” Jack freezes, and spins around to glare at him. “You’re coming directly with me. The boss wants a private word with you, and I’d meet with him. You’d hate to be demoted. Again.”

Jack’s full arm points towards the cabin. Annoyed that the soldier is ignoring you laying down with a mere mortal. Hadn’t even let him slip out of you. The two of you were sickeningly just staring at each other, “Now that you’re gone, those two will have some peace and quiet, and she can go outside, and enjoy the snowflakes, like she’s supposed to,” Jack grunts again, but the soldier grabs his arm roughly, and they disappear with a flicker.

You tremble in Steve’s arms, but his soothing hands on your back calm you slightly. That was new. All of it was new. Like you’d never had sex before. Nothing has ever been or felt like that, “That was magical,” he pants, looking across your glistening skin. He starts ghosting his lips over your shoulder. Looking so beautiful, the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen.

You should tell him. You should tell him everything, but you can’t. You’re terrified that he will run. You just need more time. Let him see you in your element. Unafraid of the outdoors. Missy meows loudly, and you jerk your head towards her. He was gone. But he was here. Lifting up Steve’s hands to your mouth, you kiss his knuckles, “Winter’s over.”

“Holly it was brewing a blizzard earlier. Winter isn’t over.”

“If you say so,” you know deep down inside of you that winter is over. He’d returned. Somehow you just know that this snow wouldn’t last. By tomorrow afternoon, you’d see a patch of earth, maybe even some green. His power couldn’t hold the winter any longer. It had overstayed its welcome, and now spring can prevail. And you can join Steve outside tomorrow. A new adventure awaits.

“How does this work?” He asks, kissing around your neck, and you hum in question. “Are you on anything? Are we taking a gamble here?”

“Are you asking about pregnancy?”

“Yeah,” he looks up at you confused, and you give him a sweet smile. “I’m not opposed, but it’s very early,” you couldn’t tell him that your window with pregnancy was during a true winter. While not impossible, it is extremely unlikely to happen.

“I’m not, but after this time, maybe we should be more careful,” you see what he’s thinking. He didn’t have a supply of condoms with him. “Just pull out. I trust you,” you pull him in for a sweet kiss, you’d never tire of this.

“Are you worried about your ex?” You shake your head no. Jack could never hurt you again. Well, almost never. At least his powers would be drained until next winter. “Are you going to come outside and build a snowman with me tomorrow?”

“He’ll probably be a teeny tiny snowman,” you didn’t have the heart to tell him that snow outside was not going to last. You didn’t want to terrify the man. Leave him with more questions before he ever works through his feelings with you.

“Are you okay?” He asks, and you smile, kissing him as you answer yes. “Okay. Me, too.”

And everything would be okay. Everything is going to be okay.

“You girls stay away from the cows!” Steve yells over to Mistletoe and Sugar Cookie. Giving the two of them a disapproving look because Missy wants to play. He clears his throat when the stubborn cat takes another step towards the cows.

“Steve,” you giggle trying to pull him back down to the blanket. “Just sit back down. Leave them alone. The cows enjoy the attention,” you always let them get away with everything. “Here. What do you think of this?”

“Everything you make tastes delicious,” he says with a grunt, falling down onto the blanket, but more importantly onto you. Your cheeks heat up with unashamed happiness as he starts nipping on your neck. His body crawls more on top of you, and you playfully try to get him off.

“Steve! We’ve got to eat.”

“Mmm, I’d rather be eating you.”

“I’m sure you would,” your voice darkens, and Steve jumps off you. Sitting up straight, and starts to pick at the fruit in the picnic basket. “No, that's not fair!”

“If you don’t want me to eat you, then I’ll eat these grapes. I can think of something so much sweater,” he’d been insatiable. So had you. You wanted to try and get some fresh air that didn’t include washing the sheets again.

You groan, falling onto the blanket, and in his lab. “What cha doing?” He asks, looking more like a schoolboy than the sex fiend he is. As much as you love winter and the snow, seeing Steve’s arms exposed in that stupidly tight shirt, and his freckles start to pop out over his nose is amazing. You’ve loved the seasons for their own beauty, but Steve is adding to that beauty. He is beautiful.

You discover something new about him everyday. Every hour, you learn a new story of his, or find a mark on his body, a new move he’s used on you, a new way to make him climax, a new facial expression when you tell a corny joke. It didn’t matter, you just wanted to soak every part of him up. So much newness and you thought you were learning about him when you were just friends in a cabin.

“Winter would have been miserable without you,” he pops another grape into his mouth before he looks down at you. “I’m serious.”

“Are you talking about me or my cock?” You roll your eyes at him. Did he seriously forget the months that you were just cuddling?

“You’re such a teenager! I am talking about you,” his cheeks turn rosy as he looks across the property, avoiding your gaze, and you can’t look at the beauty here, because you’re struck on him. He is far more beautiful than any forest.

“Stop staring,” he giggles, staring down the road that leads to his cabin that he’s never returned to. Well, to stay in. The two of you did bring his clothes here. “I think we should go visit your folks,” he says nonchalantly. Still refusing to meet your eyes. He’s so embarrassed, and it’s adorable.

“I don’t know if you’re ready to meet them.”

“Why not?” He looks down at you accusatory. “I’m fun. And cute. And you love — spending time with me,” holy shit. He knows. He knows but is afraid to say it. It’s more endearing in a way. “Why?”

“It’s complicated. My dad is kinda famous.”

“A famous delivery man? Okay. So you’re not ashamed of me?” You gasp, clutching your nonexistent pearls. “Okay, I’ll take that as you’re not ashamed. So when do I get to meet them?”

“You really want to?” He gives a smile, nodding his head as he lifts you up from his lap. Holding you almost like a doll as he kisses your lips over and over again. “Okay okay! But you have to have an open mind, and you can’t judge. Judging kills the — essence.”

“I don’t even know what that means.”

“My dad kinda runs on people believing in him,” you cringe, trying to come up with a way to explain things. It’d probably work best with actually seeing it. Everyone believes when they see. “But he does tend to hibernate in spring. Maybe…maybe in fall? Give him some time to get ahead for the winter season.”

“I like these riddles,” he starts kissing you again. Pulling you on top of him as he lays back, his head in the grass and not on the blanket. “He’s a delivery man, he hibernates in spring, Christmas is his biggest season but it’s everyone’s in retail, he needs you to believe him so his ego must be a bit broken, and you flourish in winter. I get why you call yourself the Spirit of Christmas,” he had no idea…

And you didn’t call yourself that. That was a title bestowed to you. But for the first time in your life, you feel like you deserve it. The joy that wraps around your heart with just the simplest of acts makes you feel all warm and fuzzy. Like roasting the most decadent marshmallows.

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @peaches1958 @seitmai

@smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989

@pandaxnienke @musingsfromthemitten @distractingbeth

#a snowflake melts #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x fem!reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #steve rogers smut #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fics #steve rogers fanfics #jack o'malley #red one #marvel #mcu #marvel cinematic universe

80 notes · View notes