#the figure hesitates then sighs and turns around | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

theonottsbxtch · 2 days ago

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FOR YOU, ALWAYS | CL16

an: this was a request! i loved wiritng it and now i love the idea of historical romance prince!charles, thank you for requesting it 💞 also i listened to experience by ludovico einaudi the entire time i wrote this

summary: charles has always hated his life, he thinks, he doesn’t know really. but then he meets someone, she challenges him, she makes him try and all of a sudden he knows what he wants.

wc: 12k

The grand dining hall of the Château de Monte Carlo was bathed in the soft glow of the morning sun filtering through its ornate windows. Prince Charles of Monaco sat at the long mahogany table, his jaw tight as his parents, the Sovereign Prince and Princess, laid out their expectations with the weight of unshakable certainty.

"You must understand, Charles," his mother said, her voice poised yet firm, "a union with Princess Evelyn of England is not merely desirable—it is necessary. The alliance could strengthen our position in ways you cannot yet fully grasp."

His father leaned forward, his imposing figure casting a shadow over the table. "This is not a matter of choice. You are the crown prince. Your duty outweighs any personal hesitation."

Charles’s fingers tightened around the stem of his untouched glass. “And what of my life? Am I to simply be a pawn in your political games?” His voice was calm, but a sharp edge lay beneath the surface.

His mother’s gaze softened slightly, though not enough to dissuade her resolve. “You are the oldest, my son. The weight of the crown has always been yours to bear. This... is part of that burden.”

He didn’t argue further, though every fibre of his being resisted. Instead, he rose, offering a clipped bow. “If you’ll excuse me.”

Moments later, Charles pushed open the heavy doors to his private chambers, stepping into the quiet sanctuary of his room. His temples throbbed with the remnants of the conversation, and he felt the weight of his parents’ expectations settling heavier than the crown he would one day wear.

Inside, the faint rustle of fabric caught his attention. The servant girl—her name unknown to him, as it was meant to be—was smoothing the fresh sheets over his bed. She froze upon seeing him, her hands faltering mid-motion.

“Your Highness,” she said quickly, dipping into a small, practised curtsey. “I didn’t realise you were returning so soon. Shall I leave and return later?”

He waved a hand absently, stepping toward the settee by the window. “No. Stay. Finish your work.”

She hesitated, her eyes flickering to his face, then back to the task at hand. He sank into the settee, his head tilting back against the carved wood as he let out a heavy sigh.

“Do you ever wonder,” he began, his voice soft yet tinged with frustration, “why some of us are given so much freedom, yet chained in ways that others cannot see?”

She paused, her hands gripping the edges of the linen she had just tucked in, unsure if the question was meant for her.

When she did not answer, he looked at her—truly looked at her—for the first time in a long while. Her expression was guarded, her posture poised, as though expecting reproach. “You can speak freely,” he said, a rare hint of gentleness colouring his tone.

Her lips parted slightly, then closed again before she carefully responded, “I think, Your Highness, that even those with freedom often long for something else.”

He smiled faintly, though there was no humour in it. “Something else,” he echoed, the words hanging between them like a challenge to a fate he could not escape.

She quickly turned her attention back to the task at hand, smoothing the sheets in swift, precise movements, as if afraid that lingering would invite trouble. Charles, however, was not done with the conversation.

“And what would you long for?” he asked, his voice quieter now but laced with curiosity. “If you could have… anything?”

Her hands stilled, though she didn’t lift her gaze. “It doesn’t matter, Your Highness. People like me don’t waste time with such thoughts.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

The firmness in his tone made her look up briefly, her eyes meeting his for the first time. They were dark, unyielding, yet not unkind. She hesitated, as though weighing the consequences of speaking too openly.

Finally, she murmured, “I suppose… I’d long for choice. To decide my own path, no matter how humble.”

Charles leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he regarded her with an intensity that made her shift slightly under his gaze. “Choice,” he repeated, almost to himself. “The one thing I’ve never had.”

She blinked at his words, her brow furrowing in confusion. He noticed the look and gave a soft, bitter laugh.

“You think I have everything, don’t you?” he asked, gesturing vaguely at the opulence surrounding them. “All this, and yet I’m to marry a woman I’ve never met. Smile on command. Produce heirs like some stud horse for the dynasty.”

“Your Highness—”

“Spare me,” he interrupted, raising a hand. “I’m aware I sound insufferable. Poor me, the prince in his gilded cage.”

The corners of her mouth twitched, the faintest shadow of a smile threatening to appear, though she suppressed it quickly. “I wouldn’t dare say so, Your Highness.”

“And yet you’re thinking it,” he said, leaning back against the settee, a faint smirk tugging at his lips now. “Go on. You’ve already said more than most would dare. Speak freely.”

She hesitated, then, emboldened by his unusual mood, offered carefully, “I think… it’s easier to envy a cage when it’s lined with silk.”

Charles let out a bark of laughter, surprising them both. For a moment, the tension in the room seemed to dissipate, replaced by something lighter.

“Touché,” he said, shaking his head. “Perhaps I deserve that.”

She resumed her work in silence, and he watched her, his mind turning over her words. There was a simplicity in her presence, a quiet sense of purpose that felt like a reprieve from the endless demands of court life.

As she moved to leave, her task completed, she paused by the door. “Your Highness,” she said, her voice tentative.

He glanced up, his expression expectant.

“Sometimes… cages are only as strong as we believe them to be.”

Before he could respond, she slipped out, leaving him alone with his thoughts—and the echo of her words, which refused to leave him in peace.

The words haunted Charles for days. Cages are only as strong as we believe them to be. They played on a loop in his mind, following him from morning meetings with ministers to the hollow dinners with his parents, where talk of his engagement to Princess Evelyn consumed every conversation.

By the third day, he relented. Not to the sentiment behind her words, but to the reality of his life. Duty, it seemed, would always triumph over desire. He formally agreed to the arrangement in a cold meeting with his father, his voice devoid of emotion as he signed the papers that would announce his betrothal to the world.

That evening, restless and seeking solace, he ventured into the royal gardens. The roses were in full bloom, their scent heavy in the warm air, yet they brought him no comfort. The paths, so meticulously maintained, felt as constricting as the marble walls of the palace.

The crisp evening air offered a solace the grand halls could not. He strolled along the manicured paths, his mind still heavy with the decision he had made, when movement near the servant’s entrance caught his eye.

It was her.

She was dressed simply, carrying a basket as she slipped through the narrow door at the edge of the palace walls. For a moment, he simply watched her, a sudden curiosity flaring to life. Then, before reason could temper him, he followed.

She moved with purpose, her steps quick as she crossed the gravel path leading to the servants’ gate. Charles kept his distance, careful to stay within the shadows. The sound of the gate creaking open carried through the still night, and he quickened his pace.

“Wait,” he called softly as the gate began to swing shut behind her.

She spun, startled, her hand flying to her chest when she saw him. “Your Highness!” she whispered, her tone panicked. She glanced around quickly, as though expecting someone to appear from the darkness. “What are you doing out here?”

“I saw you,” he said simply, his voice low, “and I followed.”

Her expression shifted from shock to alarm. “You shouldn’t have. If anyone sees you out here with me—”

“They won’t,” he said firmly, stepping closer.

“But if they do…” Her voice dropped further, almost a plea. “I’ll be dismissed—worse. Do you know what they’d do to me for leaving the palace grounds with the prince?”

He stared at her, and for the first time in days, he felt a flicker of something other than despair. “Please,” he said, the word escaping him softly but with undeniable weight.

Her eyes widened at his uncharacteristic vulnerability. She shook her head, taking a step back. “No. I can’t. I won’t.”

“I’m not ordering you,” he said quickly. “I’m asking.”

For a moment, she stood frozen, her mind clearly racing. Then, with a frustrated sigh, she pulled the cloak from her shoulders and thrust it toward him.

“Fine,” she said, her tone sharp but her movements careful as she draped it around him. “If anyone asks, you’re my cousin visiting from the countryside. Keep your head down and your mouth shut.”

Charles nodded, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “Understood.”

She turned and began walking quickly down the narrow dirt path beyond the gate. He followed, cloaked in her simple, worn garment, the scent of lavender lingering faintly in the fabric.

They walked in silence for what felt like an eternity before the lights of a small village came into view. She turned onto a side lane, leading him to a tiny house at the edge of town, its thatched roof weathered but charming.

“This is it,” she said, her voice clipped as she gestured to the modest dwelling.

He stared at the house, a stark contrast to the palace he called home. “You live here?”

“Yes,” she said, clearly defensive. “It’s small, but it’s mine. No one tells me what to do when I’m here.”

He didn’t respond, too busy taking in the details: the flower boxes beneath the windows, the faint glow of a single candle in the window.

“Now you’ve seen it,” she said, her tone impatient. “You should go back before someone notices you’re missing.”

But Charles shook his head. “No,” he said softly, his eyes still fixed on the little house. “Not yet.”

Her brow furrowed as she crossed her arms. “You shouldn’t have come in the first place.”

“Perhaps not,” he admitted, finally looking at her. “But now that I’m here… I can’t imagine wanting to leave.”

She stared at him, her expression unreadable. The quiet stretched between them, heavy with unspoken words. Finally, she sighed again, softer this time.

“Fine,” she said, stepping toward the door. “But if anyone asks, I don’t know why you’re here, and I definitely didn’t bring you.”

She pushed the door open, stepping inside with a cautious glance behind her. Charles followed, ducking slightly to avoid the low wooden beam over the doorway. Before she could say a word, a voice called from inside.

“Back already? I thought you—”

The voice cut off as a man, younger than Charles but older than the servant girl, appeared from the far corner of the small room. He froze, his sharp blue eyes flicking between her and the prince. “What in God’s name…”

“Damn it!” she hissed, pressing a hand to her forehead. “I thought you were working the late shift at the docks tonight!”

“I was,” her brother said, stepping forward and squaring his shoulders. His rough shirt and patched trousers bore the telltale marks of dock work—salt stains and grime clung to the fabric. “But the shipment was cancelled. Now you tell me why the bloody prince of Monaco is in our house. Did you kidnap him?”

“Kidnap him?” she snapped, throwing her hands in the air. “Don’t be ridiculous. He followed me!”

Charles, for his part, seemed utterly unconcerned by the commotion. His gaze wandered over the small room with childlike fascination, taking in the chipped table, the cracked ceramic plates stacked neatly in the corner, and the patchwork curtain separating the single sleeping area. He paused to admire a string of dried herbs hanging near the hearth, as though he’d never seen anything so fascinating.

“Your Highness,” the brother said, stepping in front of him with an awkward, hesitant bow. “I mean no disrespect, but do you… do you need me to call someone? Or are you in danger?” He looked over his shoulder at his sister. “Are we in danger?”

“No one is in danger,” Charles replied, his voice calm. He turned to her brother with a polite nod. “Thank you for your concern. I’m here of my own accord.”

The girl pinched the bridge of her nose, muttering under her breath. Meanwhile, Charles’ eyes landed on a wooden crate near the wall, and before either sibling could stop him, he lowered himself onto it. The crate creaked but held, and he leaned back with a sigh, a serene smile spreading across his face.

The girl spun on him, her exasperation bubbling over. “What are you smiling about?”

He looked up at her, his expression earnest, almost boyish. “It’s beautiful.”

She blinked. “What?”

“Here,” he said, gesturing around the room. “It’s so cosy. Everything has its place. It’s warm, lived-in… peaceful.”

Her brother raised an eyebrow, clearly sceptical. “You call this beautiful? Your palace is five hundred times the size, and you think this is—”

“I know what my palace is,” Charles interrupted, though his tone held no irritation. “Cold. Grand. Silent. This… this feels alive.”

She crossed her arms, her brow furrowing as she stared at him. For a moment, she didn’t know whether to laugh or scold him. “It’s a shack,” she said finally, her voice softer but still tinged with disbelief.

“Maybe,” he said, leaning forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees. “But it’s your shack. And it’s more honest than anything I’ve ever known.”

Her brother exchanged a glance with her, his expression suggesting that he thought the prince might have lost his mind. She only shook her head, sighing heavily as she walked to the table and placed her basket down.

“This is a mistake,” she muttered to herself.

“Perhaps,” Charles said, still smiling, “but it’s the best mistake I’ve made in a long time.”

She busied herself unpacking the basket, placing a few withered carrots, a handful of potatoes, and some crusty bread onto the table. Her brother leaned against the wall, arms crossed, still watching Charles with wary eyes.

“If you’re staying, Your Highness,” she said, her tone clipped as she focused on the food, “I hope you don’t mind scraps.” She hesitated, then glanced at him. “And you can’t tell anyone at the palace that I take the extras. They’d—”

“Dismiss you,” Charles finished, his voice soft. “I won’t tell. You have my word.”

She gave a small nod, her shoulders relaxing slightly, and began peeling the potatoes. Her hands moved deftly, her brother stepping in to fetch water from the small barrel near the door. Charles sat quietly on his makeshift chair, watching the two of them work in a rhythm.

“Do you need help?” he asked after a moment.

Her brother let out a short laugh, but she only shook her head without looking up. “No, Your Highness, but thank you for the offer. I imagine peeling potatoes is beneath you.”

“Not everything is beneath me,” he replied, and while his voice was carrying a hint of dry humour, there was some seriousness to it.

She didn’t respond, but a faint smile tugged at her lips as she chopped the vegetables and tossed them into a battered pot over the small fire. Soon, the room filled with the simple, comforting aroma of soup.

When the meal was ready, she placed three mismatched bowls on the table and ladled out the steaming broth. She set one in front of Charles without ceremony, then handed one to her brother before sitting down herself.

Charles took a tentative sip, and his eyes widened slightly. “This is excellent.”

Her brother snorted. “It’s boiled scraps, mate. You must really have it rough if you think this is fine dining.”

“Max,” she warned, shooting her brother a glare.

Charles chuckled, dipping a chunk of the crusty bread into the soup. “Maybe it’s not fine dining,” he admitted, “but it tastes real. Honest.”

Her brother rolled his eyes but said nothing more, focusing on his meal. The three of them ate in relative silence, the tension in the room easing slightly as the warmth of the food spread through them.

When the bowls were empty, she cleared the table, stacking the dishes neatly on a small shelf. Charles leaned back, his contented smile returning as he watched her move about the room.

“You should go,” she said finally, her voice breaking the quiet. She didn’t turn to face him.

His smile faltered. “I don’t want to.”

Her hands paused for a moment before she resumed tidying the table. “You’ve seen what you wanted to see. This is my life. And you… you have your own life waiting for you back there.”

Charles stood slowly, brushing imaginary dust from his sleeves. “I suppose you’re right,” he said softly.

She walked toward the door, not meeting his eyes as she grabbed her cloak and gestured for him to follow. Her brother gave Charles a long, unreadable look as he rose to leave, but he said nothing, only shaking his head as the prince ducked back out into the cool night air.

They walked in silence down the dirt path, the lights of the palace glowing faintly in the distance. When they reached the servants’ gate, she stopped and turned to him, keeping her eyes on the ground.

“This is where we part ways,” she said firmly.

He took a step closer, and when she looked up, she saw something in his expression—gratitude, yes, but something deeper, too. Without a word, he reached for her hand, his touch gentle. He held it for a moment, his thumb brushing lightly over her calloused fingers.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice low and filled with sincerity. “For the soup. For everything.”

Before she could respond, he lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles. The gesture was brief, but it sent a wave of warmth up her arm, leaving her stunned.

He stepped back, releasing her hand, and gave her one last look before slipping through the gate and disappearing into the shadows.

She stood there for a long time, staring at the empty path, her heart racing for reasons she couldn’t—or wouldn’t—name.

The next few days at the palace dragged on in a monotonous blur for Charles. His mornings were filled with tiresome meetings about the engagement, his afternoons with rigid etiquette lessons to prepare for public appearances with Princess Evelyn. Every second felt like a tightening noose around his neck.

Finally, the day came for him to meet her. Princess Evelyn of England arrived with her entourage in an ornate carriage, her entrance every bit as grand as expected. She was perfectly polite, perfectly poised—and, to Charles, perfectly insipid.

They sat across from each other in one of the palace’s many drawing rooms, chaperoned by a small battalion of attendants and his ever-watchful parents. She spoke at length about her family lineage, her charity work, and her plans to modernise court life, but her words washed over him like a stream of lukewarm water.

When it was his turn to speak, he managed only the barest pleasantries. He was certain she noticed his lack of enthusiasm, but if it bothered her, she gave no indication.

By the end of the meeting, he felt more drained than he had in years. As she curtsied and left the room, he caught his mother’s pointed glare, but he ignored it.

Before she could say anything to him, he glanced at the ornate clock on his wall. It was nearly the same time as the day she would be fluffing the pillows on his settee. A peculiar sense of anticipation stirred in his chest.

Without a second thought, he made his way to his bedroom. As he opened the door, his eyes immediately fell on her.

She was there, as if summoned by some unspoken wish. She was standing by the settee, her back to him as she carefully fluffed the pillows. Her movements were deliberate, methodical, and entirely unlike the flurry of maids bustling about elsewhere in the palace.

A slow smile spread across his face.

“Perfect timing,” he said loudly, causing her to jump slightly.

She turned, clutching the pillow to her chest. “Your Highness!” she said, startled. “I— I can come back later if—”

“Don’t bother,” he interrupted dramatically, throwing himself onto the bed with a theatrical sigh.

She froze, unsure whether to be amused or annoyed, as he sprawled across the silk covers, one arm flung over his face.

“Let me tell you about the most dreadful afternoon of my life,” he groaned.

Her brow furrowed as she set the pillow back in place. “The dreadful afternoon where you met the woman you’re going to marry?”

“Precisely,” he said, sitting up slightly to gesture at her. “You understand my plight already.”

“I understand you’re being ridiculous,” she replied, smoothing the cushions on the settee.

“Ridiculous?!” he exclaimed, placing a hand over his heart. “Do you know what she said when I asked her about her favourite pastime?”

“I don’t,” she said flatly, clearly trying to stay focused on her task.

“She said,” he continued, his voice dripping with mock enthusiasm, “Oh, I do adore embroidery. There’s something so meditative about it.”

She stared at him. “That… doesn’t sound terrible.”

He sat up fully now, gesturing emphatically. “Doesn’t sound terrible? It’s horrific! What am I to do with someone who finds stitching flowers onto fabric the height of excitement?”

“You could try embroidery yourself,” she suggested dryly, unable to resist a small smirk.

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Very funny. No, what I need is someone who… who challenges me. Someone with fire.”

She arched an eyebrow but said nothing, turning back to the pillows.

“Instead,” he muttered, flopping back onto the bed, “I’m shackled to a walking lesson in decorum.”

The room fell silent for a moment, save for the soft rustle of fabric as she adjusted the settee. Finally, she turned to face him fully, her expression unreadable.

“Maybe,” she said carefully, “you should spend less time thinking about what you don’t like about her and more time figuring out what you’re looking for.”

Charles opened one eye to glance at her. “And if what I’m looking for isn’t an option?”

Her gaze lingered on him for a moment, something unspoken passing between them. Then, she shook her head and turned back to her work.

“Then you make do,” she said simply.

He watched her for a long moment, his chest tightening inexplicably.

“Is that what you do?” he asked softly.

She paused but didn’t turn around. “Every day, Your Highness.”

Without another word, she grabbed her items and walked out, softly closing the door behind her.

Charles had barely settled back on the bed, still pondering her cryptic answer, when the door to his chambers burst open.

His younger brother, Arthur, strode in, his golden hair slightly dishevelled and a boyish grin plastered across his face. “Charles! I just saw her—the princess of England. She’s… stunning. Gorgeous. A masterpiece, really. You lucky bastard.”

Charles groaned, throwing an arm over his eyes. “Arthur, must you always barge in uninvited?”

Arthur ignored him, plopping himself unceremoniously into one of the velvet chairs near the fireplace. “I mean it. If I were you, I’d have proposed on the spot. Did you see her eyes? Like polished emeralds.”

“She’s… fine,” Charles muttered, his tone flat.

“Fine?” Arthur’s voice rose in mock indignation. “Brother, I’d trade places with you in an instant.” He leaned forward, his grin widening. “What is it? Not enough excitement for you? Too… proper?”

Charles sat up, his expression exasperated. “If you find her so attractive, Arthur, marry her yourself.”

Arthur laughed, clearly amused by the suggestion. “Oh, if only it worked that way. But alas, you are the crown prince. The heir. The one who gets the girl and the throne, while I’m left to look charming at parties.”

Charles shook his head, his frustration bubbling beneath the surface. He couldn’t help but wonder how different his life might be if the roles were reversed. Could Arthur really be happy living a life of obligation, of gilded cages and loveless arrangements?

His thoughts drifted, unbidden, back to the servant girl. Her small house, her laughter with her brother over bowls of soup, the way she moved through life with an independence he’d never known.

“What would it be like,” he murmured, almost to himself, “to marry someone who isn’t royalty? Someone who isn’t bound by these ridiculous rules?”

Arthur blinked at him, momentarily caught off guard. Then he laughed, loud and incredulous. “Are you out of your mind?”

Charles turned his head sharply, fixing his brother with a challenging look. “I’m serious. What would it be like to marry a commoner? To live a life free of all this… pomp and pretence?”

Arthur’s laughter faded, replaced by a look of disbelief. “You are mad. Do you have any idea what that would mean? The scandal? The uproar? Father would have a fit. Mother would faint on the spot. And the people? They’d riot.”

“Would they?” Charles asked, his tone calm but insistent. “Or would they understand? Would they respect a prince who chose love over duty?”

Arthur shook his head, a faint sneer creeping into his expression. “You don’t know what you’re saying. A prince doesn’t marry a milkmaid or a seamstress. It’s not a fairytale, Charles. We’re not… like them.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and sharp.

“Not like them,” Charles repeated softly, his voice carrying a hint of disdain. “And what exactly does that mean?”

Arthur hesitated, then shrugged, as if the answer were obvious. “It means we have a responsibility. A legacy to uphold. Marrying into royalty isn’t just tradition—it’s survival. You think Father and Mother arranged your engagement for fun?”

Charles didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he leaned back against the headboard, his mind churning. Arthur’s words grated against something deep within him, something that longed to push back against the boundaries of their carefully constructed world.

“Maybe,” he said finally, his voice low, “the legacy isn’t worth the cost.”

Arthur stared at him, his disbelief giving way to concern. “Charles… you’ve been spending too much time alone. Or worse—reading poetry again. Get your head out of the clouds, brother. This is your life. Learn to accept it.”

With that, Arthur rose, clapping Charles on the shoulder before striding toward the door. “And if you won’t,” he added with a grin, “I’ll gladly keep the princess company. You’re a fool not to appreciate her.”

The door closed behind him, leaving Charles alone in the echoing silence of his chambers.

But his mind wasn’t silent.

It churned, restless and defiant, filled with images of a life he might never know.

The chill of the autumn night bit at Charles’s skin as he hurried along the winding path toward the small house. A week had passed, and though he told himself repeatedly that it was improper—foolish, even—he couldn’t shake the gnawing thought of her.

He hadn’t seen her since their last conversation in his chambers. Every day without her had stretched longer than the last. No wry comments while she smoothed the wrinkles from his sheets, no gentle jabs at his dramatics.

The house appeared before him, small and humble against the starlit sky. Light peeked through the cracks in the shutters.

He hesitated, his heart pounding. Then, before he could talk himself out of it, he knocked.

The door opened a crack, her face appearing in the dim light. The moment she recognised him, her eyes widened in alarm, and she yanked him inside, shutting the door firmly behind him.

“Your Highness!” she whispered fiercely, pressing her back against the door as though to block the outside world. “Are you out of your mind? I’ll be hung if they find you at my door!”

He tried to smile, though he knew she was right. “I haven’t seen you all week.”

Her expression turned exasperated. “That’s not a valid reason to sneak out of the palace, Prince Charles.”

“Isn’t it?” he countered lightly, though the heat rising in his cheeks betrayed the truth of how much he’d missed her.

Her sigh was heavy with frustration, but something softened in her gaze. “You shouldn’t be here,” she said again, though her voice lacked its earlier sharpness. She moved away from the door, adjusting the shawl around her shoulders.

It was then that he noticed the redness around her nose, the slight rasp in her voice.

“You’ve been ill,” he said, stepping closer.

“It’s nothing,” she replied, waving him off as she moved toward the small kitchen space. “A cold. Happens every year when the weather turns. I’ll survive.”

“You shouldn’t have to,” he said quietly, glancing around the room.

“Life doesn’t wait for the sniffles,” she said with a faint smirk, though her movements were slower than usual as she reached for a bowl.

“Then let me help,” he said, surprising both of them.

She turned, raising an eyebrow. “You? Help? What do you know about cooking?”

“Absolutely nothing,” he admitted, grinning. “But I’m an excellent student.”

She stared at him for a moment, as though deciding whether to humour him. Finally, she handed him a knife and motioned toward a small pile of vegetables. “Fine. Peel those. Try not to cut yourself.”

He took the knife gingerly, studying the carrot as if it were a puzzle. She chuckled softly, the sound warming the small space, and stepped beside him to show him the proper angle for peeling.

The next hour passed in a flurry of quiet laughter and careful instructions. He fumbled with the knife, his first attempts earning teasing remarks from her, but he improved quickly under her guidance. Together, they chopped, stirred, and seasoned until the small pot on the stove began to bubble with a fragrant stew.

As they worked, the conversation drifted.

“You’re better at this than I expected,” she said, handing him a spoon to stir.

He smiled. “Careful. If you keep complimenting me, I might come back for more lessons.”

She shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips. “Cooking isn’t glamorous work, Your Highness. It’s just… survival.”

“Maybe,” he said, his tone thoughtful, “but there’s something… grounding about it. It feels real.”

She looked at him, her brow furrowing slightly. “You really hate that palace life, don’t you?”

He didn’t answer right away, instead focusing on the steady motion of the spoon in the pot. “I don’t hate it,” he said eventually. “It’s just… hollow. Every decision is made for me. Every word is calculated. I don’t know who I’m supposed to be in all of it.”

She nodded slowly, her gaze distant. “You’re lucky, though,” she said softly. “Even if it’s hollow, you have a place. A name. People like me… we’re just the shadows keeping the fire alive.”

He stopped stirring, her words settling heavily in the space between them. “I don’t think that’s true,” he said after a moment.

She tilted her head, her expression sceptical. “No?”

“No,” he said firmly. “You’re more than that. You’re clever. Strong. Independent. You see things I never could.”

She blinked, taken aback by the conviction in his voice.

“That’s what I like about you,” he added softly, almost without thinking.

The words hung in the air, and he froze, realising too late what he’d said.

Her cheeks flushed a deep pink, and she turned away quickly, pretending to adjust the pot on the stove.

His own face burned as he fumbled for something to say, but nothing came. The silence stretched on, heavy and charged, until she finally spoke, her voice quieter than before.

“You should taste the stew,” she said, not looking at him.

He stepped forward, dipping the spoon into the pot and taking a tentative sip.

“It’s perfect,” he said, his voice softer now.

Her lips curved into the faintest smile, though she still didn’t meet his gaze.

The evening deepened, the chill of the autumn air seeping through the thin walls of the small house. Charles noticed her slight shiver as she ladled the stew into two mismatched bowls, the threadbare shawl around her shoulders doing little to shield her from the cold.

He stood abruptly, unfastening the clasp of his heavy cloak. She turned to look at him, startled, as he stepped behind her and draped it gently over her shoulders.

“What are you doing?” she asked, pulling the thick fabric around herself instinctively.

“You’re cold,” he said simply, sitting back down and picking up his bowl.

She hesitated, looking at him with a mix of gratitude and uncertainty. “But you’ll freeze without it.”

“I’ll be fine,” he replied with a small smile. “I’ve survived colder nights, army and all of that.”

The warmth of the cloak seemed to envelop her, and she relaxed slightly, sitting down across from him. For a moment, they ate in silence, the quiet clinking of their spoons the only sound.

When their bowls were empty, Charles glanced around the modest room, noticing for the first time the lack of a hearthfire.

“Do you light a fire at night?” he asked, though he already suspected the answer.

She shook her head. “Can’t afford firewood,” she said matter-of-factly, collecting their bowls. “It’s not so bad. We manage.”

“Oh,” was all he managed to say, though the thought of her and her brother enduring nights in such cold unsettled him deeply.

She didn’t seem to notice his reaction, busying herself with tidying up.

Later, as he prepared to leave, she hesitated by the door, holding his cloak out to him.

“Take this back,” she said softly.

He pushed her hand gently back toward her. “Keep it,” he insisted. “For tonight.”

She opened her mouth to argue but stopped, the words faltering. Finally, she nodded, her fingers tightening around the fabric.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice almost a whisper.

He smiled at her one last time before stepping out into the night, the chill biting at him instantly as he made his way back to the palace.

She played with the royal clasp of his cloak as he left and wondered what her life would be like if she wasn’t just a servant and he wasn’t the Crown Prince of Monaco.

No less than a few days later, her brother barged into the small house, his footsteps heavy against the creaking floorboards.

“Why,” he began, his voice loud and incredulous, “is there months’ worth of firewood outside the house?”

She looked up from where she was patching a worn-out scarf, distracted. “What are you talking about?”

“The firewood,” he repeated, gesturing wildly toward the door. “There’s a mountain of it, just sitting there! Did you rob a lumberyard?”

She frowned, setting down her work and walking to the door. When she stepped outside, her eyes widened at the sight of the neatly stacked pile of firewood by the side of the house.

“I… I don’t know,” she stammered, completely bewildered.

It was then that she noticed a small slip of paper tucked into the top of the stack. Pulling it free, she unfolded it to reveal a note written in a familiar, elegant hand.

Keep warm – C

Her cheeks flushed, and a small smile tugged at her lips despite herself.

Her brother leaned over her shoulder, reading the note. “C?” he asked suspiciously. “Who’s C?”

She folded the note quickly, tucking it into her apron pocket. “No one,” she said, avoiding his gaze.

Her brother narrowed his eyes but didn’t press further, shaking his head as he muttered something about princes and their peculiarities.

She was fluffing the pillows on the freshly made bed when the door to the prince’s chambers swung open. Charles strode in, his expression lighting up the moment he saw her. Without hesitation, he leapt onto the bed, landing with a dramatic bounce that sent a pillow tumbling to the floor.

“You’re back!” he exclaimed, grinning. “And you’re better!”

“And you just ruined the bed I made.” she chided but then moved on to adjusting a vase on the side table. “Well I must say, a lit fire at night changes a whole lot.”

He froze for a fraction of a second, then sat up, feigning ignorance with an exaggerated shrug. “Oh? A fire, you say? That’s… good to hear. Fires are quite helpful, I’m told.”

Her smirk widened. “I’m sure someone told you that.”

“Perhaps,” he said, swinging his legs off the bed and leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “But we’re not here to discuss firewood logistics, are we?”

She rolled her eyes, walking around the room to dust the mantel. “Then what would you like to discuss, Your Highness?”

He sighed heavily, flopping back onto the bed and throwing an arm over his face. “The princess of England.”

She raised an eyebrow, glancing over at him. “Oh?”

“I have to meet her again,” he groaned. “Another tea, another tedious conversation about fabrics or her needlework or some other mind-numbing topic. I swear, I’d rather duel blindfolded than sit through it.”

She snorted, biting back a laugh. “Blindfolded? That’s a bit much, don’t you think?”

“No,” he said, peeking at her from under his arm. “It’s perfectly reasonable.”

“Of course it is,” she said, her tone dripping with mock sincerity. “Because what’s more reasonable than a prince skewering himself just to avoid small talk?”

He sat up, clutching his chest theatrically. “You wound me, madam. Truly, your lack of sympathy is cruel.”

She gave him a sidelong glance, shaking her head as she set the duster aside. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“I’ve been told,” he replied, grinning.

She turned back to the mantel, but when the silence stretched, she glanced over her shoulder. He was watching her, his expression soft, his eyes warm and intent.

Her brow furrowed. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

He blinked, snapping out of his reverie, and quickly looked away, running a hand through his hair. “I wasn’t looking at you.”

“You absolutely were,” she said, crossing her arms and giving him a suspicious look.

“No, I was… thinking,” he said, his voice a touch too casual.

She arched an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Thinking about what?”

“About…” He scrambled for an answer, then pointed toward the bed. “About how well you made this bed. Truly impressive. Best I’ve ever seen.”

She rolled her eyes again, but a faint blush crept into her cheeks. “Right,” she said, picking up her duster. “Well, I’ll leave you to your very important thinking, then.”

He watched her go, his chest tightening as the door clicked softly shut behind her.

Over the next few days, Charles found himself increasingly distracted. Whether strolling through the palace gardens or enduring another tiresome tea with the princess, his thoughts invariably drifted to her. The way her wit kept him on his toes. The quiet determination in her movements. The occasional flicker of softness beneath her sharp remarks.

It was maddening.

When he was near her, he found excuses to linger. When she wasn’t around, he searched for her without realising it. And as much as he tried to push the growing ache in his chest aside, he couldn’t deny what was happening.

He’d fallen for her.

It was late afternoon when he returned to his chambers after a gruelling diplomatic meeting. To his delight, she was there, dusting the intricate carvings on the wooden frame of his bed. She didn’t notice him enter, humming softly to herself as she worked.

He leaned casually against the doorframe, watching her for a moment before clearing his throat.

She jumped, spinning around to face him, clutching her duster like a weapon. “Do you have to sneak up on me?”

“It’s my room,” he said, smirking. “I can hardly sneak into my own space.”

She scowled, turning back to her work. “You’re insufferable.”

“So you’ve said,” he replied, stepping further into the room. “But you keep coming back. Perhaps I’m growing on you.”

“I come back because it’s my job,” she retorted, moving to dust a nearby shelf.

He followed her, leaning lazily against the furniture. “A job you seem to excel at. Though I wonder… do you enjoy tormenting me as much as I enjoy tormenting you?”

She shot him a sharp glance, but the corner of her mouth twitched. “Someone has to keep your ego in check, Your Highness.”

He chuckled, reaching out to pluck the duster from her hand. “You do it so well,” he murmured, his voice low.

Her breath hitched slightly as he leaned closer, her eyes darting to his before flicking away. “You should stop doing that.”

“Doing what?” he asked, his voice soft and teasing as he leaned closer still, his face mere inches from hers.

“Whatever it is you’re doing,” she said, stepping back slightly, only to find herself against the edge of the shelf.

The tension in the air was palpable, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. His gaze was locked on hers, and for a moment, the world outside the room seemed to vanish.

A sharp knock on the door shattered the moment.

“Charles?” his brother’s voice called from the hallway.

Panic flared in her eyes, and Charles acted on instinct, grabbing her wrist and pulling her toward the large wardrobe at the side of the room.

“What are you—” she began, but he pressed a finger to her lips as he opened the wardrobe door and ushered her inside.

The space was small, barely enough for the two of them. She pressed herself against the back wall as he stepped in, closing the door behind them.

The darkness was absolute, and the only sound was the quiet shuffle of their breaths.

“Stay quiet,” he whispered, his breath warm against her ear.

A beat passed, and she whispered back, her voice laced with frustration, “If we get caught, it’ll be my neck, not yours.”

“No one’s getting caught,” he murmured, his voice low and steady.

In the confined space, his hand brushed against hers, and he froze. Slowly, almost hesitantly, his fingers moved to her face. His touch was light, tentative, as though he feared she might vanish at any moment.

His thumb traced the curve of her cheek, brushing against her skin with agonising slowness. Her breath hitched, and in the silence, it felt deafening.

“Why are you…” she began, but her voice faltered as his fingers brushed the line of her jaw, lingering there for a moment before sliding to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“You’re trembling,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

“You’re too close,” she replied, though her tone lacked conviction.

The faintest smile curved his lips, though she couldn’t see it in the dark. “You’re not stopping me,” he said softly.

Before she could respond, his brother’s voice echoed from the other side of the room. “Charles, where are you?”

He leaned closer, his forehead nearly brushing hers. “Stay still,” he murmured, his hand still cradling her cheek.

She closed her eyes, the tension in the small space suffocating and electric all at once.

Footsteps receded as his brother left the room, grumbling something about missing him.

For a long moment, neither of them moved. Then, Charles let out a slow breath, his hand dropping from her face. He opened the wardrobe door slightly, letting in the dim light of the room.

“Safe,” he said quietly, stepping back to let her out.

She stepped past him, her cheeks flushed and her breaths uneven. “You’re reckless,” she muttered, avoiding his gaze as she hurried to gather her duster.

He smirked, leaning against the wardrobe door. “And you’re adorable when you’re flustered.”

She shot him a glare over her shoulder, but the pink in her cheeks betrayed her.

“Get back to work, Your Highness,” she said, her tone sharp but her voice unsteady.

He chuckled softly, watching her go.

The late afternoon sunlight streamed through the tall windows of Charles’s chambers, painting golden streaks across the plush rug. She was there again, this time at his desk, meticulously polishing the brass handles of the drawers. She worked with the same quiet efficiency she always did, her movements steady, purposeful.

Charles, reclining lazily on the settee, had been pretending to read a book for the past ten minutes. In truth, he’d barely turned a page. His attention was drawn, as it so often was these days, to her.

He cleared his throat, drawing her attention. “Have you ever taken a moment to rest?”

She glanced at him briefly before returning to her task. “I rest when my work is done.”

“And when is it done?” he pressed, setting the book down and rising to his feet.

She didn’t answer immediately, her focus still on the brass handle in her hand. “When your chambers sparkle, Your Highness.”

He chuckled, stepping closer. “It already sparkles. You’ve polished this desk so many times I can see my reflection.”

She huffed softly, clearly unimpressed. “There’s still dust.”

He reached out, his hand gently brushing hers as she gripped the cloth. She stilled, her breath catching as his fingers lingered over hers.

“You’re relentless,” he murmured, his voice low.

Her eyes flicked to his, wide and uncertain. “And you’re in my way.”

He smiled, his expression teasing but his gaze intent. “I’m rarely in anyone’s way. It’s a novelty.”

She tried to step back, but he moved with her, closing the distance between them. “What are you doing?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Observing,” he said, his voice soft, warm, as if he were sharing a secret. “You’re endlessly fascinating to watch, you know.”

Her cheeks flushed, and she looked away, but he reached out, gently tilting her chin so she’d meet his eyes again.

“You shouldn’t say things like that,” she said, her voice shaky.

“Why not?”

“Because…” She faltered, her lips parting as she searched for words. “Because you shouldn’t.”

He leaned in slightly, his hand still holding her chin. The air between them was heavy, charged with something neither of them dared name.

“You’re trembling again,” he said softly, the corner of his mouth lifting in the faintest of smiles.

“I’m not,” she said quickly, but her voice betrayed her.

“You are,” he whispered, his thumb brushing her jaw in the lightest of touches.

Her breath hitched, and her hands tightened around the cloth she still held. “This is dangerous,” she managed, though her tone was weak.

“For you?” he asked, tilting his head slightly. “Or for me?”

She couldn’t answer, her heart pounding so loudly she was certain he could hear it.

His hand moved, the backs of his fingers tracing the curve of her cheek, then down to her neck, where his thumb rested lightly against her pulse. He felt it hammering beneath his touch and smiled softly, almost as if he were marvelling at it.

“You feel it too,” he said, his voice low and intimate, as if the world beyond this moment didn’t exist.

She swallowed hard, her hands trembling as she finally pushed lightly at his chest. “You… need to stop.”

For a moment, he didn’t move, his gaze locked on hers. Then, slowly, he stepped back, though the tension in the air lingered like a storm about to break.

She turned away quickly, grabbing her cloth and pretending to busy herself with the desk again, though her hands shook so much she nearly dropped it.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, the sincerity in his voice stopping her in her tracks.

She didn’t turn back to him, but she nodded slightly, her voice quiet. “Don’t do it again.”

But neither of them believed that.

That night the crackle of the fire in the grand drawing room filled the silence as Charles poured himself another glass of brandy. His younger brother lounged in the chair across from him, a glass already in hand.

“You’ve been distracted lately,” Arthur said, swirling his drink. “Even more so than usual.”

Charles leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking beneath him. “Have I?”

Arthur arched an eyebrow. “You spent half of tea with the English delegation yesterday staring at the window. I’m pretty sure they could have declared war, and you wouldn’t have noticed.”

Charles chuckled, though it lacked his usual mirth. He stared into his glass, the amber liquid catching the firelight.

“Arthur,” he began, his voice uncharacteristically quiet.

His brother tilted his head, curious. “What?”

“What would you think of… being the next heir to the throne?”

Arthur blinked, then laughed, loud and incredulous. “What, you’re not planning on dying anytime soon, are you?”

“No,” Charles said, shaking his head, his lips twitching into a faint smile.

Arthur leaned forward, narrowing his eyes. “Then why would you ask that?”

Charles swirled his drink, his gaze distant. “Just… wondering.”

Arthur snorted, leaning back again. “Abdicating is social suicide. If you’re even entertaining the thought, I’d advise you to stop immediately.”

Charles stayed silent, his thumb brushing idly along the rim of his glass.

The quiet stretched, and Arthur froze mid-drink, lowering his glass to the table with a sharp clink. His eyes widened, and his voice dropped. “You’re not thinking of abdicating… are you?”

Charles didn’t respond right away, his jaw tightening as he stared into the fire.

“Cha,” Arthur pressed, his voice rising slightly. “What the hell is going on with you? Who’s put this absurd idea in your head?”

Charles glanced at him, his expression inscrutable. “It’s not absurd.”

“It is when you’re the crown prince of Monaco,” Arthur snapped, sitting up straighter. “You’d give up everything—power, privilege, our family’s legacy—for what? A whim? A fleeting fancy?”

“It’s not a fancy,” Charles said sharply, his voice cutting through the room.

Arthur blinked, taken aback by his brother’s rare flash of anger. “Then what is it?”

Charles leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees and staring hard at his brother. “What if I told you it’s something real? That I’ve found something—someone—who makes me feel more alive than anything this throne ever could?”

Arthur’s jaw dropped slightly, his expression caught between shock and disbelief. “You’re serious.”

“Deadly serious,” Charles said, his tone firm.

Arthur exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “This isn’t just about a servant, is it?”

Charles’s head shot up, his eyes narrowing. “How—”

“Please,” Arthur said, waving a hand. “You think I haven’t noticed? The way you’ve been sneaking out, the looks you give when you think no one’s watching? The firewood? You’re an open book.”

Charles leaned back, a wry smile tugging at his lips. “I underestimated you.”

“And you’re underestimating the chaos you’d cause,” Arthur shot back. “Do you have any idea what this would mean for the family? For Monaco?”

Charles’s expression hardened. “For once, I’m thinking about what it would mean for me.”

Arthur stared at him, the firelight casting shadows across his face. “You’d walk away from all of this?”

“If it meant being with her?” Charles said, his voice soft but resolute. “Yes. I would.”

The weight of his words settled over them, and for once, Arthur didn’t have a quick retort.

The next few days were torturous for Charles. Each moment stretched longer than the last, his thoughts dominated by her. Every step he took through the palace halls felt meaningless without catching sight of her—her quick smile, her quiet resolve, the way she challenged him without fear.

He thought of her words, her laughter, the way her cheeks flushed when he teased her. More than that, he thought of the way she made him feel—seen, understood, even cherished in a way that no title or crown could replicate.

His heart ached with the weight of it, with the need to tell her, to unburden himself of the truth that had taken root so deeply he couldn’t ignore it anymore.

But how? How could he look her in the eye and admit what he was so sure would unravel the tenuous balance between them?

One morning, he found himself wandering aimlessly through the palace gardens. It was the time of day she often brought fresh linens from the storage to the castle, she usually crossed the gardens. He lingered, hoping for a glimpse of her, but she was nowhere to be seen.

Frustrated, he returned to his chambers, pacing the space restlessly, thinking. No, waiting to next see her. When she finally arrived, carrying a tray of fresh tea and biscuits, his breath hitched.

“You’re pacing,” she said, placing the tray on the table. “That’s never a good sign.”

“I’ve been restless,” he admitted, stopping mid-stride. “And you’re late.”

She raised an eyebrow as she set the tea. “Didn’t know I was on your schedule.”

He crossed the room to her, his steps deliberate. “I notice when you’re not here.”

Her hands stilled for a moment before she resumed arranging the tea things. “I’m just a servant, Your Highness. Surely you have better things to notice.”

“That’s not true,” he said, his voice dropping.

She looked up at him, her expression guarded. “It should be.”

He wanted to argue, to say it wasn’t her place to decide what mattered to him, but the vulnerability in her gaze stopped him. Instead, he changed the subject.

“Have you eaten today?”

She frowned, clearly caught off guard. “Why do you ask?”

“Because I’d wager you haven’t,” he said, stepping closer. “You work yourself to the bone.”

She shrugged, turning back to her task. “I’m used to it.”

“That’s not an answer,” he said, his tone softer now. “Come. Sit with me for a moment.”

She hesitated, glancing at the door. “If someone sees—”

“No one will,” he said, moving to pull a chair out for her. “Please.”

Her eyes darted between him and the chair before she sighed, giving in and sitting reluctantly.

He poured her a cup of tea, his movements unhurried. As he handed it to her, their fingers brushed, and he felt the now-familiar spark that always seemed to follow her touch.

“You don’t have to do this,” she said quietly, looking down at the tea.

“Do what?”

“Treat me like I’m someone,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Someone important.”

His chest tightened. “You are.”

She looked up at him then, her eyes wide, filled with a mix of disbelief and something else—something that made his breath catch.

For a moment, he thought about saying it, about laying it all out before her. But the words caught in his throat, weighed down by the fear of what her reaction might be.

The next day, Charles found himself waiting for her in his chambers again, anticipation thrumming through him. When she arrived, her arms full of fresh linens, he immediately noticed the faint circles under her eyes.

“You’re overworking yourself again,” he said, standing from his seat near the window.

“I’m fine,” she replied, her tone brisk as she moved to change the bedding.

“You’re not,” he countered, moving closer.

She straightened, turning to face him. “Why do you care?”

The question hung in the air between them, heavy with unspoken truths.

“Because…” He hesitated, his hands flexing at his sides as he struggled to find the right words. “Because you matter to me.”

Her lips parted, her breath catching. “Charles, don’t—”

“I’m not trying to overstep,” he said quickly. “But you should know—I can’t ignore it anymore.”

“Ignore what?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly.

Before he could answer, the sound of footsteps echoed in the hall. She stepped back instinctively, breaking the moment.

Over the next few days, he was quieter, more pensive. He found himself watching her more often, the words he wanted to say always on the tip of his tongue. But every time he opened his mouth, the weight of the risks stopped him.

What if she didn’t feel the same? What if she did, but couldn’t say so?

The questions tormented him, each one drawing him closer to the inevitable conclusion: he had to tell her.

But how could he make her understand the depth of his feelings without ruining everything?

Charles really tried to wait it out, he tried so hard.

But when the rain lashed outside his chambers where he sat in the dimly lit room, the fire crackling softly in the hearth.

He worried.

It was late, far later than when she usually came, but he had waited, a knot of tension in his chest.

When the door finally opened, and she stepped inside with her usual quiet grace, drenched from the rain with his laundry in a covered basket, his heart leapt.

“You’re soaked,” he said, standing quickly. “You shouldn’t be out in this weather.”

She shrugged, setting the basket down by the door. “Work doesn’t stop for a storm, Your Highness.”

He frowned, crossing the room to her. “Take off that cloak; you’ll catch your death.”

“I’m fine,” she said, brushing past him toward the hearth, but her shivering betrayed her words.

He moved closer, pulling her gently toward the warmth of the fire. “Why do you always insist on pretending you’re fine when you’re not?”

She stiffened under his touch. “Because I have no other choice.”

Her words hit him harder than he expected. He reached for her hands, his thumbs brushing over her cold fingers. “You shouldn’t have to live like this.”

She pulled her hands back, looking at him with a mixture of confusion and caution. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” He hesitated, his heart pounding. “I can’t keep pretending. Not anymore.”

“Pretending what?” she asked, her voice quiet but steady.

“That I don’t feel this,” he said, stepping closer. “That I don’t feel everything for you.”

Her eyes widened, her breath catching. “Charles…”

“I love you,” he said, the words tumbling out, raw and unguarded. “I’ve tried to fight it, to ignore it, but I can’t. I don’t want to.”

Before she could even stop them, tears welled in her eyes, and she shook her head, stepping back. “You don’t mean that. You can’t.”

“I do,” he said firmly, closing the distance between them again. “I’d give up everything—this title, this life—if it meant being with you.”

Her tears spilled over then, and she covered her mouth with her hand. “Don’t say that. Don’t even think it.”

“Why not?” he asked, his voice breaking. “If I’m not happy here—if I can’t have the life I want—what good is any of this?”

“Because you don’t know what you’re saying,” she said, her voice rising. “You’ve lived in a palace your entire life, with servants, banquets, comfort. You don’t know what it’s like to live without it. To go to bed on an empty stomach. To wake up not knowing if you’ll have work the next day. I can’t do that to you.”

“You wouldn’t be doing it to me,” he said desperately. “It would be my choice.”

She shook her head again, her tears falling faster now. “And what happens when you realise you can’t live like that? When the reality of it sets in? You’ll resent me. And I’ll lose you.”

“You won’t lose me,” he said, his voice pleading as he reached for her hands again. “I swear to you, you won’t.”

“I don’t have a good life,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I can barely take care of myself. How could I take care of you?”

“I don’t need you to take care of me,” he said, his hands tightening around hers. “I just need you. I don’t care about the rest.”

She looked at him, her eyes searching his, her tears glistening in the firelight. “You’re asking me to believe in something that feels impossible.”

“Then let me prove it to you,” he said, his voice breaking as his own tears threatened to fall. “Please. Give me a chance to show you how much you mean to me. Let me love you the way you deserve.”

Her resolve wavered, her breath hitching as his words sank in. She wanted to believe him—desperately—but the fear of what they would face, of what they would lose, loomed over her.

“Cha…” she began, her voice cracking.

“Please,” he whispered, his forehead resting against hers. “Say yes. Just… say yes.”

For a long, agonising moment, the only sound was the rain pounding against the windows and the crackle of the fire.

“I don’t know how to do this,” she said finally, her voice barely audible.

“Then we’ll figure it out together,” he said, cupping her face gently, his thumbs brushing away her tears. “But don’t push me away. Not now. Not when I know you feel this too.”

Her lips quivered, and she closed her eyes, a fresh tear slipping down her cheek. “You’re impossible,” she whispered.

“And you’re everything,” he replied, his voice trembling with emotion.

After pacing around his room for a few days, thinking of how he was going to tell his father, Charles went to his study.

The atmosphere in the king’s study was heavy with tension, the air almost crackling as Charles stood before his father. The older man sat behind an imposing mahogany desk, his expression dark and unreadable. The storm that had raged days earlier seemed to have shifted inside these walls, centering on the room as if the universe sensed the coming conflict.

“I need to speak with you,” Charles began, his voice steady but tight.

The king set down the pen he had been holding, his gaze sharp. “This sounds serious.”

“It is,” Charles replied, straightening his shoulders. “I’ve made a decision.”

The king leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. “I see. Go on, then.”

“I’m going to abdicate.”

For a moment, the words seemed to hang in the air, the weight of them pressing down on the room.

Then, the king’s expression darkened further, his voice sharp and incredulous. “You’re what?”

“I’ve decided I don’t want the throne,” Charles said firmly. “It’s not the life I want anymore.”

The king rose from his chair, his movements slow and deliberate as he loomed over the desk. “Do you even understand what you’re saying? What you’re throwing away?”

“Yes,” Charles said, meeting his father’s gaze without flinching. “I’ve thought about this—more than you know. I don’t want this life. I want…” He hesitated, his voice softening. “I want to live my own life.”

The king scoffed, shaking his head. “And what life would that be? One of obscurity? Of poverty? You’ve never gone a day without comfort, without privilege. You know nothing of what it’s like out there, and you think you can just… give all of this up?”

“I do,” Charles said, his tone resolute.

The king’s eyes narrowed. “This is about her, isn’t it? That servant girl. Your mother mentioned her but I did not believe her.”

Charles’s chest tightened, but he didn’t deny it. “Yes. It’s about her. But it’s also about me. About what I want, who I want to be. And I know I don’t want this.”

“Don’t be a fool,” the king snapped, his voice rising. “You think love is enough to sustain you? That some fantasy of a simpler life will keep you warm when reality sets in? She can’t give you what you need, Charles.”

“She gives me what I want,” Charles shot back, his voice fierce. “And for once, isn’t that enough?”

“No, it isn’t!” the king roared, slamming his hand on the desk. “You’re a prince! You have a duty—to your family, to your people. You can’t just walk away because of some fleeting infatuation.”

“It’s not fleeting,” Charles said, his voice dropping but losing none of its intensity. “I love her. And I’d rather live a life with her—whatever that looks like—than spend one more moment pretending to be happy here.”

The king laughed bitterly, shaking his head. “You’re naïve. You don’t even know how to survive out there.”

“She’ll teach me,” Charles said, surprising even himself with the certainty in his voice. “I want to learn. I want that life—with her.”

The king stared at him, his face a mixture of disbelief and frustration. “You’re throwing away everything you’ve ever known for a life of struggle. For what?”

“For love,” Charles said simply.

The room fell silent, the only sound the faint ticking of the clock on the wall. The king finally sat back down, rubbing a hand over his face. When he looked up again, his expression was weary but no less stern.

“You’re making a mistake,” he said quietly.

“Maybe,” Charles replied. “But it’s my mistake to make.”

The king’s lips pressed into a thin line, his gaze searching his son’s face as if looking for a crack in his resolve. But Charles stood firm, his decision made.

“You’ll regret this,” the king said finally, his voice heavy with warning.

“Perhaps,” Charles said. “But I’ll never regret choosing her.”

Without another word, he turned and walked out of the study, leaving his father staring after him in silence.

The rumours spread like wildfire. Whispers followed Charles wherever he walked, his every step trailed by servants and courtiers exchanging furtive glances and hushed speculations. The air in the palace buzzed with the shock of his decision, but none of it mattered to him. Not the disapproval etched into his father’s face, nor the incredulous murmurs of the courtiers. His mind was focused solely on her.

He found her in the palace laundry room, folding linens with the quiet efficiency that always seemed to calm her. When he walked in, she froze, her fingers clutching the corner of a sheet.

“You,” she began, her voice a mixture of disbelief and exasperation. “You really went through with it?”

He stepped closer, his hands tucked behind his back, his face calm but his eyes alight with purpose. “I told you I would.”

She stared at him, shaking her head. “I thought—Charles, I thought it was just talk. Something you’d get over once you realised how insane it is.”

“Well, I’m officially insane,” he said with a faint smile, stepping closer.

She dropped the sheet onto the table and turned to face him fully, her arms crossed. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? The crown, the throne, your entire future—it’s gone. All of it. For what?”

“For you,” he said simply.

Her mouth opened, but no words came. Finally, she shook her head, her voice trembling. “You’re impossible. Do you know what this means? I can’t work here anymore, not if you abdicate. The palace won’t keep me.”

“I know,” he said gently. “And I wouldn’t ask you to stay here. We’ll leave—together.”

“Leave?” she echoed, blinking at him.

“Yes,” he said, stepping closer until he was just in front of her. “I’ve been thinking about it. We can go somewhere no one knows us, where we can start fresh.”

She stared at him like he’d grown another head. “Where would we even go?”

“Italy,” he said with a small smile.

“Italy?” she repeated, her brows furrowing.

“Yes, maybe Marenello,” he said, his voice filled with conviction. “It’s beautiful, the weather is perfect, and… I don’t know, it just feels right.”

She let out a soft, incredulous laugh. “Charles, I don’t even speak Italian.”

He tilted his head, his smile widening. “Then, for once, I’ll get to teach you something.”

His words hung in the air, so tender and unexpected that she couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at her lips. The corners of his eyes crinkled at her reaction, and before she could say anything else, he stepped even closer and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head.

She closed her eyes, the warmth of his touch sending a shiver through her. “You’re serious about this,” she whispered.

“Completely,” he murmured against her hair. “I’m not afraid of starting over, not if it’s with you.”

For a moment, she let herself believe it could be possible—this crazy, impossible dream of theirs.

“When?” she asked softly.

“Tomorrow,” he said, his voice full of quiet resolve. “After I sign the abdication papers.”

She pulled back slightly, looking up at him with wide, searching eyes. “And then what?”

He smiled, his expression both calm and full of determination. “And then we start the life we’ve always wanted.”

She didn’t want to be vulgar, she really didn’t but she had to be honest.

She was shitting herself at the thought of being summoned into the King’s office with the entire family.

The office was uncharacteristically quiet, the usual hustle and bustle of the palace muffled by the thick doors. Charles sat at the massive oak desk, the official abdication papers spread out before him. Arthur stood off to the side, his arms crossed, watching the scene with a mix of bewilderment and unease while his parents stood by the desk with a clear look of disdain etched on their faces.

She stood near the doorway, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. She looked smaller than usual, her nerves evident in the way her fingers twisted together. Her wide eyes darted between Charles and the papers, the weight of the moment pressing down on all of them.

Arthur broke the silence first. “Are you sure about what you’re doing, Cha?”

Charles’s pen hovered over the signature line, but he didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he looked up at her. She met his gaze, and in that instant, the rest of the room faded away. The worry in her eyes, the way her lips pressed together as if she was holding back words—it was as if he was falling in love all over again.

“You don’t have to do this for me, Cha,” she said softly, her voice barely more than a whisper.

He smiled at her, then, without hesitation, he bent his head and signed his name in bold strokes across the paper.

The moment was electric, the scratch of the pen on parchment the only sound in the room. When he finally set the pen down, it felt as if the world had shifted, as if something monumental had been set into motion.

Arthur exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “Well, there it is,” he muttered, his voice carrying a mixture of disbelief and resignation. “You’re officially insane.”

Charles stood, his movements deliberate as he turned to face her. “Go back to your house,” he said, his voice steady but laced with an urgency that made her breath hitch. “Pack your things. Tell your brother. We’re leaving at six.”

Her eyes widened, her lips parting as if to protest, but before she could say a word, Arthur muttered something about needing air and slipped out of the room, leaving them alone, his parents following shortly behind.

The silence that followed was thick with tension, their gazes locked as the gravity of what had just happened sank in.

“You…” she began, her voice trembling. “You really did it.”

“I did,” he said, stepping closer to her.

She opened her mouth to speak again, but before she could, he cupped her face gently in his hands. The world seemed to pause, the space between them charged with an intensity that neither of them could deny any longer.

And then he kissed her.

It was soft at first, tentative, as if he was savouring the moment he had dreamed of for so long. But when she leaned into him, her hands clutching his jacket as if to anchor herself, the kiss deepened, becoming a silent promise of everything they were about to face together.

When they finally pulled apart, her cheeks were flushed, her breathing uneven. He rested his forehead against hers, his hands still cradling her face.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice low and full of emotion.

She blinked, her eyes shining as she searched his face. “I love you too,” she said softly, her voice breaking slightly. Because she did, she didn’t know when she exactly fell in love with him. Maybe it was when he first came to her house and looked at it with wonder rather than judgement or maybe it was when they shared that intimate moment in the wardrobe.

He smiled, brushing a thumb across her cheek. “Then go,” he said. “Pack your things. This time tomorrow, we’ll be miles away from here. Together.”

She nodded, her resolve strengthening as she stepped back, her gaze lingering on him for a moment longer before she turned and slipped out of the office.

Charles stood there for a moment, the weight of what he’d just done settling in his chest. But for the first time in his life, he felt truly free.

the end.

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the-winter-spider · 1 day ago

Text

Invisible | Part 16

Pairings: Bucky x reader AU

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings: ANGSTTYYYYY, swearing

A/N: here we areeee sorta lmao

Masterpost

Steve walked you up the steps to your apartment, the silence between you both heavy but not uncomfortable. The city lights flickered faintly in the distance, casting a soft glow on the quiet street. You paused at the door, fumbling with your keys, when Steve broke the silence.

“Do you want me to stay?” he asked, his voice gentle but firm. His blue eyes searched yours, filled with concern. “I mean, Bucky’s bound to come back sooner or later.”

You offered him a small, tired smile, shaking your head. “It’s okay, Steve. You’ve done enough for me tonight. This… this is something I need to figure out with him. Just the two of us.”

Steve hesitated, clearly reluctant to leave. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” you said, your voice soft but steady. “I’m a big girl, remember? I can handle it.”

Steve sighed, then pulled you into a hug, wrapping his arms around you tightly. His warmth was grounding, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to just exist in that safe space he always seemed to provide.

“I’ll always be here for you,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with quiet promise. “No matter what.”

You squeezed him back, your heart aching with gratitude. “I’ll always be here for you too, Stevie. And… I’m sorry.”

He pulled back slightly, his hands still resting on your shoulders, and gave you a small, sad smile. “You have nothing to apologize for. Not to me.”

His words hit you harder than you expected, and for a second, you couldn’t find the right response. You just nodded, your throat tightening. Steve leaned down and pressed a quick, reassuring kiss to your forehead before stepping back.

“Goodnight,” he said softly.

“Goodnight,” you whispered.

With one last lingering glance, Steve turned and made his way down the steps, disappearing into the night. You watched until he was out of sight, the ache in your chest deepening. Taking a deep breath, you turned back to the door, bracing yourself for what was to come.

As you closed the door behind you, you felt it—the subtle shift in the air, the unmistakable presence of someone else. Your heart jumped, and when you looked up, there he was.

Bucky was sitting on the edge of the couch, his elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped together tightly. His head snapped up the moment you walked in, his blue eyes locking onto yours. The apartment was silent except for the faint hum of the fridge in the kitchen.

For a moment, neither of you said anything. You just stood there, staring at each other, the weight of everything that had happened pressing down like a suffocating blanket.

Finally, Bucky broke the silence, his voice low and rough, tinged with something that sounded dangerously close to desperation. “Can we talk?”

Your throat tightened, your hand gripping the strap of your bag like it was the only thing keeping you upright. Part of you screamed to say no, to protect what was left of your shattered heart. But another part—the one that had clung to him for so long, even when you shouldn’t have—was too tired to keep running.

You nodded stiffly, your voice barely audible. “Yeah. We can talk.”

The tension in the room was unbearable, the silence crackling with unspoken truths and jagged edges. Bucky shifted uncomfortably, his hands shoved deep into his pockets.

“You wanna sit?” he asked hesitantly, his voice soft, almost careful.

You shook your head, crossing your arms tightly over your chest. “No. I’d rather stand.”

He nodded, his gaze dropping to the floor for a moment before he looked back up at you, his eyes stormy and unsteady. “I don’t even know where to start,” he admitted, his voice rough, almost raw.

A bitter laugh escaped your lips, sharp and humorless. “Well, there’s a lot to unpack, Buck,” you shot back, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and exhaustion.

He flinched, but nodded again. “I know,” he said quietly, his shoulders slumping as though the weight of it all was finally dragging him down.

The silence between you stretched out, heavy and suffocating. You could feel the words bubbling up, the frustration, the hurt—it was too much to hold in any longer.

“You had no right,” you said suddenly, your voice slicing through the stillness.

His head snapped up, confusion flickering across his face. “What?”

“You had no right to tell me about Steve,” you snapped, your tone biting. “That wasn’t yours to share! I can’t believe you’d do that to him—to me! He’s your best friend too Bucky!”

He recoiled, his jaw tightening as his face crumpled in guilt. “I—”

But you weren’t done. “And you had no right to punch Dean, no matter how you felt about him. Or to make those snarky little comments about me not being able to handle a real date. What the hell is wrong with you, Bucky? And for what? Why?”

Bucky looked at you, his blue eyes shining with something raw and unguarded. He opened his mouth, but it was clear he was struggling to find the words. Finally, his shoulders sagged, and he exhaled a shaky breath.

“You’re right,” he said quietly, his voice breaking. “You’re absolutely right.”

You blinked, not expecting his immediate agreement. The anger bubbling in your chest faltered, leaving behind a hollow ache.

“I had no right to any of it,” he continued, his voice rough and remorseful. “Not to tell you about Steve, not to hit Dean, not to say those things to you. I—” He stopped, running a hand through his hair, his frustration evident. “I’ve been an asshole to you, and I know it. I know that. And I’m sorry.”

The words sounded genuine, but they weren’t enough to soothe the pain in your chest. “Sorry doesn’t fix this, Bucky,” you said, your voice trembling. “Sorry doesn’t undo everything you’ve done.”

“I know,” he said, his voice cracking again. “I know it doesn’t. And I know it probably never will be enough. But I don’t know why I do it. I don’t know why I say the things I say, why I push you away and pull you back, over and over again. I don’t know why I—” His voice broke, and he took a deep, unsteady breath. “I just know that I can’t lose you. I can’t. Not as a friend. Not as anything. I can’t, I won’t live a life without you in it… a part of it.”

Your heart clenched at the desperation in his voice, but it only fueled your frustration. “You don’t get to stand there and act like you’re the victim here, Bucky!” you snapped, your tears finally spilling over. “You’ve hurt me so many times—more times than I can count. Do you even realize what you’ve done? How much you’ve hurt me?”

“I do,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I realize it every fucking day.” Bucky’s voice is low, rough, as he takes a step closer, his fists clenching at his sides. His blue eyes blaze with frustration, pain, and something deeper—something raw and unfiltered. “But, what about me?” he snaps, his voice trembling. “What did you think those moments meant to me? When I would try and try and try to break through those walls you had up? You think that was easy? It wasn’t.”

Your breath catches, and you take a step back, but he follows, his eyes locked on yours, unrelenting. “Every time I tried to get close, every time I put myself out there, you’d shut me down. You’d give me that look, and then you’d fuck off like none of it mattered. Do you think it was easy for me? It wasn’t.” His voice cracks slightly, but he powers through. “You’re acting like this is all my fault, but it’s not. This is a two-way street, sweetheart.”

The room feels like it’s closing in on you, the walls pressing tighter with every word, the air thick and suffocating. Bucky’s voice reverberates in the charged silence, raw with an intensity that shakes you to your core.

Your voice trembles as you finally manage to speak, your words slipping out, shaky and sharp. “Do you blame me? That night in college—we dove headfirst into it! Y-you never even tried to talk to me about it after. What was I supposed to think? To feel?!” You pause, your voice breaking. “You had a reputation, Bucky! What was I supposed to believe?”

His face twists, a mixture of frustration and pain that spills over in his words. “We’re going back to that night again, huh?” he growls, pacing the length of the room like a caged animal, his movements restless, his fists clenching at his sides. “Fine. Let’s remember.”

He turns to you suddenly, his voice rising, cracking under the weight of the emotions he’s been carrying for years. “You left me that night! I never left you! You walked out on us, on the possibility of something real, and you didn’t even look back. You assumed!” His voice breaks on the word, loud and desperate as it ricochets off the walls. “Because you always fucking assume! You never stopped to think about what it meant for me—what it actually meant for me—that night. You leaving…”

His pacing stops abruptly as he runs both hands down his face, dragging his palms over his stubble like he’s trying to hold himself together. His chest rises and falls unevenly, his breathing ragged. “What about me?” he asks, his voice cracking, and for the first time, he looks at you like he’s completely unraveling. “What about me?”

Your breath hitches, and the tears that have been burning at the corners of your eyes finally spill over. You don’t even try to stop them as you glare at him through the blur of your tears. “You never clarified anything to me, Bucky!” Your voice is trembling but sharp, slicing through the tension. “You just let those rumors float around! And even after we had sex, you never stopped them! You still went out with girls, you still slept with them! And you wanted me to just… somehow know that it actually meant something to you?!”

Bucky’s jaw tightens as your words hit him like a physical blow. His hands drop to his sides, clenching into fists. “Of course you should have known!” he yells, his voice cracking under the strain. “It’s YOU! For god’s sake, it’s you! You’re not just anyone, and after all these years, all this time, how could you think of me like that? How could you not see it?”

His breathing is erratic, his blue eyes boring into yours, raw and pleading. “And for the record,” he says, his voice dropping to a quieter, almost broken tone, “I haven’t been with anyone since you.”

You shake your head, your disbelief immediate and sharp. “That’s bullshit. I don’t believe you.”

Bucky lets out a bitter, humorless laugh that slices through you. “Of course you don’t. You never do apparently! But you believe everybody else, don’t you?” He takes a step closer, his voice rising again, full of pain and accusation. “Everyone except your best friend. You’ve known me since we were five, and you still think I’m lying?”

Your voice shakes, your anger breaking through your tears. “Fuck you,” you snap, your words trembling with both fury and heartbreak. “That was over two years ago! Don’t stand here and tell me you haven’t slept with anyone in two years, Bucky!”

He lets out a hollow laugh, shaking his head as he lifts his right hand, his fingers splaying out. “I’ve got a hand, don’t I?”

The bluntness of his words stuns you into silence for a moment. The room feels impossibly small as his voice drops, quiet but raw with emotion. He takes a hesitant step closer, his blue eyes never leaving yours. “You don’t think I’ve tried?” he asks, his voice breaking on the words. “I’ve tried! I tried with Kate. I’ve tried with others. But I just can’t.” His hands fall to his sides, his voice rising with desperation. “Because it feels wrong without you. Everything feels wrong without you.”

His confession hangs in the air like a storm cloud, heavy and suffocating, and you’re left standing there, your heart pounding so hard it feels like it’s about to burst. The vulnerability in his voice, in his posture, is devastating. You’ve never seen him like this—so unguarded, so exposed—and it cuts deeper than you thought possible.

And for a moment, the world seems to stand still.

Summer before senior year

The sun was casting a soft, golden glow over the quiet neighborhood as Bucky finally reached your house. His chest heaved with exertion, and his knuckles were bruised and bleeding, but he didn’t care. All he cared about was finding you.

The house was eerily silent as he approached. He pounded on the door, his heart in his throat. He called your name, his voice cracking with desperation. “It’s me. Please… are you here?”

No answer.

Bucky clenched his fists, the pain in his knuckles grounding him as panic threatened to take over. He stepped back, his eyes scanning the windows, the driveway, any sign that you might be home. He was about to start circling the house when he noticed movement down the street.

It was you.

You were walking slowly, your arms wrapped around yourself, your head down. Even from a distance, Bucky could see the way your shoulders were hunched, like you were carrying the weight of the world. His heart broke at the sight.

He called your name, jogging toward you. The sound of his voice made you stop in your tracks, but you didn’t look up. He reached you within seconds, skidding to a halt a few feet away. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice trembling.

You lifted your head, your tear-streaked face cutting him like a knife. “Bucky,” you whispered, your voice hoarse.

He took a cautious step closer, his hands raised slightly as if approaching a wounded animal. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” he said softly. “Steve told me… he told me what happened.”

Your lip quivered, and you quickly looked away. “You didn’t have to come, i didn't ask you too…” you murmured, your voice barely audible.

“Yes, I did,” Bucky said firmly. “I did because…” He trailed off, his fists clenching at his sides as he struggled to find the right words. “Because I care about you, You’re my best friend. And I’m sorry for telling you that you couldn't come to me, for making you feel that way, I’m sorry for everything.”

Your eyes finally met his, and he saw the anger and hurt swirling within them. “You were right, though,” you said, your voice breaking. “Mike didn’t care about me. He didn’t even want to stay.”

Bucky’s chest tightened. “I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice trembling. “I feel like this is my fault. Like… like maybe if I’d told you about Carley, if I’d been honest with you from the start, you wouldn’t have felt like you had something to prove.”

You blinked, startled. “What does Carley have to do with this?”

Bucky sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I never told you about her because I was ashamed. I wasn’t ready for… any of it, but I did it anyway because I felt like I had to. Everyone else was moving on, and I thought I should too.”

He paused, his eyes filled with a vulnerability you rarely saw. “But it wasn’t what I thought it would be. It didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel like it thought it should’ve. And I hate that you had to go through that with Mike. That it wasn’t… that it wasn’t what it should’ve been for you either.”

You stared at him, your heart twisting painfully. “Why are you telling me this now?”

“Because you deserve to know,” Bucky said quietly. “And because I never want you to feel like you have to settle for less than you deserve.”

The two of you stood there in silence for a moment, the weight of everything unsaid hanging between you. Finally, Bucky took a deep breath, his voice trembling as he asked, “Can you forgive me?”

Your lips parted, but no words came out. Instead, you stepped forward, wrapping your arms around him. Bucky froze for a moment before his arms came around you, holding you tightly as if he could somehow piece you back together.

“I’m sorry too,” you whispered into his chest. “For everything, i never wanna lose you Buck”

Bucky rested his chin on top of your head, his eyes closing as he held you. “We’ll be okay, we’ll always be okay, its us”

“I have loved you since we were kids,” Bucky’s voice broke, his words raw and desperate, the kind that claw their way out of a person when they’ve been buried too long. He stepped closer, his hands trembling at his sides, his blue eyes blazing with emotion. “How could you not see it? How could you not feel it?”

His voice rose, cracking under the weight of his emotions, and his fists clenched as if trying to hold himself together. “I love you. I have always loved you. I LOVE YOU!” The words ripped from him like they’d been burning a hole in his chest for years, finally too powerful to contain.

His shoulders sagged, and his breath hitched as he continued, his voice softer now but no less intense. “Every time, every single time—you needed something, you called me, and I came running. I dropped everything for you. Everything. Even when you didn’t ask, I was there. I chose you, over and over again. And every damn time, you never saw it.”

His gaze locked onto yours, his anguish laid bare. “I’ve spent years waiting, hoping you’d notice. Hoping you’d see me—not just as your friend, but as the guy who would do anything, be anything, just to make you happy. But you didn’t. Or maybe you did, and you didn’t care. Either way, it’s been tearing me apart.”

His words hung heavy in the air, the silence crackling with tension as he stood there, breathing hard, his raw confession filling the space between you. For the first time, Bucky Barnes wasn’t just your best friend—he was a man who had reached his breaking point, stripped of every defense, standing exposed in front of you, waiting for you to either put him back together or shatter him completely.

You shook your head, a bitter laugh escaping your lips as tears streaked down your face. “No. No, you don’t get to say that now. You can’t just say that now.” Your voice cracked, raw with the weight of everything you’d held inside for years. You wiped at your tears with trembling hands, frustration bubbling over. “It wasn’t obvious, Bucky! Maybe in your goddamn head it was, but not to me!”

Your voice rose, trembling with anger and heartbreak. “How could it have been? You were always with someone else, or talking about another girl. Every time I started to think, maybe—maybe—this isn’t just in my head, you’d do something to prove me wrong. You’d flirt with someone else. You’d talk about someone else.” You gesture wildly, your emotions spilling out uncontrollably now. “And you expect me to believe that this—that we—was obvious?”

Bucky flinched, his eyes wide, but you pushed forward, unable to stop yourself. “We had moments, Bucky. God, so many moments where I thought maybe… maybe. But you never did anything. You never said anything. You just left me sitting there, waiting—wondering if I was crazy for even hoping.” Your voice cracked, and your hands fell limply to your sides. “You never tried. You never did a damn thing. And now you stand here, years later, telling me this? Now?”

You could see the pain etched across his face, the regret in his eyes, but it didn’t dull the ache in your chest. “It’s been years, Bucky,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “Years of me wondering if I was imagining it all. And you just… let me.”

The air between you and Bucky was suffocating, heavy with years of unspoken words and unresolved feelings. You could feel your pulse hammering in your ears, every word exchanged cutting deeper than the last. The living room, once a safe space, now felt like a battleground where the ghosts of your past circled, waiting for the final blow.

Bucky’s chest heaved as he stared at you, his blue eyes glassy, his face etched with frustration and heartbreak. “You think I didn’t try?” he said, his voice a mix of anger and desperation. “You think I didn’t want to make a move? I didn’t do it because I was scared! Scared of ruining the one good thing in my life! I couldn’t risk losing you, so yeah, I kept my mouth shut and buried how I felt.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms tightly over your chest as if it could shield you from the weight of his words. “You didn’t just bury it, Bucky. You locked it away and threw the key at my feet. You made me feel like I was imagining everything! And all the while, you were running off with other girls like it didn’t mean a damn thing.”

He flinched at your words but didn’t back down. “You think it was easy for me? Watching you look at me like I was just another guy, like I didn’t matter? God, every time you’d laugh with Steve or go on about some asshole, it killed me! And yet, I stayed. I stayed because you needed me, and I thought that was enough. But it wasn’t.” His voice cracked again, and he wiped a hand down his face. “I needed you, too.”

The tears you had been holding back spilled over, hot and stinging as they trailed down your cheeks. “If you needed me so badly, then why did you let me walk away? Why didn’t you come after me, Bucky? I gave you every chance, and you still—” Your voice broke, and you turned away, unable to face him.

Bucky’s hands balled into fists at his sides, his voice hoarse. “Because you looked at me like I was nothing that night. Like everything we’d built, everything we could’ve had, didn’t matter to you. Do you know what that did to me? You left me, and I—I didn’t know how to fight for you when you didn’t want to be fought for.”

You spun back around, your eyes blazing. “You don’t get to put this all on me! You broke my heart before I even knew what it meant to love someone! You made me feel like I was never enough, like I was some backup plan while you figured out your life. And now, now you want to stand here and tell me you’ve loved me all along? No. That’s not fair, Bucky.”

He took a step closer, his voice trembling. “I’m not asking for fair. I’m asking for real. I’m telling you now because I can’t hold it in anymore. I’ve carried this for years, and it’s tearing me apart.”

The words hung between you like a fragile thread, stretched to its limit. Bucky’s face was a canvas of raw emotion—anger, sadness, longing. “I’ve loved you since we were kids, I will always love you” he whispered, his voice cracking. “And I’m sorry if I didn’t show it the way you needed. But don’t you dare stand there and tell me I didn’t love you with everything I had, with everything I could”

You shook your head, your body trembling. “And what am I supposed to do with that now, Bucky? After everything? After all the pain, all the missed chances?”

He stepped closer again, his voice quieter but no less intense. “You say I never made a move? Well, here it is. I’m laying it all out. I love you, im so in love with you! and I’ll keep saying it until you believe me. But if you don’t feel the same—if you can’t—then tell me, and I’ll walk away. I’ll leave, for good this time.”

Your heart clenched painfully, the weight of his confession crushing you. You looked into his eyes, searching for answers, for clarity, but all you found was the same broken boy you’d loved for years. The one you’d always loved.

But love wasn’t supposed to feel like this. It wasn’t supposed to hurt this much.

“I don’t know, Bucky,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

Bucky’s shoulders sagged, his face falling as if the weight of your words had physically struck him. He nodded slowly, the fight draining out of him. “Okay,” he said softly, his voice hollow. “Okay.”

The silence that followed was deafening. You felt like the ground had been ripped out from under you, leaving you suspended in a free fall with no end in sight.

Finally, you turned away, your voice breaking as you said, “I need time, I just need a minute..”

Bucky didn’t stop you. He didn’t call after you or try to pull you back. He simply stood there, watching as you walked out of the room, his heart shattering with every step you took.

The streets felt endless as you walked, the cool night air biting at your skin but doing nothing to soothe the ache in your chest. The echoes of Bucky’s voice still rang in your ears, his confession, his anger—it all felt too big to hold. You didn’t know where else to go, so your feet carried you to the one place that always felt like a refuge.

Natasha and Wanda’s apartment.

You didn’t knock. Your hands were shaking too much to even try. Instead, you turned the handle and stepped inside, your breath hitching as you fought to hold yourself together.

Wanda was the first to notice you. She stood in the living room, wrapped in a soft blanket, her fingers curled around a mug of tea. Her face softened the moment she saw you, her expression filled with concern. “Oh, babe,” she said gently, setting the mug down and crossing the room to you. “Come here.”

You nodded wordlessly, letting her guide you inside. Your coat hung limp in your hand, and your shoes scraped against the floor as you kicked them off.

Natasha appeared from the kitchen, a glass of wine in her hand. Her sharp green eyes flicked over you, taking in the tear-streaked face, the uneven breaths, and the raw emotion clinging to you like a second skin. She didn’t say anything right away, just gestured toward the couch.

You sank into the cushions, your heart hammering. The silence was heavy, and when the words finally came, they spilled out of you like a broken dam.

“I talked to Bucky,” you choked out, your voice unsteady. “We fought. He told me he loves me. That he’s always loved me.”

Wanda perched beside you, her hand gently squeezing your knee. She didn’t say anything, just offered silent support. Natasha, however, stood in front of you, arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her silence was unnerving, her face unreadable.

“And now?” Natasha asked, her tone quiet but carrying an edge. “Why are you here crying?”

Her question hit like a slap, cutting through the haze of your thoughts. You blinked at her, confused. “What do you mean?”

Natasha took a deliberate sip of her wine, her gaze steady and unnerving. “I mean, why are you here? Why aren’t you there? With him?”

Your mouth opened, but no words came out. Instead, you stared at her, trying to make sense of her words. “Because…” you stammered, shaking your head. “After everything? After everything he’s done, you’ve always told me not to run back to him.”

Natasha’s lips pressed into a thin line, and she set her glass down with a sharp clink. “Yes. After everything.”

You stared at her, waiting for her to elaborate. When she didn’t, frustration bubbled up. “Why aren’t you on my side right now?” you demanded, your voice cracking.

Natasha sighed, rubbing her temple as if this conversation was physically draining her. “Because, for once, he finally said it. He said what you’ve been waiting to hear for years.”

Wanda’s hand stayed steady on your knee, but she looked at Natasha with quiet curiosity. Natasha’s tone wasn’t just sharp—it was laced with something else, something deeper.

“If this is what you’ve always wanted,” Natasha continued, her voice rising slightly, “and he’s there, telling you he loves you, why the hell are you here? Why are you sitting on my couch crying about it?”

The words felt like they knocked the wind out of you. You tried to speak, to justify your actions, but nothing came.

“Let me make this clear,” Natasha pressed on, her voice trembling with barely restrained emotion. “At least the person you love actually loves you back.”

Your heart stopped. “Nat…” you started, your voice weak. “What are you talking about?”

Natasha’s eyes flashed, her carefully constructed walls beginning to crack. “God, you’re so blind,” she snapped, the words biting. “I’ve been in love with Steve for years.”

The air left the room. “What?” you whispered, the disbelief in your voice evident.

She scoffed, shaking her head. “Yeah. And Steve’s been in love with you for just as long. And while you’ve been chasing after Bucky, Steve’s been stuck watching it all, pining after someone he’ll never have. It’s a fucking circle of misery, and I’m tired of watching it.”

Her words felt like daggers. “I didn’t know,” you said, your voice cracking. “I didn’t know, Nat.”

“Of course you didn’t!” Natasha snapped, throwing her hands in the air. “Because you’ve always been so wrapped up in your own little world. I’m not saying you’re a bad friend—you’re not. You’re one of my best friends. But God, you’re such an idiot sometimes.”

You swallowed hard, tears welling in your eyes again. “I’m so sorry.”

Her shoulders sagged slightly, the anger giving way to exhaustion. She waved her hand dismissively. “I don’t need your apology. I’m not telling you this to make you feel bad. I’m telling you this because you need to get your shit together. You need to stop wasting time. Steve, he needs to let you go and Bucky…”

Her eyes bore into yours, the weight of her words impossible to ignore. “He loves you,” she said softly, her tone shifting. “And you love him. So what the hell are you doing here?”

The silence hung heavy between you, the gravity of everything sinking in. Finally, Natasha sighed and gestured toward the door. “Get out of my house. Go back to yours. Go see Bucky.”

You hesitated, glancing at Wanda for reassurance. Wanda gave you a small, supportive smile. “She’s right,” Wanda said softly. “You know she is.”

Natasha crossed her arms again, her expression softening just slightly. “Go,” she repeated. “Before I lose my patience and drag you out myself.”

You nodded slowly, standing and grabbing your coat. As you reached the door, you turned back, your voice trembling. “Thank you…”

Natasha gave you a small, tight smile. “Don’t thank me yet. Just… go fix it. Go be together, finally… please.”

You stepped out into the cold night air, your heart pounding as you walked back toward your apartment, Natasha’s words echoing in your head.

He loves you. You love him. So what the hell are you doing here?

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #sebastian stan x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes angst #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes ff #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes x reader angst #bucky fanfic #james bucky buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes

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mascdestr0yer · 3 days ago

Text

CAN I BE HIM

Knight!paige x princess!reader

Warnings: nobody’s dying this time, trust

Synopsis: The tension between you and Paige is building, driven by secrets and expectations, with both of you caught between duty and desire. The atmosphere remains heavy and uncertain, hinting at deeper conflicts and emotions that will only grow as the story unfolds.

A/N: i finished the other chapters, i’ll post them in moderation

The castle had always felt too big. Its halls, lined with tapestries depicting ancient wars and victories long past, echoed with the heavy footsteps of guards and the murmured conversations of nobles. Outside your window, the sun cast the last rays of the evening over the dark silhouette of the forest, stretching shadows across the stone floor like tendrils reaching out to pull you from the warmth of your chambers.

But warmth was an illusion here, you’d come to realize. A castle of cold stone can only hold so much heat before it slips through your fingers like water, leaving you clutching at something that was never really there. Just like people.

You sighed, running your fingers over the edge of the windowsill, chipped with age and flecked with dust. It had been three days since Vincent and his family had left, three days since your father and his advisors began their quiet, tense deliberations about what your future might hold. Three days since Paige had pulled away—again—leaving you alone with your thoughts, staring down at the flowers Vincent had brought. You had kept them in a silver vase on your dresser, though they were already beginning to wilt.

The petals were soft under your fingertips as you absently brushed one of the roses, its once-vibrant red now fading to a dull maroon. There had been a time when you would have pressed them between the pages of a book or tucked them into a drawer to keep them close, but you knew better now. Roses, like promises, were fragile things.

“Princess,” a voice came from the doorway, breaking the silence. You turned, and your heart twisted when you saw Paige standing there, her figure half-hidden in the shadow. Her armor glinted in the dying light, a stark contrast to the softness of her dark hair that curled around her neck. She looked hesitant, like she had something to say but couldn’t find the words.

“Yes, Bueckers?” you asked, deliberately formal. It was a barrier, a shield. Something you could hide behind, just like the heavy silk curtains that draped your bed.

She took a step inside, the usual swagger in her step absent, replaced by something… uncertain. “Your father requests your presence in the great hall,” she said, her voice clipped and businesslike, though her eyes were darting to the flowers on the dresser, the barely-there frown tightening her lips. “It’s about Prince Vincent.”

“Of course it is,” you replied, your tone light, almost flippant. It was easier to pretend, easier to deflect with humor than to acknowledge the strange knot in your stomach when you looked at her. Paige’s expression didn’t change as she turned to leave, but something flickered in her eyes—a flash of something raw and vulnerable that disappeared so quickly you wondered if you had imagined it.

You followed her down the corridors, your footsteps barely making a sound on the cold flagstones, but Paige’s armor clinked with every step, a steady, distant rhythm. You knew that beneath the armor, her shoulders were tense, and her hands—those hands that had so often held yours in secret—were clenched tight.

The great hall loomed ahead, the heavy wooden doors shut tight, and you swallowed the knot of unease that had lodged itself in your throat. Your father was waiting, along with his advisors and the knights who always seemed to lurk in the background like silent sentinels, watching your every move.

Paige stopped before the doors, her back straight as she faced you. “Go on,” she said softly, and for a moment, the coldness in her gaze softened. “I’ll wait here.”

You wanted to reach out, to say something that would ease the tension between you, but the words stuck in your throat. Instead, you gave a short nod and pushed open the doors, stepping into the cavernous hall where your father, King Alaric, sat upon the throne with a solemn expression.

“Ah, there you are,” he said, his voice carrying the weight of authority and exhaustion. “Come, sit. There’s much to discuss.”

You took your place at the long table, feeling the weight of everyone’s eyes on you—eyes that saw a princess, not a girl; a future queen, not someone lost in her own castle. The fire roared in the massive hearth at the far end of the room, but it offered no warmth, only casting shadows across the faces of the court, making them look hollow and distant.

“We’ve received word from Héroux,” your father began, and your heart sank. This was about Vincent, then. About the future that was slipping away from you like sand through your fingers. You listened as your father outlined plans, negotiations, arrangements—details of a life that felt more like a cage with each passing moment.

But your thoughts kept drifting back to Paige, standing just outside the doors, waiting. You wondered if she felt as trapped as you did, bound by duty and expectations neither of you had chosen.

When the meeting was finally over, you excused yourself with a polite bow, your face a mask of perfect composure even as your mind swirled with confusion and doubt. You had to find Paige, had to make sense of the distance that had grown between you in the past few days, ever since Vincent’s visit had stirred up things you hadn’t been ready to confront.

But when you stepped out of the hall, she was gone.

Later that night, you found her in the training yard, a lone figure in the moonlight, her armor piled neatly to the side as she ran through drills with the precision and grace of someone who had done it a thousand times before. You watched her move, the way her muscles tensed and released with each fluid strike, the way her breath formed small clouds in the chill air.

“Paige,” you called softly, and she froze, the sword hovering in mid-swing before she lowered it and turned to face you. Her expression was guarded, the easy smile she usually wore nowhere to be found.

“Shouldn’t you be inside, princess? It’s cold out,” she said, sheathing her sword with a harsh, metallic clink.

“Shouldn’t you?” you countered, taking a step closer, feeling the weight of her gaze settle on you like a physical thing.

She shrugged, but the movement was stiff. “I’m used to the cold.”

“Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?” you asked, the question coming out sharper than you’d intended. You bit your lip, regret already welling up inside you, but Paige didn’t flinch. She just looked at you, her dark eyes searching yours, and for a moment you thought she might tell you the truth.

But she just laughed, the sound bitter and hollow, echoing off the stone walls of the yard. “Avoiding you? Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve been busy. Training. Preparing. You know… knight things.”

You took another step, closing the distance between you until you could see the flecks of gold in her eyes, until you could smell the faint scent of leather and sweat clinging to her skin. “Don’t lie to me,” you said, your voice barely more than a whisper. “I know you better than that.”

“Do you?” she asked, her voice dropping low, almost desperate. She looked away, her jaw tight, and you knew then that whatever walls had been building between you, they were higher than you’d realized. “Maybe you don’t know me at all.”

“Paige—” you reached out, your hand brushing hers, and she pulled away, turning her back to you with a sharp, angry motion that left you cold and aching.

“Go back inside, princess,” she said over her shoulder, her voice flat. “It’s late.”

You wanted to argue, to tell her that you didn’t care about late or propriety or the future your father was planning for you. But the look on her face stopped you—something broken and fragile that you didn’t understand, not yet. So you stepped back, wrapping your arms around yourself as if that could hold you together.

“Goodnight, Bueckers,” you said softly, using her last name because it was safer that way, because it was easier to pretend that you were still just a princess and she was still just your knight.

She didn’t respond, and you walked away, feeling the weight of her silence pressing down on you like a winter sky, heavy and endless and unbreakable.

But you knew you couldn’t stay away forever.

sorry if it's too short, hope you guys liked it taglist:@aerinaga @dancingqu33n @darlindayss @secretlifeofmarii @aavasstuff @ajcuteee @naipoohh @theendofevangelionnn @mrsengstler @thebignunfun @tired-duckling @julienbakerloverr @mrsarnold @slut4uconnwbb @abbyswif3 @svudetective @liviiyyy @hellokittyfeenie @paigeslanyard @latenighttalkinqwp @ashortyluvsports @kittykatz1227 @paulamdm @patscorner @addil244 @1-800-fantasy

#millie talks❀*̥˚#uconn wbb #uconn huskies #wlw #uconn women’s basketball #paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #drabble #fluff #paige bueckers headcannon #paige bueckers fic #fem!reader #lebanese

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starkeyslibrary · 3 days ago

Text

Exile

Inspired by the song Exile by Taylor Swift

pairing: you x drew starkey

The café was quiet, save for the hum of soft jazz filtering through the speakers and the clinking of cups against saucers. You sat in a booth by the window, fingers wrapped around a mug of now-lukewarm coffee. The cloudy skies outside mirrored the storm brewing inside you. Drew was late—again.

You sighed, glancing at the empty chair across from you. The weight in your chest grew heavier with every tick of the clock. This wasn’t the first time he’d kept you waiting, but it felt different today. He’d been distant for weeks, his texts growing shorter, his excuses more frequent. It was as though he was drifting away, and you were powerless to stop it.

The door chimed, and there he was. Drew Starkey, with his messy hair, sharp jawline, and the same leather jacket he wore on your first date. He looked like a dream. He always did. But the tired look in his eyes and the hesitation in his step turned your stomach. He spotted you, offering a small, tentative smile as he walked over.

“Hey,” he said, sliding into the seat across from you.

“Hey,” you replied, your voice quieter than you intended. You watched as he fidgeted with the hem of his jacket, avoiding your gaze. The silence stretched between you, heavy and uncomfortable. Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore. “Drew, what’s going on?”

His head snapped up, and for a second, he looked startled. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.” Your voice was steady, but your hands trembled slightly as you set your mug down. “You’ve been... distant. Different. And I feel like I don’t know where I stand with you anymore.”

He sighed, leaning back in his seat. His hands rubbed his face, and you could see the exhaustion etched into every line of his expression. “I’ve been busy,” he said finally, his voice devoid of its usual warmth. “Work’s been insane, and... I don’t know. It’s not you.”

“It’s not me,” you repeated, bitterness creeping into your tone. “That’s all you’ve got?”

“What do you want me to say?” he snapped, his voice rising slightly. “That I’ve been overwhelmed? That I don’t know how to balance everything right now? Because I don’t.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me that?” you asked, your voice cracking. “Why did you just... shut me out instead?”

Drew looked away, his jaw clenching. “Because it’s easier that way.”

“Easier for who?” you demanded. “Because it sure as hell hasn’t been easy for me, Drew. I’ve been sitting here, trying to figure out what I did wrong. What I could’ve done differently. And you didn’t even give me the chance to fix it.”

“There’s nothing to fix!” he said, his frustration spilling over. “Don’t you get it? Sometimes, things just... fall apart.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. You stared at him, your eyes stinging with unshed tears. “So that’s it?” you whispered. “You’re just giving up?”

“I’m not giving up,” he said, but his voice lacked conviction. “I’m being realistic.”

“Realistic,” you repeated, your voice trembling. “No, Drew. What you’re being is a coward.”

His eyes snapped to yours, anger flashing across his face. “A coward? Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously,” you said, leaning forward. “You’re running away because it’s easier than staying and fighting for what we have. And you know what? Maybe that’s on me for believing in us more than you did.”

“That’s not fair,” he said, his voice low. “You think this is easy for me? You think I don’t care?”

“I don’t know, Drew,” you said, throwing your hands up. “Because you won’t tell me anything! You won’t let me in!”

He fell silent, his fists clenching on the table. The air between you was charged, the weight of all the unsaid words pressing down on both of you. Finally, he looked at you, his blue eyes filled with something you couldn’t quite name—regret, maybe. Or guilt.

“I tried,” he said quietly. “I really did. But we’re just... we’re not on the same page anymore.”

You felt the tears spill over now, hot and unrelenting. “So, what?” you said, your voice breaking. “You’re just going to walk away? After everything?”

“I don’t know what else to do,” he admitted, his voice thick. “I don’t know how to fix this.”

“You don’t even want to try,” you said, shaking your head. “You’ve already made up your mind.”

He didn’t deny it. And that hurt more than anything he could’ve said.

The drive home was a blur, the world outside your window smeared with rain and tears. By the time you reached your apartment, the ache in your chest had settled into something deeper, heavier. You kicked off your shoes and sank onto the couch, burying your face in your hands.

Your phone buzzed on the coffee table. For a moment, you considered ignoring it. But when you saw Drew’s name on the screen, your heart clenched. You hesitated before opening the message.

“I’m sorry for tonight. I never wanted to hurt you.”

You stared at the words, the hollow apology doing little to ease the pain. You wanted to reply, to tell him how much he’d broken you, but what was the point? He’d already decided it was over.

Instead, you turned off your phone and curled up on the couch, letting the darkness swallow you whole.

The next week was a blur of numbness and routine. You went to work, smiled when you had to, and avoided any place where you might run into Drew. The ghost of him lingered everywhere—in the smell of coffee, in the playlists you couldn’t bring yourself to delete, in the way your chest tightened every time you passed his favorite bar.

One night, you found yourself sitting on your bed, staring at an old photo of the two of you. It was from last summer, at a carnival. Drew had his arm slung around your shoulders, his smile wide and carefree. You looked so happy, so full of hope.

That girl felt like a stranger now.

With a trembling hand, you placed the photo facedown on the nightstand. You couldn’t bring yourself to throw it away—not yet. Maybe not ever.

A month later, you saw him.

You were at a mutual friend’s party, a moment of weakness convincing you to show up despite your better judgment. And there he was, standing across the room with a beer in hand, laughing at something someone had said.

For a moment, he looked up, his eyes meeting yours. The room seemed to freeze. Neither of you moved, but the weight of that gaze was enough to shatter you all over again.

You turned and left before he could say a word.

—

The story of you and Drew didn’t end with fireworks or closure. It ended in silence, in the spaces between what was said and what was left unsaid. And as much as it hurt, you knew deep down that some stories aren’t meant to have happy endings. Some are just meant to teach you how to let go.

And so you did.

Eventually.

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beomiracles · 12 hours ago

Text

⌞ 𝟏𝟖𝟐𝟔 𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑 ⌝

DREAM RECALL ⸝⸝ “What?” He’s nearly shouting now. You know he doesn’t mean it, he never does, right? But it still hurts. You open your mouth to defend yourself, ready to tell him just how bad he hurt you. No words come out. — Beomgyu grows visibly frustrated, his hands balling up into fists by his sides. “Don’t fucking look at me like that!”

“Like what, Beomgyu?”

The use of his name makes him waver, you hadn’t said it, not once since he returned. And you can tell the gesture only angers him further. — “Like the whole fucking world owes you an apology! You left, you left without a word and you..” He hesitates, swallowing thickly as he regains his composure. “You took my son away from me.”

pairings — idol!beomgyu x fem!reader warnings — secret baby trope, miscommunication, lots of angst, verbal fighting, reader and beomgyu both hurt each other, morally grey characters?, infidelity except I'm super vague about if he did it or not (he didn't), cameo txt, oc (teddy), consumption of alcohol, reader gets intoxicated, heavy on the inner monologue. smut tags, unprotected sex, vaginal fingering, implied creampie but nothing is described, marking, nipple stimulation, lots and lots of kissing and making out, emotional sex sorta? + confessions during the sex.

WC ➤ 19k

#serene adds ✎.. hi. aurora ah thank you for being so patient with me I know this has taken QUITE some time but I'm grateful for you sticking around nonetheless :3 — like I've stated, this isn't a trope I've ever written for, and I might've gotten certain aspects wrong, I'm only human, anyway heh enjoy :3

this is sort of (not very) proofread, but I am not responsible for any spelling mistakes and or grammatical errors, take that with my lawyer in court and not me. merry christmas

PROLOGUE WILL BE POSTED TOMORROW (FRIDAY) !

The bright light tickles your eyes, causing a subtle burn to settle across them. But you don’t turn your phone off, even though you probably should. In fact, you should’ve been asleep hours ago, it was late now. — For some reason you can’t let go of the small device in your hand, even as you feel sleep threatening to overtake your exhausted body. Instead you fight to stay awake. Forcing yourself to read the words written across the screen over and over until you knew them by heart. Your gaze returns to the headline:

“TOMORROW X TOGETHER, TOUR SETLIST”

Some song names are familiar, others aren’t. You tried to keep up with their newest albums, tried to learn the lyrics of their latest songs. But it was nearly impossible. For your stomach still turned whenever you heard his voice. It was so easily recognizable amongst the rest, and you curse him for having the voice of an angel. Part of you wants to listen to him forever, another part of you thinks you might go insane if you do.

Your thumb swipes across the screen, and you’re presented with pictures, pictures of them. They’re all older now, as are you. They look…mature? Like they’d grown into their features properly. Even him. He looked far from the man you’d fallen in love with back then, and perhaps he wasn’t, not anymore. — Your heart contracts at the sight of his boyish grin, it takes you right back. But it’s not enough to make you regret your decision.

“Mommy!”

Blinking away the tears that somehow had managed to accumulate in your eyes, you turn toward the door. The old wood is slightly ajar, and a small figure lingers by the threshold. Your hurt is immediately washed away, and you smile. “Yes, sweetheart?” — The shadow moves forward, and soon it creeps into the light casted by your phone. “Mommy, I had a nightmare..” He hiccups, tiny hands clutching the worn out shark plushie.

“Oh Teddy”, you sigh, flicking on the bedside lamp as you push yourself into a sitting position, discarding your phone on the bed. “Was it about the shadow monster again?” You wonder as you scoop your son into your arms. He nods as he clings to you, drawing in a small sniffle as you carry him back to his room. “I-It keeps coming back!” He wails as tears stream down his round face.

You frown, gently rocking back and forth as you glance around his room, eyes landing on the night light he always used, a blue mushroom. “How so?” — Teddy emits another sob before wiping his wet cheeks. “B-Because the l-light keeps turning o-off!” He says as he points to the very much working lamp by his bed. You hum as you set him down on the mattress, pulling the blue covers over his shark-pajama covered body.

“But this light is still turned on”, you counter as you turn to the blue mushroom lantern. Your son furiously shakes his head. “No! It wasn’t! And that’s why the shadow monster came!” His eyes darts across the small room, as if searching for the intruder. — Your hand on his cheek shifts his attention to you and you smile. “But you know what Teddy?” You ask to which your son quietly shakes his head. “You’ve got a shadow of your own”, you point to his shadow, portrayed on the wall and his eyes follow your movement.

“See? Your shadow is always with you, and who’s better at fighting a shadow monster than another shadow?” — Teddy doesn’t look entirely convinced as he watches his shadow mimic him as he lifts an arm. “But what if it can’t?” He wonders with a squeaky voice, and as he turns to you with wide eyes and furrowed brows, your heart drops. He looked exactly like his dad. You know that it was far from his fault, but every time you looked at him, you thought of what you had lost, of what you had sacrificed.

But just as your heart sinks, does it begin to beat again. Teddy looks at you expectantly, like he’s waiting for you to tell him that everything is going to be alright. Because you’re his whole world. And he’s yours. — You don’t regret your decision, because Teddy is the best thing that ever happened to you.

“Your shadow will never abandon you, and neither will I. The shadow monster won’t get you as long as we’re both here.” You lean in to press a kiss on his forehead and your son smiles. Then he turns back to his shadow on the wall, and when he waves, it waves back. — “Do you want me to get your lamp some new batteries, just in case?” you wonder and Teddy nods, “Yes please.”

The small mushroom light had a surprisingly difficult hatch leading to its battery unit, and you struggled for a good five minutes with getting it open. And as you crouch by the side of his bed, your son continues to watch in amusement as his mom fights to get the new working batteries into his night light. — “Mommy”, he suddenly says, and you don’t look up as you answer with a soft hum. He’s quiet for a moment after that, and you think he might not have had anything to say in the first place. But then he speaks up, his voice is hushed, almost as if he was afraid of asking the question:

“Why don’t I have a daddy?”

Your fingers slip against the hatch that suddenly pops open and you swallow. You knew that the question was bound to come sooner or later. You suppose you’d hoped for it not to be this soon. Many times you’d thought about how to bring the topic up. When he was ready, you’d told yourself. But none of the scenarios fabricated in your mind had involved being confronted like this.

“Well.. You see Teddy, all families are different..” You begin as you occupy yourself with shoving the new batteries into the lamp. Your son hums, his small fingers twiddling with his shark plushie. “I know!” He then exclaims and you turn to him with raised brows. Teddy smiles, exposing his uneven set of milk teeth as he does. “Ellie has two daddy’s!” He then continues, though his expression quickly morphs into a confused one, “so why does she have two but I have zero?”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you shuffle closer, leaning onto his bed as your hand reaches for his. You open your mouth to say something, anything, but your son beats you to it. “If…If I had a daddy, he could help you with those things.” Teddy points to the mushroom light you had struggled with for the past minutes and you feel a melancholic smile tug at the corners of your lips. Your mind recalls the many instances in which Beomgyu had tried to “mend” things around your apartment, undoubtedly failing each and every time. You knew that he would hardly be of any help.

Still, you didn’t have the heart to tell your son that. So you nod, your hand around his giving a small squeeze. “You’re right, he would.” — Teddy grins, and despite the fact that he’s missing two of his front teeth, you’re still reminded of his father. “Your daddy would be able to scare the shadow monster away for good, I reckon”, you murmur as your hand brushes through his unkempt hair.

Your son nods to himself, clutching his plushie tightly as he yawns. “Did he scare your shadow monster away too?” He suddenly asks, and you’re taken aback, blinking as your fingers still in his hair. Your shadow monster? You don’t even know if you’d ever had one. Maybe..? — “I suppose he did”, you finally say.

Teddy’s silent after that, and you peer over at him to see if he’s fallen asleep. He hasn’t. Instead you find him quietly observing his shadow, blinking slowly as his body grows heavy. With a final yawn, he says:

“Then I think he’d be a good daddy to me.”

⸝⸝

“Beomgyu, I know what I saw.”

The air of your small apartment is thick and heavy with dread. You swallow as you try to calm your trembling hands, clenching them into fists by your sides. — Your boyfriend, Beomgyu, runs a hand through his long hair, the blonde highlights falling everywhere as he shakes his head, undoubtedly frustrated. He hasn’t even taken off his jacket nor his shoes. You’d confronted him the second he stepped foot inside.

He sighs, brows knitting together as his eyes meet yours. “You don’t even know what you’re talking about”, he argues to which you scoff. — “I know enough.” You fold your arms across your chest, throwing a pointed look toward the Tv. Beomgyu’s gaze follows yours and you catch the subtle twitch of his jaw as his attention falls on the picture of himself.

His band had finally headlined, but not for the right reasons. You should’ve expected it. It was a given, wasn’t it? Dating someone famous like him, someone young and attractive. Of course there would be rumors. But they’re not about you and him. This girl… Hell you didn’t even know her. — But she must’ve been pretty enough for him to fuck.

“It’s a rumor babe!” Beomgyu exclaims as he takes a step in your direction, but you stop him. Hands raised high above your head, you shout for him to stay back. “It’s not though.” — Your voice trembles as you inhale. Your boyfriend regards you with an expression best described as perplexed, his jaw, previously tense, now slacked as he tries to make sense of your words.

“Do you think I’m stupid?” You didn’t mean for it to sound so cold, so distant, but it did. And you can practically see his resolve crumbling as he shakes his head. “I mean…” You slowly begin, choking back the tears that threatened to spill down your cheeks. “The late nights, the non-returned calls, all my ignored texts…Don’t you think I get it?” Wiping your face with the sleeve of your shirt, you sniffle.

Beomgyu doesn’t say anything as he bites the inside of his cheek. His silence was loud and clear. You wanted to cry. — The first time your call went to his voicemail you brushed it off, but when he didn’t call you back that night, or the one after that, you’d grown worried. You called around for him, meeting nothing but dead-ends as none of his friends could advocate for his whereabouts. You texted him, again and again. He didn’t even read them.

Then he would turn up on your doorstep, at the most ungodly hour, begging for your forgiveness, promising to do better. You thought he might’ve been going through a rough time, so you let him inside. You let him inside your heart. You comforted him when he cried and you told him that things were going to be alright, that things were going to change. But they never did. And he never treated you better.

When you called Taehyun to ask if he was at practice, like he said he would be, only to be perceived as an idiot when Taehyun told you that he never showed up. It was then you knew that something was really wrong. A part of you thinks you’ve known for a while. Another part thinks you were too scared to bring it up, too scared to let him go. That part of you fought for his innocence for as long as it could.

But then he makes the headlines, and it’s not with you, but another woman. It confirmed what you had dreaded for so long. And if you didn’t act now, you were scared that you might never do.

“Do you honestly believe this shit?” He suddenly says as he throws an aggravated hand toward the Tv. Did you believe it? No, you couldn’t say that you did. Beomgyu was many things, a cheater wasn't one of them. Still, the way he acted, so nonchalantly trying to brush even a problem like this under the rug… It told you everything you needed to know about what kind of a person he was.

So you can only stare back at him, your eyes now empty as you slowly nod. “What else do you want me to believe?” You say, and your voice sounds monotone, almost robotic. — Beomgyu huffs as he shakes his head, his hand dragging across the side of his face as his narrowed gaze seizes you. “Well I don’t know, maybe me? Your fucking boyfriend?”

“Then give me one good reason.” You say, suddenly sounding irritated again. “Give me one reason to trust that you weren't out screwing someone else while I waited for you like an idiot.” — You give him about ten seconds to defend himself, watching as he scrambles for words. But when he doesn’t speak, you grow even more agitated. “See, you can't!”

“I had something important to do, okay?” He almost cuts you off and your brows furrow at the unreliable excuse. — “Something important? Like what? What could be more important than me? Than us?” You practically spit the question out, expecting at least a half-assed answer, but you’re met with none.

Oh.

Oh wow.

Beomgyu bites his bottom lip, his eyes drifting to the floor and you feel your heart sink to the same level. A bitter feeling blooms in your chest and your throat suddenly feels dry. You realize then that there was nothing else to say. This was it. Five months of your life completely wasted on someone who couldn’t give less of a fuck about you or your feelings.

“Out.”

The single word slices through the tense air and Beomgyu’s head snaps up as his eyes widen. “What?” He breathes but you only shake your head. “I want you out, now.” — He tries to object, but you won’t hear him out, you’d already made that mistake one too many times. Instead you have him leave, slamming the door behind him as he goes.

Your apartment becomes eerily silent after that, and so did the rest of your life.

You didn’t linger. That would be painful. Instead you packed whatever you thought was worth bringing along before you returned to the only place you could think of. Home. Shielded from the rest of the world, in a small village by the seaside, a place where only one knew you.

Your grandmother provided the love you had so desperately been craving for the past months of your life. She allowed you to settle into her home for a while. And for the first time in what felt like forever, things finally started to look up. — Only for them to come crashing down again as the heavy realization that you were not alone dawned upon you.

⸝⸝

“Mommy! Mommy! Look! Sharks!” Teddy exclaims as he rushes toward the arts section, eyes glued on the shark stickers before him. He’s so eager that he almost trips over his own feet before making it to his desired destination. — With a subtle roll of your eyes, you give in. “Fine, put them in the cart”, you sigh. Though nothing beats seeing your son’s face light up into a wide grin as he scurries over with his finds.

You don’t regret Teddy.

Not in the slightest. He was the best thing that had ever happened to you. Even if it meant giving up a lot of your life in order to make room for him in it. You were young, dumb and naive. And had it not been for your grandmother, you don’t know how you would’ve made it. — You owed her big time.

Still, you found that you enjoyed a quiet life. There was something special about raising Teddy in the very same environment you’d grown up in. From walks on the beach, collecting seashells and building sand castles.. To harvesting fresh strawberries in your grandmother’s garden during summer. Or the small marketplace in the center of town, bustling with life year around. — A quiet life. Far away from your past, hidden from its watchful and judging eyes.

Except today, your past seemed to have found you.

You’re almost done for the day, the ingredient list, clutched in your hand, had been nearly ticked off. But as you turn down toward the breakfast section, you’re met with what could’ve possibly been one of the most cruel pranks the world could pull.

An icy feeling washes over your body, the wheels of your cart coming to a squeaking stop in the middle of the aisle. Your eyes glue to the figure not even 10ft from you, immediately recognizing his sharp features. Dark and perfectly styled hair and a variety of jewelry dangling from his ears. He has yet to notice you, seemingly occupied with scanning the shelves before him. — Teddy stops too, his attention turning to the colorful packages of cereal on his left. You’re far too shocked to notice him scurrying to grab a box. And only when the high pitch of his voice breaks the thick silence do you jolt to life.

“Look! It’s the ones with sharks on!” He exclaims, practically shoving the cereal packaging against you as he flaunts the two sharks on the cover. Your heart drops as your son’s voice manages to attract not only your attention, but his as well. — You can practically feel the surprise radiate off of him as he turns to you, and then your name slips from his lips, and you know he knows.

You try to smile, forcing yourself to push down the dreadful feeling rising in your chest as he approaches. “Oh my god, Yeonjun?” Your words come out a short, breathless laugh and Yeonjun returns it with a small chuckle. “In the flesh”, he grins, hands now stuffed into his pockets as he studies you for a moment. “Shit, how long has it been?” He muses, a small frown etching its way to his face.

“Five years”, you reply, almost too quickly, you hope he doesn't pick up on it. But Yeonjun merely nods, muttering a quiet “Jesus, you’re right”, under his breath. You glance around, praying that he was alone, it seemed like he was. — It was impossible to know how many details Beomgyu had given them, what he’d told them, how he’d made them perceive you. But as your eyes meet his, you find no resentment in his gaze. Yeonjun looks happy to see you.

“You’ve been here all along?” He asks, sounding almost astonished. You nod, “My grandma owns a small house not far from here, I thought it’d be nice to stay somewhere close by.” Yeonjun hums in agreement, his lips parting, as if to say something, but he falls silent as his attention drifts to Teddy, clutching onto your leg as he demands attention. You catch the subtle raise of his brows as his gaze flickers between Teddy and you.

Dumbfounded, you clear your throat, “O-Oh, right. This is Teddy”, you say as you hoist the five year old into your arms, huffing at how heavy he’d gotten. Teddy studies Yeonjun’s perplexed expression, a grin on his tiny face as his small hands clutch at your shirt. “Shit, you’ve got a kid?” He finally exhales. You bite the inside of your check, nodding as you motion for your son to say hi. “Come on Teddy, why don’t you say hi to Yeonjun?”

The young boy extends his hand and Yeonjun takes it, “Nice to meet you, Teddy”, he says, the surprise slowly wearing off as he blinks a couple of times. Teddy giggles at the grown-up aspect of shaking someone's hand, and Yeonjun has to fight for your son to release his grip on him. — “Why don’t you go pick out a snack?” You tell him as you set him down once more, eager to rid yourself of him for a few minutes to talk to Yeonjun in private.

Teddy wasn’t very hard to convince and as soon as his sneakers hit the ground he was off, darting down the aisle without as much as a care in the world. “Don’t eat it before we pay!” You call out after him, not receiving a reply. — The silence that settles over you after that is beyond stale, and you find yourself avoiding Yeonjun’s gaze as best as you could.

“So..” He begins, the frown on his face still prominent. “I’m guessing you’ve found someone. els…” — “Oh god no!” You interrupt him before he can finish, the defensive edge to your voice palpable as you shake your head. “I um, I’m raising him alone..” You quickly add, trying to brush over who the father in question actually was.

“Oh.”

The conflicted expression on Yeonjun’s face seems to immediately ease up at your response. Weird. Why did he care? Has someone told him to care? Did he still care? — Now visibly relaxed, he lets his hands return to his pockets, the same careless grin on his face once more. “How old is he anyway?”

“Four”, you say, though quickly adding, “he’s turning five in a couple of months but likes to say that he is already.” — Yeonjun chuckles, shaking his head like he’s experienced the exact same events himself. “Growing up takes a great deal of time”, he muses, throwing a glance over his shoulder toward Teddy who was rummaging through the shelves by the far end of the aisle, flimsy hands grabbing at whatever he could find as he left chaos in his wake.

“The others would love to see you”, he then says, “We’re in town for two weeks, a small vacation between schedules.” The statement makes your heart skip over a beat. They want to see you? They weren’t mad at you? They didn’t hate you for walking out on their friend? — Your jaw was likely scraping the floor by that point because Yeonjun cleared his throat awkwardly as he hastily continued.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, I totally get if you’re busy.” He scratches the back of his head, a nervous habit of his, “We’re going out for dinner and drinks tonight, you’re free to join us whenever, we would all appreciate your company.”

You swallow, processing the weight of his words. You hadn’t seen them, any of them, for five whole years. Would it be weird to just show up like that? And would he… “Will he be there?” The question slips out before you can stop it. But judging by the apologetic look on Yeonjun’s face, you’d guess you were correct. “He is part of the group”, he murmurs, slightly sheepish as he fiddles with the silver hoop in his ear.

“It’s fine”, you shake your head, “it was a long time ago.” Yeonjun nods, his expression unreadable as he takes a small breath. “Does he… Does he know? He didn’t tell me about.. Well you know..” — You shake your head, chewing on your bottom lip as you push your hair back. “He doesn’t know, and I’d appreciate it if he didn’t either, at least not for now”, you practically plead, sending him a hopeful look.

He blinks but then slowly nods, uttering a quiet, “Yeah, no of course. It’d just be weird right?” You quickly nod, “Right. It would.” There’s an awkward and anticlimactic silence that follows, the two of you glancing around, not knowing where to avert your gaze. Your mind scrambles for something to help fill the agonizing gap of your conversation. But Yeonjun manages to beat you to it.

“He’s changed, you know. He’s not the same guy he was five years ago.” You glance up at him, meeting his hopeful eyes as Yeonjun tries to salvage the ruins of the relationship you and his friend once had. “I don’t know what happened between you two, Beomgyu refuses to tell me anything but I.. You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”

You can’t help but feel bad, feel bad for Yeonjun, and for the others, left confused as you took off all those years ago. Perhaps it was guilt that steered your decision. — Dinner and drinks, it couldn’t be all bad? It was harmless, and you did miss the others. So you nod, “I’d love to join you.”

⸝⸝

“Couple of drinks? With him?”

The air inside the small kitchen suddenly felt thick, the sweet aroma of freshly baked cookies no longer lingered and the once familiar light pink walls were slowly closing in on you. With a heavy sigh you bring the porcelain cup to your lips, sipping on the warm home-brewed tea. Your grandma sits in front of you, the rounded table you’d had so many dinners by, now felt miles long, putting you and her on different sides of the world as she glares you down.

Despite the wrinkles lining her face, and the way her eyes had slowly sunken, her keen gaze was as sharp as ever. You felt yourself go rigid under it. “Well”, you set your cup down, “He was right in front of me, it wasn’t like I could just say no.” The meek excuse does little to ease the older lady’s already fragile nerves and your grandma shakes her head, her lips drawn into a thin line.

Hopelessly, you sigh. “Nana, it’s been five years. And besides, I’m going to see all of them, not just him.”

Call her sidekick, but your grandma had always had a thing for trusting her gut. Whether it had been blatantly ignoring medical advice given to her by doctors, insisting on drinking her own concoction of chamomile and honey. Or leaving the house without an umbrella even when the forecast promised rain, just because she “felt” that it was bound to be a sunny day. — So to change her mind on a matter like this, would be damn near impossible.

“You’re going to end up right back where you started”, she mutters, her old and wrinkly fingers gripping the edges of her own cup. “Oh come on nana, you don’t know that..” — “I do!” She insists, her voice rising three octaves as she slams the teacup down onto the wooden table. Holding your tongue, you glance toward the window, shielded by the checkered curtains as they flutter in the wind, you could make out the glimpse of your son as he played out in the garden.

Teddy had always made do with just himself, the absence of both a father and siblings had never seemed to bother him. Yet you couldn’t help but wish for something more for him. Something that you were unable to give. The feeling ate away at your heart, slowly but surely. — “Think you can have him, just for tonight? I’ll come pick him up in the morning”, you say, nail scraping against the handpainted flowers of your cup.

Your grandma sighs, the realization that you were about to go against her wishes dawning upon her. “I remember how you looked, that night you showed up on my doorsteps five years ago.” She begins, her voice a low drawl and you can already tell where this is going. “Nana…” But she only hushes you, pointing an accusing finger in your direction. “You were heartbroken, dear.” The statement hits you like a sharp slap in the face, leaving you speechless as you watch your grandmother fiddle with her nearly full teacup.

“I do not want you to make the same mistake again”, she sighs, and she doesn’t sound angry anymore, only sad, as if the news of your death had already been delivered. You reach out, hand grasping hers, she felt fragile in your palm, and you’re overcome with an intense need to reassure her.

“Then it’s my mistake to make.”

⸝⸝

The clacking of heels hitting the cold pavement fills the night air and you bring your arms around yourself, shivering in the cool breeze. Despite it being mid August, the biting cold seemed to know no bounds. With your heart hammering in your chest, you near the small bar, chatter echoing out onto the cobbled road.

You hadn’t known what to wear, and it wasn’t like you had anyone to ask. Your social life had severely decreased after moving out here and having Teddy. But you think the crimson dress was sophisticated enough, its simplicity toning the deep color down a tad. A coat, you should’ve brought a coat. Spoiled rotten by the warmth of July, the thought of bringing anything besides what you already wore.

It doesn’t matter now, you thought. Heaving a small sigh, you climb the three steps leading to the crowded pub. It’s warm here, thank god. Your eyes scan the rounded tables, all occupied by larger parties. Their conversations flow past you, buzzing in your ears, it’s loud, yet you can’t seem to make out a single word they’re saying.

It’s not until Yeonjun’s voice pierces through the air as he calls for you, that your searching gaze finally lands on a pair of familiar faces. Seated by one of the large windows, they all turn to you as you approach, all but one. — Kai is the first to get up, enveloping you in a tight hug before you even get a word out. You’re taken aback by the muscular feel of his arms, the tight grip he had on you represented little of the young boy you’d once known. But when he pulls back, the same boyish grin cracks across his lips.

“I’ve missed you!” He pouts, going in for yet another hug, this one just as tight as the first. You can’t help but smile, your heart fluttering in a strange manner at the fact that your absence had actually meant something to them. “I’ve missed you too, Kai.”

From there, the sounds of chairs scraping against the floor fills the bar as they all get up to take turns hugging you. Taehyun had also grown quite a lot since you’d last seen him, and Soobin wore glasses now. Yeonjun settled for a handshake as the two of you had met previously that day, thanking you once more for coming. — But when he pulls back, you catch a glimpse of the man you’d been dreading to see.

Beomgyu sits on Yeonjun’s right, his gaze intently fixated on the beer in his hand, watching as the yellow liquid swirls in the glass. The blond hair on his head immediately caught your attention as it fell evenly in front of his eyes. He doesn’t make a move to stand up, or as much as acknowledge you, and an awkward and anticipating silence falls over your small group.

Taehyun is the first to act as he grabs a chair from a nearby table, making room for you between Yeonjun and himself. You thank him, taking a seat as you busy yourself with straightening out your dress. From the corner of your eye, you catch Yeonjun’s knee nudging against Beomgyu’s as the older signals for his bandmate to say hi. Only then does he look up. — You don’t have time to avert your gaze, and your eyes lock with his.

The once warm brown now looked stale, cold and distant. He looks a lot paler than last you’d seen him, though that was five years ago. Beomgyu gives you a small, almost unnoticeable nod, you do the same before quickly diverting your attention elsewhere.

It doesn’t take long for the others to warm up, your conversations ranging from light-hearted small talk to deep and almost philosophical questions. “Have you been here all along?” Kai wonders as he shoves a piece of meat into his mouth. You nod, explaining how your grandma lived close by, mentioning the beautiful scenery and the market downtown. You avoided the topic of Teddy, though you would send Yeonjun a small glance every now and again, thankful that he didn’t bring it up either.

You can’t remember how many drinks you’d had, perhaps a few too many. But you were willing to do anything to ease the tension Beomgyu’s mere presence caused. He didn’t say much, in fact you think he might’ve not said anything at all. The others tried their best to engage him in whatever topic was being discussed, but he never gave more than a short sentence for answer.

Part of you feels guilty. Should you not have come? Were you making things awkward? But Taehyun’s reassuring hand on top of yours immediately washes any worries away as he sends you a warm smile. “Let’s order another round!” He says, immediately calling the waiter over. — Though he’s barely managed to lift a finger when Beomgyu’s hand suddenly clasps around his wrists. “I think we’ve had enough”, he says, breaking his nearly eternal silence.

Taehyun looks surprised as he shrugs his friend’s hand off, watching as Beomgyu settles back into his seat, an indifferent expression on his face. “Come on now, don’t be such a buzzkill”, Kai argues as he, too, makes a move to call the waiter over. — “Do you want to get her drunk?” Beomgyu suddenly snaps, his once distant gaze becoming sharp. It was the first time he’d as much as addressed your presence that night, apart from your brief greeting.

With a perplexed expression you turn to him, only to find him already watching you. “What are you on about-” Soobin begins but is quickly cut short by his friend. “You’re a lightweight”, he comments, stating it as if it were written on your forehead. Part of you had forgotten just how much he knew about you, how much he still seemed to know about you. It made your chest twist uncomfortably as your face morphed into a frown.

“I think I’ll be fine”, you huff, ignoring the question glances you received from the others. Without waiting for him to object, you call the waiter over yourself, ordering all of you another round of shots. — Beomgyu’s heavy gaze remained on you the whole night after that, all of him radiating with a feeling you couldn’t quite place.

You would rather die than admit that he was right. But after your fifth shot, the room started moving. With great effort, you grip the edge of the table, leaning forward as you let your eyes fall shut. “Hey, are you okay?” Taehyun’s voice carries a resemblance of worry as he wraps an arm around your shoulders. Slowly nodding, you mutter out a quiet, “Yeah.. Just need some air.” — “I’ll help you out”, Yeonjun offers, but you politely decline him.

“It’s fine, stay, I’ll only be five minutes.” With the help of Taehyun you manage to stand up on wobbly knees. Yeonjun looks more than concerned as he reaches out for you. “Are you sure?” He asks, brows knitting together as he watches you. “Yes, thank you”, you huff, maneuvering past the crowded tables as you head for the door, eager to get away from their prying eyes.

The cool night air is comforting as it washes over your scorching hot body. Your disoriented eyes search for a place to slump down, eventually settling on the side of the pavement. The cobbled stone is ice cold against your bare legs, a stark contrast to the alcohol simmering beneath the surface of your skin. Inhaling, you tilt your head back, letting your eyes close as you drink in the fresh oxygen.

It takes you about a minute to realize that you’d forgotten your bag, containing your phone. There was no way for you to keep track of time now, much less contact anyone. But you can’t find it in you to care, the buzz of liquor far too strong for you to focus on much else.

You don’t know how much time has passed when the sounds of approaching footsteps intrude on your silence. Not bothering to acknowledge who it might be, you stay where you are, leaning back on your hands as you let the cool breeze caress your face. — Not until the stranger takes a seat next to you, does your brain register that something might be up.

Cracking an eye open, you nearly lose your balance as you’re met with Beomgyu’s indifferent expression. He’s clutching your bag in his hands, slowly reaching out as he hands it to you. “You forgot this”, he mutters, the words barely audible. — Embarrassed you thank him, trying your hardest to ignore the way your fingers brush against one another as you take it from him.

You busy yourself with checking its contents, trying your hardest not to think about the person sitting next to you. Beomgyu on the other hand, remains quiet as he gazes ahead, his arms resting atop his knees as he bites the inside of his cheek. You come to realize that this is the first time you’d actually gotten a proper look at him all night. And you take this moment to study the contour of his face, the sharp bridge of his nose, his high cheekbones, his jaw, much more defined now than it was five years ago.

Beomgyu looked different. He looked like a man.

He wasn’t the only one who’d changed of course. You had too, in more ways than you’d ever thought possible. So perhaps, just maybe, this wasn’t the Beomgyu you’d known back then. Would you ever get an answer to that question? It was hard to tell. — But even with light and blond hair, Beomgyu looked exactly like his son. They were too similar, almost a replica of one another. And the sight before you, made your chest churn.

“I should… Probably go home”, your words come out slightly slurred, your speech becoming lazy and slow. But all you could think about was him. Beomgyu hums, rolling his thumbs over one another as he keeps his eyes ahead. “You’re drunk”, he states and you almost want to scoff at the obvious remark. — “So are you”, you retort, not oblivious to the three beers he’d chugged as he avoided conversation.

He shakes his head, “I’m not.” — “Not nearly enough at least”, he then sighs. You wonder what he meant by that, but you never get the chance to ask. “I’ll get you a cab”, he mutters, already rising to his feet.

It happens before you can even register it, the way your hand reaches out.

And when your fingers wrap around his wrist, he freezes, his jaw clenching as he turns to look at you for what would’ve been the third time that evening. You don’t know why you stopped him, why you felt the need to prolong the already awkward moment between the two of you. But you couldn’t let him go, not yet, not when you’d just found him after five whole years. Because a small part of you, a part of you that held no resentment for him, a part of you that you kept hidden, a part of you that had missed him. It made you cling to him, as pathetic as it may look.

“Wait”, your short breath makes him tense even further, his brows pulling together as he slumps back against the pavement. “I…” You trail off, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth as you try to navigate your foggy mind. There was nothing you could say to make things better, nothing you could say to change the past. — But Beomgyu wasn’t mad at you, right? He wouldn’t have come out here if he was.

Your eyes flicker over to meet his, the same dark and alluring ones that had drawn you in all those years ago. Maybe, a small part of him had missed you too. — His gaze drops to your lips first, the way it had so many times before, tongue darting out to subconsciously wet his own.

“I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

Your quiet whisper seems to echo down the empty street and you swallow. But the statement isn’t a lie. More than anything you craved the warmth of another body against your own, you’d craved it for five years.

Beomgyu expression morphs into one you couldn’t quite place, one you didn’t know how to read. His jaw relaxes, eyebrows returning to their normal position as he emits a soft sigh, his warm breath fanning across your already hot face. “You’re drunk”, he says, but he’s already got an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. The nostalgic scent of his cologne fills your senses, easily overpowering the buzz of the alcohol.

“So are you”, you mumble, the palm of your hand caressing his cheek. Beomgyu lets his eyes flutter closed, relishing in the feeling of your skin against his. And when he opens them again, they immediately find yours. — “Yeah”, he exhales, “I am.”

Five years you had gone without kissing him. But as he pressed his lips against yours, time seemed to cease. His arm around your body keeps you close, the other one finding its way to the back of your hair. You cradle his face between your hands, scared to let him go even when it gets hard to breathe. — Tasting the alcohol on his tongue as he slips it inside your mouth. It’s a bitter taste, reminding you of anger you’d wasted on him. The useless pain and the useless suffering.

“We shouldn’t do this”, Beomgyu exhales, separating only an inch from you as he rests his forehead against yours. You shake your head, ignoring the way your chest contracted at the simple statement. Instead you force your lips back on his, fingers twisting in his hair as you bring him impossibly close.

His hands slide down your body, tracing your figure with a sense of recognition, like he’d just stumbled across something he thought he’d forgotten. He settles on your hips, gently pushing you back as he breaks the longing kiss. — “You should go home..” He murmurs, his sharp nose sliding along the side of your neck as he trails kisses over your warm skin. Beomgyu’s words often contradicted his actions. You knew that. But it didn’t help your situation in the slightest.

“Come with me.”

It’s not a request but a demand, desperate as you cling to him, your eyes pleading with his. Pulling away from your neck, he bites the inside of his cheek. “I can’t”, he says, and the words hurt more than they should. You had expected him to deny you, why wouldn’t he? Five years without as much as a message. Five years of not knowing where you were, if you were okay. Five years of living in the dark.

Perhaps you deserved it.

But you weren’t the only one in the wrong. He hurt you. He hurt you so bad that you saw no other option than to run. Run as far as you could possibly get. Until your legs trembled and ached, until the pain in your body overpowered the pain in your heart. — You shouldn’t crave his presence, you don’t know why you did. But if you left him now, you knew that you would never be okay again.

Tears coat your lashes, threatening to spill at any moment. You can see the guilt in his eyes as you glance up. Silently you plead, drawing in a shaky breath only for it to come back out as a small sigh. — “Can you please just take me home then?”

⸝⸝

Beomgyu holds your hand during the whole cab ride home. He doesn't say anything, and neither do you. It’s a heavy silence. You steal a few glances his way, the vehicle is dark but under the light of the bright moon, you can make out the details of his face. He looks lost in thought, weighed down by the reality of your situation. His thumb strokes the top of your hand absentmindedly. You stay perfectly still, not wanting him to stop.

But as the car pulls into the small and narrow street, and your quaint house comes into vision, your stomach drops. You don’t want the night to end. Not like this. Would he even want to see you again? Did you take it too far when you kissed? Was he upset? — The screeching sound of tires against concrete has you emitting a breath you didn’t even know you were holding.

You glance over at Beomgyu, he’s watching you with an almost melancholy expression and you have to remind yourself why you walked out on him all those years ago. It was better this way, wasn’t it? — Your hand turns cold as soon as you let go of his. “Thank you for tonight”, it’s polite, too polite, too formal. But you say it nonetheless. He nods, his eyes never leaving you as you climb out of the car.

Only when the door slams shut do you feel a sense of relief. You don’t wait for it to drive off, that would just hurt even more. Instead you turn on your heel, walking up the scattered stone path that leads to your door. Your hand digs through your small bag in search of your keys. The metal glints under the moonlight, and the jiggling noise fills the quiet night air.

You’re glad Teddy was at your grandma’s, you don’t think you could bear facing him in this state, nor in the morning for that matter. It wasn’t his fault that he looked like him. Your son had done nothing to warrant this life. So why did it hurt so much to look at him? — Those thoughts… Sometimes it made you question if you really were a good mother. Because what kind of mother was unable to look her own child in the eyes, just because they represented something she’d lost.

Teddy was your whole world now. So why can’t you forget him?

You’re lost in a storm of self-pitying thoughts, fumbling with the charms on the keychain as you curse yourself for drinking so much. — Too caught up in unlocking your front door, you miss the rushed sets of footsteps behind you. Not until a familiar hand wraps around your wrist. His familiar cologne invades your already drunk senses, and you barely have time to turn around before Beomgyu’s lips crash against yours.

This time he kisses you without hesitating, like he knows the road ahead, and like he’s not afraid of it. You let him, because you don’t think you could ever bring yourself to deny him. And you don’t want to.

He blindly reaches for the keys, twisting the lock before pushing your door open. You stumble inside your dark hallway, shoes flying everywhere as you kick them off. The framed drawings, made by no less than your son, rattle against the walls when Beomgyu pushes you up against it. His hands waste no time roaming your body, now without stopping as they reach the hem of your crimson dress. He slides the material up your thighs, and you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist as you pull him close.

Your soft moan echoes down the hall as he bites down on your bottom lip, his fingers digging into the skin over your hips as he presses you so far against the wall that you think you might make a dent in it. — It’s as if he's trying to communicate a thousand words with one single kiss. The sentences come out incoherent and messy, in no particular order and without making any sense. Still, you kiss him like it was your last. For all you know it might be.

“Where’s your bedroom?” He groans into your mouth. Your mind goes blank at the question, and you blink before quickly pointing down the dark hallway. “Last door on the right”, you say and Beomgyu doesn't need to hear anything else as he hoists you into his arms, moving through the quiet house with impatient steps. — When passing Teddy’s room you make sure to pull him in for yet another kiss, diverting his attention from anything that might get his mind elsewhere, places you didn’t need nor want it to be.

Your bedroom is sparsely decorated, all your efforts spent on making sure your son had everything he needed. But Beomgyu doesn’t seem to care in the slightest as he settles you against the mattress, quickly climbing on top of you. Your legs tangle in a mess of limbs as he places open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, moving down your neck and collarbone. His teeth nipping at your sensitive skin makes you forget about the seriousness of your situation, about the consequences and the day that would follow.

His hands yank at your dress, “Get this off”, he grunts, frustrated when it won’t budge. Your back arches off the bed, arms wrapping around his neck as you kiss along his jawline. “There’s a zipper on the back”, you murmur and Beomgyu’s fingers immediately slither behind your waist, reaching up only to tug the zip down. — It takes him about five seconds to pull your dress along your body, leaving you in the black lace set you’d picked out for the occasion. Back then, all those years ago, he would’ve made a sly comment about the suggestive underwear, but not now, not today.

Today he can only stare, in awe of the woman before him. His silence makes you squirm, even more so when he leans down to press a kiss to your still clothed nipple. “You’ve always been so gorgeous”, he murmurs, fingers sliding between your thighs as he pushes both middle and ring finger against your cunt, rubbing you through the dark lace. You whine, nails digging into his shoulders as you wordlessly beg for more.

Beomgyu groans against your chest when he feels your knee slide between his legs, your fingers fiddling with the buckle of his belt. “We shouldn’t”, he sighs, repeating the words as if they were a prayer. “You’re drunk and..” He kisses between your breasts, one of his hands reaching for the clasp behind your back. “And I’m…Fuck.” Beomgyu leans back as he rips your bra from your body, immediately caressing your perfect tits with his hand, leaning down to wrap his mouth around one of your hardened nipples.

“I don’t care”, you nearly sob, undoing his belt before pulling it through the loops and discarding it on the floor. “You should.” Beomgyu whispers against your flaming hot skin, the hand between your legs pushing your damp panties aside as he slides two fingers between your folds, letting your arousal pool onto his hand.

Your moans bounce off the bedroom walls, repeating themselves like a broken record when Beomgyu slides a finger inside your pleading cunt, his thumb pressed firmly against your throbbing clit. — “Tell me to stop”, he says, and it sounds almost like he’s begging. You shake your head, jaw slacking as your thighs quiver, hips threatening to buck up against the heel of his hand.

His kisses travel from your abused tits and up your neck once more. He’s so close that you feel every short exhale against the shell of your ear. Every small hitch of his breath and every groan he tries to conceal. You feel everything. The vibrations of his voice when he says: “Tell me to stop. I can’t stop unless you tell me to.”

With your hands either side of his face, you bring his lips to yours. His dark eyes are wide and filled to the brim with emotion, emotions so strong that no words could ever come close to describing them. “I don’t want you to stop.” You couldn’t bear it if he did, you would never forgive yourself if you let this moment slip between your fingers.

Beomgyu swallows, and your gaze follows the bob of his adams apple, trailing down his chest, landing on the shirt he wore, halfway unbuttoned. “Never stop”, you say, reaching for the buttons as you pop them open one by one. He lets you, watching with half lidded as you push the shirt from his shoulders, letting your hands wander across his naked skin. Beomgyu shudders, the fingers against your cunt completely losing sense of direction as he inhales sharply.

He sighs against your lips when you pull him down for another kiss, letting you slip your tongue inside his mouth without protest. “S’a bad idea”, he murmurs, his speech slurred. You ignore his half-assed warnings, pulling his zipper open as you push his jeans down. — “You’re not thinking straight and- fuck.” His sentence is cut short when your hand wraps around his throbbing cock, thumb pressing against his flushed tip with urgency.

It’s like a switch is flipped within him, his body jolting to life as he kisses you back with a need that is near overwhelming. You whimper when he adds a second finger inside your fluttering cunt, spreading your thighs as far as he can, his eyes steadily focused on the way your body so willingly accepted him in.

“Please”, your request slices through the hot air, “I can’t wait any longer.”

You really couldn’t. Five years you had waited for him. Five years your body had longed for his touch. Even five minutes could feel like an eternity when your future was uncertain. But this, this you were certain of. — And you’d be damned if you didn’t get your way.

Beomgyu quickly obliges, his fingers withdrawing from your core, though quickly replaced by the head of his cock as he pushes past your puffy folds. You whine as he jerks against your aching clit, thighs twitching in pleasure. You reach down between your bodies, firmly pressed together, trembling fingers wrapping around his thick shaft as you guide him inside of you.

The groan he lets out easily drowns out your whimper as his forehead comes to rest atop your own. You help him slide in slowly, making sure to memorize the way he stretched your pulsating cunt out, your clit nearly spasming when his thumb swipes across it. Once fully sheathed inside of you, Beomgyu sighs.

“Fuck, I’ve missed you.”

His eyes linger on yours, and though you’d had sex with him more than once, this time somehow felt more intimate. Because this time it wasn’t just sex. It was an escape, an escape from the reality that awaited outside your bedroom walls, the reality that would rise just as the sun would the next morning. This short moment was all you had. You both knew that. The knowing somehow made it even more special. It connected you.

Quickly trying to shake the uncomfortable thoughts away, your hands reach for his hair, fingers tangling in the blonde mess of locks as you urged him to move, to do something, anything. — The bed squeaks as Beomgyu snaps his hips against yours, thick cock sliding in and out of your warm cunt, your bodies joined together in one, for the first time in five years.

And perhaps this was a mistake. Perhaps you’d wake up filled with dread and regret. Perhaps you’d wake up to find him gone, vanished from your life, just like you had vanished from his. And perhaps this was a cruel thing to do, not only to him but to yourself. — Letting your desires win as you give in to the greed of longing, of wanting, wanting something you already know you won’t like in the end. But right now, this is everything you need. And for the first time in five years, you put yourself first.

Beomgyu was usually one to talk when you were intimate, whether it was insults or praise, he would always be sure to talk you through it. But not tonight. Tonight his mind is occupied with everything that is you. Far too busy with tracing your every curve, kissing as much of you as he could, lips moving down your chest, across your collarbone, over your arms. Almost like he’s scared to blink and find you gone. He needs to remember you exactly as you are. Because if anything you need to live on, at least in his mind.

You wrap your legs around his waist, allowing him to sink even deeper inside of you, pulling a strained groan from him as he shudders. His kisses are centered to your neck now, and he murmurs something incoherent against your skin. You want to ask him what he said, but you don’t have to, for he repeats himself, this time louder. — “I haven’t…” His lips slide down your neck, teeth scraping across its juncture and you squirm.

“Haven’t thought about anyone else.” — “Only you.”

His confession makes your breath hitch, your fingers in his hair going lax as you peer down at him. What did he mean by that? — Seemingly reading your thoughts, Beomgyu’s pace slows down, if just barely, his head lifting from your neck as his eyes lock onto yours. “I’ve tried”, he mumbles, hands trailing along your chest, stopping by your waist. “I can’t”, he inhales, “I only see you.”

Your lips part, at loss for words. Only you? Had he tried to move on but…failed? Your brows pull together, a perplexed frown. “For…For how long?” You ask, your voice barely above a whisper. — “Five years.” He says, holding your gaze as he lets out the breath he’d been holding. Five years. You’d expected him to have forgotten about you, to have written you off as a bad experience and moved on with his life. But he…couldn’t?

“Do you get it now?” He murmurs, lips hovering above your own. “Do you understand why we shouldn’t be doing this?” He sounds near desperate, yet his hips continue to rock against yours, his finger circling your throbbing clit as he elicits a soft moan from you. — You don’t reply, you wouldn’t even know what to say. Overcome by the desire of having him as close as possible, in every single way you could think of.

Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling his lips to yours. He lets his eyes flutter closed, his long and soft lashes caressing your cheeks as your noses press together. Every slow and deliberate thrust of his makes you writhe in pleasure, wishing for the moment to last forever. — The five years of pain and the longing meant little when he was this close to you. And your orgasm washes over you when he presses the pad of his thumb against your clit one final time.

Beomgyu groans when he feels you clench around his cock, the soft noises spilling from your lips were angelic in his ears as he kisses you through your climax. — Only when the aftershocks have simmered down and your body begins to feel heavy, do you open your eyes again. And this time you know what to say.

“I only see you too.”

And perhaps it was a mistake.

But right now, this is everything you need.

⸝⸝

It wasn’t long until the sun rose again, basking your bedroom in a warm light. The first intruding rays of sunshine hits your face, making your eyes press together as you try to close the day out. You don’t move, afraid that everything would become real if you did. Perhaps you could just lay here forever, frozen in time, unable to think and unable to speak. It was an almost pleasant thought.

But you soon sit up, pulling your tired body into a slumped position as you grab ahold of your pounding head. Fuck, just how much did you drink? — It’s with great effort that you crack an eye open, scanning your lonesome bedroom with hazy vision. Your gaze falls on him. Sprawled out across the mattress, blanket thrown over his hips, barely concealing his naked body from your view, Beomgyu sleeps soundly.

So it did actually happen. It hadn’t been just a slip of thought, a pleasant dream.

Taking the moment to study his sleeping form, your fingers itch to reach out and touch him. You find yourself envious of his peacefulness. Envious of his relaxed muscles, envious of his unbothered expression. You envy the soft breaths he emits as his mind remains shielded by the figments of his dreams. You wished you could dream too. — Anything, you would give anything to not be conscious right now, to not have to deal with the consequences of last night.

In the morning light, everything looked different. — You’re not so sure that’s a good thing.

Somewhere on the floor, amongst the mess of discarded clothes, your phone vibrates. The blaring sound slices your ears like knives, and with a small groan, you pull yourself from the bed. — The call runs out, but it’s not long before it starts again. Following its source, you rummage through the garments, finally grasping the device in your hand. But as your unfocused eyes finally settle on the screen, you suddenly turn stone cold sober.

11am.

Fuck. You were supposed to pick Teddy up an hour ago. Your grandma's name flashes across the screen, phone buzzing in your hand as you stare at the call, dumbfounded. — A quiet grunt behind you snaps your attention back to Beomgyu who was shifting on the mattress. He mumbles a string of incoherent nonsense, quickly making you power off your phone as you rush to his side.

“Fuck, shit- You need to wake up!”

His whole body writhes as you shake him by his shoulders, making his head fall back as he groans. “Wake up!” You practically yell, forcing the sleep from his system as you try and tug him into a sitting position. — Beomgyu huffs, propping himself up on his elbows as he squints up at you through tired eyes.

“What…What’s going on..?” He murmurs, running a disoriented hand through his blond hair, spreading it in all directions. Had it not been for the fact that you were late to pick up your son, and that the realization that last night had been a mistake, a grave one, you probably would’ve found the sight of him rather cute.

But you can’t fathom any other words beside, “You need to leave. Now.” Without waiting or a response you turn back to the floor, gathering his clothes before shoving them in his arms. Beomgyu, who's still half asleep, rubs his groggy eyes as he gingerly takes his jeans from you. — “Is somethin’ wrong?” He asks, his voice laced thick and raspy as he tugs the pants up his thighs, searching for his belt.

You nearly jump at his words, exhaling a short breath as you turn to look at him. “Everything is wrong”, you say, arms wrapping around your torso, hugging the old t-shirt you’d thrown on tight. — Beomgyu frowns, fastening his belt as he reaches for his shirt. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He wonders as he tugs the fabric over his head, “Thought we were good, no?”

Good?

Swallowing a scoff, you instead bite the inside of your cheek. “I…”, your nails dig into your upper arms, “It’s complicated..” Your words were empty, he knew that too. You know he did.

Beomgyu huffs, running a hand through his hair one final time as he glances you up and down. “I can see that”, he mutters, quickly averting his gaze, causing you to do the same. The floorboards in which your eyes landed seemed very interesting at that moment. You follow the soft trails of wood, the sharp corner where one plank met the other, the slight gradient in their ever so warm and brown tone. — It’s not long until you can feel his attention on you again.

“You should probably leave..”

You don’t want him to leave. Or maybe you did. — You wanted the regret to go away, you wanted the guilt to stop eating away at your chest, slowly taking over your body and your soul. It would never go away if he didn’t go away, at least so you thought. Your arms have started to hurt, and you would surely draw blood if you didn’t ease the grip in which your hands dug into your skin.

“You think it was a mistake.” It’s not a question but a statement, and he says it like it was written in the stars. Yes. This had all been a mistake and you should’ve never let him kiss you, you should’ve never taken him home and you should’ve never let him in your bed. — You should’ve never opened your heart for him again.

Your following silence weighs heavy. And mere moments later, he’s moving, dodging you, as if afraid that you’d explode if he came too close. He pushes the bedroom door open, and you’re quick to follow, quietly trailing behind. — With your head pounding and blood rushing beneath the surface of your skin, you pray he doesn’t see anything he’s not supposed to. Kicking away the shark plushie discarded in the hallway before he even notices it. And when he steps into his shoes, you make sure to stand before the wall containing all Teddy’s drawings.

Neither of you say anything. And you’re certain that he won’t. But when the sun hits his face as he steps outside, he suddenly stops, slowly turning around as he looks at you. Under the bright light of day, his eyes looked warm once more, not the cold and distant look they'd held back at the restaurant, nor the lustful one from last night. — Right now he only looked like Beomgyu.

His gaze flickers from your eyes to your lips, but he doesn’t move to kiss you. — “I didn’t think it was a mistake.” Is all he says, and he lets the words linger, even though it’s clear he isn’t expecting a response. And when the moment passes, he turns back as he walks down the stoney pathway leading out onto the street.

You can’t pull yourself from the doorway, watching helplessly as he disappears in the horizon. It was obvious now that he had missed you just as much as you had missed him. Perhaps even more. — The thought scared you.

⸝⸝

Two weeks.

They would be in town for two more weeks, then they would be gone. Two weeks. You could do that. All you had to do was not slip up, to not look his way, to not allow yourself the pleasure of feeling anything but hatred for him. You had to forget that anything ever happened between the two of you, and you had to obliterate the fact that you’d enjoyed it.

But it was hard. Nearly impossible even.

Yeonjun thought it’d be a good idea to spend time together. You didn’t think so. Because suddenly you’re forced to come face to face with the person you were longing to forget. Every single one of your mistakes, all stored in one man, and that was him. The mistakes you were running from and the mistakes you were ashamed of. Now they were being played on repeat before your very eyes.

Beomgyu seemed to be everywhere.

He holds the door for you, and your gaze locks with his. A fluttery feeling surges within your chest. You remind yourself that he forgot your 6 month anniversary.

He gives you the last strawberry on your picnic, ignoring the glances he receives from the others. You take it, your fingers brushing against one another, a jolt of electricity rushing between the two of you. You remind yourself that he always made you eat dinner alone.

He asks you how your day was. Trying his hardest to strike a conversation with you. You remind yourself that he forgot to reply for three days.

He compliments your hair. You remind yourself that you hate him.

But no matter how hard you tried, no matter how many bad and hurtful memories you forced yourself to relive, it didn’t help. — Your heart still beats uncontrollably around him, your palms feel sweaty whenever he’s near and suddenly, you’re at a loss for words.

A week and a half passes. It draws by agonizingly slow, but at the same time, it all seems to go by too fast. You don’t know if you want it to end or not. Part of you is relieved to have him gone in a matter of three days, another part of you is near heartbroken. Did he feel the same? You wanted to ask him, you wanted to tell him what’s on your mind and you wanted him to understand. But Beomgyu had never been understanding.

Teddy had been spending the majority of his days with his great grandma. And while he had plenty of fun, you missed your son. — It was why you canceled on Yeonjun last minute when he asked if you were joining them by the beach. Instead you spent your afternoon with Teddy, out in your small yard as you lay in the grass, taking turns painting a great white shark, Teddy’s favorite.

“Don’t you think it needs a bigger fin?” You ask, pointing toward the half-painted shark. Your son purses his lips, gripping the brush between his small hands tightly. “He needs bigger teeth too”, he states, blatantly ignoring your request for a larger fin as he instead draws sharp fangs in its mouth.

It didn’t matter what you did, you lived for every second with Teddy. He eased your worries without even knowing it. — Brushing your fingers through his unkempt hair, you’re suddenly reminded of Beomgyu. They both had the same, thick and untame hair, standing in all directions when they woke up, and an easy target for the wind. Teddy also had dimples when he smiled, and his eyes were the same warm and brown shade as his dad’s.

Sometimes you feel guilty. Guilty for keeping someone as precious as his son from Beomgyu. And perhaps it made you a bad person, a selfish and an evil one. Someone who only thought about herself, fleeing when things got hard and refusing to acknowledge her own feelings. — Or maybe you were just scared. Heartbroken, alone and terrified. You often made excuses like that for yourself, justifying your own wrongdoings by pointing out the faults of others.

That was your biggest flaw.

Not only were you being unfair toward Beomgyu, but Teddy. Robbing him of a childhood spent in the presence of his father. Were you really going to put your own suffering above the needs of your child? It wasn’t what good mothers did, was it?

Your silence seems to have rubbed him the wrong way, because it’s only a moment later when Teddy turns his head to look at you. “What’s wrong mommy?” He asks, and the genuine concern vowed into his words makes your chest churn. — “Nothing baby, mommy’s just thinking.” You smile, ruffling the mess of hair atop his head as your attention returns to the painting. The shark had gotten both bigger and sharper teeth as well as the bigger fin you’d requested.

“You shouldn’t think too much”, he hums, swiping the brush absentmindedly across the canvas, “Ellie says that makes her head hurt.” — The simple statement causes you to huff, a grin tugging across your lips. “I think I’ll have to follow her advice then”, you drawl, picking up a brush of your own as you twirl it between your fingers.

Teddy nods, tapping the end of his brush thoughtfully against his chin as he studies the painting. “Something missing, Picasso?” You wonder as you follow his line of sight. Your son bites the inside of his cheek before exhaling a heavy breath. “It needs blood!” — Your eyes widen at the exclamation. “Blood? Why on earth would it need something so violent as blood?”

You’ve barely gotten the words out before he’s turning your way, a frown etched deep on to his forehead. “It’s not violent”, he counters, “all sharks get blood on their teeth after they eat, that doesn’t make them violent.” — Dumbfounded by the way he argued for his sake, you blink. “I…Sure, but is it really necessary? Why ruin such a perfect painting?” You try to steer him away from the possibility of splashing red paint all over, but once Teddy had made up his mind there was no returning, Beomgyu was similar in that way.

“I’m not ruining it”, he whines, flicking the brush feathers against his palm in a frustrated manner. Realizing that there was no way for you to win this, you prepared to give in when he suddenly spoke again. — “Blood isn’t a bad thing… People always think it is, but that’s because they don’t know any better. You shouldn’t judge something you don’t understand.” Teddy lets the brush drop back onto the canvas, “And my teacher says blood is important for the body, so it can’t be violent right?”

Half the time you brushed his words off, dismissing them as nothing but a child's imaginative mind. But as you listen to your son speak, with such understanding for the world around him, you feel as though you don’t know him at all. — “No, your teacher’s right, and so are you my love.” Leaning in to kiss the top of his head, your eyes drift over to the shark he’d painted, lingering by the uneven lines and the slightly mismatched colors as they bleed into one another.

“Forgive your mom for not thinking before she speaks”, you murmur against his soft hair, letting the scent of vanilla shampoo cloud your senses. Teddy hums, his tiny fingers splayed across the canvas as he taps the sharp teeth of the shark. “It’s okay, but you really should look at the shark and not the blood”, he says as he gingerly rises to his feet, “But not yet, because I haven't added the blood!”

Without waiting for a response he dashes back inside in search of the red paint. You don’t bother hiding the giggle that surfaces as you watch him go. Your son never failed to surprise you, and sometimes you wondered if he knew how bright he was. — Letting your gaze drop back to the painting, you turn the brush between your fingers, letting its feathers glide against the canvas, all the while you grin to yourself.

Teddy’s words linger in your mind, and you find yourself lost in thoughts as you go over their meaning. His intentions had been nothing but pure, yet you find yourself envisioning something completely different than sharks. — You shouldn’t judge something you don’t understand. No matter how hard you tried to shake the words off you just couldn’t. They played on loop in your head, each time louder and louder, and all you saw was…

“Somethin’ funny?”

Beomgyu.

His rough voice pulls you from the depths of your thoughts, making your head jerk up as you come face to face with the biggest mistake of your life. Beomgyu looms over you, his hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his gray jeans as he peers down at you through the bright sun. — You had been so caught up in your previous conversation with Teddy that you hadn’t even heard the squeaky fence gate opening, nor had you realized that you’d been grinning like a psychopath this whole time.

What the fuck was he doing here? He shouldn’t be here, couldn’t. Teddy was bound to come back any moment now. You open your mouth to say something, awkwardly rising to your feet as you brush the grass from your legs. “What are you..” — “You didn’t join us today”, he says, swiftly cutting you off as he takes a step closer. Instinctively taking one back, you glance around your backyard, searching for the others, but Beomgyu shakes his head, “I came alone. I’m the only one who knows where you live, remember?” He says, a faint smirk ghosting over his lips.

You swallow, fingers nervously cramping up by your sides as you resist the urge to clench your hands into fists. “I…Well something came up”, you lie, feigning oblivion as you avert your gaze. Beomgyu hums, his eyes scanning the small house you resided in, as if getting his first proper look. “I see”, he hums, clearly not convinced but choosing not to pry further. “I just..” He begins, though quickly falling silent as he holds his tongue.

He bites the inside of his cheek, running an anxious hand through his blonde hair as his gaze avoids yours. “It’s just, we’re leaving in three days, and um”, he clears his throat, “It would be nice to see you before that.”

Your stomach might as well just have dropped seven floors, plummeting against rock hard concrete. Your heart felt heavy and your mind scattered. Had you led him on? Given him the wrong idea? It had been a mistake, but he knew that, because he’d been very open about that a week and a half ago.

“I didn’t think it was a mistake.”

Of course he didn’t. He didn’t know the shit he put you through. He didn’t know anything. You had to tell him now, you had to make it clear that what happened a week ago was never happening again and that he was an idiot for believing otherwise. But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t find it in you to treat him like that, not again. You couldn’t bear the look on his face when you’d told him to get out last time, and you wouldn’t now either.

“Listen, this isn’t…” Your words are cut short by the sound of a third voice, a much more high pitched and whiny one, one belonging to a child.

“Mommy! I can’t find the red paint I’ve looked everywhere!” Teddy’s sob breaks the tension out in the backyard as he comes running toward you. Tears stream down his round face, his eyes screwing shut as he clings to your leg. You swallow, your heart hammering in your chest as you disregard Beomgyu and turn toward your son. — “Shh, I’m sure it’s there somewhere, I’ll help you look in a minute okay, love?”

Your soft spoken words are met by an even louder sob as Teddy shakes his head. “I want the paint now!” He hiccups, sniveling against your thigh as he latches on to you. — “Hey, hey, I know”, you say, prying him from your leg as you crouch down opposite him. “And I’ll find it for you. So why don’t you wipe your tears, and say hello to my friend okay?”

Teddy slowly nods as he lets you pat his cheeks dry. Only now does he seem to register Beomgyu’s presence as he turns to him teary eyes. — Dreading the look on his face, you slowly stand back up as you turn toward him once more. But Beomgyu looks…just like himself, the same playful grin he usually wore, stuck to his face, almost practiced. If it wasn’t for the way his jaw clenched, and the way his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, you would’ve thought nothing to be wrong.

But if he was upset, he didn’t express it. Instead he leans down, extending his hand for Teddy to shake, to which your son eagerly responds with a small squeal. “Hi Mr, my name is Teddy”, he says, flashing a smile that showcases his missing teeth. Beomgyu returns to gestures, introducing himself just like he would anyone else.

“Are you one of mommy’s friends?” Teddy then asks, completely disregarding your warning glare as he grins. Beomgyu’s eyes flicker between you and your son, a questioning glimmer behind his warm irises. — “I am”, he says before pressing his lips in a thin line, give Teddy a tight smile. Teddy himself, on the other hand, looks like he’s about to ask something else when you hurry to interrupt him.

“Why don’t you wait for me inside so that we can look for the red paint together?” You say, giving his shoulder a light squeeze. Given a few moments of consideration, Teddy finally nods. “Okay”, he hums, turning to Beomgyu one final time, “ Goodbye Mr. Beomgyu!” — You watch his retreating frame, hoping to make whatever conversation was about to happen next short.

Once Teddy is completely out of sight, you turn back toward Beomgyu, a sense of dread washing over you. He looks… Unlike anything you’d ever witnessed. There isn’t a single fragment of emotion on his face, not one. You wait for him to say something, to break the surrounding you. Part of you wants him to yell, to shout. Another part wishes for him to not even mention it at all.

A whole minute passes and you slowly realize that he isn’t going to say anything. You swallow, thinking of ways to dodge the subject at hand, to send him off without ever having to discuss the topic that so obviously laid between the two of you. — “It’s not…I mean I can explain it but..”

“Do you think I’m stupid?”

His cold and sharp tone slices through the warm air. Like a dark and rainy cloud on a sunny day. And if anything, it only adds to the growing tension around you. “What?” You felt as though you were melting under the hot sun, sweat dripping down your forehead as your throat dried up. — “I mean, I get that you had shit going on, but this?” His voice grows agitated, and Beomgyu pushes his hair back, a flicker of disbelief crossing his features.

“I…I’m sorry I don’t understand what you’re talking ab-”

“My son. I’m talking about my fucking son”, he snaps, his gaze turning from cold to fury, “My son that I didn’t even know I had up until five minutes ago.” — Your mouth falls open, all air getting knocked from your lungs as you blink slowly.

“Oh come on, don’t give me that look”, Beomgyu jeers, “He looks exactly like me, how long did you plan on dragging this out? Were you going to let me go back to Seoul without as much as a word about him? When were you planning on telling me? When he graduates fucking college?” He’s shouting now, just like he had so many times before. You cringe at the uncomfortable feeling in your chest.

“I was going to tell you!” You cut him off, your eyes silently pleading for empathy as your hands balled up into fists. “I just…I needed time”, you say, biting the inside of your cheek as Beomgyu scoffs. He lets out a short, breathy laugh, even though there was little to be laughed about right now. “Time?” — “You needed…time? Fucking hell you’re hilarious.”

He continues to laugh through the irony of it all, pacing back and forth on the freshly cut grass as he runs his hands through his hair. “I mean, this whole time, I’ve been thinking, wondering, how you were doing”, he mutters as he shakes his head to himself. — “I’ve been worried”, he adds, throwing you a short glance before he resumes his pacing. “But it seems you’ve gotten on just fine with our kid.”

“It’s not what happened, if you please just hear me out I can-” “How old is he?” Beomgyu cuts you off once again, stopping mid-step as he turns to you with a small frown. “I…He’s turning 5 in November..” You awkwardly admit, your nails digging into the heel of your hand as you swallow. Beomgyu snorts, and for a second you think he’s about to yell at you again. “Five fucking years”, he mutters, silently counting the dates in his head. It only clarified what he already knew. That Teddy was his son.

“Well isn’t this wonderful? And you were about to make me miss his fifth birthday as well I presume.” It’s not a question, but you reply anyway. “I was going to tell you..” Your words have little effect, you knew that too. But it wasn’t like there was much else you could say. — You could bring up the fact that he hurt you, you could bring up the nights you spent alone, the canceled dates and the ignorant ways he treated you. They all seemed minimal compared to this. You knew that you were in the wrong, and there was nothing you could do to save yourself. You can only watch as you slowly burn, turning into nothing but ash and dust at the hands of fire.

You should’ve told him five years ago.

“I’m sorry.” The whisper barely makes it past your quivering lips, and had it not been for the ever thick silence laying between you, Beomgyu wouldn’t have caught it. But he does, his expression twisting into an annoyed grimace. — “Yeah, because sorry solves everything”, he bites, his continuous pacing coming to a sudden stop as he turns to face you completely. “But that’s the problem with you.” He points an accusing finger your way:

“You never think about anyone but yourself, and you never have.”

That’s a lie. You tell yourself that he’s lying, pushing back the tears building in your eyes and instead forcing yourself to become angry. Your shaky exhale feels shallow as you glance down at the green grass. “I think you should go”, you refuse to look at him, “my son’s waiting for me.”

He doesn't say anything, in fact you can barely make out his uneven and ragged breathing, nor the steps as he retreats. The only confirmation of his departure was the squeaky fence gate, and this time you heard it as it echoed through your garden.

⸝⸝

When the first pregnancy test showed positive, you went and bought another one. And when it turned up with the same results you bought a third. Then a fourth and a fifth. You never bought a sixth, you called your grandma instead. The phone nearly slipped from your sweaty fingers as you with a trembling hand brought it to your ear, the other one clutching the sink tightly.

“Nana?”

You nearly sobbed at the sound of her voice. The soft rasp of her tongue, still groggy from her sleep, confused as to why you’d woken her at such a later hour. — “I’m scared”, your whisper is barely picked up by the poor connection, but you can hear your grandma shuffling about, a light being turned on somewhere in the distance.

“Dear, you are being blessed with the gift of life, it’s not something to fear.” Her soft spoken words make your heart clench, and you wipe the tears from your eyes. “It doesn’t feel like a blessing..” It felt like a curse. A cruel and mean vengeance casted upon you to make you pay for leaving him like that, a reminder of what you’d lost and a reminder of what had hurt you the most.

Your grandmother sighs on the other line. “My love, this is your chance to make things right, it’s your chance to start anew.” — “Do not blame this miracle for the sorrows of your past, but treasure it for the joys of your future.” Her tone is slightly hushed, laced with sleep but still as powerful as you’d always remembered it.

With a final sob, you straighten your back, inhaling a deep breath before slowly letting it go. “But nana, what if I’m not good at it?” A rush of anxiety washes over you, the realization that you were actually about to do this, alone, becoming crystal clear. — Your grandmother huffs, and you could practically hear her rolling her eyes. “Then you will learn”, she simply states, a sense of finalization in her voice, as if she was closing the discussion for further questions.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you regard your expression in the mirror. From your bloodshot eyes to your puffy cheeks, dried up tear streaks laying flat across them, your swollen and bitten lips and the mess that was your hair. You looked just like you had any other night when Beomgyu had stood you up. The thought makes you scoff, how pathetic of you to cry over such a matter, when situations like these existed.

“Okay nana”, you exhale, nodding to yourself, “I will.”

That night you vowed to never cry over Choi Beomgyu again.

⸝⸝

It took you five years to break that vow. But as you put Teddy to bed that night, finally alone in the comforts of your own bedroom, you allow yourself to break down. Muffling your loud sobs against the pillow, your wet tears staining the soft cotton. It almost hurts, the way your fingers dig into the fabric, so hard that your knuckles have since long turned white. You don’t care, all you could think about was the way Beomgyu had looked at you, with so much anger that you thought you might just dissolve before his very eyes.

“You never think about anyone but yourself.”

Was that really how he felt? Was that really who you were? A selfish and uncaring person who hurt whoever she could just to preserve her own tears? And maybe you deserved it. You had waited for his anger, you had waited for five years. But when he kissed you that night, out on the pavement. When he kissed you rather than lashing out, when he chose to forget the past and try his luck with you once more, you only ended up hurting him further. — So maybe you did deserve it.

Far too engrossed in your own self loathing thoughts, you fail to catch the soft squeak of your bedroom door as it glides open. The soft padding of feet against the wooden floorboards as a much smaller and lighter person approaches. — Only when the mattress dips, and tiny arms wrap around your chest, do you peer up from your pillow.

Teddy isn’t looking at you, his face buried against your side as he hugs you tightly. Quickly drawing in a sharp breath and wiping your tears, you turn around to face him. “Hi baby..” Your voice is hoarse, “Did you have another nightmare?” You ask, brushing his hair back. — Teddy looks up, his big brown eyes wide as he shakes his head. “I forgot Sharptooth in here”, he says as he points to the discarded shark plushie on your bed.

A quiet “oh” is all you can muster, swallowing thickly as you reach for the stuffed animal. “Here you go sweetie”, you give him a small smile, “Want me to tuck you in again?” — Your son shakes his head once more, gripping the shark tightly between his tiny hands. “Why are you crying mom?” He wonders with a small frown, lips stuck out into a pout.

You shrug, trying to brush the topic off just as quickly as it had surfaced. “Mommy’s just had a long day”, you explain, your hand coming to rest on top of his shoulder. “Was it that man from before?” Teddy asks, and you want to curse yourself for raising such a smart child. — “No honey, he didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just…thinking I suppose.”

Teddy lets his head fall to the side, studying you closely, as if trying to detect any lies. When he doesn’t find any, he straightens back up. You’re slightly taken aback when he places his shark plushie in your arms, your son was not on to share his priced shark possessions, so the gesture could only mean he was trying his best to make you feel better. “I told you you shouldn’t think so much mommy”, he comments, an almost accusing edge to his voice.

“Thinking makes you sad, and it makes your head hurt”, he states as a matter-of-factly. You nod, hugging the stuffed animal against your chest as you mindlessly play with its fins. “You’re right, from now on I’ll only think about the good things.” — “Like you”, your arm snakes around his shoulders, pulling him to your side as you place a kiss to the top of his head. Teddy squeals but doesn’t attempt to pull away from you, instead snuggling closer as he lets out a content sigh.

“Can I sleep in here tonight?” He asks after a brief moment of silence, peering up at you through hooded eyes. The smile that spreads across your lips makes him grin, “You can.” Teddy immediately reaches for the covers as he tugs them over the two of you, making sure to tuck his mom in well before plopping down beside you. “Good”, he exhales, “I don’t think you should sleep alone today.”

Your heart flutters at the subtle comment and you wonder what you could’ve done to deserve such a kind son. — Perhaps your nana had been right all those years ago. Teddy was indeed the joys of both your present and future.

⸝⸝

Three days pass. Three days without as much as a single word from him. And today, they would be leaving.

After dropping Teddy off at your grandma’s, you find yourself back at the restaurant you’d all gathered at nearly two weeks ago. In the bright light of the sun, it looked far different than it had that evening. Now you could clearly see the cracks in the wall, running down the sides of the building, slowly tearing it apart. The chipped paint on the windows, the dirty glass and the worn out tables on the patio.

You stop in front of it, your feet leading you to that very same spot on the pavement. The grime and the dirt is clear now, white spots of splattered gum stuck to the asphalt and the small strands of grass that slowly crept their way through the cracks where the road met the sidewalk. — You sigh, anxiously chipping away at the polish on your nails as you hopelessly glance around.

To a stranger, it might’ve looked as though you were waiting for someone. But that someone would never come, and you knew that. It was just past noon, and they were to leave by late afternoon. — Beomgyu was nowhere to be found. You couldn’t quite place the feeling bubbling in your stomach. But the mere thought of him made it painfully twist.

Yet you find yourself desperate. Desperate to reach out, to see him once more, even if you know it was going to hurt the both of you. You were selfish, impossibly so. And without a second thought, you fish your phone up from your pocket, swiftly unlocking it as you search for Yeonjun in your contacts. He’d given you his number that day in the grocery store, insisting that the two of you stayed in touch. You were thankful he did.

The wait seems eternal as you listen to the beeping tone, buzzing against your ear. Perhaps he was busy packing, or perhaps he was mad at you, maybe Beomgyu had told him everything. And perhaps this time, he hadn’t held back. — Just as you were about to give up and return home, the call goes through and Yeonjun’s voice echoes from the other line. “Hey, there you are, I've been trying to get a hold of you for days!” He exclaims, sounding worried.

Surprised, you blink, not realizing how distant you’d been these past three days. Your mind had been so clouded with the thought of Beomgyu that you hadn't allowed room for anyone else but Teddy. — “I…I’m sorry I haven’t…” You bite your tongue, unsure of how much you were willing to tell. You shake your head, swallowing a deep breath before starting over. “Can I… Can I ask you something?”

Yeonjun doesn’t hesitate, “Anything.” You smile, even though he can’t see it. Your eyes trace the cobbled road, following the lines between the stones as you spoke. “Have you… Talked to Beomgyu?” Nearly terrified of uttering his name in this situation, your question comes out a mere whisper.

It’s silent on the other line, and you can only listen to the soft breaths as you await his response. Finally, he answers, a short “No.”

The confirmation makes you feel… Indifferent? You didn’t know whether to feel relieved or to cry, and the confusion between those emotions left you feeling…nothing. “Oh… I see.” It’s hard to sound unbothered, and Yeonjun can tell by the way your voice trembles, you’re certain of that. — “He’s been out all day, I’m not sure where he is, did you want to see him before we left?” He wonders, and you can’t seem to pick up any kind of anger in his voice. Perhaps Beomgyu hadn’t told him after all.

Did you want to see him? Yes. More than anything.

“No, it’s fine… I just..” You hesitate, “It’s nothing.” If Beomgyu hadn’t told him anything, then you wouldn’t either. It would just complicate things, right? It would make things even worse. And the thought of losing not only Beomgyu, but the others as well, was unthinkable. — Yeonjun, on the other hand, doesn’t sound entirely convinced as he hums, taking his time before speaking once more. “Are you sure you’re alright?” He asks, not trying to mask the concern he radiates.

“I am.” You lied, because lying was the only semblance of power you still held.

⸝⸝

You preferred white wine over red. But as you sat on your porch that evening, the half empty bottle clutched tightly in one hand, red tinting your lips, it suddenly didn’t seem to matter anymore. — Thankful that you planned for Teddy to stay the night at your grandmas, you can take solace in the liquor as you watch the sun set over the horizon. You don’t even realize how late it’s gotten until the patio’s automatic light is flicked on, the warm yellow basking you in new light.

Perched on the very edge of your porch, your legs swing back and forth with little direction, your movements slow and slightly clumsy. You purse your lips, a small grimace flashing across your face as you peer down at the bottle in your hand, watching as the dark liquid swishes inside the glass under your guidance.

It was self pity that had brought you out here. It was self pity that had made you down half the cheap bottle of a wine you didn't even like. And it was tears of self pity that had dried down on your cheeks. But you had stopped crying now, and you’d stopped drinking too, now you merely existed, just another breathing living organism. Under the stars, you felt small, insignificant, like your problems were nothing against the big world outside and beyond. Perhaps they were.

You wonder how long it would take for you to get over him this time. — Would it be over in a day? Or would it hurt for years? Finally you understand how he felt when you just walked out on him that night all those years ago. When you yelled for him to leave, when you locked him out of your life and left. And fuck it hurt.

No, you needed another sip. Just one more, you tell yourself. Bringing the bottle to your lips, you suddenly halt. The squeaking sound of your fence gate makes you freeze. Had it been the wind? Hardly. That gate was both old, rusty and not to mention heavy. A sudden lump in your throat forms, and you’re unable to down a single drop of wine, so you set the bottle down. You don’t even dare look, afraid of what you might see, of who you might see.

But in the end, you do. The sounds of approaching footsteps fill the silent nightair, and you watch as a tall shadow makes its way up the stoned path to your house, with heavy and slow steps. Finally emerging from the shadows and into the faint glow of the patio lights, you see his face clearly.

Beomgyu looks like he hasn’t slept in days. The bags under his eyes are prominent and his usually styled blonde hair is everywhere. He doesn’t say anything, hands stuffed into his pockets. His gaze is back to the same cold and indifferent one he’d held at the restaurant when you first met. His tongue prodding against the inside of his cheek before he says, “You shouldn’t be drinking.”

Following his gaze toward the wine bottle, you scoff. But Beomgyu is persistent. “You can’t hold your liquor, and I don’t want you around my kid drunk.” He puts emphasis on the words, dragging them out, shoving them in your face. Your brows pull together in an angered frown. “You’re here to poke and prod at me over that?” You say, your tone accusing as you get up on wobbly legs, your bare feet now touching the cold glass.

Beomgyu sneers, grabbing ahold of your shoulders as you take a clumsy step forward. “Of course I’m here to nag you about my fucking son, my son that you kept from me.” He spits the sentence out and it becomes clear that he had only come to pick a fight. — His grip on you tightens, fingers digging into your shoulder blades. “And I come here to see you drinking your problems away, running from them like you always fucking have!”

“Shut up..” Your attempt at telling him off comes out slurred, almost inaudible. And Beomgyu continues. “You’re a fucking coward”, he seethes. “Shut up”, your voice grows higher. “And do you know who has to pay for it?” He huffs out a short laugh, “Me. Me and everyone else around you.” — “Shut up”, you’re almost pleading with him now. Beomgyu hears none of it.

“I thought about it”, he says, the already harsh grip around your shoulders only increasing and you wince. “I’ve thought about it for three whole days..” He swallows, his dark eyes searching yours. “And I’ve realized that you’re nothing but a liar who uses people as she pleases-”

“Shut the fuck up!”

It takes all of your strength to push him back, to pry his hands from your body as you free yourself of his vice-like grip. You tumble backwards, the back of your knees hitting the porch as you almost fall over, luckily catching yourself just in time. — Beomgyu on the other hand, is watching you with an expression best described as disbelieving and outraged. His hands balling up into fists by his sides, his jaw clenched so hard it looked like it might hurt.

You don’t let him get another word out, your loud voice slicing through the air. “You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t lay awake each night, guilt eating away at every single fucking part of me!” The exhale you emit is shaky, your heart palpitating as you gather yourself before continuing. “Do you know how scared I’ve been? Do you have any idea of what it’s like to have a baby all on your own, with no one to help?”

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you hold his cold gaze. “Have you ever had to book an ultrasound and go all on your own? Have you ever had to stay up until three in the morning, coddling a baby you never asked for, telling him that everything was going to be okay when I didn't know what okay even felt like!” — Quickly blinking away the fresh tears that threaten to spill down your already stained cheeks, you avert your gaze. “You don’t know anything. You weren’t there.”

Beomgyu remains silent when you finish. The only thing still confirming his presents was his jagged breathing. You don’t look at him, you don’t think you could, even if you wanted to.

“I don’t regret what I did.” Your voice is softer now, almost whispering. But you know he’s listening. “I was young, and I was scared.” You shake your head, “I’m not saying I did the right thing but I do not regret it and you cannot make me change my mind.

Your last statement makes him scoff, his jaw twitching as his eyebrows furrow. “Why didn’t you fucking tell me?” — “Fine, you wanted to run off, but why didn’t you tell me. Five fucking years why didn’t you tell me?” His voice grows in intensity with each word. You hold your tongue, looking him in the eyes though unable to form a response. “What?” He huffs, his gaze narrowing down on you. When you remain silent he takes a step forward.

“What?” He’s nearly shouting now. You know he doesn’t mean it, he never does, right? But it still hurts. You open your mouth to defend yourself, ready to tell him just how bad he hurt you. No words come out. — Beomgyu grows visibly frustrated, his hands balling up into fists by his sides. “Don’t fucking look at me like that!”

“Like what, Beomgyu?”

“I took your son away from you because you took my life away from me, and I was scared you were going to take his as well!” You’re crying now, unable to stop the tears from flowing down your eyes as you scream at him, hopelessly trying to overpower his sharp words.

Out of all the things you’d said to him, this was the one that finally seemed to go through as Beomgyu falters backward, his face dropping as his frown deepens. — “What?” This time the word comes out a quiet, uncertain whisper. He looks almost confused.

“You’re not the only one who got hurt.” Not thinking about how you worded yourself or what you were even saying, you continue, afraid that if you didn’t grasp this opportunity, it would never reappear again. — “You hurt people. And you don’t even realize it. You hurt me.” He opens his mouth as if to speak, you already know what he’s about to say, and you beat him to it.

“You can’t seriously believe I left you only because of that scandal? Seeing you with another woman on the news hurt sure, but it didn’t hurt as much as the missed calls, the unreplied text messages, the dates you canceled, the anniversaries you forgot and the days you could go without speaking to me.”

You inhale.

“You made me feel like a shadow in my own relationship. And I was terrified that you’d do the same to Teddy.”

You exhale.

Beomgyu looks as if he’s fighting an inner battle, his gaze flickering between yours and somewhere far off in the distance. “That’s the problem with you”, you say, letting your arms drop to your sides, “I run from my flaws, but you, you don’t even see them.” — “And nothing is ever your fault, is it Beomgyu?”

The silence that falls over the two of you after that weighed heavier than any you’d ever experienced before. The sky could come crashing down at any moment and it still wouldn’t be able to overpower the ringing sounds of nothing. Under the yellow gleam of the patio lights Beomgyu looks lifeless, his skin had turned a sickly pale and the dark bags under his eyes even more prominent.

He’s the first to break the quiet.

“I just..” He begins but quickly tails off, chewing on the inside of his cheek as his gaze drifts toward the grass. “I don’t want you to disappear again.” He looks up at you, his dark eyes suddenly gaining a new emotion, one you hadn’t seen on him ever, a pleading one. — When you don’t reply he lets out a frustrated breath, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “The thought of you disappearing again scares me”, he admits.

You feel your jaw slacking as your mouth falls open. “It…It does?” You ask, not believing his words. But Beomgyu nods as he takes a step forward, slowly closing the distance between the two of you. “Of course it fucking does”, he exhales, his fingers clenching into fists before unclenching again, as if holding himself back from reaching out. — “Why do you think I kissed you that night? Why the fuck do you think I got out of that cab and followed you to bed?”

He shakes his head, swallowing thickly, adam’s apple bobbing as he does. You catch the glossy layer of tears in his eyes just as he blinks them away. “It scares me so bad that I…” He hesitates, but only for a moment. “It scares me so bad that I would rather end up hurt in your arms than never seeing you again.”

“I thought I told you, that night, didn’t I?” He says, biting the inside of his cheek as he searches your face. “Haven’t thought about anyone else.” — “Only you.” You thought it was a drunken confession, something he said in the heat of the moment, you never expected him to… To fully mean it.

Try as you might but no words come out, no matter how hard you will yourself to say something, anything. Beomgyu doesn’t wait for an answer, instead he reaches for the discarded wine bottle, bringing it to his lips as he takes a large swig. You watch as he swallows, not hesitating for even a second as he downs another gulp, then another. Only when you pry the bottle from his hands does his attention revert back to you.

“Did you mean it?” You ask, clutching the bottle tightly in one hand as your eyes narrow on his. Beomgyu nods, licking the remaining liquor from his lips. “Every single word of it”, he says. — “Okay”, you sigh. Following his lead as you, too, bring the wine to your lips, letting the red liquid flow down your throat for a brief moment.

When lowering the bottle once more, you don’t wait before acting, not daring to think your next move through even once, terrified that you would back out if you did. Instead you take a final step forward, closing the small distance between you completely before flinging your arms around his neck, pulling his lips down on yours.

Beomgyu responds by immediately wrapping his arms around your waist, his hands settling on your hips as he pulls you flush against his chest. The bittersweet aftertaste of wine lingers on his tongue and you’re certain it does on your own. — No words are exchanged, they’re not needed, not when his body is so close to yours.

He sighs into the kiss, his breath warm in contrast to the cool night air. It doesn’t feel like that night, two weeks ago. There was no lust now, no desire, and no rush. Only the soft sounds of your hearts beating against one another, in tune and perfectly harmonized. It’s the kind of kiss that could go on forever without you even realizing it. The kind of kiss that would make your head spin and your lungs ache as you neglected the need for air.

You thought you knew everything there was to know about him. But right now, he feels like a completely different person, a person you could really love. Maybe he’d always been like that. Maybe you’d just refused to acknowledge the good, far too focused on the bad.

You shouldn’t judge something you don’t understand

It was then it hit you. You didn’t understand Beomgyu at all, and neither did he understand you. The lack of communication is what has led you to where you are right now. All because you were so fixated on the idea of love that you completely forgot what it is actually all about. Understanding.

Your hand caresses his cheek when you pull back, the gesture is soft, a silent apology. Beomgyu turns his head, placing a gentle kiss on your palm, a silent apology. — “Help me understand”, you whisper as you glance up at him, relieved to find his eyes back to their warm brown. He looks confused, but lets you place your free hand on top of his chest, just above the steady beating of his heart. “In here”, you say, “Let me understand what goes on in here.”

He smiles, a genuine smile before leaning in to kiss you once more. One of his hands rests on top of yours, and you feel the slight flutter of his chest under the tips of your fingers when you return his kiss. — When he pulls back, he does the same, the hand not clutching yours, reaching up to rest above your heart. Beomgyu remains quiet for another moment, silently listening to the soft pattern of your heartbeat. He closes his eyes, and when he opens them again, they find yours without hesitation.

“Only if you let me understand yours.” You nod, a timid smile splayed across your lips. — You stay like that for a while, listening to the sounds of each other's heart beats. Knowing that they both beat for the very same reason. The knowing somehow made it even more special.

It connected you.

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meetletsinmontauk · 3 days ago

Text

Collide- P.S

Synopsis: in which Park Sunghoon falls for his maknae’s girlfriend.

DISCLAIMER: nsfw, contains smut!!

Inspired by:

Fever by Enhypen & Collide by Justine Skye

우정에 대한 이야기 (A story about friendship)

Sunghoon couldn't remember the last time he hated himself as much as he did now. In fact, he could, it was during his figure skating era and he hated himself each time he made a mistake and fell instead of completing the movement correctly. Or when he was a trainee and he messed up something even after repeating over and over again. But those things, they were nothing compared to how much of a piece of shit he thought he was at that moment. Sitting at a bar stool, champagne glass in one hand, watching Ni-ki cuddle with his not- that- secret-anymore girlfriend. Ni-ki stopped to hide when Jake walked into the maknae’s room and saw what he described as ‘there is a girl on top of our Ni-ki’. A girl that Sunghoon couldn’t stop thinking about for the past 16 months.

They were in the middle of the Sound of Prada, Ni-ki was sitting on a bench and she stood up in front of him, his hands were holding her hips and the both of them were exhaling the rotten essence of love. Ugh, disgusting. But if it was so disgusting, why was he wishing he was his maknae? Damn. He huffed and started to trip into his own thoughts, reminiscing the first time they met. He was with Ni-ki, in fact, and for what he could tell, they fell in love almost instantly:

Flashback:

“Hey, Ni-ki” Sughoon said casually while standing at the Japanese man’s door frame. He knew Ni-ki couldn’t hear him, cause he had his headset on and he was playing some game on his PS5, but even so he repeated “Ni-ki”. Still, no response. So as the very patient man Park Sughoon is, he sighed and walked into the bedroom, pushing the headset down on the maknae’s head. He paused the game immediately and turned around, ready to offend the asshole who had done that, but then he remembered he lived with 3 older men, so he wasn’t very allowed to call any of them an asshole, even though they were sometimes. “Hoon… what’s up bro?” “I’m going to a recital, do you want to join me?” “What kind of recital?” “A music recital” “Like an orchestra?” Sunghoon nodded “Yeah, it sounds sick. Let me change clothes and we can go” “Ok. Lemme know when you’re ready” “What about you? Are you going like that?” the Korean man chuckled, sarcastically “Heck no, Ni-ki. Heck no”. Half an hour later, the both of them looked like they had come out of a MIB movie.They had full black suits and they exhaled hotness. Cause that’s what they were. Fucking hot. And they were completely aware of that. On they way there, Ni-ki asked “Hyung, why are we going to a music recital?” “Because…” he gulped “... I like music?” Niki arrowed his eyes and thought for a second, ignoring Sughoon hesitance to answer him, then he nodded in acknowledge “Hun, that's right, isn't it?” Sunghoon nodded “Yeah”. But the truth was, Sunghoon had attended that same recital for the first time 4 nights before that one, thanks to Jay, who invited him. Then the night after with Heeseung and Jungwoon, and the night after with Sunoo and Jake, and now for the 4th night with Ni-ki. And for as much as he actually enjoyed the music, that wasn't the reason why he attended the event once again. On that first night, in the middle of the crowd, he found a red spot. A lady, wearing a velvet red dress, which showed her clavicles and shoulder, exposed her white silk skin. She had her hair tied up on a classy bun and wore fine jewelry. She was like the lost princess the ice prince had been looking for all those years. But she was more like a fire princess, wearing red, making him burn inside. He had to see her again. He had to see her face, not only her side profile. He had to know her name, hold her hand, listen to the sound of her voice, know what her favorite movie and meal were. He had to. But how? The only solution he found was to come back and maybe, just maybe run into her again. Ni-ki knew Sunghoon had invited the other hyungs to that same recital for 3 days in a row. But none of them could tell why. Ni-ki bet with the other 5, that Sunghoon had a crush on a musician. Jay opined that Sunghoon was being just emotional about the music but he couldn't admit it. So, there was Ni-ki, trying to find out why Hoon was so obsessed with that recital and win the bet.

Sunghoon looked around the whole time. The symphony filled his ears, he already knew it from back to front. Ni-ki, fortunately, was so absorbed into the music that he didn't notice Hoon’s dispersal. He was already tired, while he was getting ready earlier he decided that after that night he wasn't going to look out for her anymore. ‘If it was meant, it was going to happen tonight.’ he told himself while he looked at himself in the mirror. Now sitting in that auditorium, listening to the same symphony for the 4th time in a role, he was already willing to give up. But then, he saw her. The beautiful fire princess. Now, wearing a white silk dress, with pearls on her neck and ears, like a snow princess. Oh, how much he wanted to take that dress from her, to slip ear till he swallowed the damn pearl… It was his chance, he needed to talk to her, get her name, or number, or social media or address, anything. He needed her. So for the rest of the recital he didn't take his eyes from her, he couldn't let her slip away again. And after everyone stood up and finished the ovation, and her body started to move along with the crowd reaching for the exit, Sunghoon just followed her, noticing a little after that had lost his friend Ni-ki but he didn't have time for it, he just tried to follow along the crowd to meet his beloved. And as the spell turned against the wizard, he had lost her when we quickly turned to apologize to an old lady for stepping on her feet.

She didn't get too far for him, she just went to the bathroom. When she was walking out of the bathroom and a lot of people were still heading to the front door, she tried to follow along again, but a very rude couple pushed her against the wall and she tripped on her stiletto shoes, twisting her ankle. “Auch!” She tried to get away from the wall and walk outside so she could find her group of friends and get some help, but her ankle was still fragile and at the moment she took her hand out of the wall, she knew she was going to fall. And she would have had it if it wasn't the pair of big hands that held her. She felt like she could bury her head into a hole cause of the embarrassment but she turned back to at least thank her savior. “Oh my God, that's so embarrassing…” she looked at his face and nothing else mattered. He was so handsome, and gentle, he was holding her with such a soft touch, then his smile, she caught herself holding her breath like she would die if he let her go. Their eyes were locked like if they weren’t the world would end right there. “Hey… I’m Ni-ki” she smiled “Hi, Ni-ki. It’s a pleasure to meet you” “Pleasure is all mine. Let's find somewhere so you can sit”. He guided her, helping her to find a bench so he could rest her ankle, then he let her go. He squatted next to her to help her take the shoe off and watched her while she massaged her own ankle.“Thank you” “I saw what they did to you, not cool” “People are very rude nowadays, right?” ‘Yes” they kept silent for a few seconds.“Did you enjoy the recital?” she said “Yes! It was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard… I mean, it was until I heard your voice” she blushed, then looked at her feet and giggled “Thank you. You’ve a beautiful voice too. Very strong, very deep, very…”

she looked down to lock eyes with him again and it felt like she couldn’t breathe anymore again “... beautiful. Just as you are” she said with the oxygen left in her lungs. Now it was time for him to blush “The most beautiful girl I ever see is calling me beautiful, I think I did right not staying at home tonight” she smiled “I think we both did”. They kept in silence, like two shy kids, then Sunghoon, who was confusingly watching the scene from some distance, approached them and cleaned his throat to catch their attention “Oh, hi!” Ni-ki stood up and turned to her “Hum… this is my hyung, Sunghoon” she stretched her hand to him “Nice to meet you. Are you brothers or just friends?” “You don’t…” she blinked “You don’t know…” Ni-ki poked his hyung arm “Yes! We are friends” “Oh, alright! You look younger than Ni-ki, so I thought you were” “We have almost the same height…” “Yeah, but he looks more mature, you know?” his lips parted, she was right but he didn’t know what to say anymore. Her started to beep, she looked at it knowing it was time for for to leave them “My friends are looking for me, I must go now, but it was nice to meet you Ni-ki” their eyes locked again “...and Sughoon, of course” “Can I… can I ask you something crazy?” “Yes! Whatever it’s, the answer is yes”

“Really?” he smirked “Really” “What if I asked you to marry in Vegas?” “I’m down for it” they laughed “Actually, I was just going to ask for your number if that’s ok. But, yeah, Vegas is nice too” she bit her bottom lip and asked for his phone with innocent eyes, which he gave to her at light speed. “There it is. Use it with responsibility” “I will. Thank you” he bowed lightly “Good night, Ni-ki. Thanks again for your help” she bowed as well “It was nothing. Good night” “Bye bye, Sunghoon” she said, already stepping away from them “Bye…”.

Later that night, in the car back to the dorm Ni-ki could swear life was pink. He turned to Sunghoon and confessed “Bro, guess I met the girl of my dreams tonight” Ni-ki said, leaning his head on the car’s window. ‘Heck nah. The girl of my dreams, you meant’, Hoon thought. “Really?” he said with an uninterested air “Yes, she’s my destiny” Sunghoon rolled his eyes, and silently leaned his head on the window too. What the fuck happened with his plan?

Present time:

Fuck! He hated it so much! He didn’t know if he hated himself more for letting her slip away or for talking about Ni-ki’s height when he had the chance to talk to her. If he could go back in time, he would never have invited Ni-ki to that recital, he would have invited Heesung instead, he would never do what Ni-ki did… Or would? Actually, he would go all by himself like he usually did and, when he got to meet her, and make her fall in love with him, he would never let his mates breathe the same air she did. He loved them, of course, but at the end of the day they all were men and men like to stare at and flirt with pretty and nice and perfect girls like her. He should have predicted that. After that damn recital, it didn’t take much more than a month for them to start dating. It had been 14 months already and since then, she was everywhere. He asked the universe for her back then but now he was begging for it to take her off his life at least if she still was with Ni-ki.

He wandered for a few minutes, lost in his own thoughts and when he came back to reality, he saw her walking in his direction. She had some kind of magnetic aura coming out from her, she was walking only and even so he couldn't take his eyes from her figure or keep his jaw in place. She had that power over him “Good night, Hoonie” and yes, she called him Hoonie and yes, he let her “Night” he looked away from her, then sipped his drink “Where is the boyfriend?” “He went to look out for his Jay hyung’” “And you didn't want to join him?” “No” “Thought you liked Jay” “I do. But I wanted to talk to you” “What have I done?” “Nothing, bro. We're friends, did you forget that?”. Since she was with Ni-ki almost all his free time, she was with him almost all his free time as well, which caused them to grow close too “I did not…” he said in a low tone “How are you? You are stuck in this corner almost all night. You and your champagne glass” “She is my companion tonight” she laughed “I’m fine. Just needed to be alone for a bit” “Do you want me to leave?” “No!” he held her wrist lightly “Please, don't” she smiled “Ok, I stay” “You know…” she turned to him “Hum?” “I have been feeling kinda lonely lately” “You!?” He nodded “What if you tried to find a girlfriend? Or boyfriend, I don't know” “Girlfriend. And no, thank you” “Why not!? You're handsome and funny and gentle, you wouldn't have trouble finding one” “I’m an anti romantic. You know” “Yeah, but I don't actually believe in that bullshit” “Why not?” “I see how you look at me and Ni-ki” “How do I look at you and Ni-ki?” “Like you wanted the same” he chuckled, she was right, he did want the same. The same girl. “You know what? I think you are right” “See?? I can help you find a girlfriend if you want to” “Really?” “Absolutely” “So if I describe the girl I want, can you find her for me?” “I can try”. He sipped his drink again, thinking how much ironic and funny it was “Ok, check it out” she grinned, excited like a child “Alright, let's go” “She has to be a brunette” she nodded

“Her hair must be wavy, almost curly” “Alright” “Her skin must be pale as snow, and she has to be shorter than me” “How short?” he indicated the line right under his chin “Like here short” it was the same height as hers without heels “Ok, what else?” “She has to dress well, like in a way that exhales her femininity” “And about her personality?” “A girl who loves her job and works very hard and passionate for it. Plus she must be gentle, and carrying, and, of course, has to love me. She also needs to let me take care of her, because that's everything I’m going to do for the rest of my life being by her side” she blinked “Wow! That was deep” she took a deep breath, Sunghoon has this power to be hypnotizing “Imagine if you weren't an anti romantic” “You’d be dead on the floor right now” she chuckled “I know. But you have a good taste for girls. Almost like you were describing myself” ‘I was describing you’ he thought. “I want a charming girl, it's not my fault that you are very charming” she smiled “Thanks, Hoonie. I will keep my eyes open” “Yeah, me too”. Suddenly, she grabbed his hand “Come on!” And started to pull him to the dance floor “Where are we going?” “We are going to dance” “But what about my companion?” “I will be your companion for the rest of the night now” she didn't know the power her words had on him “ok” he muttered “And leave the champagne” he laughed, wanting to tell her that he didn’t need anyone or anything else if she was with him.

…

A month later:

Sunghoon had woken up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom, but when he was going back to his room, he heard the sound of something breaking coming from Ni-ki’s room. The door was half opened and Hoon couldn’t help but take a look to see if his roommate was ok. When he took a step back and looked inside he saw a lamp on the floor and… a drunk Ni-ki? “The fuck…” he muttered before pushing the door open “Ni-ki, are you good?”. The japanese man was sitting on his bed, fiddling with his commitment ring on his ring finger, looking down at his cell phone on the floor next to his feet. When he heard Hoon’s voice, he looked up and the hyung could see tears on his face. Even so, he smiled, probably due to the alcohol “‘Sup, Hoon?” Sunghoon didn’t think twice before stepping into the room “Are you crying!? Did you get hurt!?” Ni-ki nodded “Lemme see your hands” he grabbed Ni-ki’s hands and inspected them, searching for cuts from the broken lamp, but he couldn’t find any “But…” “Here” Ni-ki placed his left hand on his chest “I got hurt in here” “How… Did you get into a fight!?” Ni-ki nodded again “Take off your shirt, then!” he was clearly preoccupied with the younger one and he couldn’t be more confused when Ni-ki didn’t move a single muscle except for his lips, then chuckled with bitterness in his act “You’re not getting that, are you?” “I… Just tell me what the heck is going on!” Sunghoon bursted in anxiety. Ni-ki looked up, slowly, and Hoon could see the pain in his eyes “We broke up”, then his voice got weak, and he succumbed to tears again, burying his face on Sughoon’s belly. He let his hand meet Ni-ki’s head and caressed it, softly “I… I’m sorry”. The Korean man was in shock, how could the thing he wanted the most to be the one breaking his heart in a million pieces? Seeing his friend in that state was heartbreaking, he knew that if Ni-ki wasn’t drunk, and he definitely was, Sunghoon could smell it, he would never let anyone see him like that. Which only made Hoon feel even dirtier, Ni-ki was there being vulnerable and even so, a bit of happiness lighted up into Sughoon’s core and he knew the hate he felt for himself couldn’t be bigger. “Let it all out, mate. Let it all out”, he said to the maknae. When Ni-ki calmed down and fell asleep, Hoon came back to his bedroom but he couldn’t sleep at all, he asked for that, he asked for her to be taken out of Ni-ki's life and now he was happy that she was single?! No. That was enough. He was going to forget about her. He needed to forget about her.

…

4 months later:

Jay felt like a boyfriend. A boyfriend who is sick of waiting for his girlfriend to visit all the shopping mall’s stores “Sunghoon! I have been here for 2 hours already! Will you try all the clothes in the store!?” the other man stepped out of the changing room “You can't rush perfection, you know?” Jay rolled his eyes “I’m leaving you” “Come on! Just 30 minutes more. Go get you an ice cream” he took a card from his wallet “It’s on me” Jay looked at the card in between Sunghoon’s fingers and grabbed it “30 minutes only” “Ok. See you” “See you” Jay said, already walking away from the department store. Sunghoon looked at himself in the mirror once more before getting into the changing room again when he saw a girl in the mirror’s reflection “Is that…” he looked in the girl’s direction “Fire princess”. During the 4 months since the break up, Sunghoon focused on making Ni-ki happy and healed, it was all that mattered and they made great progress. All of them. Ni-ki was feeling less sad lately, 2 months ago he heard from Heeseung that she was trying to move on with her life as well and Sunghoon, well, he stopped thinking about her. Till now, when her frame was mere centimeters from him. He got so shocked, he couldn’t take his eyes from her, which was a bad thing cause she felt observed and looked into her stalker’s direction, crossing gazes with him. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Maybe she will just ignore him, he and Ni-ki and the whole enhypen were past for her, right? Wrong. Cause she lipped smiled to him and waved, lightly. He waved back. weirdly, mouthing her a “hey”, and in another moment she was walking in his direction “Sunghoon… hi” she said, her melodic voice filled his ears once again, damn it have been so long “Hi… how… have you been?” “I’m good! I mean, I am feeling better each day, little by little” “That’s good news”

“Yeah. How about you?” “I’m fine. Ni-ki’s fine too” why are you talking about Ni-ki, Park Sunghoon? Why? She didn’t ask about him, she asked about you, he thought. “Oh! It’s good to know. I wish him the best” “And he wishes the best to you” she smiled, politely “I miss you” “Me?!” “Yes. I got used to having you around” “Let’s do something, then” “Yeah, let’s do it! Wanna catch up on a movie?” “Sure! When?” “What about tomorrow night? Or are you busy?” “I… No! I’m not. Let’s do this” “Alright” “Text me later?” “Sure” “Ok. See you tomorrow, then” “See you” she smiled and walked away. He watched her leave and when she was far enough, he let out the air he didn’t know he was holding. He was going to need to lie to Ni-ki.

…

Half an hour later Sunghoon and Jay were walking back to the dorm with snow cones in one hand and bags in the other. “Jay” “Yeah” “Can I confide in you something?” “Sure” “But you can’t tell anyone about it” “I know what confidence is” “But you must keep it from the guy too” “Ok…” “I ran into Ni-ki’s ex today” “Really? How is she?” “Good. We…” “You what?” “Are going out tomorrow night” “Like on a date?!” “No! As friends” “What’s the big deal with that?” “Don’t you remember what happened when Ni-ki found out that Heeseung went to Blackpink’s concert with her 2 months ago?” Ni-ki got very angry and tried to punch Heeseung on the face multiple times:

Flashback:

When Heeseung walked into the dorm door was already past 2am. He was slightly high for the beers he drank and for the adrenaline pumping in his veins. He was trying hos best to not wake anyone but Ni-ki, Ni-ki was awake already, waiting for his hyung to give him some explanations “Ni-ki! You scared me, bro” the younger kept silent “What are you doing?” “What are you doing?” “Sneaking in without letting anyone know?” “Seems you failed already” Hee chuckled “I agree. You should get some sleep tho” “I will as soon as you help me to understand” “Understand what?” “Why is she posting pictures with you on her instagram?” “Oh! You know…” “Didn't it occur to you that I will see the pictures?” “I didn't think about that…” “Well, now you explain yourself, yeah?” Hee was already irritated with his arrogance “I’m your hyung, I don't need to explain myself to you” Ni-ki chuckled, bitter and walked closer to Heeseung “We're talking about my girlfriend” “Ex girlfriend” why on Earth would you say something like that Lee Heeseung? Why? he asked himself. Ni-ki closed his hands, his jaw tensed and without thinking too much, Ni-ki’s fist tried to hit Heeseung’s left cheek. Luckily, Hee’s reflexes were good and he squatted almost instantly “Ni-ki! What are you doing?!” “Just because she is my ex-girlfriend that means you can have her now?” “What?! No! We're friends!” “Friends my ass” the japanese’s fist flew over Heeseung's head again, this time the older man had to bend to the left “Ni-ki! Stop trying to hit me!” “Stay away from her” another failed hit “Jay! Sunghoon!” Heeseung called them cause or he asked for help or he would have to knock Ni-ki down and he really didn’t want to do that. The 2 friends went out of their rooms like a flash and the first thing they came across was their hyung trying to dodge from a possessed Ni-ki but getting stuck in the corner of the room. Sunghoon wrapped his arms around Ni-ki’s waist and Jay stood in front of the maknae, blocking his way to Heeseung “Ni-ki, stop!” Hoon said using all his strength to stop his friend “Let me go!” “No!” “Let me go or you will be the next!” he threatened Hoon “Not happening”

“What’s going on here?” Jay asked, still protecting Heeseung’s shrunken body on the floor. “He’s going out with my girlfriend!” “You what?!” Jay and Sunghoon said in unison, looking at the older man “She invited me to go to Blackpink’s concert AS FRIENDS!” “I don’t fucking swallow your bullshit” they looked at Ni-ki again, eyes widened “Don’t talk like that to him, he is our hyung” Sunghoon remembered, tightening the grip on Ni-ki’s waist and cementing his feet on he floor “Hold on! You said girlfriend, does that mean you guys are back together?” Jay asked, hopeful. At that moment Sunghoon felt Ni-ki’s strength and effort getting weak. “Come on, Sunghoon….” Ni-ki said, avoiding Jay’s question “... let me go” his voice disappeared and the tears started to roll down his face. Sunghoon unwrapped his arm from Ni-ki’s waist and pulled him for a hug “Come here”. Jay helped Heeseung to stand up “Are you ok, man?” “Yeah”, then they joined the hug. When Ni-ki calmed down he turned to his hyungs and bowed “I’m so sorry guys. Especially to you, Heesehung hyung. I’m so sorry, I just miss her so much” “It’s ok, Ni-ki. Let’s just forgive and forget” he squeezed the younger’s shoulder “Ok” “Now shall we all get some sleep, yeah?” “Yeah” the other 3 agreed with their hyung and each of them went to their room.

…

Back to present time:

“Yeah. You’re right. It’s better to keep it a secret” Sunghoon agreed with Jay “I don’t agree with that but I don’t see another option. I mean, Ni-ki was the one who she broke up with, not me, or Heeseung or Jake or you, you know what I mean?” “I see. But I don’t think Ni-ki is a bad person, he is just still grieving, you know?” “I think so” “But, hey, I got your back. Go see your friend in peace. Just don't fucking post any pictures” “Thanks, Jongseong” Jay tapped Hoon’s shoulder, then squeezed it lightly “Those snow cones are actually very good, aren't they?” Sunghoon nodded “Yeah. My tongue is blue, tho” Jay laughed and they engaged into a completely random conversation.

…

The night after:

The movie night was good. Even though Sunghoon couldn’t pay much attention to it cause he was busy reminding why he fell in love with that girl for the first time. She was simply stunning. Her hair was light brown, and wavy, her skin was pale as snow, her eyes were wide like cherry pie, instead of an iris, she had hazel and golden circles. She had a mole under her left eye, and she smelled like vanilla and expensive champagne. Her western accent was the cutest thing he ever heard. And as much as he tried, for an hour only though, he simply couldn’t be only friends with her. He needed more. It was late at night and he offered to walk her back to her place, she was talking about her university, she was an exchange music student in Seoul but he just couldn’t pay attention. She took him out of his trance when she asked him about the guys “They are good. They miss you” she smiled “I miss them too. I talked to Heeseung for the last time 2 months ago, but never again” “He… have been busy” Sunghoon lied “I know about the incident” “Right…” he cleaned his throat “I don’t want to put you in trouble, so I was going to turn your offer down but… I decided to not let the past ruin my present, you know?” she confessed “Yeah. I’m glad we did it tonight” they stopped in front of her building “Yeah, me too” they kept staring at each other “I wish it didn’t have to end” she slipped “Really?” “I don’t. Cause I don’t know when I will see you again, if we see again” “Wanna go for some drinks now?” “Don’t you rather come in and have drinks here? We can play PS as well. I know you don’t want to be seen with me” “It's no like that. I’m just trying to avoid becoming the new Heeseung” “Yeah, yeah, I got you. So…” she said, impatiently “Which drinks are we having?” “Anything you want to. We can buy it at the convenience store” she pointed to the store across the street. He offered his arm to her and she tangled on it like a child.

A few minutes later they came back to her apartment with Corona beers, green apple soju, gummy bears and some coconut water, for the hangover. They spent the rest of the night playing, laughing and drinking. They probably had way too much soju, cause when they turned the videogame off around 3 am and laid on the floor shoulder to shoulder to watch the moon, Sughoon’s tongue loosened a lot. “Why the heck you and Ni-ki broke up?” “Hum?” “I mean, all that effort for ending like that? It must have been a good reason” “We… argued” “So what? I argued with my sister my whole life, did we stop being siblings? No” “It’s not the same thing” “So how was it?” “It was not the first time we argued over…” she paused “Over what?” “He wanted us to move together” “And you didn't?” “I… well, I did” “I don't get it” “It wasn't going to be good for him. People would criticize and send him hate. I couldn't let it happen so I said to him I didn't want to. So, we argued over it for the thousandth time and I said I couldn’t take it anymore” “Are you stupid or what?” “Sunghoon!” “Fuck the criticism you were in love with each other, wasn’t that reason enough to you?” “People already hated Ni-ki because he likes to tease you guys, imagine for him to have a girlfriend and then leaving the dorm to live with a western”. Sunghoon huffed, “Aish! All that fucking effort over nothing”

“What effort are you talking about?” “To turn my life into hell” “The fuck you are talking about?” “I went to that recital 4 times in a row” “What?” “The recital we met you” “What about it?” “I went 4 nights in a row, hoping I would see you again. And I did. But when I finally could talk to you, Ni-ki was there already, and the both of you were falling in love” she sat up “Why were you looking for me?” “You were my fire princess cause I am the ice prince and you were wearing a red dress the first time I saw you. But you and Ni-ki met before you and me” “There's no way you are being serious about it” “Well, I am! I even described you when you were trying to get me a girlfriend!”. She parted her lips, trying to mumble something, but nothing really went out of her mouth. “Look, forget what I said, I am just…” but before he could finish the phrase she bent down and kissed his lips “...high” but was he that high? He didn't care. He sat up, grabbed her waist and gently pinned her down on the floor to get his body hovering over her, then deepened the kiss. Her hands went to his hair, pulling it as a response to the electricity he was giving to her through the kiss. Sunghoon’s hands slid down to her waist, pulling her blouse up, earning a moan from the cold touch of the Korean's hand sliding up her belly, touching her covered boob. “Hoonie, take it off” she muttered, he stopped kissing her, and widened his eyes “The hand?” “No! The shirt”

“Oh! Ok. Lemme know if you're uncomfortable” “Yeah, yeah, yeah, now shut up” then she pulled him to glue their lips again. Hoon ripped the blouse off her then made her sit to straddle his lap, pulling her hips down to collide with his hips. She whined as she felt his bulge under his pants and underwear, lightly grinding on him, to get some friction. She was desperate for friction, she didn't sleep with anyone for 4 months and 17 days. That was surreal for Hoon, even a small whine from her was freaking surreal for him, to be very honest he never thought she and Ni-ki were going to break up, so sleeping with her was never a possibility, only in his dreams. But back to reality, he ran his hands up to unclip her bra and free her perfectly shaped and soft boobs, squeezing one with his left hand and sucking the right one, earning another moan from her. She gripped on his hair and cursed “Fuck” “Do you like it?” he asked in a low, sexy tone “Yes” she muttered “Would you like more?” “Yes, please” he smirked, laying her down on the floor again, and worked to take her blue ripped jeans off along with her panties. Then, he opened her legs, to put his head in between her thighs. Oh, he dreamed of being crushed by them so many times. Sunghoon smirked at the thrust movement of her hip “Chill out, babygirl” he teased, then merciless, licked from her entrance to her clit and stood there, sucking, licking, bitting for a few minutes, each of these minutes were filled with a delicious moan from her, till Hoon felt she tightening up, she was close to cum. So he stopped, he needed her to cum around him. “Why did you stop?” she whined “Need you around me now” she smirked “Take your clothes off, then” “I will…” he climbed her body till his lips met her neck , leaving a wet kiss on it “...in a minute” she hummed “... but let me know first…” he moved his lips to her ear and whispered, “...how do you like it the most?” “All 4” she blushed “Are you blushing?” “Just shut up and get naked!” he laughed, he definitely didn’t expect to listen to it, like never “Ok”. Hoon stood up and ripped off his shirt, then pants and underwear, never breaking eye contact with her. He also grabbed a condom from his wallet, he didn’t want things to get even messier than already was. After wrapping his dick, he hovered his body over her again and whispered in her ear “Hands and knees, angel”, she smirked and obeyed. Soon he was aligned with her entrance “Are you ready for me?” “Yes, God, yes” she begged, and he gave her what she wanted, what they both wanted. As Hoon entered her, the 2 of them let a long, low, moan out. It was the only low sound for the rest of the act cause from that point on, her moans and his groans got louder with each thrust of Sunghoon. The sound of skin colliding against the other made them even more turned on, they were going to reach their orgasms soon, he could tell. But, then, she said something that fucked up everything “Damn! It feels so good, Nik”. She said Nik. Nik. Not only Ni-ki’s name but her intimate nickname for him. Instantly, Hoon rushed his pace to cum even more soon, he just wanted to get over with that. “Hoonie…” she moaned but he pushed her head against the fluffy carpet to muff her voice, it was too late to call out the right guy. When he did cum, he got out of her and rushed his way to the bathroom to discard the condom “Hoonie!” but he ignored her “Hold on, Hoon!” she sat on the floor, wrapping the blanket she had on the couch around her body. When he came back to the room, he started to dress up, still ignoring her “Hoon?” he hummed “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…” “Oh, you didn’t mean it? Good! That makes me feel good again” he exploded in sarcasm “You don’t have to be rude” “I think I have this right at the moment” “No, you don’t” “You just called me Ni-ki!” “I’m just used to having sex with him!” “No, cut that shit! It didn’t happen cause of a habit, it happened cause you were clearly thinking about him. Weren’t you?” she couldn’t say anything.

Anything would denounce that Hoon was right and she would feel even more horrible for kissing Sunghoon, having sex with him and calling him Ni-ki. Some tears bloomed in her eyes and all her weak voice could say was “Hoonie… I’m so so sorry”. He chuckled sarcastically, then finished unbuttoning his pants “I’m out of here”, then she left her alone in her apartment, crying and feeling as much shit as Sunghoon was. It’s true when people say nothing good happens at 3 am.

…

The next day:

Hoon looked at the gap in Ni-ki’s door. He was playing some game on the PS5 and listening to Heartbreak Anniversary by Giveon.

“Just like the day that I met you,

the day thought forever.

Said that you love me, but that’ll last for never

It’s cold outside,

like when you walked out of my life

Why you walk out of my life?

I get like this every time

On these days that feel like you and me

Heartbreak anniversary

Cause I remember every time

On these days feel like you and me

Heartbreak anniversary,

do you ever think of me?”

Some tears dropped from his eyes and he wasn’t even paying attention to the game anymore. The Korean man felt a knot on his throat and an ache on his heart. He pushed the door open “Ni-ki san” the japanese man wiped his face with his hands, and paused the game “Hey…” “Are you ok?” “Yeah…” “Why are you crying, then?” “I am not” “I saw you crying” “You didn’t” “Yes, I did” “Is… just that song” “Is a very sad song, isn’t it?” “Yes… It reminds me of her” “Do you miss her?” “Not everyday like it happened before, but yes” Sunghoon swallowed hard before asking the following question “Do you… still love her?” Ni-ki nodded “I do, yes. I think I will love her for the rest of my life” “So would you come back together with her?” “If we got in an agreement, yes” they kept silent, then Hoon broke it with a chuckle “Why are you laughing at?” “I just realized the song” Ni-ki let a small chuckle out “The first video we made always makes me laugh. That way you glued your face in ours, is so funny” “Yeah, Heeseung hyung with that blanket is very funny too” “Yeah… Hey, Ni-ki” “Hum?” “I’m glad you are opening up. Sober. Are you sober, right?” “I am” “I am happy you’re doing it” Ni-ki chuckled “Yeah. Thanks for listening” “Anytime you need” “You know, I’m very lucky to have you in my life. You and the rest of the guys. Thank you for taking care of me”. Sunghoon felt a mixture of happiness, love and guilt “Aish! You’re going to make me cry” Ni-ki smiled “It’s ok, I won’t tell anyone”, the older man smiled then he felt his phone vibrate on his pocket. He grabbed it and took a quick look, she was texting him:

‘Hey… can we meet?’

“Hum, I… I’ll let you play” “Alright. Just.one more thing hyung” “Yeah?” “I never got to know why you were so obsessed with that recital” “What do you mean?” “We all know you attended 4 nights in a role” “Oh! I was just enjoying going out with my friends“ “You're so cute” “Aish! Cut that off” Ni-ki smiled “I will let you go now” “Ok. See you, Ni-ki” “See you, hyung”.

As soon as he was out of Ni-ki’s room, Sunghoon grabbed his phone to answer to her, he was still mad with her but he wanted to fix things:

‘When and where?’

‘At the park near my house when you’re free’

‘I’m on my way’

‘Ok’

…

At the park:

They met near the swings, they were sitting on it lightly swinging back and forth, he was waiting for her to say something. “I want to make amends” she finally broke the silence “Are we fighting?” “You know we are not ok” “Why wouldn’t we? It’s not like you called me another man's name. Oh, wait! You did” “Aaaah, Sunghoon! Why are you making such a big deal out of it!?” “Wouldn’t you make a big deal out of it if it was the opposite?” “I don’t know! I’m not making it right now” “Really? I didn’t notice it” “Fuck! Why are you so mad at me!?” “You called Ni-ki’s name when we were having sex!” “I already said I’m sorry! You know what? It was a mistake” “How could you make a mistake like that?” “Have sex with you…. Was the mistake” “Oh!” “Come on, I know you agree. Are you mad at me or at yourself?” And she was right, she wasn't the problem there, he was. “I’m sorry” “I’m sorry too. Can we just pretend it never happened? I don't tell anyone, you don't tell anyone and we forget about it” he wasn't going to forget about it. Even so, he nodded “Good!” She ran her fingers through her hair locks “Do you still love him?” “Hoon… it doesn't matter” “Yes, it does” she huffed “Yeah, I think I do” “Ok” “Do you still like me?” “It doesn't matter” “Hoon” “Yes, I think I do” she smiled,softly “Maybe we shouldn't see each other anymore, right?” “That's probably the smarter thing to do” “I don't like it” “Me neither” he stood up, then approached her and caressed her face “Would you come back with Ni-ki?” “Why are you torturing yourself like that?” “Just answer to me” “I would consider it” he just nodded and pulled her for a hug “Come here, I’m going to miss you” “Me too, Hoonie”. ‘Hoonie’, it was the last time he heard that.

…

A few weeks later:

Ni-ki and Hoon were having breakfast together when Hoon decided to start a conversation “Guess who I ran into these days” “Who?” “Your ex” Ni-ki stopped chewing his cereal and looked at his hyung “Oh!” then he mixed the chocolate balls with the milk “How…” he cleaned his throat, so his voice got deep again “How is she?” “She looks fine. She says she misses you” “Did she?” “Yes. She also said to me to tell you that you should text her someday” “Really?” “Yeah. Is that weird?” “A little, she said to not look out for her anymore” “Guess she changed her mind” Ni-ki nodded “That's possible” “Will you text her?” “I don't know…” “What?!” “I mean, maybe I will” “Maybe?” “Yeah, maybe” but the both of them knew he was going to text her “Ok” Sunghoon smirked and turned his attention back to the tv show they were watching.

…

3 days later:

3 days later Ni-ki texted her and they agreed to go out to talk. They end the day laying on the grass of the park near her house, stargazing and talking about the future. She opened up to Ni-ki about the reason why she didn’t want to move in together and he said he understand her, he also thanked her for caring so much about him and they promised to each other to be more open and honest about their feelings and, of course, they ended the night with a passionate kiss and their ring fingers got their commitment ring back. Even tho, Ni-ki already thought about buying a new pair, to represent their new compromise to each other.

When she got into her apartment, all alone and exhaling happiness, she grabbed her phone and tappen Sunghoon’s contact, leaving him a voicemail:

‘Hi, it's Sunghoon! I can't answer you right now so leave your message and I’ll listen when I can. Bye!’

Beep…

‘Hoonie? Hi, it's me. “Fire princess”. She giggled awkwardly ‘Hum, I… I wanted to thank you for what you've done.” she fidgeted with her ring. You're a good friend for both Ni-ki and me. I just called to thank you. So… thank you! Listen to it when you can. Bye!’

#enhypen #nishimura riki #enhypen niki #niki #park sunghoon #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen smut #enhypen imagine #enhypen fanfic #enhypen one shot #park sunghoon smut #sunghoon smut

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thedensworld · 5 hours ago

Text

Talk the Stalker | C.Sc

Pairing: celebritySeungcheol! x celebrityReader!

Genre: fluff

Summary: Seungcheol is obsessed with you, he loves you and he would do anything to protect you.

Note: i'm obsessed, addicted, and drowned in his pretty smile! Happiness suit him sfm!

Seungcheol's hand was warm as it held yours tightly while the two of you entered the restaurant. He had already noticed two or three cameras tailing him outside, snapping pictures of the two of you together. He paid them no mind—your relationship was public anyway, and he was too used to the attention to care. Right now, all that mattered to him was making sure you were okay.

This restaurant was your favorite, a haven you always turned to when your appetite disappeared—which had happened again today. He had picked you up from the shooting set after a long day. You had texted him earlier, letting him know you’d be working from afternoon until late evening. Coincidentally, his own schedule had wrapped up at the same time, so he decided to spend the night with you.

"Can we grab something first? I think I’m gonna pass out," you muttered the moment you slid into his car.

Seungcheol sighed deeply, already anticipating this. You hadn’t eaten, had you? His mind pieced together the puzzle: you probably woke up barely two hours before your schedule, rushed to get ready, spent an hour commuting, and then worked the entire day without a single meal. The thought of it frustrated him—he had been through similar habits in the past, too busy to eat. But seeing you, the love of his life, neglecting yourself like this made his chest ache. Without a word, he drove the two of you straight to your go-to spot.

While you disappeared to the restroom, Seungcheol took the liberty of ordering your usual meal. When you returned, he waved you over, pulling the chair beside him. As you sat down, his hand instinctively reached for your back, rubbing soothing circles to ease the tension he imagined must be building there.

"How’s your back? Still hurt?" he asked gently, his voice tinged with concern.

You had injured yourself three months ago during a stunt for an action film—a brutal fall onto your back that had left you with a dislocated shoulder and lingering pain. While everything had seemed fine recently, yesterday’s severe backache brought the worries flooding back for both of you.

"Stop making me worry, could you?" Seungcheol sighed when you gave him a soft chuckle, clearly trying to downplay the issue. "Sometimes I wonder how your fragile body even handles all those stunts," he added, shaking his head.

“Fragile?” you scoffed, lightly smacking his arm. “I work out, thank you very much.”

He lifted your arm with a smirk, inspecting it playfully. “This slender little arm trying to punch a stuntman? I’m not worried about them; I’m worried about you.”

“Shut up,” you muttered with a grin, making Seungcheol laugh.

He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face and tucking it behind your ear. His tone softened as he said, “That’s why you need to stop getting hurt, okay? I know how much you love your job, but if you want to do it for a long time, you have to take care of yourself.”

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard by his words. It was something you always told him whenever he pushed himself too hard. “Stealing my lines now?” you teased, and he chuckled warmly.

After dinner, you suggested taking a walk. Seungcheol hesitated, asking if you were too tired, but you insisted. He figured you must’ve missed him more than you were letting on, and the thought filled him with a fluttery warmth he couldn’t quite explain.

As the two of you strolled down the quiet street, the chill of the night air began to creep in. Seungcheol noticed you shivering and immediately shrugged off his jacket, wrapping it snugly around your shoulders.

“Such a gentleman,” you teased with a playful smile, and he let out a small laugh, shaking his head.

“You know I’d do anything for you, right?” Seungcheol said shyly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You looked up at him, your lips curling into a smile as you clung to his arm. “Anything?” you challenged with a mischievous glint in your eyes. “Would you kill someone for me?”

Seungcheol’s brows furrowed, though his lips twitched with amusement. “Not to that scale. Know your place!” he shot back, earning a soft laugh from you.

"Are you happy with me?" Seungcheol’s voice broke the comfortable silence as he reached for your hand, holding it firmly before swinging it lightly, a playful gesture to get your attention. His thumb brushed over your knuckles, and you couldn’t help but smile at the warmth radiating from him.

You nodded eagerly, the sincerity in your expression clear. "I think you’re one of the very few people who can make me this happy," you admitted, your words filled with genuine affection.

His brows furrowed almost immediately, and he stopped walking, a playful pout forming on his lips. "I’m not the only one?" he asked, feigning offense.

You chuckled, amused by his theatrics. "Know your place," you teased, leaning closer as a mischievous grin spread across your face.

His pout melted into a radiant smile, his dimple making a brief appearance. "I was kidding earlier, babe," he said softly, though his playful tone lingered as he began walking backward to face you, still holding your hand securely in his.

Seungcheol's gaze lingered on you, his eyes warm and filled with adoration. After a moment, he raised a brow and asked, “Can I stay the night?” The flirty tilt of his tone made you raise yours in mock disbelief.

“Isn’t this the first time you’re actually asking?” you questioned, suppressing a laugh as you tilted your head.

He nodded, chuckling at your amused expression. “I know, I know. I must be the worst boyfriend, huh? I never ask for consent, I won’t kill anyone for my girlfriend, and to top it all off, I make fun of her slender arms.”

You gasped in mock outrage and raised your hand to playfully slap his arm, but he anticipated it and bolted ahead, laughter echoing through the quiet park near the restaurant. The chase was on, and you found yourself running after him, your laughter mingling with his in the cool night air.

That night, before heading home, the park became your private playground, filled with stolen moments of joy and carefree laughter. You hoped, for both your sakes, that no paparazzi managed to capture the scene.

You entered your apartment, Seungcheol trailing behind you. Though it wasn’t as luxurious or spacious as Seungcheol’s place, it carried a charm he adored—you. Every corner of your home was filled with your scent, your presence, and your personality. To him, it wasn’t just a place—it was a sanctuary, his sanctuary.

“Home sweet home,” you muttered, kicking off your shoes. Seungcheol smiled, watching as you settled in, your energy shifting into the comfort of your space.

As usual, Jibby, your orange tabby cat, sauntered over to greet you, his tail flicking lazily behind him. The cat had been your loyal companion ever since you rescued him on a shooting set two years ago. Predictably, Jibby ignored Seungcheol entirely, keeping his amber eyes locked on you with unwavering devotion.

“Still no love for me, huh?” Seungcheol joked, crouching to scratch Jibby behind the ears, only to receive a flick of the tail in return. “This cat’s got some serious attitude.”

You chuckled, picking up Jibby and holding him close. “He’s selective. He knows who pays the rent around here.”

As you placed Jibby back on the floor, you noticed strands of his fur scattered everywhere. “Oh, Jibby! Your fur’s everywhere!” you exclaimed, brushing some off your pants.

Seungcheol nodded in agreement, crouching to inspect the floor. “It’s not even summer, and he’s already shedding like crazy. You think he’s stressed?”

Your face filled with concern as you knelt beside Jibby, running your hands gently over his fur. “Oh no, Jibby. What’s wrong, baby? Are you okay?”

Before you could continue, Jibby let out a loud, startling meow, making both you and Seungcheol jump. The sound was completely out of character—Jibby was always a calm and quiet cat.

“That’s...new,” Seungcheol said, frowning. “I’ve never heard him meow like that before.”

Your concern deepened, and as if on cue, there was a knock at the door. Opening it, you found your building’s security guard standing there. “Sorry to bother you,” he said, his tone apologetic. “We got a report from your neighbor. They said your cat’s been meowing loudly for hours. Is everything okay?”

You turned back to Jibby, the worry evident in your eyes. “I don’t know,” you admitted, stroking his fur as he let out another sharp meow. “I think something’s wrong.”

That night, sleep was the last thing on your mind. You stayed up with Jibby, trying to comfort him as his restless meows continued. Seungcheol, sensing how stressed you were, insisted on staying over. When he saw how exhausted you looked around 3 a.m., he gently took over, cradling Jibby in his arms while you rested on the couch.

By dawn, it was clear Jibby needed professional care. “I’ll take him to the vet,” Seungcheol offered, his voice soft but firm. “You’ve got an early schedule, and I can handle this.”

You hesitated, guilt flickering in your eyes. “Are you sure? You’ve already—”

“Hey,” he interrupted, giving you a reassuring smile. “Jibby’s family. And family takes care of each other.”

As you watched him gently place Jibby into the carrier, whispering soothing words to the stressed cat, you felt a swell of gratitude and love for the man who had seamlessly woven himself into your life—and Jibby’s too.

The next day, Seungcheol received a call from the vet. The feline, Jibby, was missing home and showing signs of increased stress. Hearing this, Seungcheol couldn’t help but worry. You were out of town for a shooting schedule and wouldn’t be back until the next day, so Seungcheol decided to take matters into his own hands. He asked his manager to help him pick up Jibby from the vet, determined to make the cat feel better.

Driving to your apartment with Jibby in the passenger seat was no small task. The cat meowed incessantly, his cries echoing through the car. Seungcheol tried speaking to him in the same soft, soothing tone he had heard you use countless times. “Hey, buddy, we’re going home. You’ll feel better soon, I promise,” he said, glancing over at Jibby. But his attempts were futile; the cat’s distress didn’t subside, and Seungcheol found himself understanding your concern on a much deeper level.

Once they arrived, Seungcheol texted you: “Jibby’s home safe now. Don’t worry, I’ve got him.”

He set down Jibby’s carrier, opened it, and placed some food in the bowl. He watched as the cat cautiously stepped out, sniffing around before beginning to eat. Gradually, Jibby seemed to relax.

Seungcheol didn’t turn on the lights, thinking it might overwhelm Jibby. Instead, he opened the curtains slightly, letting the moonlight bathe the room in a soft glow. Leaning back on the couch, he kept an eye on the cat, who finally settled beside him.

“You finally opened up to me, huh, Jibby?” Seungcheol murmured, his voice tinged with amusement. It felt like a small victory to earn even a fraction of the cat’s trust.

Suddenly, the sound of the passcode being entered broke the serene moment. Seungcheol sat up, his body tensing. You weren’t supposed to be home until tomorrow. Who could it be?

The door creaked open, and a shadowy figure in a hoodie stepped inside. Jibby’s demeanor shifted instantly; he bolted toward the figure, his fur standing on end as he hissed and meowed angrily.

Seungcheol’s heart pounded as he rose from the couch, flipping on the lights. “Who are you?” he barked, his voice filled with authority. The intruder froze for a second before bolting for the door.

Not wasting a moment, Seungcheol dashed after him. The man was just reaching the emergency exit when Seungcheol grabbed him by the hoodie and shoved him against the wall with a force that came from pure adrenaline.

“Who are you?!” Seungcheol growled, his voice dangerously low as he pressed the man harder against the wall, preventing any chance of escape. “Why are you here? Why do you know my girlfriend’s passcode?”

The intruder struggled, but Seungcheol’s grip was unyielding. The hours he’d spent learning jiu-jitsu were finally paying off. His sharp eyes scanned the area until he spotted a CCTV camera. Without hesitation, he dragged the man into its view, ensuring the footage would capture everything.

Jibby followed, his meows loud and furious as if scolding the man himself. The cat even swiped at the intruder’s legs, his claws adding to the chaos.

Moments later, two security guards arrived, their faces a mix of concern and confusion. “What’s going on here?” one of them asked.

Seungcheol’s jaw tightened as he explained, his voice steady but laced with anger. “This guy broke into my girlfriend’s apartment. He knew her passcode. I caught him before he could get away.”

The guards immediately restrained the man, apologizing profusely to Seungcheol. “We’ll handle this. Thank you for acting quickly, sir,” one of them said as they led the intruder away.

Seungcheol stood tall in front of the man sitting tied to the chair in the dimly lit security room. The sight of him was sickening. Moments earlier, Seungcheol had watched the CCTV footage of this guy sneaking into your apartment multiple times in recent days. A wave of anger surged through him as he pieced things together. Was this the reason Jibby had been so stressed lately?

Seungcheol’s hand instinctively went to rub Jibby, who sat calmly in his arms, a stark contrast to the turmoil bubbling inside him. The cat, ever so loyal, seemed to sense his unease.

The man muttered something under his breath, barely audible. “I’m just a fan…”

Seungcheol’s blood boiled at those words. He stepped closer, his voice sharp and unwavering. “No fan should do this. You’re not a fan—you’re a criminal!” He clenched his fists, the urge to lash out barely held in check.

The security guards standing nearby intervened, stepping between Seungcheol and the intruder. “Sir, please, the cops are on their way. We need your cooperation,” one of them said firmly, trying to de-escalate the situation.

But Seungcheol wasn’t ready to let it go. He glared at the man, his voice dripping with contempt. “What did you do? Did you plant a camera or something? Huh?” He leaned in, his intense gaze locking on the man, pressing him for answers.

The intruder hesitated, his eyes darting nervously before he gave a reluctant nod. That was all it took. Rage exploded in Seungcheol as he handed Jibby to a nearby guard before grabbing the man by his collar.

“You sick—” Seungcheol growled, but before he could finish or act on his anger, the security team pulled him back, their firm grip reminding him to maintain control.

“Mr. Choi, we’ve got this. Let us handle it,” one of the guards reassured him.

Seungcheol’s chest heaved as he let go, glaring daggers at the man who cowered in the chair.

Seungcheol stormed out of the security room, his frustration bubbling over as he marched toward the head of security standing nearby.

“How did this even happen?” Seungcheol’s voice was sharp, cutting through the tense atmosphere. “Your job is to protect her and everyone in this building. Do you even realize how badly you’ve failed?”

The head of security looked uneasy but tried to maintain composure. “Sir, we’re investigating the breach—”

“Investigating?” Seungcheol scoffed, his voice rising. “This isn’t some minor mistake! That man entered her home multiple times, and you didn’t notice? What if she had been home alone? Can you guarantee what that bastard could’ve done to her?” His voice cracked slightly at the end, the thought of you in danger overwhelming him.

“Mr. Choi, I assure you—”

“No!” Seungcheol cut him off, stepping closer. “You can’t assure me of anything. You couldn’t even keep a stranger out of her home! She trusted this place to be safe, and you let her down.”

The head of security hesitated, clearly struggling to respond, as Seungcheol continued. “Do you know how terrified she’ll be when she finds out? Do you know how hard she works, how much she sacrifices, only to come home to this?”

Taking a deep breath, he added, “I don’t care what it takes—double the patrols, update your system, install better cameras, do something. Because if this happens again, I swear, there’ll be hell to pay.”

The head of security nodded quickly. “Understood, Mr. Choi. We’ll prioritize this immediately. I’ll personally oversee the updates and report back.”

Turning on his heel, Seungcheol made his way back to your apartment with Jibby settled on his arms. As he entered, he set Jibby down gently and sighed, his heart still racing. His protective instincts were on overdrive, and all he wanted was to make sure you were safe.

He sent you another text:

“Call me when you can.”

Seungcheol leaned back on the couch, his gaze shifting to Jibby, who was curled up on the carpet, seemingly calm after the ordeal. The sight of the cat, finally at ease, should’ve been comforting, but it wasn’t.

The thought of leaving you and Jibby alone in this apartment, even for a second, made his stomach twist. He sat forward, rubbing his temples as his mind raced. “I can’t just leave you here,” he muttered, as if Jibby could understand.

Decision made, Seungcheol stood and began gathering a few of Jibby’s essentials. He packed the cat’s food, a couple of toys, and the small bed you’d bought for him. Jibby tilted his head curiously, his tail flicking as he watched Seungcheol move around.

“You’re coming with me, buddy,” Seungcheol said softly, crouching down to scratch behind Jibby’s ears. “At least until we know this place is safe again. No arguments, okay?”

Jibby responded with a low purr, and Seungcheol took it as agreement.

"Why is he in your place?" you asked, your laughter spilling through the phone as you watched Jibby sprawled comfortably beside Seungcheol on his couch. His home looked warm and inviting in the dim lighting, and even through the screen, you could see how relaxed Jibby seemed.

Seungcheol smiled at your reaction, his voice softening. "Jibby feels at home here. I think he loves my place. Isn’t that right, Jibby? You want to live here with me?"

As if on cue, Jibby let out a soft meow and snuggled closer into Seungcheol’s arm, his orange fur brushing against Seungcheol’s sweater. You chuckled, shaking your head in disbelief.

"I left him with you for one day, and now you two are best friends? This is betrayal," you teased, though your heart warmed at the sight of them together.

Seungcheol laughed, patting Jibby gently on his back. "Oh, it’s not betrayal. He actually loves me—he just doesn’t want to make you jealous."

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. "Sure, sure. Next thing I know, you’ll be telling me he’s moving in with you."

Seungcheol tilted his head, a playful glint in his eyes. "Actually, I was thinking you both could. I mean, look at him. He’s practically claimed my couch already."

Your laugh turned into a soft sigh. "Babe, you’re joking, right?"

"Am I?" He raised an eyebrow, his tone playful but his expression growing serious. "Think about it. Jibby clearly loves it here. My place is bigger and you wouldn’t have to worry about leaving him when you’re out for work. Plus..."—his voice softened—"I’d get to see you every day."

You blinked at him, caught off guard by the earnestness in his words. "Baby, are you actually suggesting I move in with you?"

"Why not?" He shrugged, but the hopeful look in his eyes betrayed how much he meant it. "It makes sense. Jibby’s happy here, and I’d feel better knowing you’re both safe. You can have your own space, do things your way. No pressure, but... I’d really like it if you were here."

Your gaze shifted to Jibby, who was now fully sprawled out on Seungcheol’s lap, purring softly. The sight was oddly comforting, and you couldn’t deny how much you missed Seungcheol already, even though you’d only been apart for a day.

"I don’t know," you said hesitantly, though your voice wavered with the idea already taking root in your mind. "It’s a big step."

Seungcheol leaned closer to the camera, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Big steps aren’t so scary when you’re not taking them alone, you know. Just think about it, okay?"

Your heart fluttered at his words, and you nodded, unable to suppress the smile that crept onto your face. "I’ll think about it."

Seungcheol grinned, the kind of grin that made your chest feel warm. "Good. Jibby and I will be waiting."

The sight of him and Jibby, so at ease together, made you wonder if moving in wasn’t such a crazy idea after all.

End.

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blueberri-blu · 2 days ago

Text

Learning You...

Donnie ♡

[Bayverse] Slowly getting to know Donnie ♡

Leo ♡⁠˖ Mikey ♡⁠˖ Raph ♡⁠˖

Getting to now the turtles! A little Mini-Series!

Meeting Him:

Honestly? You probably met him through April or his brothers...

April decided to bring you over to the lair, after months of her dodging you wanting to meet her friends

So, as you walk into the lair, you meet Mikey first, ever excited for new friends

Then Leo comes to greet you like a "proper guest" (as leo puts it)

And lastly Raph just seems to stare at you a bit and give a grunt

Later, 1 of 2 things happens

Either Leo or April's drags Donnie out to greet you

Or your curious ass goes to see what's going on in the strange lab room

Once you see him, he greets you quickly and goes back to what he was doing in his lab

You follow him and start to ask questions about his many inventions

This won his heart (whether he knew it or not)

Befriending Him:

At first, it's hesitant questions, long awkward silences, and clammy hands

But after awhile he gets used to your presence

Your questions often help him, letting him see a new perspective

He appreciates any of your input, but not without a little bit of sass

That little turn around he does (in the gif), you can't tell me he isn't sassy

You two will get into little sass battles, one comeback after another

This helps you two get closer

You mostly spend time in his lab, with the occasional accompanying him for new materials or things he needs

You bring him food and water, setting alarms for him to remember to eat and drink

Spinning in your office chair, you give him insane scenarios for him to entertain you with the logistics of it all

"Hey Donnie, what if I wanted a fire proof phone?"

"well you'd need to find a thin enough material that doesn't melt under high heats, a material such as steal, however you'd need to figure out how to combat the heaviness..."

And that's when he start getting comfortable ranting to you

He'll go on hour long rants about many things, allowing you to interrupt him to ask questions about what things mean and such

Donnie loves when you ask him these questions, he feels like, even though you don't understand him completely, you still try hard to take interest in him

First Date!

You probably have to ask him out,

You guys develop a situation ship sort of thing

And although he wants more, he doesn't want to ruin what you have

You end up asking Donnie "What are we"

And that's when poor Donnie's brain is racing a mile a minute

He starts stammering and doesn't know how to proceed, but eventually sighs and tells you how he feels

He's ecstatic when you tell him you feel the same!

Donnie stresses so much on dates ideas

Eventually, he decides he wants to take you out of the lair for once

You share your favorite foods with each other, both sickeningly sweet feeding eachother

He takes you for a ride in the shellraiser

You eventually get to a large field of pretty grass, noticing it's very far from the city

You give him a questioning look, but he just responds with "I wanted to make sure you knew this was special to me" while giving you a shy smile

You have a little picnic with Donnie, far from the city

He wanted you two to have a special moment without the bustling of the city or his brothers

Although you're both nervous, soon you start talking about anything that comes to mind

Soon Donnie starts to feed you, like the sickeningly sweet romantic he is

You're both giggling and talking in hushed voices

You end up cuddling and whispering sweet nothing's in each other's ears

Dating!

With Donnie you are never missing anything

He tries his best to make your life easier

You're clumsy and your phone keeps falling? He makes a practically indestructible phone case in your favorite color (he secretly hopes it's purple)

Your toast never comes out quite how you like it? He makes a toaster that makes your toast exactly how you like it (and maybe even a coffee maker that makes it ready to drink)

Donnie sometimes struggles with giving you the time outside the lab you (let's be honest, him too) need.

Sometimes you struggle to get him out of his lab, but with a little convincing (and kicked puppy eyes) he'll usually cave for awhile.

Usually taking you to go see museums at night "It's better without the crowd!"

And on your anniversaries, he takes you back to your first date

He can get a bit insecure about whether he's doing it right, all he has to base off of are movies and TV shows

It'll take a bit for him to touch you, but once you put his hand on your back/thigh/waist

He'll take it as a go ahead (always looks at you for approval tho)

Whenever he hugs or kisses you, you can feel just how much he loves you

He looks at you and slowly closes the distance

Donnie will sometimes ask you questions about your previous relationships, how they ended, and why

He just wants to prevent the same mistakes from happening, he really loves you, and wants you two to last for eternity <3

I was able to finish it @novaleedartis !! Hope you enjoy it ^^

Please let me know how I can improve or if I have any spelling errors please! (⁠人⁠ ⁠•͈⁠ᴗ⁠•͈⁠)

#bluberri writes #tmnt bayverse #tmnt x reader #tmnt donatello #donnie tmnt #bayverse donnie #bayverse donnie x reader #tmnt bayverse x reader #x reader #donnie x reader #Spotify

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ry-lyn · 3 days ago

Text

Mr. Machete x Reader -

" Aerumnous "

Homicipher

Episode 2

• Episode 1 •

"Awe man.." You grumbled under your breath.. Feeling the tension between the silver haired researcher, and the half naked brute.

Let's back track.. Just after you and Mr. Machete had found and saved Mr. Chopped from some gruesome doll cult sacrifice. Mr. Chopped, once again, directed the three of you towards their room, his and Mr. Silvair's room.

The chatty head constantly barking at Mr. Machete, but whines to you once the brute barked back.. Which you scolded the two for, growing annoyed at their shenanigans..

Now the three of you arrive, you came in first in the room, holding Mr. Chopped, then Mr. Silvair greeted you, with his usual nonchalant demeanor.

"Hello" Mr. Silvair greeted, looking at you, then down at Mr. Chopped, on which he perks up. "We here! We here! Hello" He greeted back.

"Them help you again?" Mr. Silvair hummed, touching his chin in thought, tilting his head.

"Yes, yes, them help me, me doll trouble!" Mr. Chopped told him.

Then finally, you heard the door open and in came Mr. Machete, he looked around, then halted, looking at the tall haired researcher..

"You?.." Mr. Silvair mumbled.. With unfamiliar hostility. This made you step back a bit in surprise, looking between Mr. Machete and Mr. Silvair..

'These two have beef?...' You thought, still holding Mr. Chopped.

Mr. Machete grinned widely, lifting his weapon and swinging it at Mr. Silvair, who didn't flinch one bit, at the blade stopped near his neck.

"You fun, want go?" Mr. Machete challenged..

Mr. Silvair's eyebrow twitched lightly, feeling his gaze on you for a second. "No" He responded, swiping Mr. Machete's blade away gently.

To which Mr. Machete immediately frowned, grumbling. "Why? Scared?" He provoked.

Mr. Silvair's eyebrows were crunched now.. Visibly displeased, you cleared your throat, their gazes falling on you..

"Uhm... Stop, we continue?" You muttered, Mr chopped agreeing with you, him still in your arms.. You walked fully in the room, placing Mr. Chopped on where you'd last saw him hangout on.

Mr. Machete huffed, looking and glaring at Mr. Silvair, who paid him no mind, and walked in his research room.. Mr. Machete watched as you made your way to a broken down couch, sitting on it and sighing, leaning back at it.

He walked over, hovering over your form and staring at you, bunching down to your level.

You opened your eyes, a bit startled by his proximity. You raised an eyebrow, he leaned back a bit. "Why we here?" He asked, sitting on the floor in front of you, putting his weapon beside him.

You sat up, humming in thought.. Staring at him sitting in front of you. "We rest" you answered simply, patting beside you.

He looked at where you were patting and grunted..

'Guessing that's a no?..' You thought.. Sighing, you went back to leaning back on the couch. You hadn't realized it.. But your consciousness was slowly slipping away.

'We'll stay for just a few... I wonder where Mr. Crawling is, I hope he's safely home...' Was your last thought, before everything went black.

As if thinking of his name enough summoned him, right as you wake, Mr. Crawling is on the ground in front of you, with Mr. Machete barking at him..

You were still groggy, not registering their arguing, you sat up with a groan and rubbed your temples.

This caught Mr. Crawlings attention, immediately crawling to your side and asking if you were okay, how he was looking for you..

You sweatdropped, not realizing that Mr. Crawling really wanted to tag along..

"You want go with?" You asked, smiling at Mr crawling, your hands hesitating to Pat him on the head.

Mr. Machete watched the scene unfold.. His figure slumping more than he already was.. He huffed gruffly, turning away and walking off.

This caught your attention, looking up and at Mr. Machete's retreating figure. 'Where is this guy going now.. He might leave me-'

"Hey!" You called out. He stopped, looking back at you with a grunt. "Where you go?" You asked. Standing up and gently prying Mr. Crawling off of you, who followed behind as you walked over to Mr. Machete.

"Leave" Mr. Machete responded, turning back and continued to walk off.. You huffed.. 'What?.. We haven't rested enough..' Though you still followed after him.

"Human!.." Mr. Crawling called after you, looking back down at the crawling man. Raising an eyebrow.

"Me come? Together you" He tilted his head, stopping in front of you. "Oh.." You muttered.. "Right.. You like tagging along with me.." You sweatdropped.. "You-"

Your words were cut off with a yelp, rough hands holding your arms and dragging you with them. "We leave" Mr. Machete grunted, dragging you along.

"Wha- hey! Let go.." You struggled a bit. "Stop!!" You yelled, prying his arms off of you, but it was no use.

He'd only let go of you once you were far away. The ground shaking right as you both entered a new room..

"Great.. We lost Mr. Crawling now.." You groaned internally.. Semi glaring at the rugged entity. "Thanks a lot."

Yet he seemed oddly satisfied.. Not that he could understand you.

'Weird guy..'

• Episode End •

#mr machete x reader #mr machete #mr chopped head #mr silvair #mr crawling #homicipher

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mahs-dumpster · 3 days ago

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Lady and The Tramp

a/n: do not let the title fool you this is just angst lmao

tw: oc x canon (Maisie Bows x Fellow Honest), uhhhh idk does ghosting counts as a tw?

words: around 1k

Tagging @4necdote bc I told you I'd post this

It had been another wonderful night, Maisie once again did another performance at a local bar, showcasing her new song, and if the applause was anything to go by, she did a good job, and the song was well received.

Still, there was something odd. Maisie could hear steps behind her as she kept walking back home, she was getting more and more worried as time went on and as the streets became less crowded. Maybe she should’ve accepted when her manager offered to walk with her…

She needed to do something before whoever it was got to her.

“Excuse m—”

It was then she turned around and kicked the person without any hesitation, making the body of the man who was following her fall on the ground.

“Wait…” Maisie stared at his groaning figure struggling to get up, until she recognized the locks of ginger hair, fox ears and tail, and she became even angrier, kicking him again, but this time, right there.

“I can see you're still as feisty as ever–” Fellow groaned, holding in between his legs, incapable of getting up because of the pain he was feeling.

“I thought you were a creep, and now, after I looked at you I confirmed that you are, in fact, a creep.” She said, while Fellow simply looked at her displeased — and in pain. Maisie turned around without a care, wanting to end this exchange right then and there, but Fellow forced himself to get up and walk up to her, grabbing her wrist so she’d stay.

“Listen, I just want to talk, ok?”

“Talk about what? There's nothing to talk about.” Maisie laughed sarcastically, getting closer to the man as she glared daggers at him. “You left me, not only that you disappeared. No note, no warning, no nothing. And as if that wasn't enough, I had to find out you've been getting yourself into that disgusting, shady business—”

“I thought you liked my shady side?”

“That's criminal. I should've filed a report to the police.” Maisie turned around, freeing her wrist from his grasp, wanting to go home. Fellow however, didn't give up, and stood in front of her, preventing her from leaving. “I advise you to get lost before I kick you in the balls again.”

“Please.” Fellow tried one more time, suddenly serious, his playful facade gone. “Listen to me for a minute, just one minute.”

Maisie looked to the side and loudly groaned. She appeared to be thinking for a moment, until she looked at him again, still angry, but trying to calm down.

“What do you want, Fellow Honest?”

Fellow smiled. “I want another chance.”

Maisie laughed, very loudly in fact, she couldn't believe the audacity he had to come to her after all this time and ask for another chance. What does he think she is? Some lovesick lady just waiting for her prince charming to come back?

“Listen, I'm not a fool, Fellow.” She began, walking closer to the man, her eyebrows furrowed as her anger became harder to contain. “I may be a romantic, yes, I dream of love and family and a knight in shining armor but I am not a fool. I can recognize a scoundrel, and after what you did to me you've made it clear that you're one.”

Fellow sighed, frowning at the woman. He was doing his best to be sincere, to open his heart to her, and yet…

Maybe if he explained himself?

“I didn't have a choice, Maisie, I had to make money to sur–”

“That's bullcrap and you know it! You and Gidel weren't doing the best but I was always by your side, I was willing to do what it takes to help you, yet you were always too prideful to ask for help!”

“Prid– you yourself were having trouble with your family, how the heck would you of all people help?” Fellow finally had lost his cool. He was doing his best to stay calm, collected and polite, especially because he knew he screwed things up, he didn't have any right to get angry… but still, she wasn't even listening to him! “Maisie, I love you, but I was desperate. I had to think about what the best course of action was, I needed a well paying job for–”

“Have you considered that maybe I would’ve wanted to struggle with you?” Fellow’s ears twitched at that.

“Maisie. There was nothing you–”

“I just wanted you to be with me.”

It was quiet after that. Fellow was left unable to reply as his eyes widened, and Maisie's eyes began to sting, a tear falling without warning, and she hurriedly went to dry her face. She breathed in and out, then, she continued.

“I could’ve tried job hunting with you, we could’ve looked for opportunities together, I don't know, just– anything, I would’ve done anything if it meant you’d be by my side. I just wanted you.” she cleared her throat and regained her composure, her angry facade coming back. “But I can see you never even thought of that. To be honest, you probably never even loved me.”

“Wh– No, of course I did.” Fellow tried to reach out to her, to touch her in any way, to get her in his arms and comfort her like he did years ago, but this time, Maisie walked out of his reach, holding herself as to try and not fall for his supposed tricks. “Ribbons…”

“It's miss Bows to you, mister Fellow.” the cat beast woman spoke, her eyes cold as she looked at Fellow one last time. “I hope this is the last time we speak. Good night.”

And with that, she was gone, walking back to her house as she tried to contain the tears that kept falling from her eyes. Seeing Fellow again was the last thing she wanted, she thought she’d be angry, enraged at him, but she was mostly just… sad. He never loved her, not the same way she loved him.

After all, he was a tramp. A mere scoundrel, and she’d just been one of his preys.

Fellow loudly sighed and crouched down, grabbing a cigarette and lighting it up. He inhaled and exhaled and looked to the sky, his eyes looking at the stars for guidance. He was a fool, he knew that, who in their right mind would let Maisie slip through their fingers? A beautiful, kind, charming and strong woman, with a captivating voice who managed to make Fellow go crazy just by speaking his name.

He never deserved her, but this time, it was like it was confirmed. She was a lady, after all, and she deserved a well meaning gentleman. Not a money hungry and selfish fox like him.

It was painfully clear now, that a lady like her would never be with a tramp like him.

•••

[Train station, a while after the events of Playful Land, before Fellow and Maisie met]

"Goodness, I'm beat. Those kids did a number on us, eh, Gidel?" Fellow stretched his arms as he said that, the feeling of the new clothes on his body felt great, it was as if he could finally relax after having to suck up to such an annoying boss. Gidel nodded, his clothes still oversized as ever, but at this point, Fellow was convinced he simply liked the feeling of them. "Now, I wonder where we should go..." He said that mostly to himself, grabbing a cigarette from his pocket and lighting it up, but Gidel seemed to take that as an actual question.

The kid got up from his seat and immediately began searching in Fellow's belongings, in the few bags they were able to bring from Playful Land. Fellow complained at him for looking through his stuff without asking, but once the smaller one showed up what he wanted, the ginger immediately shut up.

"Stop, leave that alone." Fellow said, immediately grabbing the small photo he so adored. "What did you want with that anyway?"

Gidel grabbed the hand he was using to hold the photo, and the cat beastman pointed towards the one in the picture, trying to convey what he wanted through his actions. Fellow stayed a moment in quiet, not because he didn't understand, but rather, because he was unsure.

"You know she doesn't want to see me, not even if I was covered in gold." He stared at the picture, a photo he took of Maisie when they first started dating. Even after they broke up he was unable to get rid of it, holding onto her smile for dear life. "As much as she likes you, I'm pretty sure it's going to be hatred by association because you walk with me, Gidel."

Gidel pleaded, his hands locked together as his eyes were closed. It wasn't just Fellow who missed her, Maisie had become an important figure in Gidel's life, and he hated the idea of not seeing her ever again, but now, they were free, they could see each other, so why not give it a try?

Fellow was quiet for a moment, before he sighed.

"Fine. But don't tell me I didn't warn ya later, you ninny."

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst oc #oc x canon #💌! mah writes #💌! maisie #💌! mellow #fellow honest #ernesto foulworth

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justaz · 5 months ago

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merlin being forced to confront the fact that he’s failing his people bc he’s sitting idly by while uther slaughters them all and coming to the decision that he has to act to save them but that’ll make him camelot enemy no. 1 but technically he already was they just didn’t know it. merlin spending a week all morose but unwilling to talk about it and spending as much time with his friends as possible. on his last night in camelot, he goes to arthur’s chambers and the prince is confused on why he’s there. merlin drops a sealed letter on his desk before pulling arthur into a gentle and emotional kiss. they barely separate, their lips hardly a breath apart, and merlin asks for forgiveness. arthur, thinking he’s apologizing for the kiss, tells him there’s nothing to forgive and goes in for a second kiss but merlin pulls away, knowing that that one brief kiss was all he could handle. if he lets arthur kiss him the way he’s dreamt of being kissed, he won’t be able to do what he needs to do, he won’t be able to leave. merlin tells him good night and leaves before arthur can react. he’s gone by dawn.

#arthur spends a long time storming thru the castle searching for him before returning to his chambers and reading the letter #the letter which outlines that merlin was resigning from his service and leaving camelot #arthur is enraged #merlin is still gone #gaius either wont tell him where merlin is or truly doesnt know #arthur mopes for weeeeeeeeks #then reports start sprouting up of a mysterious person traveling around the land and protecting druids from raids #and intervening when villages/towns attempt to execute sorcerers #uther sends arthur out to find this person and bring them to justice and arthur frankly couldnt care less about them #but it gives him the opportunity to go out and search for merlin so he jumps at the opportunity #he and his men eventually track more and more recent sightings of the cloaked figure to a town on the border of camelot and mercia #they chase the figure thru the streets until arthur corners them and flatly recites their charges of crimes against camelot #and orders them to return to camelot to be tried #the figure hesitates then sighs and turns around #arthurs sword droops to point at the ground as he takes in merlins slightly guilty face #‘i can’t do that arthur’#arthur is hurt from merlin sudden absence that he didnt even have the decency to warn him about #but now hes double hurt bc the reports of the mysterious person included them weilding magic #so now he also knows that merlins been lying about that as well and his hurt quickly turns to anger bc thats all he knows #he raises his sword despite knowing that he wont be able to bring it down on him. merlin smiles sympathetically as if he also knows.#merlin gets away and arthur returns to camelot only to be sent out again and again to kill merlin #friends to enemies to lovers #yippeeeee #bbc merlin #merlin emrys #arthur pendragon #merthur #fanfiction #fanfic #fic idea

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odoraful · 3 months ago

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𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓'𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄.ᐟ

what happens when you don't use their pet name to call them?

⟡ content: zayne/sylus/xavier/rafayel x gn!reader; more dialogue heavy; silly and cute

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

ZAYNE ⟡

“Can you help me put this on, Zayne?”

From the reflection in the mirror, you tried not to react at the twist in his brow and the momentary confusion in his eyes. Wordlessly, he moved behind you, fingers taking the necklace out of your hand. With his gaze focused on the task before him, you could see him open his mouth, hesitating to speak.

“Did I do something wrong?” he questioned.

Zayne’s deft hands carefully laid the chain around your neck, centering the pendent between your collarbones.

You plastered on your most innocent expression, despite the twinge of guilt you felt at his question.

“Hm? Why do you ask?”

Swiftly, he clasped the ends of the chain together. His eyes flicked towards yours in the mirror.

“You’re calling me by my first name. I thought pet names were an important step in a relationship for you.”

You nodded. “Yes, Zayne, I do think it’s an important step.”

His eyes narrowed at your continual uncharacteristic responses.

Folding his arms, he mused aloud. “It took you some time to drop the title ‘doctor’ for me and to just use my name. After we became official, you were quick to call me ‘love’.”

You fiddled with your necklace, trying to, impossibly, force away the heat from your face.

“So, either I did something to make you upset, or”—he leaned in close to you, the side of his face almost touching yours—“you’re playing a trick on me.”

You gave a mock frown. He cocked his head to the side, awaiting your response.

“Okay, okay, it was a prank.” Sighing, you surrendered to his deductions. “I wanted to see how you’d react, but you saw right through me,” you mumbled.

His lips quirked. “I’ve known you for long enough to figure these things out.”

Wanting to wipe off the amused look he had on his face, you quickly planted a kiss on his cheek. His face turned into surprise. He chuckled, shaking his head at your triumphant smile.

“Thank you for helping me, my love."

SYLUS ⟡

“Sylus, could you play that new record you bought?”

You called from the sofa. Standing by the record player, he turned to face you. The offence on his face was unmistakable as he placed his hands on his hips.

“Sylus?” he scoffed. “We both know that’s not what you call me.”

Your brows furrowed, feigning confusion. “What are you talking about? Isn’t that your name?”

“Sweetie,” he levelled a look of scepticism at you, “that hasn’t been my name for the past month we’ve been together.”

“I still don’t know what you mean, Sylus.”

He paused. Gears turned in his head trying to unpack what was happening, much like he would do when reading the truthfulness of a dealer during a bargain.

“Y/N.”

You’ve never heard your own name being said in such a serious manner. Perhaps you got a taste of your own medicine.

“I’m not particularly fond of lose-lose situations.” The softness in his tone made you feel weak. “You can tell me if I’ve done something to annoy you. I won’t be angry.”

“Not at all!” you quickly blurted out. Unable to hide it any longer, you confessed. “You haven’t done anything to annoy me. I was just trying to pull a small prank.”

All the tension visibly released from his body. A relieved sigh escaped him. “You really do play some dangerous games, kitten.”

Playfulness returned to his voice. “Now then, how will you correct your mistake?”

“Honey,” you drawled out each syllable, making it sound as syrupy as the nickname itself, “could you play that new record you bought now?”

Sylus couldn’t help but laugh at your exaggeration. “Why of course.”

XAVIER ⟡

“Xavier, do you want to try this?”

Subtly glancing at his reaction from the kitchen, you saw his face immediately fall into a pout. The look was fatal, and it took all the willpower you had not to drop the ruse right then and there.

“That’s not my name,” he answered.

“What do you mean?” you chuckled, continuing to put icing on the sugar cookies you baked. “Of course it is!”

“No, it’s not,” he insisted.

Placing his book down, he walked to stand at your side by the counter. You avoided his eye contact, pretending that nothing was amiss.

Resting a hand under his chin, he began to think. “You usually call me bunny, sweetheart, sunshine, or darling.”

Your jaw dropped in amused shock. “You remember all the names I’ve called you?”

His mouth twitches. “There are some more, but… they might be a bit embarrassing to say aloud right now.”

That was enough to make you look at him with wide eyes.

“Xavier!” Your face turned pink as you slapped his shoulder. There was no force behind the hit, but enough to convey your embarrassment.

“You did it again. You used the wrong name.” He stuck his bottom lip out.

You gently poked at his cheek, trying to lift the corner of his lip upwards. “Come on, don’t be sad darling.”

Immediately, he brightened before you.

“It was just a joke I saw couples do online. I wanted to see how you’d react.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “And was my reaction satisfactory?”

“I think it was,” you smiled at him, "but it’s a shame I didn’t film it, it would’ve made for a good Moments post.”

He shook his head. “But, the nicknames we use are only for us.”

The finished cookie in your hand had a bite suddenly taken from it as Xavier leaned down to have a taste.

“I don’t want anyone else to know.”

RAFAYEL ⟡

“Are you ready to go yet, Rafayel?”

He continued to hum to himself, completely ignoring you. You folded your arms as you watched him busy himself with something trivial. He flung open a random cupboard and inspected what appeared to be an assortment of spare art supplies.

“Rafayel,” you called again.

He then turned his attention to the fishbowl in the centre of the room, where a small orange fish darted around.

“Reddie, do you hear something?” he asked, gazing so earnestly into the bowl. This fish paused its movement and stared back at his owner.

“Rafayel~” you sang his name aloud this time, extending the last syllable.

He gasped, apparently receiving some confirmation from Reddie.

“You hear something too? Thank god. I was thinking there must be something wrong with my ears.”

Surveying the room around him, Rafayel intentionally looked past you standing barely a few metres from him, tapping your foot against the wooden floorboards of his studio.

“It sounds like”—he continued—“some kind of voice. Someone familiar to me, but I can’t make out who it is.”

“Rafayel!” you shouted his name between fits of laughter. Only he could respond to your jokes with his own dramatics.

He sucked in a breath in puzzlement. “I wonder who this person is calling out to.”

“Baby,” you finally conceded, “I’m talking to you!”

It seemed like he couldn’t keep up the act either, as he started laughing with you.

“Took you long enough,” he huffed, moving towards you and linking your arm with his. “Otherwise, Reddie and I would have been searching for this phantom voice for the rest of the day.”

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rafesangelita · 1 month ago

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⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ when farmer’s!daughter!reader’s father goes out of town to visit some family, her and cowboy!rafe can’t keep their hands to themselves any longer.

warnings: reader is a little bit on the shy side, flirty banter, use of petnames, implied age gap (rafe is 7-10 years older), hint of jealous!rafe, reader refers to her father as ‘daddy’, mentions of sneaking around, slowburn (kinda?), lotsss of sexual tension, fluff, mutual pining, oral (f. receiving), fingering, finger sucking, unprotected sex, dirty talk, breeding kink, cream pie, squirting, multiple orgasms

a/n: based loosely off of the moodboard + headcanons i wrote here <3 saddle up because this is a long one lol

wc: 4.8k

“you gonna keep staring at me or are you gonna help me out here?” rafe grunted, a hint of a smile playing on his lips as he watched you blink away from his form. you looked up from his shirtless figure, his skin glistening with sweat as butterflies fluttered in your chest. “what do you need?” you chirped, blinking rapidly as if to shake away the thoughts of pressing wet kisses to his waistline. “a cold glass of water sounds good right now.” you obliged, rafe watching as you went up the porch stairs in your cute little boots, his eyes falling down to your backside. “fuck.” he muttered to himself.

if he knew he’d have to fight the urge to touch his boss’s pretty daughter, he would’ve hesitated in taking the job. eight months had felt like an eternity when you pranced around the farm in the prettiest dresses and shortest daisy duke shorts he’s ever seen. you came back with a glass of water, taking a sip before handing it to him. expecting rafe to turn the glass around to take a drink from the other side of the rim, your cheeks heated when he placed his mouth on the same spot your lips were on just moments ago. “thanks, sweetheart.” rafe shot you a wink, his charm making you look away shyly.

you plopped down on a nearby tree stump, a pout taking over your features as you looked at the empty driveway. your father had only been gone for a few hours, not nearly making a dent in the five days he’ll be away. “you don’t have to worry about him, y’know? he’s a strong man.” rafe decided he needed a break from being hunched over under the hood of his truck, his chest rising and falling as he took a seat on the bed of fluffy grass next to you. “i know..” you muttered, “it’s just— he’s so much older now, i worry about him.�� you looked down at rafe, his eyes already trained on you.

rafe nodded. “that man can survive anything. wasn’t he in his truck when a tornado came and swept him off the ground?” you gasped, a laugh escaping your lips. “he told you that story?!” you squealed excitedly, your reaction making rafe melt into a puddle of nothing. you were too cute. “did he also tell you the part where that didn’t really happen? him and his buddy just got real close to it.” rafe’s face morphed into one of pure shock. “he lied?!” you threw your head back in laughter, a snort following shortly after. it was rafe’s turn to laugh, the sound unfamiliar to his ears.

“oh my god, excuse me. i can’t believe i just did that!” you clasped a hand over your mouth, embarrassment creeping up onto your face. the man next to you waved you off. “why would he lie about that?” rafe leaned back on his hands, giving you a full view of his chiseled abs. sighing dreamily, you shrugged. “he’s a drama queen sometimes, he likes the theatrics.” realizing that you just swooned over his muscles, rafe cleared his throat before getting back to work. he respected your father too much to give in to his filthy desires, or so he hoped.

swallowing the lump of rejection in your throat, you made your way inside where you decided to watch him from your bedroom window instead. your infatuation with this man only grew by the day, and it was becoming really hard to hide your adoration for him. all the times he slipped you a little wink when your father wasn’t looking, the playing of footsies under the table while your father ranted about the economy, the lingering stares and touches.. you weren’t crazy, you had every right to believe this man was interested in you in some way, shape, or form.

apart of you wanted to believe that rafe was trying to maintain in being a gentleman towards you, but there’s nothing you wanted more than for him to hold off all kind of honor and respect for you while he takes you however he wants. you daydreamed about being fucked in a headlock by him, along with being put into twenty other positions. letting out a sigh, you fell back on your bed, fiddling with the ribbon that was tied to the belt loop of your shorts. how on earth were you going to go about these next few days all alone with him?

night time rolled around, and rafe had just come inside for a shower. “are you hungry?” you watched as he rolled his shoulders back, cracking his neck to release some pressure of today’s labor. “yeah, but i’ll help myself. don’t worry about it, ‘sugar.” he groaned before shutting the bathroom door behind him. you knew he wouldn’t, days like this always ended in rafe knocking out as soon as he hit his bed, empty stomach or not. the only thing rafe could think about as the hot water pattered against his back, was how you were in the same house as him in nothing but a night dress.

he wondered if you’d let him hike it up your thighs.. if you’d allow him to slip his fingers underneath the soft material. so badly, he wanted to see your face twist in pleasure underneath him, he ached to see that day. rafe let out a shuddering breath, swallowing thickly as lewd images of you ran through his head. he imagined your hands trailing down his torso, those cherry red painted fingers of yours wrapped tightly around his cock. you had this man questioning everything he ever knew about being a gentlman. rafe rubbed the sides of his face, his eyes screwing shut as he attempted to get all inappropriate thoughts about you out of his head.

he remembered seeing you for the first time all those months ago. you were wearing a red gingham dress, your hair styled so pretty and neat. he knew immediately that he was in trouble when you flashed him that million dollar smile when your father introduced you two. it wasn’t long before both of you started flirting with each other, even going as far as touching each other when you didn’t have to. rafe would ‘help’ you up on your horse, his hands planted on the globes of your ass as he hoisted you onto the saddle. he swore he died and came back to life whenever you’d place a hand on him every time he made you laugh.

slowly but surely, you two were getting more bolder with your moves. while rafe was ogling your goodies more often than not, you started leaving your curtains open whenever you’d change, knowing he could see you from the view of his window. pinching the bridge of his nose, rafe quickly hurried up in the shower, feeling the need to relieve himself in his own space where he knew you’d be far away from. after washing away all the dirt and grime, he felt clean as he dried himself off, only for his peace to come crashing down when he realized he didn’t bring an extra change of clothes with him.

with no other choice but to walk out of the bathroom with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist, he tried to sneak pass you in the kitchen and out the back door, but of course he wasn’t so lucky. “i know you said you would make yourself something, but—” you turned around with a loaded dinner plate in your hand, the dish nearly slipping out of your grip when you saw the tall cowboy standing awkwardly with his hands on his hips.

your eyes trailed down his stomach, the sight of his happy trail making you swallow thickly. rafe took note of this, his heart beating in his chest as you averted your gaze elsewhere. “uhm, well i made you this.. i know it’s one of your favorites..” you placed the plate of steak and mashed potatoes on the table, turning around as you took your bottom lip between your teeth. this was absolute torture. “it looks amazing, i’ll just get some clothes on and be right back.” he held onto the towel, jogging to his place where he slipped on a pair of pajama pants and a dingy white t-shirt.

“you didn’t have to do this,” rafe took a seat at the table, his jaw ticking when you bent over the counter to grab a couple of drinking glasses, “thank you.” at this point he didn’t know if he was thanking you for the food, or the perfect view of your ass. “water?” you looked at him from over your shoulder, your cheeks heating when you saw his eyes shoot away from your backside. “a beer please.” you smiled at his answer. you should’ve known he’d pick that out after a full day of work. grabbing a bottle from the fridge, you handed it to him, his fingers brushing yours as you took a seat across from him.

“my dad makes it a lot better than i do, so—” rafe was quick to cut you off, a moan leaving his lips as he chewed. “this is.. damn!” you giggled, shaking your head. “it’s great, darlin’. truly.” he nodded approvingly, flashing you a thumbs up. you smiled that smile of yours before tasting it yourself. despite all the tension between you two, you could always count on each other to talk the other’s ear off. “wait. so you’re telling me that you’re actually from an island? why on earth would you live out in the middle of nowhere when you had the beach in your backyard?” you asked incredulously.

rafe took a swig from his beer, a bittersweet laugh leaving his lips. “i got into a ‘lotta bad shit over there. i was on some bad shit,” he sighed, “being out here brings me peace.. even if i’m breaking my back everyday.” you listened closely, giving him your full attention as he told you more about the place he was from. you learned that he used to be a filthy rich boy with a house bigger than you could ever imagine. rafe smiled softly, a solemn expression taking over his features. “it’s very nice. but i wouldn’t go back.” he leaned back in his chair.

you tilted your head at him, both of your plates empty. “no? how come?” you leaned forward, your cleavage peeking out of your neckline. eyes flickering down to your chest, rafe seemed to get flustered when he felt your foot trail up his leg. “well,” he zeroed in on your lips, “i see myself settling down out here, ‘havin some little ones.” your breath hitched, a smidge of jealousy now residing in your gut. as if he could read your mind, he caught your foot under the table, his thumb stroking your ankle. “old habits seem to die hard, huh?” rafe laughed.

pushing away the jealousy, you nodded, feeling a new profound sense of confidence with the way he was looking at you right now. “yeah, i guess i forgot we’re here all by ourselves.. ‘don’t really have to hide from anyone..” you yawned, your head falling back on your chair as your night gown rode up your thighs. just a few inches higher, and rafe would finally see what he’s been fantasizing about all this time. “yeah..” he crossed his arms, his biceps looking especially good right now. you two stayed quiet, just looking at each other as if everything was threatening to rise to the surface.

do something! you thought to yourself, hoping rafe could magically hear you and grab you from across the table. instead, he looked away, letting go of your foot before scooting out from the table. “dinner was really good, but i better head off to bed, now.” he didn’t let you say anything before he left in a haste. what. the. fuck. you got up, watching him curse to himself from the kitchen window. you couldn’t help but feel defeated. rafe was always the one pulling away from you, no matter how close you two got, he always left you high and dry.

once you cleaned everything up, and you were left lying by yourself in your bed, you decided everything would change. if he pulled away from you, surely you should do the same.

you woke up the next morning to the sound of rafe’s truck engine roaring to life. rubbing your eyes, you shielded your face from the morning sun, deciding to get your day started as soon as possible. within an hour, you were stepping outside, walking over to where rafe was smiling brightly behind the steering wheel. “i got it working, sweetheart! should we go for a ride?” damn him, he knew how much you loved to be passenger princess in his two seater-beater. you cleared your throat, already hating yourself as you said no. “i don’t think so.. i got a lot of stuff to do today.”

rafe watched you go back in the house, his jaw ticking in response. the only thing you had to do today was sit and look pretty. not to mention, for as long as rafe has been here, you never, ever, rejected going on a little drive with him. that’s how he immediately knew something wasn’t right, and he’d bet all of his money that it had something to do with last night. taking the keys out of the ignition, rafe decided that if you weren’t going to go for a ride with him, then he wasn’t going either. considering he did everything he needed to do yesterday, rafe settled for going inside to tidy up his place.

you walked around the house aimlessly, a book in your hand as you kept glancing outside to see if you could spot rafe anywhere. you didn’t. letting out a groan, you looked at the clock on the wall. it was already half past noon. you debated on whether or not you should take him some lunch, your leg bouncing as you tried to weigh out your options here. on one hand, you could bring rafe lunch, try to talk some stuff out, and on the other hand, you could just leave things be like you promised yourself you would. you knew rafe wasn’t stupid, surely he’d catch on to you soon.

just as you decided against bothering him, there was a knock at the front door. eyebrows knitting in confusion, you opened the door to see your childhood best friend, wyatt. “wyatt!” you squealed, throwing your arms around him as he pulled you close to him by your waist. “oh my, lord! when did you come back from the city?!” you welcomed him in, motioning for him to come inside. “i just finished my second semester, so i’ll be in town for a while. i drove out here just last night, ‘decided to surprise my folks.” he smiled, his expression softening once you urged him to take a seat at the kitchen table.

“i didn’t see your old man’s truck out front..” he sat down, taking his hat off and placing it on the table. “oh, yeah.. he’s out of town visiting my aunt.” you leaned back on the counter, your eyes flickering at his hair. he looked so much different now. “wow, you’re uh— you look really good.” you complimented. “yeah, i’m not lanky anymore,” wyatt laughed, “you look gorgeous as always, though.” his gaze ran down your dress, the sight of your bare thighs making him clear his throat. “well, i didn’t just want to come by and say hi, i actually wanted to ask you something—”

rafe barged in before wyatt could finish his sentence.

“who’s this?” he stared between you two, the jealousy in his blue eyes very, very evident. you smiled innocently as wyatt got up, extending a hand for rafe to shake. “hello, sir. i’m an old friend of y/n’s here, ‘was just coming to visit her.” rafe looked down at wyatt’s palm, keeping both of his hands tucked in his pockets. “well, you two might wanna hurry this up, y/n’s father doesn’t know about any visitors coming to his home.” rafe walked around him, opening the fridge for a beer. “daddy isn’t home though, isn’t he?” you spoke up, in which rafe turned around. “what was that?” he asked.

you two were glaring at each other now. “my dad isn’t here,” you repeated, “and besides, he knows wyatt. ‘thinks of him as a son, right?” rafe’s grip on his beer bottle tightened, a smile playing on his lips when he glanced over at your friend. “yeah.” wyatt nodded. rafe was seeing red, he couldn’t stand to look at you and wyatt standing so close to each other any longer. turning around, rafe listened in as wyatt asked to take you out to dinner. “aw, i would love to! what time should i be ready?”rafe shut his eyes momentarily. you said yes to wyatt too fast for his liking. “how does eight o’clock sound?”

you hummed, nodding excitedly as wyatt made his way to the front door. “alright, it’s a date then. see ‘ya!” you waved at him until his truck disappeared down the dirt road. walking back into the kitchen, rafe was staring you down as you acted like you didn’t just agree to go on a date in front of him. “what do you think you’re playing at?” he narrowed his eyes at you. “if you’re acting out because of last night—” you cut him off. “don’t talk about me ‘acting out’ when you’re the one who decided to run back to your little shed when i was giving you an open opportunity.” you cut in.

“an open opportunity to do what?” rafe’s voice was firm as he stepped closer to you, his beer long forgotten on the counter as he gripped your arm. you failed miserably at trying not to look down at his lips. “it doesn’t even matter now. you obviously don’t want it,” you softened, “don’t want me..” rafe couldn’t believe his ears. you were all that this man thought about. he woke up thinking of what pretty outfit you would wear for the day, and went to sleep wishing you were by his side. “don’t want you?” he repeated, loosening his grip on your skin. “you just have no fucking clue.” rafe stepped back.

“you’re the only thing that i want.” he laughed bitterly, shaking his head as he made his way outside to the back house. you stared at him in shock. all this time you wondered if something was wrong with you because he never made a real move to pursue you, but now all of a sudden after you agree to go on a date he wants to express how he feels? and has the nerve to walk off right after? fuck that. you pushed the back door open, the old wood slamming back against the house as rafe spun around on his heels. “so why do you walk away from me?!” you shouted, both of your chests rising and falling.

“what are you talking about?” you stepped down the stairs, shoving rafe in the chest. “why do you leave every time things start to go somewhere?” his eyes bore into yours, “i’m sick of this game of cat and mouse. have you ever thought that maybe i want you too?” those were the words rafe needed to hear before he cupped your face and dragged you off your feet. his lips were soft against your own, his calloused hands pulling you close to him as your arms wrapped around his neck. he groaned at the taste of you, his tongue slipping in your mouth before you could process what was happening.

rafe kissed you hard and slow, as if to savor you before he led you two to his place, the door barely shutting before he had you pinned to his neatly made bed. “i’ve wanted you the moment your father introduced us, that’s the truth.” he slotted himself between your thighs, cupping your tits through your dress. you moaned, his hips grinding against your clothed cunt. “why would you wait all this time then?” you whimpered when he started pressing kisses to the curve of your neck, his calloused hands feeling you up as they roamed your soft flesh. “well for starters, i have a lot of respect for your pops..”

you sighed, completely forgetting about the old man. “and?” rafe pulled the straps of your dress down until the material pooled at your waist. leaning back on his heels, rafe marveled at the sight of your bare chest, your tits looking more perfect than he imagined. “..and right now, all the respect i have is going out the door.” you cried out when he leaned down, his lips wrapping around a sensitive bud while he used his other hand to snake beneath the waistband of your panties. you blinked up at the ceiling, your hips bucking when you felt his rough fingers stroke your clit.

“that feels so good, ray.” you keened, the weight of his body providing you a sense of safety and comfort. rafe felt like he was under a spell. with your sweet voice in his ear, and his fingers working to get you soaked and ready for him, he couldn’t wait to taste you any longer. pulling away from you, rafe slid your dress and underwears off in one swift motion, a shiver running down your spine when he slowly spread your thighs apart. “you’re fuckin’ gorgeous.” he licked his lips, glancing up at your heated face. your heart bloomed in your chest, your hand finding his cheek.

“please. i’ve wanted this for eight months.” you confessed, your words sending rafe into overdrive. without another thought, rafe took your thighs and placed them on his shoulders, delving into your wetness with a groan. instinctively, your back arched up from his bed, your hands flying to rest on top of his own. you squeezed his fingers, a string of babbles falling from your lips as rafe’s tongue flicked against your sensitive bundle of nerves. rafe watched as you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, your eyebrows knitting together as pure bliss etched itself onto your face.

“you okay?” rafe pressed a wet kiss to your inner thigh, wanting to make sure it wasn’t too much for you before continuing. “mhmm, yes!” you looked down, the image of rafe’s chin, lips, and even the tip of his nose glistening with your slick was now forever ingrained in your brain. smiling to himself, rafe got back to work, but this time with his fingers prodding at your entrance. “might be a bit uncomfortable at first, but i promise it’ll feel so good, baby.” you nodded, putting all your trust in him before you felt the delicious stretch of his digits inside your cunt.

“fuck!” you squealed, your thighs threatening to snap shut around his head. rafe curled his digits, your eyes screwing shut as he continuously pressed that soft spot inside of you. rafe didn’t stop his skillful movements on your clit, an unfamiliar feeling starting to swirl in your core. rafe cursed at the wet sounds emitting from your pussy, his cock hard and aching to get inside of you already. you gasped when he kept suckling on your sensitive bud, your stomach caving in when he pressed a hand to your tummy. before you could think, white hot pleasure blinded your vision, your entire body jolting as the first wave of your orgasm washed over you.

rafe felt the way you pulsed around his digits, wishing so badly that it was his cock instead. eyes flickering up to your face, he groaned when he saw the way your face twisted in pure bliss, your legs shaking as you felt the sudden urge to pull away from him. “rafe, wait!” you cried out, a sob ripping itself from your throat when a stream of wetness suddenly soaked rafe’s chin, your decadence streaming down his neck as he moaned against your cunt. you stared down at him with wide eyes, your mouth parting in suprise when he slipped his digits in his mouth.

“i- i don’t know what that was!” you gasped, cheeks heating in embarrassment. licking a final stripe up your folds, rafe smiled as he shook his head. “you just squirted, baby, get used to it.” his length rested on top of your tummy, hot and heavy, as he threaded his fingers with yours. “gonna fuck you until you’re carrying my baby..” your heart swelled, recalling his words from last night. “were you talking about me? when you said you wanted little ones..” rafe looked into your eyes, the sincerity in his gaze making you feel warm and fuzzy inside. “you’re the only woman i envision. future and present.”

cupping his face softly, you brought his lips down to meet your own, the head of his cock slipping into your entrance. you let out a shuddering breath, nodding slowly as he pushed the rest of his length inside your greedy walls. you swore you died and went to heaven when he starting rocking into you, both of you moaning in unison. “rafe?” you whimpered, gazing up at him with teary eyes, “shit— yeah, sweetheart?” the man on top of you thumbed your chin, a concerned expression taking over his features. you could tell rafe was holding back with the way he was hesitating with every thrust.

“harder, please.” you asked sweetly, rafe obliging without another thought. soon, you were a crying mess, your eyes barely staying open as rafe put you in a mating press. he was already reaching new depths in regular missionary, so when he placed your legs over his shoulders and caged you between his arms, you were hysterical as his tip kissed your cervix. “oh, god!” you screamed, your nails digging into rafe’s skin as he fucked you stupid. “can’t..” you shook your head, the feeling of his cock filling you to the hilt was increasingly becoming too much to handle.

"yes you can, sugar. look how good you're taking it all.." rafe cradled your head, making you look down at where you two were connected. you moaned at the sight, his cock shining with your slick. rafe kept his hands beneath your head, kissing you softly as his pubic bone began hitting your clit. “m’gonna make you the prettiest mommy this town has ever seen, just watch.” he chuckled, his forehead falling in the curve of your neck. you ran your fingers across his buzzed scalp, the word ‘promise?’ lingering on your tongue. “is that what you want? ‘want me to breed you until you’re all pretty and round?”

you cried out, rafe’s hips stuttering as he felt his climax creeping up on him. “yes, yes, yes—” you repeated yourself like a broken record, rafe’s name falling from your lips like a mantra. “oh, fuck!” he cursed, teeth grazing your flesh as he spilled into you, your second orgasm making you squeeze around him like a vice. rafe stilled, making sure to keep stroking your clit so he could draw out your high for as long as possible. slipping his thumb in your mouth, you shamelessly sucked on the digit as you trembled beneath him, his hot load filling you up.

you two stayed panting against each other’s mouths until your highs subsided, a light sheen of sweat coating both of your skin’s. pulling out with a grunt, rafe rolled over, pulling you with him so he could spoon you. letting out a sigh, you reveled in the warm sun streaming through his window, the light casting off of your face and illuminating the walls. “that was worth the wait, don’t you think?” if it wasn’t for the feeling of your limbs being jelly, you would’ve turned around and landed a playful smack to his chest. instead, you hummed, your eyes heavy with sleep. “we’re not keeping this from my father, rafe.”

your voice was hoarse as you spoke. “no. no, we’re not.” he kissed your shoulder. “you should probably give that guy wayne a call, ‘tell him you’re not going on that date after all.” you giggled, a shiver going down your spine as his large palm rubbed circles into your back. “wyatt, rafe. his name is wyatt. i only told him yes to rile you up.” you teased. rafe knew that, but it still pissed him off nonetheless. “i’ll cancel in a minute, ‘sir.” you used wyatt’s formalities towards rafe earlier against him, earning you a light pinch to your side. “that asshole. ‘really called me sir as if i’m that old.” he shook his head, waiting for you to disagree.

“well..” you trailed off, bursting into laughter when he attacked you with sloppy kisses.

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