#the small black flowers that grow in the sky | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

krys4h · 6 months ago

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𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐄 ☆

summary◞��୧ After growing up together and dating as teenagers, you and Sae meet again three years after your breakup at your art exhibition. Why is he there? Incomprehension and painful romantic memories will arise, buried since he broke your heart.

contents◞﹒୧ 16.6k words, pov second person, fem!reader, aged up characters, forced proximity, fluff, hurt/comfort, angst, reader is a painter, no use of y/n (use ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚) second chance, happens in madrid, madrid trip, chigiri's sister is our bestie, we are close with rin, rin is a softie, itoshi brothers angst, meanie sae, sae has problems with feelings, tried to do the best characterization possible, smut, fingering, oral sex, slight choking, riding, missionary, vaginal sex, porn with feelings, english isn't my first language, alcohol, slow burnish, wedding, parties, art gallery, happy ending, minors dni.

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𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 – 𝐣𝐡𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐢𝐤𝐨

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𖥸

The sun high in the sky and the blue sky announced a promising day. The light breeze of fresh air accompanied by the warm weather made you hope for a good number of visitors to your exhibition. It was with this positive mindset that you left your studio to go to your art gallery which hosted your project.

With a lot of preparations in advance, you had managed to make the room welcoming and warm, making sure to respect your artistic direction. Pale blue flowers, almost icy silver for the winter collection aisle, and bright and vibrant flowers in the spring and summer aisle. Since your entire exhibition had the seasons as a theme, it was important for you to follow your artistic ideas.

The opening was in less than an hour, you still had time to check a few small technical things. Your hand gently caressed the soft fabric on the tables serving as a mini buffet. The caterer in charge of bringing drinks and pastries had arrived early despite the traffic jams and you smelled the sweet and vanilla scent that escaped from the small pastries. Luck seemed to be smiling to you today.

You were eyeing the mini pink cupcakes when a female voice broke the soothing silence of the empty event room.

"It's so pretty!" exclaimed your best friend, contemplating the room with stars in her eyes, spinning around to observe the room in its entirety. You giggled softly, amused and touched by her enthusiasm. Her pink hair cascaded down her back and her smile lit up her face, her beauty striking you in the most innocuous moments.

"Wait, you haven't seen the rest of the show yet," you teased her, taking a small black remote control out of your pocket. In a few seconds and quick manipulations, the room was plunged into a subdued atmosphere, the brightness reduced. The only bright spots of light were small round spotlights of different colors that danced on the parquet floor. A purple glow passed over your face as you smiled at her.

“You really put your best foot forward, I’m sure a lot of people will come,” she declared with conviction as she sat down on one of the few chairs. Aside from your ex-boyfriend, your best friend was the only one in your circle who supported you so much. You had always been labeled as the eccentric of the family, and you spent too much time painting to socialize at school. She was a pillar, and you were grateful for all the encouragement she showed you.

“I even wanted to bring my brother, but I guess he’s too busy with soccer, he didn’t even answer me.” her thoughtfulness touches you a little, and you dismissed her idea with a smile.

“I doubt Chigiri would be interested in my amateur art exhibition...” you chuckled, arranging a few paintings around you.

“You don’t know, my brother is an intellectual, I’m sure he knows a lot of your references!” she looked convinced, so you believed her. “He’s the only athlete I see walking around here naturally, anyway. The others don’t seem to have the soul of an artist.”

Your hands on the wood of the frame froze. You knew someone who didn't need to know anything about art to always admire your creations, and even compliment them. He was pretty much ignorant about anything that didn't involve soccer, but when it came to you, he was attentive. Until he wasn't.

"Maybe..." You answered her in a less cheerful voice than before, suddenly pensive.

You had met Chigiri's older sister at a bar, shortly after you broke up with Sae. It was so surreal and ironic to meet the sister of another popular soccer player after having left one that you had quickly become great friends, the anecdote still making you laugh today. It was now three years ago.

Three years was more than enough time to recover from a breakup, so you shook your head, quickly repressing painful memories that would ruin such a beautiful day that had started. Last you heard, Sae was in Spain busy chasing his dreams, you couldn’t be the idiot who preferred to play nostalgic instead of doing the same thing as him.

As if to taunt you, your eyes land on the painting to your right, in the winter section. Your heart tightened at the sight of it. You wished you could throw it away, or at least not be able to exhibit it, but the beauty of this creation had not been matched since. It would have been a waste. It’s as if the pain Sae had caused you had sublimated your art in the most vicious way possible, and now he’s forcing you to show your pain to the whole world. You vividly remember when and how you painted this canvas, and what you felt at that moment. You were sure that if you looked at it for a little too long, it would suck you into a whirlwind of feelings that you had tried to ignore for three years.

You snapped out of your thoughts when your friend called you to sweep the floor one last time before the inauguration. You took a deep breath and turn away from the cursed painting. Today was the culmination of several months and over a year of work. Sae wasn’t going to ruin your day.

𖥸

Your exhibition was going well. The city of Tokyo was enjoying pleasant temperatures in the middle of July, so many people were out to enjoy the beautiful days. The aisles of the art gallery were populated with locals and tourists, you had chosen your day well. Seriously, everything was so perfect that you had a hard time believing it.

Seeing so many interested and admiring faces in front of your art healed something deep inside you. Sae was the only one who had the words to give you the courage to start posting some photos of your creations on the net, and he was the first to legitimize your passion. You came from a pragmatic family for whom art was only a diversion and not a vocation to make a career out of it, your dreams were ridiculed and never taken seriously by them. Your only safe place during childhood was to paint in the grass, not far from the soccer field where Sae practiced. The sounds of nature around you, the breeze of the wind and the exclamations of his opponents put you in a kind of creative bubble. His positive comments on your paintings gave even more meaning to everything you did.

You were young at that time and ignored all about the heartbreaks.

"The goal was to be able to represent each season without using the elements that characterize them." You explained in a clear and confident voice, showing with your hand one of the paintings from the spring collection to a small group of tourists, very interested in your creations. Pale green and pink lights hovered around you, lighting up your faces from time to time.

The painting you were pointing to was painted in an abstract style. No real object or element that we knew in our lifetime could be identified, but the technique, shapes and colors used gave the illusion of a field of flowers in full bloom. All the paintings were designated this way: to succeed in conveying the atmosphere of a season without explicitly drawing an element that would betray the special effect. The exhibition played on the use of all the senses, and the room was even filled with special diffusers according to the season's collection.

You obviously didn't have the money for a project of this magnitude. You were the proud winner of a competition that allowed you to exhibit your art for a week in one of the most sumptuous art galleries in Tokyo, all expenses paid. An opportunity like this was never going to come again for you, so you racked your brains to make the most of this offer and make a name for yourself in art. You were on the right track given the number of people present for just the first day of your project.

That's why it was so important to you, all those impressed faces in front of your art. You had already lost a competition three years ago, this was your revenge. That lost contest had taken away your self-confidence, and had even led you to want to stop painting forever. That contest had even been the trigger for your breakup with Sae. A painful time from which you recovered, and now you are a twenty-one year old young woman who is brilliantly starting her artistic career. You had recovered from that difficult time and had been able to bounce back, burying Sae and your failure in the past. Everything was going well now.

That's what you told yourself before your eyes caught sight of the ghost of your heart in the crowd, red locks escaping from his black cap that couldn't fool you.

You almost faltered, your explanation about the symbolism of spring and flowers interrupted. You blinked several times, thinking you were hallucinating but your nightmare was very real. Sae walked along the aisle of the winter collection, his hands in his pockets and his famous face hidden by his cap.

You tried to continue expressing yourself with a polite smile, putting aside the sudden tension that invaded your body. His vision had the effect of a slap. His presence filled the entire room at once, altering all your confidence in this day. It took you a superhuman effort to maintain eye contact with your interlocutors, your body waiting for one thing: to turn around and observe the iceman who inspired all your winter paintings.

He went unnoticed in the crowd with his cap and his neutral-toned clothes, but never for you. Maybe after three years without contact, after telling you that you had gotten over him, your brain wanted to taunt you, play with you. Show you that you were lying to yourself. What the hell was he doing here? He was a Real Madrid player. He had no business being in an art gallery in the middle of summer in Tokyo. Even less in your exhibition.

Despite your best efforts to keep your conversation going with the small group of tourists in front of you, your eyes and heart kept turning to the same person who had been monopolizing your attention since you were kids.

“Are you thinking of selling your painting? If so, how much do you value a single painting and an entire collection?” The young man in the group who seemed the most knowledgeable about art pulled out a notepad and pen, ready to write down any information you had to give him. The problem was that your heart was already struggling to beat at a normal speed, so all you could do was scan the room to try to find your best friend.

You couldn’t believe that someone was already interested in buying something and your heart was beating fast now for two reasons: Sae and excitement. Someone wanted to buy your paintings!! But the timing was so unlucky that the anxiety related to your ex-boyfriend took over everything.

You hadn't spoken to each other since your violent argument. He had no business being here. He was preventing you from concentrating and carrying out your project.

For a second, you stupidly thought that he was here especially for you, and that he had something to say about your breakup, but your stupidity quickly dissipated. You haven't forgotten who he is and why you broke up. He couldn’t be here for you, not after the horrors he said to you before disappearing from your life. The lights that illuminate small round spots on the floor span around you and made you dizzy.

"Miss?" You jumped. You came back to reality and turned your head towards the potential buyer who was interested in your creations. You wiped your hands that have become sweaty on your pants, and tried to regain some consistency.

"I'm sorry, what were you saying?" Your voice betrayed you, it faltered.

"The winter collection. The estimate." He readjusted his glasses, still intended to know the estimate of your collection. In a part of your heart not yet conquered by Sae, it touched you. It felt strange to have artistic value for someone after having wandered for years looking for an audience that admire you. There was a time when your audience was only made up of him.

"We're not at that stage yet, she's just started, but I can give you this so we can get back to you in the future!" A cheerful voice that you know well let you breathe a sigh of relief, a small part of your bodily tension vanishing. She held out one of her business cards, with all your contact information on it with a kind expression. You’d swear she’d be all the rage in the marketing industry.

A flicker of disappointment crossed the young man’s face but it quickly faded and he took the card your best friend handed him. As the group of tourists moved away from the two of you, you grabbed your only support here by the shoulders.

“He’s here.”

Her usually always smiling, sweet face frowned.

"Who?"

You give her an almost desperate expression, not wanting her to force you to spell his name. A flash of understanding crossed her, and she turned quickly to scan the crowd with her eyes, looking worried. You wiped your sweaty hands again on your jeans, he really managed to break any ounce of confidence in you today. You didn't know exactly what it was that made you anxious about him, but the mere sight of him made you falter.

Seeing him among the faces admiring your art caused something in your heart that you had trouble identifying, but disturbing enough to hate the feeling. You couldn't let yourself feel anything when it concerned him. It's been months, years now that you've tried not to think about him and everything he represents. Efforts shattered.

"He's with his agent..." She whispered in a breath, almost confused.

You were too obsessed with him to notice that. Your friend put her arm around your shoulders, holding you tight against her as she made you walk, hurrying as if she wanted to prevent something. "We have lots of visitors, we're not going to let that get us down anyway!" Her smile redecorated her face but it's a little forced this time and she tried to distract you but it's useless. Whether you refocused on your mission or not, your ex-boyfriend was still a few meters away from you.

And you understood what she prevented from happening when a voice behind you makes you stop all movement.

"Well, it was starting to get boring hanging around in the aisles."

That tone of voice. Low in the octaves, too monotonous to indicate any emotion and lacerated with nonchalance. A voice that made you melt every time he addressed words only to you, and spat insults at others. You and Rin were the few people who had been able to see Sae in another expression before his trip to Spain changed him completely. You had missed this voice horribly, and you want to hit yourself at the realization that yes, you wanted to hear it again and again.

"Mr. Itoshi, you can't talk to someone like that, come on..."

Your eyes met the second you turned around and you swallowed hard. It's not discomfort, nor anger that pierced you but pain. His intense teal pupils stared at you in his familiar coldness, a coldness that used to be synonymous with home for you. But today, you felt like you're facing a stranger. He seemed much more adult than the last time you saw him.

The man next to him was shorter than him, and all nervous. He scrutinized you with his big round glasses, you remembered he was his assistant. He was always afraid of being late, and always had to confront Sae's stubborn nature. He was probably only used for paperwork because when it came to decisions and advice, your ex-boyfriend only did what he wanted.

“Miss ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚, allow me to introduce myself more politely.” His assistant mumbled as he approached you, breaking the eye contact between you and Sae. You frowned, while Sae’s agent shook your hand. Your usually sociable best friend was silent, sensing your tension. “Me and Mr. Itoshi want to…”

“What are you doing here?”

You cut the little bespectacled man off in a sharp tone, addressing your ex-boyfriend directly. Your voice was too tense for the vulnerability to be heard in it. You were not used to being rude, and his agent surely didn’t deserve this treatment, but you urgently needed an answer to this question. Otherwise, your inner torment would never subside and you didn’t want to burst into pathetic tears in front of everyone, especially him.

Sae's face remained imperturbable, he had no reaction to your question, or even to seeing you again after so long. He sighed as if annoyed at having to explain his presence. Your body tensed, you hated how he seemed taller than you, richer and his smug air. As if he were just someone superior to you and you hadn't spoken as equals since childhood. Deep down, it hurt you. The hands in his pockets sank a little more, accentuating his bored look.

"That," he tilted his head with his usual phlegm towards the paintings to your right, the winter collection. "And pretty much everything else in the gallery, I want them all."

You nearly choked on your saliva, his announcement sending a shock wave through your body. You wondered if you misheard or if your hearing was playing tricks on you. The firm tone of his voice that accepted no argument to what he just said made you clench your fists.

“What the…”

“If you think someone will make a better offer than me,” he interrupted you, looking up at you with an annoyed look, “you’re still as stupid as before, ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚.”

Your body was torn between weakening at the way your name rolled off his tongue and tensing at his insult. This was what it feels like to have dated an Itoshi, you wouldn’t recommend him to anyone. Your friend frowned, wanting to intervene but you made a subtle gesture to stop her.

“It’s not about the money,” you mumble, uncomfortably, “you’re the last person I want to sell my creations to. And where does this urge come from anyway? You disappear for three years to want to buy my paintings now?” As much as you hate to admit it, there was pain in your voice. All of this hurt you. Seeing him again was the worst thing that could have happened to you today. He made you so vulnerable with just a few words.

The discussion took a more intimate and personal turn in your tone, and your best friend understood by herself that she should leave the two of you alone. With her biggest smile of a pro in sociability, she grabbed Sae's assistant by the elbow who has a panicked look while she dragged him away against his will, to give him a tour of the exhibition while you had to confront the ice prince.

His height towered over you, and without anyone around you, you were quickly helpless and more vulnerable. You wanted to cry, that's it. You didn’t understand why he wanted to inflict this on you. Forcing you to see him again when he left you with a broken heart years before, and coming back with his nonchalant air as if nothing had happened. Well, yes, you could understand. Sae has never shone for his empathy. And maybe it's even intentional, his way of acting. He knew the effect he had on you.

His eyes lingered for a few seconds on the necklace around your neck. A gold-plated chain enhanced by a butterfly pendant that sparkled with amethysts encrusted inside. You had worn it since middle school. He was there when you showed it to him, so proud of your parents' gift. You weaken as you remember it. You hated everything he reminds you of and just wanted him to disappear.

"Three fucking years Sae, and you show up like that without explaining yourself and you allow yourself to impose something like this on me?"

There was vulnerability and pain in your voice that you tried to hide with bitterness but he knew you all too well. He looked up at you.

"I don't have time to talk about this, I want you to work for me for a while" he said quietly, ignoring what you just said, as if it wasn't the craziest sentence he's ever said. No questions, no dialogue, just an "I want".

"What's wrong with you?" You frowned, your voice trembling, speechless at his audacity, starting to lose patience. You didn't understand what he was doing here, or why he was talking to you after so long, why he wanted your paintings so much.

He was always very abrupt in his manners, his compliments on your art were never to please you, but completely sincere and because he felt the need to say. That's why his approval always had a special value for you because you knew you could count on his honesty. But here, we went beyond the simple compliment. He wanted to buy all your collections for a reason you didn’t know.

He tilted his head to the other side, as if he wasn't interested in what you were saying and ignored what you just said, his gaze turned towards one of your paintings. You swore you could slap him. You clenched your fists.

“I didn't come to ask your opinion.”

What the hell was he doing here then? You're starting to get fed up.

“You can't impose what you want on me, these are my paintings, I don't even understand what's going on! You're no one to...”

Getting angry, you had moved closer to him without realizing it, and when he lowered his head towards you while adjusting his cap, your words died on your tongue. A few inches from his face, his perfume enveloped you.

“I need an artist for a charity ball to buy the paintings from. You’ve always been the most talented person for that.” He leaned his head even closer, the proximity far too close for exes. Your breath hitched. A charity ball?

“Do I fucking look like I like charity balls?” He mumbled, his expression hardening and you swallowed. “No,” he spits sharply, “So don’t waste my time.” He pulled away from you, a red lock falling in his eyes. Your brain was a mess with this pile of unanswered questions, but you felt incapable of facing him anymore so you don’t ask. Everything he says hurt and confused you, you just wanted him to go away.

He rubbed the back of his neck with a sigh, as if being with you was torture, before plunging his hands back into his pockets. Without even looking at you, he turned around and walked away without a word, leaving you in a state of incomprehension.

He walked on the earth as if he possessed all the riches in the world and was indifferent to them at the same time. You felt like you could breathe again when he walked away. Sae having a charity ball? That's the funniest announcement you've ever heard in your entire life. There must have been other elements that had to force him to participate for him to take the request seriously. But even thinking about it, you had a hard time imagining Sae forcing himself to do something he wasn't interested in. There had to be some other purpose that benefited him in all of this.

His whole person arose an unprecedented irritation in you, but the anger quickly subsided and the aftereffect of having spoken to him again overwhelmed you. You missed him. Arms hanging, you stared at his now blurred silhouette. A pain split your chest, and you scanned the room for your best friend.

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𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐰𝐬 – 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫

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𖥸

After talking with Sae, you had 2 questions: what was this story about a charity ball, and why had Sae specifically come to talk to you about it. You knew him, he wasn't the type to do something that bored him or travel for others. He could have sent you a letter with the description of his request, or let his agent take care of it.

But no, he was present in the crowd of admirers of your art and it left a strange bitter taste in your mouth when you thought about it.

Three weeks had passed since the incident, and you tried to pretend that you weren't still troubled by what had happened.

In the middle of August, you were at your parents' house, far away in the Tokyo countryside. Walking in the fields helping your parents, you distracted yourself by turning potatoes in the dirt, wiping your sweaty forehead. You weren’t particularly fond of gardening, but it was a habit of coming to help them since they moved there a few years ago.

“Aren’t you doing anything tonight?” your mother asked you, crouching down next to you with a straw hat that protected her head from the sun’s rays.

“I don’t really know,” you mumbled, a little tired by the incessant sound of crickets in the grass around you and the sun beating down on your back when you bent down.

Your mother looked up at you, her eyes narrowed by the sun.

“I’d rather you go out with your friends than stay inside and paint.”

You sighed, already tired of the argument that would start if you reacted so you let it go. Your mother always had little comments like that to always remind you that she hated your passion. It was less violent than your father, whom he used to put you down all day long, saying that you were wasting your life, though.

“You should work instead and-”

“You forgot some weeds,” you cut her off, not wanting to get into a debate where you fought for her to recognize your art as work and not just a teenage lobby.

She was hurtful, and you didn’t need her causing more tension in your body.

Sae was the complete opposite when you thought about it. He was on the verge of calling you lazy if you didn’t pick up a paintbrush for more than three days, treating art like another sport that deserved daily practice. He was kind of right, but it made you chuckle that he behaved like that.

A sad expression flashed across your face before you caught yourself and silently cursed him as you turned over the remaining potatoes.

“By the way, you have mail,” your mother pointed out nonchalantly as you opened your eyes wide.

Only Naho knew that you were at your parents' this summer, the person who had sent this must have been well informed and that was worrying.

"Are you sure?" you asked, frowning.

She nods and doesn't say more, busy with her potatoes. It was only when you got home that you hurried into the living room, running to the limit towards the pile of mail, looking for yours. You opened the envelope hastily, eager to know.

Inside, there was an invitation book and an explanatory letter. Your eyebrows furrowed as you read the letter. Sae was indeed invited to a charity ball, but it was an event that brought together dozens of famous high-level athletes, there was even Aiku Oliver as a guest. The letter explained that each guest had to bring an artist with them, and Sae had chosen you. You were invited to the ball at the end of August, and you could bring your paintings. The ball was in Madrid, in a famous event hall. It was a golden opportunity for your career, but knowing that it was given to you by Sae left a bitter taste in your mouth.

“I can’t stay this summer, I’m invited to a charity ball,” you grumbled, your mother nearby. She stopped in the living room, hands on her hips, looking surprised.

“For what reason?”

“…”

You shifted, uncomfortably.

“Sae m…”

“SAE?!”

You tensed up at her excitement, she adored Sae, and it seemed like the breakup had hurt her too. It was something you struggled to understand, since Sae had a career far removed from your parents’ demands, but maybe it was normal for a mother to appreciate her daughter dating a millionaire footballer.

“There’s nothing between us anymore, it’s just for work,” you breathed, turning around.

Her eyes shining with excitement made you feel sick.

“This will be a chance to make up.”

“Mom.”

“Young people these days can’t handle the ups and downs of being in a relationship, seriously,” she mumbled, wiping her hands on her thighs as she headed to the kitchen. “You can tell him hello for me.”

You didn't even have time to tell her that it was for your art that all this was organized, but you held back because she would never have understood, and would never understand your passion. You didn't need her bitterness about your life choices to ruin an opportunity like this.

𖥸

"Wow," Naho whispered, her glass close to her lips. "He could have explained everything to you on the spot instead of insulting you," she rolled her eyes.

"Yeah," I stared at my cocktail, my gaze empty.

A few weeks had passed since you received the letter, and you found yourself in a bar with Naho to debrief. She was happy for you because it was an opportunity, but criticized the form.

"Diplomacy is not his strong point."

You chuckled.

“We’re talking about Sae,” you smiled, playing with your drink.

You looked around, watching people enter the luxurious bar. It was a beautiful summer evening, the atmosphere was soft. The dim lights of the bar gave an intimate atmosphere to the place. You couldn’t afford a place like this, but Naho liked to take advantage of her fiancé’s money, a rich banker. It made you laugh every time she took out her credit card and invited you to go shopping with her.

“It’s coming soon,” you pointed at her engagement rings with a sincere smile. “Ready?”

She smiled wide, bringing her hand in front of her, her diamond sparkling in the glow of the bar lights.

“I can’t wait, everything’s ready!”

Just like she helped you prepare for your exhibition, you helped her prepare for her wedding. She was your best friend and you wanted to support her at all costs for the most important day of her life.

“I still don’t have my hairstyle for the big day,” you grimaced, still undecided.

You were thinking about making a sophisticated bun by slicking your hair back or going to the hairdresser to ask for a completely different cut. Luckily, your dress was already ready as were those of the other ladies in waiting.

“No matter what you choose, you’ll look stunning.”

You giggled.

“Says the bride herself. You’ll be the star of the evening.”

She gave a small knowing smile while taking a sip of her cocktail. Just then, your phone vibrated in your pocket. You took it out, apologized to your friend and brought it to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Hi,” a familiar deep voice rang out on the other end of the line.

“Rin?” your eyes widened, surprised to hear him. You lowered your head, swirling the spoon in your drink. “Do you need anything?”

Rin and you weren’t best friends, but close enough nonetheless. The three of you had always been close throughout your childhood, even after the breakup, you had kept in touch. Your relationship was the perfect balance between brother and sister and close friends. He could confide in you, just as you could confide in him.

“…”

You sensed from the silence on the other end of the line that this was going to be important, and nodded to Naho, getting up from your seat. With an apologetic look, you left the soft warmth of the bar to lean against a wall outside, the cool evening air enveloping your neck.

“I’m all alone, you can talk to me.”

He hesitated, his voice uncertain and lacking the confidence he usually had.

“I heard you were going to Sae’s ball.”

“Yeah,” you sighed, not too thrilled. “He kind of forced it on me,” you laughed bitterly into the phone.

“Really?”

“He really showed up at my exhibition unannounced and ordered my paintings.”

He was silent for a few seconds. “Sae was in Tokyo?” his voice was hurried, impatient.

“Yeah. I still don’t know why he came to see me directly instead of sending me an email through his agent or something.”

You could hear him scratching his head on the other end of the line.

“Maybe he just wanted to see you.”

“Have you been drinking?”

He let out a small chuckle.

“You’re the only one he came to see anyway,” he said in a cold voice. “Understand what you want.”

“Why did you call me Rin?”

He paused for a moment, silence on the phone. Rin was a mysterious boy who was hard to figure out, but he didn’t fool you. You knew when something touched him through his fake coldness, or when something was bothering him. You considered him a bit like your little brother to a certain extent, you had grown up with him and had seen Sae raise him to become the man he is today. He had no secrets from you.

“You…” he began, his voice hesitant. A silence again. He swallowed hard and launched into it. “You can tell him to call me when you see, please. I’ve been trying to reach him for years.”

You soften.

“Why do you want to talk to him Rin, you know he…”

“Just ask him to call me,” he interrupted you in a firm voice. “You know we both have stuff to work out.”

“I’m just trying to protect you.”

“I know,” he sighed.

You looked at the trees around you before answering in a soft voice.

“I will, don’t worry Rin.”

“Thank you,” he said in an almost shy voice.

You continued your call by asking how he was doing. Rin was the star of the Japanese team, which didn’t surprise you given all the sacrifices he had made to get there. What worried you more, however, was still the fervor with which he clung to his desire to beat his brother. He wasn’t living his life for himself yet but for his brother, and it hurt your heart to notice it again after years.

You ended the call with a smile, happy to have heard from Rin. You cared a lot about him. You watched the wind that made the leaves of the trees swirl around you, walking back to the bar. You breathed deeply. You needed strength for the days to come, because your departure for Madrid was tomorrow morning.

────୨ৎ────

𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 – 𝐣𝐡𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐢𝐤𝐨

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𖥸

“You’re talented, there’s no point in going to school,” he says honestly, his eyes fixed on your paintings scattered on the grass. You chuckled, touched by the compliment, continuing to varnish your works.

“My parents still want me to study. I don’t know, I’ll probably take a science major...”

He tightened his ball in his hands, shaking his head disapprovingly.

“It’s no use to you,” he repeated, stubborn. “Just do an exhibition. Even art school is useless, I don’t know what else you’ll learn.”

You rolled your eyes.

“You don’t know anything about art, Sae. I could draw a dog turd, if the shadows look a little complicated, you’ll be impressed. »

He threw his soccer ball right at your stomach and, unbalanced, you fell back into the grass, laughing out loud. He wasn’t laughing, though.

“You have to be really stupid to waste your time like that,” he swung, looking at you with a bored look. You raised yourself slightly on your elbows. Your gazes challenged each other.

“I’m not free like you,” you answered with a sigh, brushing the dirt off your shorts. He made a small insolent noise.

“I’m not free, I’m just determined. I’m going to Spain at the end of the summer, to play for the team. You think that’s freedom? You’re the one with free artistic spirit or whatever you call your shit.”

You tilted your head, observing his pink hair that was shining in the sun. You had tried to fix his bad haircut, but Sae seemed to like his disastrous haircut. It was quite stylish.

“Spain?”

“Yeah,” he said simply, sitting down across from you. Just that. He felt like it was even logical and normal this meteoric rise. He was a prodigal after all.

“You’re going to become even more stupid and ignorant if you stop school at 13,” you chuckled.

He gave you an emotionless look, kicking you, finding your joke anything but funny. He wasn’t going to stop school completely, but it was true that he didn’t really care about his homework and preferred to practice for his matches.

“And you’ll become useless if you let your parents choose everything for you. I’ll be the best striker Japan will ever see, and you’ll still be doing everything to please them, without having accomplished anything. Luckwarm.”

The surety in his voice hurt your heart.

“I won’t be a failure.”

“You already are.”

“Sae,” you tensed. The harsh truth behind his voice squeezed your heart even more. You didn’t want to end up like those artists, forced to work repetitive jobs devoid of creativity. You were still young and could still dream, but you already knew that your parents would put obstacles in your way. The carefree childhood was already starting to evaporate. He sighed, as if he were the one who was disturbed.

“I’ll stop saying that when you actually do something with your paintings. It’s not like I care anyway.” If you like being useless,” he said nonchalantly, laying down on the grass with his arms behind his head and his eyes closed.

You moved closer so that you could rest his head on your thighs, playing with his pink locks.

“Liar.”

He didn't answer, but he let you brush your fingers over his skin, his cheeks and his hair. The peaceful look on his face contrasted with the harshness of the words that could come out of his mouth, and the strength of determination that animated him.

"If... If one day I hold my exhibition like I dream of doing one, you promise me that you will come see it?" you whispered, your hands following the shape of his eyebrows. He slowly opened his eyes, looking at you without saying anything for a moment.

"I'll be too busy traveling the world for my matches, no time for that," he answered arrogantly. You rolled your eyes, pulling him closer to you. He let you do it without saying anything.

"You will be my guest of honor."

He chuckled.

"Promise. Even if we will talk less when you are in Spain. Just promise me."

His gaze darkened.

“You still care too much about my approval, ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚.”

It was true. No one had your back. His support was a breath of fresh air, a lifeline. You held him a little tighter, tense.

“It’s just...”

“Of course I’ll come, but you’re not doing it for me, are you?”

You avoided his gaze, looking instead at your painting to your right. He pulled you closer to him, tugging at the collar of your t-shirt, his breath fanning over your face.

“Right?”

His voice was firmer, colder. You swallowed hard, forced to look into his green gaze. Sometimes his eyes reminded you of an ocean, but not in the metaphorical beauty, in the anguish of a density that you were unable to match.

“...”

A breeze of wind passed between the two of you.

“Yes,” you forced yourself to answer, even if you lacked conviction. “I will do it without thinking about you, or hoping that you will come. Just for… Me.”

He released your collar. It was the first time in your life that your stomach had twisted in a pleasant way.

“Good.” He let you go. He was completely unaware of the heat that invaded your body.

𖥸

You woke up from your nap on the plane with a knot in your stomach. You had just dreamed of a distant memory, dating back to a few years ago. An old promise, which he – with surprise – had kept. He had really come to your exhibition. Was that why he had moved on purpose? It wasn’t like him to take children’s promises to heart like that, even though he was the type to follow through on his goals. In fact, it was very like him after all, and you didn’t know how you should feel about that.

You were collecting your luggage in the airport, your mind in thought. Your dream had awakened painful memories, and you were distracted by your thoughts instead of enjoying the warm air of Spain. Your eyes roamed your surroundings, admiring the sophisticated architecture of the airport and the world that swarmed there. As you stepped out, you took a deep breath as you observed the city in front of you, populated with people.

It was sunny, and very hot. You took off your cardigan, walking towards your Uber while rolling your suitcase. Your skin glowed in the sun, and you already knew that for the time you were going to be in Spain, you were going to get a tan. The lack of moisture in the air intensified the already high temperature.

As you sat down in your Uber, you received a call from an unknown number. Curious, you answered it while putting on your seatbelt.

“Are you here yet?”

Your hairs stood on end at the sound of Sae's voice, and you frowned. Several questions clashed in your mind. From 1) why did he still have your number? 2) how the hell did he know what time you were arriving in Madrid? 3) what did he want from you?

"Sae?" you mumbled, your voice nervous. The driver started driving, looking at you from time to time in the rearview mirror, curious.

"Whoever you want it to be, ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚?"

You tensed up.

"No, I mean..." you hesitated for a few seconds. "What do you want, well why are you calling me, how did you get my number?"

"We were a couple as far as I know," he remarked casually and your tension increased in your body. “I still have your number.”

“I thought I had you blocked.”

“I guess you didn’t.”

You hated his smug tone, it was already getting on your nerves. You stayed silent for a moment, glancing at the scenery passing before your eyes.

"First, you send me a letter when I'm at my parents', and now you know exactly when my plane lands. You're creepy."

He huffed.

"You always go to your parents' in the summer, I just have a good memory."

"That doesn't answer my second question."

"There were no questions in your sentence."

"Are you being so annoying on purpose?" you grumbled, annoyed. "Answer, damn it."

The driver smirked, amused by the conversation but he remained discreet.

"Your paintings arrived in the event room as planned," he changed the subject. "They're intact, and ready for the exhibition."

The new subject piqued your interest although the way he ignored you annoyed you.

"Why are you telling me this?" you mumbled impatiently, playing with the zipper of your vest in your hands.

"Just like that, I thought you would have wanted to know that they were safe."

His attention made your heart race for a moment but you quickly recovered and cleared your throat.

"Is that all you had to tell me?" you lowered your head, fiddling with your vest.

"Do you want to visit Madrid with me?"

You nearly swallowed your saliva the wrong way.

"W-What?"

He sighed on the other end of the line, as if you were exhausting him just by talking.

"I'll meet you at 2pm at the San Miguel market."

And he suddenly hung up like that, without another word. Dumbfounded, you stared at your phone in your hands for a few seconds without saying anything. Not only had he ignored your questions, but he allowed himself to hang up on you and make decisions without your consent. And what was this about showing you around Madrid? Had he forgotten that he had rejected you like an old sock when you needed him the most? Why was he acting like you were on good terms.

Your mind full of questions, you rested your head against the car window and watched the streets go by, pensive.

𖥸

You arrived at your hotel around noon, which was the last bit of time you had before seeing your ex-boyfriend. Because yes, you were of course going to come to his suspicious meeting. You had nothing else to do anyway, and you really wanted to have answers to your questions today.

You rushed to the shower once you got to your room, getting rid of your filth. You stood still in the shower, feeling the water trickle down your body, taking the opportunity to cool off. You took your time to lotion yourself, choosing a vanilla-scented body lotion. You perfumed yourself, and put on your jewelry. You put on simple jeans and a tank top that was a little low-cut to survive the heat of Spain. You applied treatments to your hair, taking more time than usual and you didn't want to think about what that meant. Yes, you were getting dolled up to go see your ex, let's be honest. You put on white sneakers, and grabbed your handbag.

You were going to unpack your things later, you wanted to have time to figure out how to navigate the Spanish metro and walk around a bit before meeting Sae where he had told you.

If you had been told that Sae was going to play tour guide for you two months ago you would have burst out laughing but now this was your reality.

𖥸

You arrived on time at the San Miguel market. The market was bustling with people, and you had taken the time to stroll through the streets before coming. The sunny streets were filled with trees, it was nice to hang out there. The San Miguel market was a long avenue filled with different food stalls. Some sold takeaways, others spices, others olives. A pleasant spicy smell enveloped the market and guided you inside.

It didn't take long for you to spot red locks that you knew well under a cap. Your breath caught when your eyes met. He wore a white shirt with the top two buttons open, and simple jeans. A luxury watch on his wrist, he smelled of money. Hands in his pockets, he stood nonchalantly against a wall near the market.

His gaze roamed your body for a long time before they went back up to your eyes, and he nodded to you.

You swallowed, and took a few steps to join him.

"You have to stop deciding everything like that without even asking my opinion," you mumbled, reaching his height.

"Is that a Japanese way of saying hello?" He sighed, pushing his hands further into his pockets. You noticed that he sighed very often when he spoke to you and it annoyed you.

"You forget that you're Japanese too."

He rolled his eyes.

"Come on," he walked towards the inside of the market without even waiting for you. You followed suit, already grumpy.

"What did I just tell you? Stop ignoring me and choose for..."

"I don't remember if you like olives or not," he interrupted you, pointing at an olive stand. You crossed your arms over your chest, inhaling deeply. This was going to be a long day.

"Sae."

"Or you can try the meat skewers. Or chili."

With a wave of his hand, he pointed to the different stands as you walked side by side. You glared at him.

"You're doing it on purpose, huh?"

"Maybe," a smirk crossed his lips and left you speechless. Was he teasing you? Like it was nothing? You rubbed your arms, feeling weird.

"We're not a couple anymore, why are you acting like..."

"Skewers or olives?"

You groaned, fed up with his behavior.

"Sae!"

He moved faster without waiting for you, and you almost lost him in the crowd. You zigzagged through the mass of people to join him. He had stopped at a meat stand that sold the skewers he was talking about, and you joined him, out of breath from having to follow him. It was going to be a long day.

𖥸

"I can't believe we're having a drink together."

"Life is full of surprises."

"No, seriously, what's wrong with you Sae?"

He sighed - for the thousandth time that day -, he still had that don't-care look he wore as if everything took energy from him, and that expression was starting to get on your nerves.

"And stop looking so bored, it's unpleasant."

"It's natural."

You rolled your eyes.

You had been sitting on a terrace for about fifteen minutes, and you struggled to find answers to your many questions. Sae acted as if nothing was wrong, not seeing the absurdity of the situation. And the worst part was that you weren't having a bad time. He had taken you to his favorite places in Madrid, showed you parks, and you were amazed by the beauty of the Spanish city. Sometimes, Sae's eyes lingered on his, as if to check that you were enjoying the moment, and in those moments you turned your head away, unable to meet his gaze.

"I really don't understand what's going on," you grumbled as you sipped your cocktail. "We're not friends Sae."

"Really?"

Your eyes widened at his casual tone and how he looked at you smugly.

"Well yeah, should I remind you how we broke up or what? I'm not your friend, you're an idiot to even think otherwise," you had your cocktail in one quick gulp, choking a little as you coughed. Sae stared at you choking without saying anything, and you cursed him inwardly.

“I just thought you might want to visit the city,” he stated nonchalantly, his eyes falling back on his expensive watch. “I’ll leave you, I’ve arranged a taxi that will take you back to your hotel.”

“You’re stalking me, how do you know the address of my hotel?” your eyebrows furrowed, your face wary before you remembered your main question. “And for the letter to my parents…”

“See you tomorrow at the charity gala,” he adjusted his cap on his head and stood up without a goodbye, his hands in his pockets. He took a hand out of his pocket to place a large bill on the table before leaving without a word. You watched him walk away, speechless.

He was annoying, unbearable and so rude. But deep down, your heart tightened as you thought back to that day that you had enjoyed. You had enjoyed visiting the city, discovering Madrid, and Sae's favorite places. In a way, you had enjoyed his company, although it took a superhuman effort to admit it to yourself. The more time you spent with him, the more you realized that you missed him terribly. Even his flaws. Even his smug and nonchalant air. Everything that made him a person, ultimately.

You were silent during your taxi ride. Sae made your heart confused. Nothing forced him to spend the day with you, yet he had done so. You were also not blind to his many insistent glances, eyes hidden under his red locks in front of his face. At someone else's, it would have been cute to show his favorite spots to someone who doesn't know the city, but this action for Sae gave rise to incomprehension and immense unease. It was none of his business, and you struggled to understand his real intentions. He had even gone so far as to prepare a taxi for you so that you could return home safely, seriously what was he thinking? Your stupid side whispered to your heart that he was surely trying to make up for it, and it would have been plausible if we weren't talking about the ice prince, Sae Itoshi.

With a confused heart and a knot in your stomach, you rested your head against the window, admiring the landscapes of the favorite city of the boy you had once been madly in love with.

────୨ৎ────

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐭 – 𝟐𝟏 𝐬𝐚𝐯𝐚𝐠𝐞

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

𖥸

You sprayed yourself for the thousandth time with your favorite perfume, taking care to put it everywhere, and on your long dress. Dressed in a sophisticated way, you wore a long black dress with a backless and bare shoulders, with many golden jewels like you love them. You always loved jewelry, and especially painting them. Playing with shades of yellow and orange was your hobby when you were younger. Sae often lent you his golden medals so that you could paint them, because he knew that you loved it.

Speaking of Sae, you had made a mental note to finally have answers to your questions today, and not to let yourself be distracted by his actions. Today, you decided to have the power in your relationship, if we could still say that you had one.

You were choosing which bag to wear when your phone vibrated.

"Naho, I missed you," you exclaimed on the phone when you saw who called. Your enthusiasm was followed by a chuckle on the other end of the line.

“So, how’s the future star of the evening?”

“Don’t start, I’m pretty stressed,” you sighed, walking nervously around your apartment while talking to your best friend. “I have a black dress, should I take a small red bag or a small silver bag?”

“Red. The silver one won’t go with your jewelry,” your girlfriend answered confidently. You nodded and slung your small red leather bag over your shoulder.

“You’ll never guess what happened yesterday?”

“Did you fall under the spell of a Spanish guy?”

You chuckled, rolling your eyes.

“Worse than that.”

You began to explain everything that happened yesterday with Sae. She listened attentively without interrupting you, before leaving a long silence.

“That’s weird,” she only said and you could only nod.

“Yeah, I don’t know what to think?”

“You know he didn’t date anyone after you broke up? I was kind of mad at him when he left you, so I kind of followed everything he did to curse him in secret,” she admitted with a laugh, you couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

It felt good to have a friend like her by your side, always there to make you laugh and support you.

“I’m not surprised, I’m the only one who was stupid enough to keep up with his bullshit.”

“Or does it just mean he’s still in love with you?”

You freeze.

“What the fuck?” you stared at the ground, frowning.

“I mean… If we’re being objective, he does a lot of thoughtful things. Picking you for the bal, introducing you to the city, spending time with you, arranging a taxi to take you home…”

“We’re talking about Sae, Naho,” you interrupted her, your voice a little dry, as if you were on the defensive.

“I know, I know. But think about it. You know him well, he wouldn’t do that to just anyone.”

“He probably wants something in return, I don’t see any other explanation.”

“I think he wants to come back to you, but he just doesn’t know how to do it.”

You started laughing again, finding her idea absurd.

"I have time to die four times before Sae regrets his choices and tries something with me again, Naho," you shook your head with a sigh. "Let's stop talking about him, it's giving me a headache."

"Whatever you want, but just think about it."

𖥸

The event hall was packed. From a distance, you could tell it was a wedding given the rich decorations, the numerous bouquets of flowers, and the sophisticated outfits of the guests. You recognized several celebrities just by arriving, and you were starting to feel out of place. Everyone invited here had some kind of notoriety, you were just a nobody.

"Can I get you something?" A waiter offered you champagne, but you politely declined, fixing your dress with your hands.

Your paintings blended perfectly with the decor, and you couldn't help but feel a little pride in displaying them for others to see. You walked over to one of the paintings, touching them delicately, feeling the relief of the brushstrokes under your hand. It was a golden opportunity to have your collection here, you were grateful to have had this opportunity, but knowing that you had gotten it thanks to Sae left a bitter taste in your mouth.

Your eyes wandered over the crowd of people, looking for Sae. You quickly found him, he was surrounded by journalists and had a bored expression. He was dressed simply, but sophisticatedly. A white shirt, black suit pants, and loafers. He wasn't wearing his usual glasses and cap, his face was on display for everyone to see. He bent down to sign an autograph for a child, and straightened up, signaling to the journalists to leave him alone. He was about to pick up his glass from the buffet before looking up and meeting your gaze.

As every time he looked at you, your body was riddled with electricity and you fought internally against the urge to turn your head, unable to hold his gaze. His eyes wandered along your silhouette, impassive. They lingered on your curves, and you hated the heat that was released in your stomach at his eye contact. Your body felt hot under his gaze on you, every part of your body felt the weight of it. His eyes said things that you didn't want to know, but that your body demanded to hear.

You lifted your dress a little and began to walk towards him, maintaining his gaze. The world around you didn't matter anymore, you had two goals today: to solve the mystery of Sae's behavior, and to get noticed by someone important with your art. And now, you were walking towards your first objective.

He leaned against a wall, his hands in the pockets of his classy pants, his eyes fixed on you. You concentrated on not tripping because his eyes were destabilizing. When you reached his height, you were enveloped by the addictive scent of his cologne.

"This is the first time I've seen you dressed like this," he brought his glass back to his lips, his eyes lingering on the curve of your hip molded by the fabric of your dress. Your heart was pounding under his gaze.

"I didn't have a chance before, when we were together" you leaned against the wall next to him, crossing your fingers on your stomach.

“It suits you.” He looked away and sipped his drink.

You nearly choked at his compliment, it was so out of character for him to say something like that.

“Are you drunk?”

He scoffed and shook his head. His red locks waved at the nape of his neck.

“I’m not into that.”

You nearly laughed at his response, he seemed personally outraged that you would think he was intoxicated.

“Relax, I didn’t call you an alcoholic,” you chuckled, wrinkling your dress before freezing.

Were you seriously joking with him? Since you had spent the day with him in Madrid, your long-built barriers were becoming weaker and weaker and if you didn’t look closely enough at what you were doing, you fell back into a comfortable intimacy with him that you had when you were a couple. It wasn’t normal, nor what you wanted, you had to pull yourself together, you had questions to ask him.

Prove it by 21 Savage and Summer Walker was playing in the big speakers of the event room, it was a soft and a bit romantic sound, absolutely everything you didn’t need right now. You took a deep breath before launching yourself.

“Sae, we have to talk.”

“About what?”

“Us.”

“So there’s an us again, huh?” He raised an eyebrow and his green gaze landed on you and you swallowed.

“You know exactly what I mean, don’t play with my words.” To manage your nervousness, you played with one of the bouquets of roses next to you and lost your gaze in the crowd in front of you. “You’re the one who acts like there’s always been a ‘us’.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He continued to sip his drink.

You rolled your eyes.

“Answer my questions in order first. Why did you come to see my exhibition?”

He stirred his glass, and said nothing for a few seconds.

“Wasn’t that what we agreed on?” he finally said in a nonchalant tone, as if he hadn’t just confirmed that he cared about you, and your promise.

“Are you talking about our promise before you went to Spain?” you asked to be sure, your heart pounding.

“You finally decided to stop being a failure, I had to see what you had achieved.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

“Is this your way of telling me that you’re happy and proud that I didn’t get discouraged after losing my first contest?”

“Yeah.” His voice was low, like a whisper.

A breeze of wind passed between you, and you didn’t know what to do with the frantic beating of your heart. He was transforming your nervousness into a feeling that you had forbidden yourself to feel for someone again.

“Second question: How did you know I was at my parents’ to send the letter?”

He leaned against the wall, and glanced at you, his face impassive.

“You always go to your parents’ in the summer. There was no point in sending it to you if you were going to receive it later.”

Your heart was going to burst out of your chest. Why did it make you so happy that he remembered that?

“Third question: Why did you spend the day with me last time?”

“I need a reason for that?”

“Of course, Sae. Don’t tell me you just wanted to see me and spend time with me?”

“What if I told you that was the case?”

Another missed heartbeat.

“You must be drunk, this can’t be…” You shook your head.

You swore you saw the hint of a half-smile on his lips for a second before his impassive mask regained control of his expression.

“I’m lost, Sae.”

“That’s because you’re stupid.”

He was so… How can I say it? Annoying? Exhausting? Funny?

“Thank you for those lovely words, but I’m serious. I’m lost. One moment you act like an asshole, the next you…”

You looked at him, daring the words that stayed shyly in your mouth.

“You act like you want me back in your life.”

He paused, staying still for a moment before slowly turning his head towards you. For a few seconds, you said nothing and stared at each other. You didn’t pay attention to the noise of the crowd of people, and the music, completely focused on his green eyes.

“And what if that was the case?”

That’s it, those were the words he shouldn’t say. Especially not, because your heart couldn’t take it. Not now, not like this. Not after all the hurt he had done to you. It didn’t make sense.

“Don’t...”

“Excuse me, are you the painter of these paintings?”

A small, plump woman with a fancy bun interrupted you, and Sae looked away. You desperately wanted to tell this woman that you were busy, but she seemed very interested in your work. You glanced at Sae, who had his eyes glued to her phone now, then managed to smile at the woman in front of you.

“It’s me, can I help you?”

What followed was a conversation you had dreamed of having your entire life. The woman was the director of a luxury interior design company, and was looking for partners. She was a fan of your work, and wanted you to work for her. She showered you with compliments and seemed enthusiastic about the idea of collaborating with you. It was the opportunity of a lifetime, but there was a problem.

"I would be very happy to work with you, but I don't live in Spain, I'm from Tokyo," you apologized with a polite and sorry smile.

"It's not a problem, we can collaborate very well remotely. It's rare to find talents like yours, I wouldn't like to miss this golden opportunity!"

Her compliments warmed your heart and a heat rose to your cheeks. You didn't know how to react to someone who was such an admirer of your work, you weren't used to it. She explained to you how to proceed, and asked for your contacts to send you all the information about the collaboration. She handed you her business card, and your hands were about to shake. This was the opportunity of a lifetime. It was going to take off your career, and it was all thanks to Sae. As she left, you turned your head to get ready to talk to him but he had disappeared.

𖥸

Your mind was dizzy.

You were drunk from all the glasses of champagne you had drunk, and you had trouble standing. The charity ball was over, but the night continued in a luxurious bar, like an after party. You hadn't found Sae all night, and your head was going to explode with all the questions you had.

You were so drunk that you hadn't noticed it when you had collapsed on the first couch you had found. Tired, you had rubbed yourself against what you thought was the leather, ready to fall asleep. It was only when you opened your eyes slightly, yawning, that you met his piercing green irises above you. The air in your lungs emptied immediately. You had just understood where the disturbing but pleasant softness underneath you was coming from.

You could get up but you blinked several times, incredulous, unable to move.

"Sae, what are you.."

You had so many things to ask him.

Your brain was too flat to grasp the situation, you swallowed with difficulty, still motionless. Your body weighed a ton, the slightest movement cost you considerable energy.

His hands went along your waist to pass under your hips, lifting you slightly so that he could get up from the couch, and released you roughly - literally turning you over on the couch. The image of his back made your eyes widen.

"Did you just..."

He moved forward with his hands in his pockets. You got up with difficulty, your body numb, swearing under your breath.

“What the hell is wrong with you? Wait,” you struggled to articulate, the first step off the couch nearly spraining your ankle.

His figure seemed to flee from you, sinking ever further away. The further he went, the more your eyes blurred. You wanted to talk to him. Ask him some questions.

Your feet continued to walk, following him at an almost desperate pace. You just wanted to ask him what he meant by 'maybe it was', if he really meant it. Why was he acting so cold with you now when he seemed different a few hours ago. Why was he was being hot and cold?

"Wait, please, I just want to..."

He didn't slow down, maybe he was speeding up, hands digging deeper into his pockets. You didn't even pay attention to the music and the people around you, your legs focused on his, ready to follow him wherever he went. As usual.

He walked through a door, not bothering to close it, as if he was waiting for you to follow. You rushed into the room, not even caring where you were. It was immediately quieter, as if you were in a private room, away from the cacophony of the party.

“Sae, I…”

He turned around, his usual impassive face.

You stood awkwardly against the wall, not even knowing what to say anymore. The swirl of emotions inside your heart and the alcohol in your blood was a dangerous cocktail that was never going to lead to a healthy and cordial conversation, especially not with Sae.

“You want me back in your life? I don’t understand, you’re the one who left me,” you pointed out in a low and hesitant voice.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and stared at you silently for a few seconds without saying anything before he tilted his head to one side.

“You don’t want to talk about this in my hotel room? I don’t want to be disturbed here.”

You swallowed, considering the idea. You hated how desperate you were acting, but alcohol and Sae didn't mix well on you. As much as it hurt you to admit it, you were still in love with him. Just his gaze had an effect on you, it was dishonest not to realize that. He made you relive feelings and emotions that had been buried for a long time.

You nodded slowly with reluctance, ready to finally answer your questions, and perhaps unravel the mysteries of his heart.

────୨ৎ────

𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐞 - 𝐥𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐣𝐢

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

𖥸

𝐒𝐀𝐄’𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐖

The drive to his hotel was silent, Sae staring out the window as she stared at her hands, which she was playing with nervously. Sae glanced at her from time to time to admire her. She had never been so pretty and dressed up, he thought. The dress hugged her curves perfectly, and the neckline highlighted her chest and shoulders. He was unable to look anywhere else when she was near him, a bit like before. Artists have muses, Sae was an unconditional fan of hers. Always, and even after their breakup.

Speaking of breakups, Sae didn't know how he was going to handle this situation. He wasn't good at talking about his feelings, or his emotions. For the first time in his life, he was off guard. How was he going to explain to her what he felt? He would have liked her to be able to read him and guess on her own, but it was impossible. He was too impassive and neutral for her to decipher his silences. Sae was an enigma, and for the first time in his life, he wished he were someone else, someone who could say everything with a look.

The driver stopped in front of the hotel. Sae got out first and came to his ex-girlfriend's door and opened it. She looked at him puzzled, probably surprised that he would make such a gallant gesture, but he had to put all the chances on his side if he wanted to get her back tonight. She got out of the car, lifting her dress a little. Sae waved goodbye to the driver and began to walk towards the hotel entrance, her hands in her pockets. She followed him slowly, and looked around. They were in a luxurious area of Madrid. There were chic restaurants next to the hotel.

The silence was heavy. She followed him into the lobby and into the elevator. Once in the elevator, she stared at her feet, nervous. Sae didn't take his eyes off her, it had been three years since he had been deprived of her beauty, he wanted to mentally record the curves of her body and the details of her beautiful face so he would never forget, although she had an unforgettable beauty.

He used his pass to enter his hotel room, but let you go in first. His room was simple and luxurious, everything was tidy and clean. She turned to him and looked at him hesitantly.

"So..."

"Yeah?"

Sae took off her watch and placed it on his wooden dresser.

"My head is spinning," she sat on the sofa, massaging her temples. "I'm sorry if I'm not making sense."

"No problem, do you want some water?" »

She nodded slowly, still puzzled by how nice he was to her.

He handed her a bottle of cold water, and she thanked him. She took a few sips in silence, and looked around the room. There was a large king-sized bed, lots of plants in fancy and classy pots. They were in the "living room" area, where there was a leather couch and a giant television. It smelled like money.

"You know, Rin would like you to answer his messages and talk to him," she started the conversation cautiously.

Sae scoffed and sat on the couch with you, your thighs touching.

« Unlike you, my fool brother is still a failure, I have nothing to say to him. »

She frowned.

“You’re mean. He’s very important to the Japanese team, he’s not a failure at all.”

“He plays soccer to challenge me, not for himself. That’s what I call being a failure,” he leaned his back against the backrest of the couch, and turned his head to her. “You stopped putting me at the center of your passion, that’s why I came to your exhibition. I wanted to see what you were capable of when you stopped thinking about being validated by others.”

He didn’t know when the atmosphere had shifted between them, where they had gone from annoyed and irritated looks to being able to talk openly and calmly. Maybe it was since their day in Madrid or during the charity ball. He saw in her eyes that she was starting too and lowering the barriers she had put around her heart to protect herself from him, and to be vulnerable.

She lowered her head, looking at her water bottle.

"So, if I understand correctly, you want me back in your life because I have evolved and stopped being insecure? You throw me away when I am not to your liking and when it suits you, you want me back?" She spat, her hands clenched.

Maybe he had spoken too quickly. Maybe there were still barriers around her heart and irritation. He rested his head on the backrest, and looked at the ceiling.

"It's not like that," His voice was lower, softer.

"It is like that, Sae. I am not the only one who has been discouraged in his life. Do you want me to remind you of what happened in Spain? It's human to get discouraged sometimes, the most important thing is to be able to bounce back."

Her whole body tensed up when she talked about when he left Japan at a young age to go play in Spain.

"Don't compare yourself to me, we have nothing in common."

His voice was hard, he crossed his hands on his chest.

"Oh yes we are alike Sae. You know, I think you left me because you saw yourself in me. You saw a person losing to others, and ready to give up everything, and it reminded you of yourself."

"You're talking nonsense." Sae closed his eyes, his head still facing the ceiling.

She didn't take her eyes off him and he swore he felt her staring at him even with his eyes closed. She could read him, he knew it.

“You left me when I needed you the most, and now that I’ve moved on, you come back into my life to take me back without apology.” Her eyes burnt him. “Don’t you see the problem?”

He stays silent for a few seconds, and opened his eyes.

“It wasn’t healthy between us,” he tilted his head at her. “You did everything for me, you had no self-confidence anymore. I refuse to be your motivation. You have to fight alone.”

“You blame me for losing confidence in myself while you changed your dream because of the others’ performance in Spain. We are the same, Sae. Two idiots who lost confidence in themselves, and we should have been there for each other.”

He shook his head gently.

“It pushed me to be better somewhere else and work without giving up, while you wanted to stop art completely after losing your contest. We aren’t the same.”

He had a point. Sae hadn’t given up and had worked even harder to achieve his goals while she had given up and was completely paralyzed in her creation.

“It doesn’t change that you had to be there for me instead of abandoning me.” Her voice was a little shaky, Sae saw the vulnerability in her eyes, and he sighed. He leaned against her, closer to her.

“It was necessary. You needed to be alone to be able to regain your self-confidence. I wasn’t…”

His face was inches from hers.

“I wasn’t okay in my head at that time, I needed you too but you were too devastated by your competition. I had to leave. It was what was best for us at that moment.”

She saw the sincerity in his eyes, and her eyes were starting to tear up.

“I didn’t… I never thought you would need me at that moment. I was too… I’m sorry, Sae.” A tear rolled down her cheek, and Sae lifted a finger to wipe the tear away.

“I know, I don’t blame you for that. I just...”

His eyes fell to her lips. His breath caressed her face.

“I just think, now, it’s the right time for us.”

𝐎𝐌𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐖

You didn’t remember how you ended up on his bed, you just remembered the soft touch of his lips against yours. It had happened so slowly. He had bent down cautiously, questioning your eyes if he had the right to. You nodded, your heart racing. You weren’t in your normal state, the alcohol and the vulnerability of the conversation were making you lose your mind. But you knew that you craved his touch. Right now in his hotel room, you wanted to feel him against you, and don’t think about something else. All the desire buried for years resurfaced in a lightning wave in your body.

He captured your bottom lip between his lips, his tongue sliding over it. He pressed his forehead against yours, and you let out a soft sigh.

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” you murmured against his lips, “I’m drunk.”

“I think this is a really good idea,” he wrapped his arms around your butt, and lifted you, “the best idea I’ve had.”

He carried you to his king size bed, and placed you delicately on it. You sat, arms back. He leaned down, and pressed soft kisses against your neck, kissing the goosebumps.

“You know, I don’t forgive you for the horrors you said to me that night,” you moved your head to let him more space.

“I know,” he bit your skin, grabbing the flesh between his teeth. You flinched, and your heart raced.

“I still think you were asshole that day.”

“I know,” his lips found yours and they glided over each others, his mouth was hesitant, testing the waters. But he gained confidence and his tongue traced your teeth as he leaned more against you, his body flushing against yours. He kissed you with gentle motions, his tongue teasing and curious. You leaned back, on your elbows.

He dreamed of this. Having you in his arms, tasting your lips. He had missed all that. He loved you, more than you could think.

“At least forgive me tonight,” he whispered against your lips.

“Sex can’t resolve us,” you closed your eyes, kissing him back with the same slowness.

“I can resolve us,” he unbuttoned the first buttons of his shirt, “let me resolve us.”

His nose nuzzled yours, and the motion looked like an Eskimo kiss, and you couldn't help but smile against his lips.

“Idiot.”

“That’s my line,” He finished unbuttoning the buttons of his shirt, and his muscular torso was free. You opened your eyes, and glanced down at his abs.

“You’re more muscular than before,” you whispered while your hands wandered on his abdomen.

“I would be damned if that wasn’t the case. It’s been three years.”

You chuckled softly and continued to caress his torso. You didn’t know why but the tension you felt in his presence had dissipated. Everything was calm and tender between you two. He pressed his forehead again against yours.

“Will you let me resolve us?”

His voice was so soft, you couldn’t remember a time you heard it like that.

“I can repair everything. I can give you what you need now. I won’t let you down like before.”

He lifted his head and pressed a kiss on your forehead.

“I’m proud of you for your art exhibition, by the way. It’s amazing.”

Your eyes watered, and you sniffled, your body tense.

“Don’t do that to me, Sae.”

“Do what?”

He gently laid you down on the bed, his figure hovering over you.

“Saying everything I wanted to hear,” you let him take off your dress as you tried to dry your tears but they continue to flow down your cheeks. He kissed every tears, his mouth wet.

“I’m glad I’m doing the good thing, then,” his lips traced your collar bones, “I've already messed up enough.”

The cold air hit your skin as he undressed you while kissing down your body. His lips traced every lines of your rib cage, his breath caressing your skin. Your skin tingled with shivers every time his mouth landed on you. You dipped your hands in his soft hair, stroking it.

“You were so pretty today,” his tongue flicked around your navel, “I feel blessed to be allowed to look at you.”

Heat came in your face and you were flustered by his words. Your nails grazed at the back of his neck and he let out a soft sigh at the sensation. He trailed kisses down your belly and your hip and he lifted your legs to place your thigh against his cheek and your knuckles on his shoulders. Your heart raced with anticipation as your hands tensed on his hair. A sigh escaped you when he kissed your inner thigh and worked toward your intimate parts. He raised his head, his eyes lingered on yours.

“You didn’t respond.”

“At what?”

“Resolve us. Repair us. Rebuild us,” his fingered slid into you, and you let out a low moan at his motions. His index and middle finger traced circles on your sweet spot, and his eyes were full of desire as he looked at you being riled up.

“I can do better, give you more than you could think,” he thrust his two fingers in you, and he bent down to kiss you and swallowed all of your moans. “I can buy you all the flowers you missed all these years,” he breathed against your lips.

His thumb rubbed against your clit as his fingers moved in and out of you, he closed his eyes while kissing you.

“I can give you everything you want now, I promise.”

You were flustered and didn’t know what to respond at what he was saying. You said everything you wanted to say to him, but you were full of doubts. Could you really forgive him and restart a relationship with him? Will he be there for you when you needed it, there when you would be the most vulnerable?

“I can’t say yes now, Sae,” you wrapped your arms around his neck, “it’s fast for me, but…”

You leaned down, your lips near his ears.

“I can let you resolve us for today,” you whispered, your soft breath brushing his neck.

It was the signal he wanted, needed. He nodded, and began to unbutton his jeans, your slick on his hands. His eyes roamed over your body, and he admired you, lying there, all ready for him. There was a burning desire in his gaze that made you shiver. After taking off his pants, he put his knees on the ground, his face at the level of your crotch, your stomach clenched at the sight. He was so pretty with his eyes shining and his hair undone because of you.

With his callous hands, he grabbed your thighs and spread them in front of him, heat came in your face as you shyly opened your legs for him. It’s been years since you saw him between your thighs. You still remember when you did your first time together, teenagers awkward and hesitant. Now, you were full grow adults, and there was no more awkwardness to your moves.

He began slowly, his fingers parting your folds, his mouth careful and teasing as he licked your arousal. You clenched your thighs and dipped again your hands in his hair. You pushed his head to your cunt, and moaned softly as the tip of tongue wiggled through you. He lifted his eyes, his gaze never leaving you as he slowly buried his nose and mouth deep into your wet folds.

His nose rubbed against your clit as he thrust his tongue in you, and exploring every inch of your twitching hole. You were in heaven, he wasn’t shy with it, but deep in it, his eyes closed, savoring your taste. He was a real eater, he took pleasure seeing you riled up as he fucked you with his tongue.

“Just like that,” you whimpered, lifting your hips in the air, rocking your lower body against him, your hands tugging desperately at his hair.

He plunged his head deeper in you, your slick dripping his chin, and continued his exploration with his tongue. He ate you like you were the best meal in his life, he was so eager. His hands gripped your thighs tightly to keep you from moving too much. You threw your head back in the mattress as you moaned, it’s been fucking three years since you had sex. You were in need, and you grind your cunt into his mouth without embarrassment, you needed it so much. Sae was the only man you fucked with, and it’s stayed that way when you broke up for two reason. One, you didn't believe in love after Sae, and two, nobody could fuck you better than him. He knew everything about you, from where to press his tongue, where to lick, how to suck your clit. He knew everything about you, and was an expert at pleasing you.

When your pussy clenched around his mouth, he knew your orgasm approached. He stopped using his tongue and focused only on your clit which he sucked vigorously, making your legs shake against his head. He made lewd sounds, you were dripping with arousal. As you were seeing stars and your orgasm traveled your body and left you without energy, he stood up and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“You look beautiful like this, ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚,” he took off his boxer and placed a knuckle on the bed, “sit on me.”

“Sit on you?”

“Yeah,” he sat on the bed and looked at you intently.

You stood up on your elbows, and tilted your head.

“You want me to ride you?”

He nodded, and grabbed your arms to pull you onto his lap. You looked down, he was already hard, his cock brushed your entrance as you were sat on his lap. He pulled a condom out of his bedside table and passed it to you to put on. As you wrapped the condom around his cock, you remembered how the cowgirl was his favorite position, and obviously still the case.

“Why do you love this position so much?” you chuckled as you lifted you ass and sank into him while closing your eyes.

He wrapped his arms around you, and pulled you closer, “I love looking at you.”

“Liar, you’re just lazy,” you teased him and rocked your hips against him.

He scoffed and grabbed your hips.

“Shut up,” he pushed down on your hips, making you take fully his length and you placed your head on his shoulders, sighing softly.

“No,” he lifted one hand to wrap it around your throat, “look at me.”

You were forced to look at him, and you got lost in his gaze. Your eyes were telling everything you couldn’t say, they were convey your feelings. They were telling all the doubts you had in your heart, your fear about the future, and the love you had for him, even though it was buried deep in you for three years. It was so intimate. He caressed your neck as he gently gripped at it, his eyes never leaving you. You loved being handled by him, leaving the control to him, letting him take the lead even though you were the one on top of him.

Like a slow dance, you rode him, undulating your hips on him, your left hand on the one that was on your neck, the right on shoulders. He didn't take his eyes off you as you rocked your hips against him, you were the most beautiful thing in his life. His gaze on you electrified your senses, you loved how his eyes were feverish, craving you. You felt sexy in his eyes, and it’s been a while since you felt that way.

You bounced your ass up and down, and he released your throat to lean back on his elbows, his hands on your hips. He thrust into you, plunging in and out, and you lost balance.

“Hey,” you fell on his torso, but he didn’t stop his motions, and lifted his hips to fuck you more intensely. You placed your hand over your mouth to muffle your moans, but it was in vain, anyone who passed by the room would hear your shaky voice and understand what was happening.

He grabbed your ass and pulled you even more closer to him, sinking his cock in you. It felt so good, your nails scratched his bare torso as you whimpered every time his cock brushed your cervix. He was so focused on fucking that he made no noise. You tilted your head, looking at him.

“You know I love when you make noise, don’t stay silent.”

“You want me to say “you’re so pretty” ten million times tonight like an idiot?”

You chuckled.

“Yeah,” you smiled softly, “I would like that.”

“Pfff,” he rolled his eyes, but he captured your hips in his hands and turned you over so you were on your back.

“You’re so pretty,” he said the first time as he plunged his cock into you, and his breath hitched. You wanted to wrap your legs around his waist but he shook his head and grabbed your thighs to put them on his shoulders. The new angle made his thrusts deeper and more intense and you gasped his name.

“You’re so pretty,” he panted out the second time as he rutted into you, his cock stretching you to his size. Your hands gripped the pillow behind you, and you moaned uncontrollably, completely oblivious to the possibility of anyone hearing you. You felt his breath on your face as he panted softly in your ears.

“You’re so pretty” he whispered a third time, against you lips as he kissed you while fucking you slowly. He pushed in his cock back in you with a measured rhythm, focusing on the sensation rather than jackhammering you. He pressed his forehead against yours, looking at you with a tender gaze.

“I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” you inhaled, gasping for breath. “I love you.”

He closed his eyes.

“Me too,” his voice was soft, like a whisper. And in that moment, you felt that the whisper came from his heart.

𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄

────୨ৎ────

𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 – 𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐞𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

𖥸

It had been three weeks since your night with Sae and you were back in Tokyo for your best friend Naho's wedding. You hadn't spoken to Sae since because you had asked him for time to think about it all.

Standing in the line of bridemaids, you stood straight and smiling, your heart softened by the sight of your best friend in her wedding dress, while her father guided her to her husband who had the same big smile as you when he saw his future wife.

It was a sunny day, the sky was blue and the weather was perfect for this ceremony. You had spent hours getting ready, it was as much an important day for you as it was for your best friend. You had been through so much together, you wished her nothing but happiness with her future husband. She was a pillar in your life, you would never have missed such an important day for her.

Everyone had respected the dress code: white and pink. All the bridemaids wore long pink strapless dresses with a slit, and a high sophisticated bun. Even the men had played along, and the garden of the castle where the wedding was held was filled with white and pink roses. You had of course participated in the decoration, just as Naho had helped you with your art exhibition.

You constantly had a smile on your face, your mind at ease. Everyone was in a good mood, there were only smiles and laughter while you ate, and tears of joy when they said "yes" to each other.

You wondered what it felt like to be married. To love someone so much that you would bear their name, and you chose to be bound together forever. What it felt like to wear the ring that symbolized your love, what it felt like to walk up to the priest, bouquet of flowers in hand, eyes fixed on you.

When she threw her bouquet of flowers behind her, you were the one to pick it up. And at that precise moment, your hands holding the bride's bouquet of flowers, you noticed that Sae was walking towards you.

You blinked several times, thinking you were dreaming, forgetting the world around you. But it was real. Dressed in a pink suit and a white shirt, he was walking towards you, his eyes fixed on you. His agent was following behind him.

Whispers rose in the garden, no one expected a celebrity to be present at the wedding. You looked for Naho, then when your eyes met, she winked at you, and that's when you understood. She had planned everything for you, even on her wedding day, she was thinking of you.

Sae stopped in front of you, and you couldn't help but admire how handsome he was with his hair moving because of the wind, his tie a little loose and his bright green eyes. He looked like a prince, and for once, he didn't have that ice prince look anymore. He was carrying a bouquet of flowers in his hand, the roses were your favorite color.

You swallowed, nervous to see him. You took a few steps forward, a few inches away from him.

“Sae?” you whispered, still feeling like you were in a dream, “What are you doing here?”

“I was invited,” he handed you his bouquet of flowers, “though I’m not here for the bride.”

You took his bouquet, hands shaking. You didn’t know what to think. You had dodged his messages after your passionate night, needing to think. But now, he was in front of you, and you couldn’t dodge anymore.

“Can we go somewhere quiet?” He held out his elbow to you.

Everyone was looking at you, whispering speculations in your ear.

“Of course,” you took his elbow, intertwining your arms together.

You walked towards the castle, your heart racing. You didn’t know what to say to him, or what to discuss. You wanted to tell him that he was handsome, smelled good, and left you speechless, but nothing came out of your mouth.

"So..."

"Yeah, so..." you cleared your throat.

“How’s it going with the interior designer?” he started with a light topic of discussion.

You smiled.

“Good, I’m going back to see her in two weeks in Madrid,” you answered him proudly.

“Good,” he nodded.

You stopped near the castle, and he let go of your elbow to stand in front of you.

"I have a gift for you," he pulled a small box out of his pocket.

Your heartbeat quickened.

"A gift?"

"Yes, hold out your hand."

You held out your hand to him, your body tense because of your nervousness. He opened the box, and took out a thin ring with small diamonds all around it. You opened your eyes wide, not expecting that.

"It's a promise ring," he gently took your hand in his to slip the ring on your finger. “If I can’t propose to you now, I promise to never hurt you like I did before.”

Your eyes stung and watered, you were speechless. He brought your hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss on it.

“Have you thought about it? I mean, both of us.”

“Yes, I have,” you nodded softly and wiped away the few tears that fell with your other hand, “damn it, my makeup.”

He came closer to you, and leaned down to kiss your cheeks, where the tears fell, intercepting them. His touch was so soft, so sweet and so pleasant, you closed your eyes for a moment.

“And…?”

“I…”

His lips were placing kisses all over your face, and moving up to your forehead.

“I’m still scared.”

“I know.”

“But…”

You looked up at him, and gave him a soft smile.

“I’m ready to trust you again.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” he murmured against your forehead.

He wrapped his arms around your waist and looked at you with a tender gaze.

“I feel like I’m turning into a marshmallow because of you.”

You chuckled softly.

“I’m glad to hear that,” your smile grew, and you ran your hands through his hair.

He leaned down and pressed his forehead to yours.

“So there is an us?”

You nodded, still smiling.

"You better draw a summer solstice, we're not in the winter solstice anymore."

You tilted your head, confused.

"What are you talking about?"

He tightened his embrace around you. "Your 'winter solstice' painting that you made during our breakup. I refuse to let it be your last creation about us. Things have changed between us. I have changed."

Your heart was filled with indescribable emotions, and you felt your eyes moisten again.

"No more dull colors, no more sinister winters. Only sunny days, happy faces and bright colors. A summer solstice."

You closed your eyes, and you imagined yourself walking with your wedding dress, bouquet of flowers in hand, towards Sae, and it felt good, right. You still needed to talk to him about so many things, to talk about the future and the past, but you had all the time in the world.

And on this sunny day, it was now your turn to tell him your "yes".

𓍯 𝐤𝐫𝐲𝐬

#𐙚 writings 𓍢ִ🌸˙#sae itoshi #sae x reader #sae itoshi x reader #bllk x reader #bllk smut #sae x you #sae x y/n #sae itoshi x you #sae itoshi x y/n #bllk x you #bllk x female reader #sae bllk #blue lock x reader #blue lock x you #blue lock x y/n #blue lock x female reader #itoshi sae #sae itoshi smut

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mandalhoerian · 1 month ago

Text

(2) 🦭 signed, sealed, delivery pending...

Eight years ago, during the worst summer festival of your life, you cross paths with a certain seal for the first time.

genre: fluff, comedy | wc: 4K | read on ao3

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note: YES, THIS IS A SERIES! I hope you'll bear with me as I'm not actively editing/proofreading my writing and am going with the flow for the most part. Rafayel will also stay as a seal in the next chapter which centers around how he came to be smitten with the reader, so PLEASE PLEASE HANG TIGHT WE'RE GETTING THERE. I hope you enjoy!!!!

Ah, sweet summer festival. You're fifteen.

The entire archipelago is in motion tonight — a grand spectacle brought to life in the unofficial capital Salverna, which is also where you were born and raised, by throngs of locals with visitors pouring in from the mainland for an evening of festivities. Decorated boats crawl like jeweled beetles across the bay beneath a moonbeam sky, torches flickering like amber blossoms amidst colorful lanterns suspended overhead, painting faces in warm splashes of light. Instruments are tuned to perfect pitch, ready to launch into jigs and reels once revelers spill into dancing rings. Children sprint around bonfires with cheeks flushed by sugar, laughter ringing like silver bells in the breeze. Farther along, games fill the streets — prizes stuffed inside balloons perched precariously atop slender sticks, targets waiting to be pierced by dart tips, bobbing heads eager for coins — competing for attention with the delectable aroma of spiced sausage, roasted meat, skewers, sticky cinnamon treats, and fresh fruit piled high for sampling. Even the night's salty breath tastes like sunshine, and despite everything feeling faintly familiar, somehow still manages to seem entirely fresh.

If only you'd been there from the beginning.

No, you were here. The whole day.

At the docks, which is the farthest away from the main event.

Hauling seafood and chasing down lost tourists like some unpaid festival guide.

The family ferry business consisting of multiple vessels is the only one making direct trips between the mainland and the archipelago. Usually, things run smoothly — your parents know this route like the back of their hands, and during normal weeks, the boats run on a fairly consistent schedule with only the occasional minor detour to accommodate delayed travelers. Renting smaller boats out to tourists helps maintain some steady income for maintenance expenses during quieter months, although the real money comes from transporting passengers year-round.

But big events like this summer festival change everything. The mainland port is overflowing with people packed like sardines in a tin, and everyone scrambles for transport space like sharks smelling blood. It's impossible to accommodate every arrival simultaneously, even though Dad doubled the ferry service to operate nearly nonstop — one boat shuttling incoming guests while its twin carries locals back and forth between islands, and even then it isn't enough. People are forced to wait hours for passage, which inevitably leads to chaos erupting.

And the locals ferry doesn't just transport passengers. It hauls festival supplies — crates of seasonal produce shipped to the islands via mainland distributors, stacks upon stacks of boxes labeled FRAGILE in thick black marker, paper fans for the parade, props for the pageant, a seemingly endless list of necessary items for the vendors, bands, food stands, street performers, the barrels of festival cider rolling onto the deck, stacks of pastries needing careful hands to avoid toppling, baskets of flowers meant for decorating stalls that nearly got crushed in the shuffle — you name it — the list of deliveries keeps growing by the hour. And no one has extra hands to spare to deliver all this cargo to its final destinations.

Well, actually, one person does. Namely, you.

It started small. Mom catching you right as you tried to slip away this morning, asking to help with boarding real quick, and if you could take some packages along the way... It was easy to agree, at first — help a few elderly tourists steady themselves as they stepped from the ferry, answer questions from confused festival-goers trying to navigate between islands, toss a sack or two over your shoulder for the vendor working nearby. But an hour later, you were hauling half a crate uphill when one of the wheels broke loose, scattering fireworks across cobblestones in glittering disarray, leaving you running through town chasing them all down under curious gazes of the locals who saw the explosion...

And the moment the ferry docked, suddenly it was all hands on deck. One trip in, another out. Then, next thing you knew, you were the one handling tickets and guiding stragglers toward their destination, organizing groups, shouting helpful tips about what to avoid and what not to eat so you are not about to have people get sick on board and clean off their vomit, answering questions about local attractions and restaurant specialties, calling out to Dad who drove the ferry like it was child's play, warning the older folks and kids not to fall off because the last thing your family really needs is to be sued by someone stupid falling overboard...

And the entire time, you were in the dress you'd picked out specifically for the occasion. Thinking one more trip, and you could finally join your friends in the festivities...

A whole shift later, there are no celebrations awaiting you. No bonfire parties with the music so loud and joyous you could feel it thrumming through the ground, no crowded bars filled to bursting with cheerful singing and dancing, no raffle stalls offering chances to win souvenirs and free meals for years, no fireworks bursting across the night sky so brilliant they chased away the darkness.

Just you with your dress ruined and ripped because someone couldn't watch where they were going while drunk and collided straight into you and left you soaked in cheap beer, and the hem of it torn apart from you desperately trying to fix your mistake after misplacing the boxes of merch you were supposed to haul, again. Your friends probably already enjoying every aspect of the event, laughing their asses off in pure delight without caring for what you missed or had endured all day, knowing you were supposed to arrive with them to witness the greatest part of the summer celebration together.

With angry tears gathering at the inner corners of your eyes, you let the bags drop onto the dock with a harsh thump, “I can’t do this anymore.”

Maybe you're expecting an argument. Maybe you want to pick a fight because the frustration had been stewing ever since you woke up today and demanded release. Or maybe you hope your father would give you permission to go enjoy your own life, rather than force you to suffer his. But none of those comes to pass. Instead, he merely glances up with a tired look, holding your resentful stare before sighing heavily and scrubbing his face wearily with calloused, wrinkled hands.

“You said it would be quick,” you snap, voice shaking. “You said I could go like hours ago. The day is over!"

You choke back the wobble in your tone, biting harshly into your lower lip, hoping it'll prevent tears from leaking out even though it hardly hurts enough to distract you.

"Look, we're in the middle of peak season..."

"Which means peak profit for our business! Couldn't you have just hired someone extra to fill in?! Why did it have to be me?!"

"No other staff is available on such a short notice, especially during a big event." Dad shrugs weakly in apology, the gesture lacking any defensiveness or remorse. He looks drained, exhausted. And still, his priorities remain firmly fixed elsewhere. "Sorry, honey. Next week I'm hiring additional staff permanently, but for now — just one more hour, okay? You know we don't extend our services after the night falls and that's why—"

“No!” The frustration spills over before you can swallow it down. “It’s never ‘just a little longer.’ It’s always one more trip, one more errand, one more thing! I’m always the one stuck here!”

Dad frowns and straightens his spine slowly like a looming anime villain, wiping sweat from his brow. "Don't raise your tone on me like that, I'm not one of your little friends. This is nothing. When you become captain, you'll have to endure far more work."

"I did everything you ask and suddenly my tone is the issue?!" You gesture wildly at your ruined dress, at the damp stains and torn fabric clinging to your skin. “Look at me! I was supposed to be there with everyone else, and now I can’t even show up like this—”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake.” Dad's voice turns sharp, exasperated. “It’s just a dress.”

"And now everyone probably hates me because I've skipped yet another celebration and ghosted them!" you huff and puff like an enraged bull despite his interruption.

"What's going on?" Mom hurries over from the harbor shop, stepping between you and your father before tempers flare even further. She takes in the scene at a glance and sighs deeply — though whether out of disappointment or irritation, you can't tell — carefully setting aside several stacks of receipts. "Are you two seriously bickering about nonsense when you should both be working?"

“I’m not being dramatic! I’m sick of this!” You throw your hands into the cold, humid sea breeze as though casting your complaints upon the tides, unable to keep the tremble from your fingers or the tears from streaking down your face. Hot drops patter against the faded wood planks beneath your feet. "“I work just as hard as you do, I never say no, but the second I want something for myself—"

Mom immediately gets what's going on, and alerts you to lower your voice by pointedly widening her eyes and thinning her lips. The entire dock is witnessing the argument and turning their heads to listen in at this point, but you don't care. Everybody should hear about this injustice.

"Yes, honey, I know," Mom hisses, "And we appreciate how hard you're trying, believe me. But — just one more trip, alright? Your friends will wait a bit longer for you, won’t they? Don't forget this isn't just about you. The archipelago depends on us running our business steadily and reliably."

And there it is. That unspoken expectation, that quiet assumption that you’ll always choose responsibility over what you want. That you’ll always understand.

Your throat tightens, choking back the bitterness burning in the pit of your stomach, and for a long moment, neither you nor your mom break the silence, and her stare remains fixed somewhere above your shoulder. Only Dad says anything, grunting a vague affirmative that tells you nothing more than your mother did; work must come first, whatever personal sacrifice must be made for that to happen.

You step back. “Forget it.”

“Honey—”

“I said forget it!”

You're running hot and cold, the rush of blood in your ears don't let your parents' protests in as you rush into the only place where you can be alone right now, the ticket counter cabin with the "CLOSED" sign on it, slamming the door shut behind you loudly and letting the cool glass barrier isolate you from the rest of reality. It's just you inside. There's a desk, empty paperwork piled neatly at the corner, a cash register. An old computer screen covered by dust. Shelves crammed with stacked-up folders and manuals. A window overlooking the harbor. This is also the place to leave your belongings at before clocking into work, just beside the locker of where the attendant usually leaves theirs.

On a whim, you snatch up your jacket and backpack before fleeing out into the crowd again. It's so easy to lose your parents along the wharf because of the teeming masses.

Your phone is buzzing rapidly in your bag with Dad and Mom both probably threatening to drag you back by your ear, so you take it out and switch to airplane mode before tossing it back in with a grimace. You're not allowed to be out this late without supervision (much less sneaking away from work), but right now, there's not an adult in existence that could compel you to walk willingly back into this mess. Screw it. Being grounded for life isn't any worse than being imprisoned on this stupid island forever anyway, you think, huffing quietly in protest as you stomp down the street. Besides, if worst comes to worst, you can spend some time with Aunt Leen. At least she wouldn't judge.

The festival feels a million miles away. You can’t go there, not in this state, stains everywhere, smelling like fish and sweat and regret, dress ripped apart. So, instead, you end up wandering along the rocky beach near the outer edge of town, in parallel to the protected seal rookery islet offshore and well beyond the boundaries of the town proper. The bright, swirling glow of the firework display across the water glints in the dark, mingling with distant stars and overshadowing the full moon, reflecting off rippling waters like flickering embers dancing across a glossy obsidian surface. The waves roll gently across sand and stone in soothing rhythmic whispers whooshes that pull you onward through the night like invisible ribbons drawing you back into the present.

This was always your favorite place as a child — wild and beautiful. An unclaimed stretch of wilderness stretching beyond the public access point, filled with coves and tide pools that felt like hidden kingdoms tucked away from the rest of the world. Here, among the jagged rocks, washed smooth by centuries of ebbing currents, you sit on one flat boulder, bare feet lapped at by the high tide and shoes by your side, frustrated tears dropping into the sea, staring absently off towards the seal islet floating peacefully in the distance.

You remember trying to swim out there years ago, despite having been strictly forbidden from venturing close to not disturb them. What would it be like, to be out in the open sea instead of tied to this isolated little community? To see something other than the same faces, places, and names repeated ad nauseam for all eternity, as though nothing changed no matter how many seasons passed? What would it take to break free?

"Ugh!" The sound bursts free before you can clamp your jaw shut, a ragged groan against clenched teeth as your palms scrub fiercely across your damp, salty cheeks.

Before you can start ranting into the night like a madman, your turmoil is shattered by a sudden, piercing cry like metal scraping stone ripping through your tangled thoughts. Your head jerks upward, pulse quickening into a painful drum-beat. Something is terribly off. Someone's hurt, panicking—or worse—maybe drowning?

But where?

You blink frantically, scanning the surrounding coastline, but the thick curtain of night refuses to offer clues. So you rely on your ears and follow the keening through the beach, stumbling hastily across damp sand, uneven rocks and slippery seaweed patches alike, nearly slipping on slimy barnacles embedded in the crevices between each massive stone and fighting hard to balance every step, all the while ignoring the scrapes accumulating on your soles from sharp pebbles digging into tender flesh and flaring in protest at every bit of impact.

Then, unmistakably—

A high-pitched, squealing shriek erupts out of the ocean — like the frantic deflating of a balloon twisting violently apart in midair.

Your stomach drops. The sound is frantic, terrified. Unmistakably animal.

And it's coming directly from the water.

At last, you spot the source of the commotion — about fifty feet offshore, just beyond a tangle of blackened driftwood clogging the shallows: Moonlight catches on slick, gray fur, the seal’s body bobbing helplessly, its hysteric movements hampered by the thick snare of a fishing net and heavy with debris, the tangled mess constricts tight, dragging it downward each time it fights to resurface.

Seals can drown. You know that much. You’ve heard Elias muttering to Dad, thick with disgust, after cutting loose yet another pup ensnared by abandoned traps — relics of poachers who refuse to acknowledge sealing was banned around here nearly thirty years ago.

Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.

Your mind stutters, paralyzed for a breathless instant. What do I do? What do I do?

There’s no time to think.

You’re moving before reason catches up, scrambling over slick, uneven rocks as brine stings the scrapes blooming across your bare feet. Your pulse slams against your ribs. In one frantic motion, you strip off your windbreaker, fling your bag aside, and plunge into the waves without hesitation. Salt explodes in a cool rush over your skin as you kick off from the seafloor, paddling hard, muscles burning with every stroke.

Next thing you know, your arms are locked tight around the drowning seal, grappling to haul it toward shore as it thrashes wildly, overwrought beyond reason and twisting all it can to land a blow with brutal strength you wouldn't expect from a round and inflexible body like that. Flippers beat against your chest, claws scrape at your arms, and its ragged cries tear through the night like something feral and furious. It doesn’t understand you’re trying to help — it only knows fear.

Somehow, impossibly, you make it.

Every muscle in your body screams in protest as you drag the tangled pup onto the shore, collapsing beside it in a gasping sprawl, limbs weak and trembling. Your lungs gulp down air that tastes like victory, the sweetest breath you've ever taken.

And then—

The seal’s shrieks reach a fevered pitch. It flails vigorously, flinging itself against the unyielding net, snapping, fighting, tearing at the fibers with blind desperation.

That’s when you see it.

The moon-desaturated dark liquid pooling beneath its body, sinking into the wet sand in sluggish tendrils.

Blood.

"No! Stop that, stop!"

You scramble upright, stomach at your throat, hands grabbing frantically at the writhing seal to keep it from thrashing itself into worse injury.

"Hey, hey — settle down! Stop moving — please! You're making it worse!"

It doesn’t listen. It fights harder.

Panic and instinct are what fuels its every move, and the more you hold on, the more fiercely it resists, wails cutting straight to the center of your chest, high and desperate, feeding your own fear in a vicious cycle. Its pulse is hammering beneath your hands, a wild, terrified beating of a bird's wings matching your own as its breaths come fast, erratic, interrupted by harsh snorts and shuddering yelps. The pup is almost one singular muscle beneath your grip, trembling and taut with the primal need to flee.

"It's okay, it's okay, it's okay," you chant, the words spilling out in a frantic loop, cracking under the weight of utter desperation of not knowing what to do even as you're repeating you're there to helo. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Just let me help — please — fuck, what do I do — ow!"

Pain explodes up your right forearm before the scream even leaves your throat.

Teeth. Deep. Sinking into muscle like fire.

Your body jolts with the instinct to yank away, but you don’t. You can’t. One wrong move and you’ll scare it even more, maybe make it clamp down harder. Tears blur your vision, breath coming in ragged gasps as you bite your own molars together, forcing yourself to go still.

And then — so does the seal.

The aggressive lashing out ceases, replaced by eerie, frozen silence. Its nostrils flare against your skin, warm breath feathering across the bite, making the hairs on your arm stand on end. Your pulse pounds between your teeth, the sting of the wound dulling under the weight of something more pressing — its eyes.

Two inky pools, round and bottomless, reflecting your fractured likeness like tiny mirrors.

"Please," you whisper, shaky, but soft. "I just want to help. You're safe. I won’t hurt you."

The grip on your arm doesn't tighten. Doesn't loosen. The only thing left between you is the weight of your words and the fragile, fragile stillness.

"Let me go," you murmur, swallowing hard. "And we’ll fix this. Okay?"

There's a pause, a single, terrifying moment suspended in time. Then, the seal's jaws relax, and he releases his painful grip on your throbbing arm, and as quickly as the assault began, it ends. Blood rushes forth in a thin rivulet down your wrist and between your fingers. It doesn't really hurt, not compared to the dull ache in the rest of your exhausted body, and the relief that washes over you is so profound that you're momentarily dizzy from it. And yet... The fact that the seal has calmed down means everything.

"It's okay, it’s okay, don't worry about it," you say hurriedly, intended for yourself more than anything so you wouldn't freak out about it. "You were scared, that's all. It's not your fault."

But the pup isn’t looking at the net.

Its gaze is locked onto your arm, the blood pooling at the wound, round, ink-dark eyes impossibly wider, focused in a way that makes something in your chest tighten.

You stare at him, and for a fleeting, impossible second, it feels like he understands. Like he knows what he did. Awe prickles through you, pushing aside the pain, the exhaustion, everything.

Seals are intelligent — you’ve always known that — but this is so magical to experience how emotionally aware they are.

"Hey. Hey, I’m fine, buddy," you insist. "Look at me, look. I'm good, it’s just a scratch. Let's focus on getting that net off, yeah? Can't have you swimming away in that state. You’ll drown."

As you lean in to inspect, the pup shies away initially, clearly wary and distrustful, but eventually allows you to examine the tangled mess of knots and lines ensnaring his sleek, streamlined figure. The heavy, dense debris he's wrapped in like a blanket is making it impossible to unravel anything, and the more you try to remove it, the tighter the bindings grow. Your injured arm is growing numb, which is probably not a good sign, but there's no time to dwell on that now.

Frustrated and increasingly anxious, you search frantically for something in your backpack to use as scissors or a knife, but the jerky movements make the pup tense up, its tail slapping nervously in the sand, and you have to take several calming breaths to prevent scaring him further.

"Sorry, sorry. Didn't mean to frighten you. I'll be gentler," you promise in a rush. "Just bear with me, okay?"

All you can find is your nail clippers, but they'll have to suffice. With painstaking care, you snip away at the individual strands binding the pup's limbs together, pausing every few moments to reassure him that everything is alright, that it will survive and go back to the rookery islet. Its fur is wet and matted with blood beneath the ropes, and the sight sends a fresh surge of anger through your veins at the thought of whoever abandoned such a careless trap in the ocean.

"Almost got it, buddy, almost, you're doing great," you sniffle, working steadily to free its front flippers. They're the most delicate and prone to injuries, according to Elias. "One last cut and..."

With a soft pop, the final strand gives way and the net falls loose, the release of pressure causing the seal to scramble sideways and flop awkwardly onto his belly in a clumsy roll. It lies there motionless for a brief second before letting out a piercing, mournful wail that stabs at the pit of your stomach.

You drop your tool and fall to your knees beside him, hands hovering uncertainly over its body. You don't dare touch, afraid of hurting it further. In a burst of energy, the pup pushes itself upright, body wiggling and coiling to propel it forward in a frantic dash towards the safety of the sea. You watch helplessly, unable to move or think or react in any way, until it pauses halfway to the shoreline and glances back at you, a low whine emanating from his throat.

"Go on, get out of here," you urge him, waving it onward. "Stay safe and take care of yourself, alright? You've had enough close calls today." A pang of dread hits you, realizing how much danger the pup was already in and how lucky it had been that you happened to be nearby to save it from a terrible fate. But now, all you can do is let it return to its natural environment. "Be free, cutie," you say quietly. "Live well and happy. You deserve better than this."

The pup hesitates, still watching you with those soulful, inscrutable black eyes. Then, in an act that leaves you speechless, it turns and galumphs back to your side, lowering its head and nudging its muzzle against the bleeding gash on your forearm. When it pulls away, his whiskers are slick with red, and a strange sense of gratitude overwhelms you.

"Oh, you angel," you manage, a lump forming in your throat. The urge to viciously pet his head is strong, but this isn’t a cat or a dog. Your arm really might get bitten off from the elbow socket. "Now scram. I'm sure your mama is worried about you."

This time, the seal does as instructed. It slides gracefully down the sandy slope and slips into the waves, vanishing from view in an instant. Only a small trail of blood remains, mingling with the foam and seawater that wash over the shore, evidence of the ordeal endured by this remarkable creature wiped away in an instant by the protective hands of the sea.

The shock of it all, of the stress and adrenaline, finally catches up to you and you collapse backwards in the sand, the pain in your arm flaring once again and only now feeling the cuts on the bottom of your feet.

Shaken to your bones in a way you can’t quite name, your fingers fumble to switch off airplane mode before you even realize what you’re doing. The moment the call connects, you’re babbling into the phone, voice thick with tears, words tangled and frantic. Mom struggles to make sense of you, but it doesn’t take long for her to find you — half an hour later, sprawled on the ground, your windbreaker haphazardly draped over your shoulders, backpack wedged beneath your head. The gash on your arm is wrapped in a makeshift tourniquet, one of your old bandanas knotted tightly around the wound.

If Dad’s ferry hadn’t been stuck in the harbor, he would’ve been here too. No doubt about it.

You get an earful the moment she kneels beside you. Irresponsible. Reckless. Running off without telling anyone. Dad would’ve had a heart attack if things had gone any worse. Yes, yes, yes. You let her words wash over you, nodding at the right moments, too drained to do anything else. Her hugs and kisses make up plenty for it.

Neither of you bring up the fight. Neither of you need to. Some things are easier left unspoken.

She doesn’t mention the festival, either. But you both know what kind of rumors will be swirling by morning.

For now, you're taken to the local clinic and given a rabies and a tetanus shot, and a lecture from the nurse who treated you, warning you to never approach a wild animal again because the next time, you might not be as lucky.

#love and deepspace #rafayel x reader #rafayel x you #rafayel fluff #rafayel #lads rafayel x reader #lads rafayel x you #l&ds rafayel x reader #lnds rafayel x reader #lads rafayel #l&ds rafayel #lnds rafayel #lads #lnds #l&ds

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morganaawriterr · 2 months ago

Text

Love’s the death of peace of mind; Jay

SYNOPSIS ➺ You always believed your obsession with Jay was somewhat harmless — the stolen glances, the job you took just to stay close, the nights spent following his every move. But when familiar faces start vanishing and strange coincidences pile up, a chilling truth begins to surface.

PAIRING ➺ Stalker fem!reader X not-so-inocent lawyer!Jay

GENRE ➺ Thriller; slow burn (?); stalker au; killer au; strangers to lovers (?);

WORDS ➺ 13k

WARNINGS ➺ Staker behavior; mentions of blood and death; cursing; obsessive behavior; sexual content (not fully smut); heavy tension; age gap (3 years);

AUTHOR'S NOTE ➺ This fic is so freaking cool, I am so excited to finally post it! This took me a whole week to write and prepare and its literally my fav ever!!! I hope you guys like it as well! Likes and reblogs are always appreciated. Thank you so much! Masterlist

You never knew you were capable of becoming what you have.

But your eyes are, once again, focused on him as he sits down in his usual spot by the large window. He always sets down his backpack and takes out his computer after placing his order. He doesn’t put on his earphones until his drink is sitting on the table, just so he can hear you call his name. You barely know him; in fact, you only know his name because you had to write it on the cup. Yet your mind drowns in thoughts of him every time he comes to the café.

The ambient is calm and quiet, the only audible sounds coming from the Bluetooth speakers playing soft jazz. You force your eyes to shift to the dark day outside, where heavy gray clouds paint the sky dark even at three in the afternoon. You admire the bushes swaying in the wind by the entrance, noticing small flower petals drifting away.

Your gaze wanders to the big TV hanging on the wall, and your eyes widen at the news. A girl who’s been missing for months flashes across the screen, and as you carefully take in her face, your heart tightens with an unfamiliar fear, a deep, unsettling feeling that you can’t quite place.

Uncomfortable, you turn toward your annoyed coworker, who’s making the drinks all by herself. As you watch, you notice the store is out of the caramel topping your mystery man always asks for. You smile to yourself, grateful for the universe giving you a chance to talk to him. Your heart flutters at the thought of his voice—not too deep, but warm and attractive.

You slowly walk toward his table, and he notices you halfway there, turning his head to shamelessly watch you approach. Despite your hair being tied in a tidy ponytail, Jongseong can tell how long it is as it sways with each step. His eyes travel lower, and though you’re wearing the unflattering store uniform, he imagines the curves of your body beneath it. The uniform consists of a forest-green button-up shirt, black slacks, and a white apron tied around your waist.

“Excuse me, Mr. Jongseong. Unfortunately, we’re out of caramel topping. Would you like to replace it with something else, or would you prefer a refund?” You speak calmly, keeping your voice as professional as possible.

The man in front of you lifts his gaze to yours, his deep brown eyes holding your attention with an intensity that makes the air feel suddenly thick and hard to breathe. You feel your cheeks flush under his insistent stare, and after a few seconds of silence, he finally responds:

“You can replace it with whatever you think is best. Something tells me your choice will be better than anything I could come up with.” Jongseong’s voice is just as smooth and alluring as you remembered, and you can’t help the smile that grows on your lips.

“Sure thing, Mr. Jongseong.” You offer him a gentle smile and bow politely before turning back toward the counter.

Jay watches you walk away, his eyes following the confident sway of your hips. The apron tied snugly around your waist only emphasizes your figure, and he finds himself captivated. He’s never seen someone so beautiful working such an ordinary job, and now he has his eyes on you.

At the counter, you tell your coworker to add vanilla instead, your favorite flavor for both milk and coffee. As you lean on the counter, she notices the silly smile on your lips and rolls her eyes, clearly annoyed by how easily flustered you are. But she doesn’t know how Jongseong’s eyes wandered over your body or how that gaze left you feeling warm and tingly.

After all, she’s stuck with an unappealing man who’s older but somehow more childish than she is. She thinks you don’t know, but you’ve overheard their fights when he comes to pick her up, his voice always reeking of cigars and cheap cologne. The way he looks at you, like you’re a piece of meat, makes your skin crawl. But today, you’re feeling generous, thanks to the universe, so you let it slide without a word.

As soon as your coworker finishes his drink, you take the cup in your hand, your fingers tracing the letters of his name written on the fragile plastic. You love the way his name rolls off your tongue like a quiet spell.

“Order for Jongseong!” You call out, your voice clear and careful, your eyes fixed in his direction.

Just like a scene from a romantic movie, he rises slowly from his chair and walks toward you. His dark hair is styled back, exposing his forehead, and he’s wearing a sleek black Prada suit. The scent of his cologne lingers in the air as he approaches, and once again, his eyes lock onto yours, intense and unwavering.

“Here. I hope you like it!” You say eagerly, extending the cup toward him.

“I’m sure I will,” Jongseong replies with a small smile, his fingers grazing yours as he takes the cup from your hand.

And with that, he turns his back and returns to his spot, getting back to his computer just as quickly as he left. You find yourself glued to the way his long fingers move across the keyboard and wonder how they would feel on your skin, gripping your flesh, exploring you, teasing you. You imagine how easily they could reach that spot inside you that you can barely brush against.

Without noticing, your bottom lip gets caught between your teeth. Your coworker notices how still you’ve become and gives you a light push, making you stumble on your feet.

“You're staring. At least be sneaky,” she whispers by your side, a teasing smirk on her thin, dry lips.

“Thank you so much for the advice!” you respond with a fake smile before turning around and heading to the back of the café to take a deep breath.

The storage room carries an unpleasant smell of rot because the forgotten fruits in the wooden basket have started growing mold. You close your eyes and turn your head to the side, feeling a wave of annoyance. Reaching for the basket, you prepare to take it outside to the trash. Your coworker claimed she had thrown them out last week, which was the last time you worked with her, but clearly, she hadn’t.

As you step through the rusty back door, a harsh gust of wind hits your warm face, offering a refreshing relief. You walk unhurriedly toward the back of the building, where the recycling bins and trash cans are located, humming a soft tune to yourself. You open the trash bin and dump the rotten fruits inside, glad to finally get rid of the stench. Being so sensitive to smells, you notice the distinct scent of rain in the air and know it’s about to start pouring.

As you stand outside, watching the heavy clouds roll across the sky, you feel the first cold drops land on your hair. The raindrops are thick and heavy, soaking your uniform as you close your eyes and tilt your head up, savoring the cool comfort they bring. But after a few seconds, the sensation shifts. You no longer feel the rain hitting you, but instead, you sense the presence of someone standing very close.

You open your eyes slowly and are met with the sight of the tall, handsome man from the café, holding a large black umbrella. His eyes travel across your face, confusion flickering across his sharp features. He takes in your appearance, your dark lashes heavy with rain and your lips stained a deep, bloody red. There’s something about you that draws him in, something he can’t quite place.

“What are you doing out here in the rain?” Jongseong asks, his voice breaking the silence beneath the umbrella, contrasting with the relentless sound of the rain pounding against it.

You stay quiet for a few seconds, your eyes tracing the sharp angles of his jawline now that he’s so close. His lips look even more tempting up close, a perfect balance of pouty and full. You wonder why the universe keeps gifting you these small, perfect moments with him, but you’re grateful all the same.

“I needed to throw away some spoiled fruit,” you explain, his gaze burning into you as if he’s trying to memorize every detail of your face.

“Then shouldn’t you hurry inside instead of standing out here in the rain?”

There’s a teasing edge to his voice, but it also feels like gentle scolding. You try to come up with a reason for lingering besides the simple desire to feel the cool rain against your heated skin. After all, he’s the reason your body feels so warm, his presence and his intoxicating scent clouding your senses.

“I’m going,” you joke, your eyes locking with his one last time before you turn and run toward the back door. You feel his gaze on you the entire way until the heavy metal door closes behind you.

Jay smiles to himself at your adorable reaction, feeling more intrigued than ever. Standing there in the pouring rain, he tells himself he has to come back every day just to catch a glimpse of your pretty face—and maybe, just maybe, get to know you better.

Jongseong comes back the next day, hoping to admire you for a while before starting his work. The city's streets are bustling, and since the café is in the heart of the city, the walk there isn’t long. He smiles as the front of the café comes into view, the blooming bushes swaying gently with the wind.

To his surprise, when he steps inside the cozy place, he isn’t met with your familiar face. Instead, two different girls are working. They smile as soon as he walks in and greet him politely.

“Hello, what can I get for you today?” one of them asks, but Jay finds his mind elsewhere.

“Maybe an espresso to go, please,” he responds just as politely, a small smile on his lips.

“In what name?” she asks, her fingers gripping the black marker, waiting for his answer.

“Jongseong, please.”

She writes his name down and proceeds with the payment. Jay fights a battle inside his head, curious about where you are and whether you’re okay. Should he ask about you? Would that be weird? You’ve only spoken twice, aside from exchanging a few glances. But before his brain can stop him, his mouth moves on its own. As his hand wraps around the warm cup, he asks:

“Do you know if your coworker who worked yesterday is okay?” The words leave his mouth, and he immediately cringes. What a stupid question.

“Hmm, yesterday? Who worked yesterday?” the girl asks the other barista making the drinks.

“It was YN and Munhee, but I think they’re okay. Today’s their rest day,” the girl responds while shaking a cup. Her eyes flick briefly to Jay and then back to her friend.

“Maybe you’re curious about YN? Since Munhee has a boyfriend…” the girl teases with a smile. “YN works on Mondays, Tuesdays, Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays. Don’t tell her I told you this, please!” she adds with a playful pout.

Jay can’t help but smile. “Thank you, and don’t worry. I won’t tell her anything!” he assures them with a last bow and a warm smile before leaving the café.

As he walks away, he reflects on how easy it was to get that information. Don’t they know it’s not safe to share their coworker’s schedule with strangers? Who knows what someone could do with that knowledge? Thankfully, Jongseong only wants to see you more often.

He still remembers the first few times he saw you. You were always smiling and polite, helping your coworkers and keeping an eye on the customers to make sure they were comfortable. The first time you made eye contact was when you noticed him putting on his jacket and turned the AC on, adjusting the temperature just enough to be comfortable.

Jay admired you from afar, his eyes drawn to the curve of your lips as you smiled at him, a quiet acknowledgment. That small, thoughtful act was what made him want to keep coming back, hoping for just a little more of your warmth. It’s nothing more than a quiet admiration, or so he tells himself.

Today is Saturday, and the coffee shop is busier than normal, and as you pace back and forth behind the counter, the sun shines beautifully outside. The light reflects inside the place and spreads a comfortable warmth, despite the chaotic environment.

This time, because your coworker is new, she is taking orders, and you are making the beverages. The drinks today seem to be oddly specific, with numerous variations and additions, causing you to take longer to prepare them. And to your luck, the new hire is also making mistakes when adding the extras, forcing you to remake multiple drinks.

You can feel the sweat forming on your forehead as time goes by and the customers' unsatisfied glares burn into your back. The stress makes your body feel warmer, and your hands start to tremble, exhaustion taking over. Today was also the day you opened the store, and now this rush hour is dangerously close to the time you clock out.

You didn’t even notice him, but he was there the whole time, sitting in his usual spot by the window, calmly sipping his coffee while occasionally glancing in your direction, hoping you would finally see him. But that never happens.

Jay lifts his head from his computer and tries to glance your way, and that’s when he notices something is wrong. His fingers slowly take his earphones off, and he is met with a loud male voice, shouting and making exaggerated hand movements toward you. You stand there with your hands behind your back, head facing down, listening to the man’s insults.

“This is an unacceptable thing to happen!” the man says louder, his eyes scanning the room to make sure everyone is watching. “If you’re that bad at making drinks in this stupid job, maybe do something else!” he jokes with a disgusting smirk, his eyes now traveling up and down your figure. “With a body like that, the OnlyFans site would be grateful to have—”

Before he can finish his sentence, Jongseong is right by his side, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. Jay holds it tight, making sure the man can barely breathe. Jongseong’s body is shaking from the sudden adrenaline, but he wouldn’t just stand there and watch that son of a bitch make fun of you.

“If you can’t accept that mistakes happen, you better stop coming to coffee shops,” Jay says, mocking the man’s words.

“She spilled cheap coffee all over my expensive suit!” the man fires back, glaring at Jongseong.

“That doesn’t give you the right to harass her, asshole.” Your Savior’s gaze quickly flickers toward you, making sure you’re okay.

Jay finally releases the man’s collar, causing him to stumble back slightly. As if accepting his defeat, the man turns his back and walks out, leaving a heavy atmosphere behind. Your eyes are visibly watery, and Jay hates it more than he can confess. As his gaze lingers on you, the customers slowly return to their own bubbles.

“Are you okay?” he asks in a low voice, his eyes carefully searching your face for any sign of discomfort.

“Yeah, thank you,” you respond with a shaky voice, your cheeks turning pink. “I leave in thirty minutes… so I can handle it.” Your eyes hesitantly meet his, hoping he understands the message behind your words.

“Good,” Jongseong responds simply, offering you a final smile before turning around and walking back to his usual spot.

Those thirty minutes feel like hell, your brain shaming you for telling him that information, judging you for being too easy. Thankfully, the customers start to leave, and the pace finally slows down. Your new coworker seems scared for her life, turning quiet after the incident.

“You okay?” you ask her as you step by her side, with no more drinks to make. She tries to give you a small smile.

“I’m fine… that just caught me off guard. I didn’t know people could be this mean to someone who’s just working,” she says softly.

“It doesn’t happen often,” you try to assure her, softly patting her shoulder. “It’s finally one p.m., and Munhee’s already here, so I’m leaving. Keep up the good work, and don’t worry about the mistakes. We all made some on the first day.” You try to ease her mind before leaving, knowing how annoying Munhee can be.

Your eyes scan the room in the hope of seeing Jongseong, but he’s nowhere to be found. He left? You wonder, feeling a pang of disappointment.

The changing room feels cold as you strip off your uniform, but the memory of the warm day outside makes you smile, already coming up with different plans to fill the rest of your day. As you put on your red, lacy top, your mind wanders back to Jay.

Where could he be? Why was he here every day you worked? Was he rich? Did he have a wife? Where does he work? What does he do? This might seem a little obsessive since you barely know him, but you can’t deny that over the past few days, there’s been a spark every time you spoke, and it made your heart jump in excitement.

You grab your black purse and grip your phone in your hand, thinking about investigating him on Instagram. Maybe you could find his account and start answering your questions there. But as you push open the heavy back door, you’re met with someone leaning against the wall.

“Sir, you can’t be here,” you begin, but when your eyes fully take in his features, the rest of your words die in your throat. “Jongseong?” you manage to let out, your heart once again speeding up.

“Hey, Y/N. You said you were leaving in half an hour, so… I waited here.”

He has a soft smile on his lips as he looks at you, waiting for your answer.

“I thought you didn’t get the memo. I looked around for you, and I didn’t see you,” you explain, feeling a little embarrassed by your honesty.

“I didn’t want the people to see me leave with you,” Jay says as he starts walking toward the main street.

You don’t like the way he says that, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t bother you. A heavy silence settles between you as you walk down the main street, people pacing around, busy with their usual Saturday routines. Suddenly, your stomach growls, making Jay turn his head in your direction.

“You hungry?” he asks, glancing at you with a soft curiosity.

Your knees almost buckle under his intense gaze. “Yeah… I didn’t have time to eat before I left,” you confess, turning your head to the side in hopes that he doesn’t catch your flushed cheeks.

“Let me get you something to eat,” Jongseong offers, his hand gently brushing against yours, his index finger softly tracing your skin.

Following the delicious smells drifting down the street, you soon find yourself at the local market. The road is lined with food stalls stretching into the distance, and the sight immediately makes you smile. It had been a busy day at work, and you genuinely hadn’t had time to eat.

As your eyes scan the shops, Jay disappears from your side for a few minutes, and you watch him from afar, asking the nice old lady for a portion of food. When he starts walking back in your direction, you recognize the small portion of tteokbokki.

“Here, eat this while we look for a shop with full meals,” Jay instructs, handing you the small plate. The spicy smell hits your nose, and you close your eyes, savoring it.

“I love tteokbokki so much!” you say with a wide smile while looking at Jay. “Thank you so much!” As you shift the plate to your right hand so you can start eating, Jay walks behind you.

His long, bony fingers gently gather all of your hair, and then he ties it in a low bun with a hair tie. He takes his time, making sure the hairstyle looks as perfect as you. Slowly, you look over your shoulder and are met with his confused face as he studies your hair. When he feels your eyes on him, his gaze moves from your strands to your face.

“Gotta make sure you don’t get this beautiful hair dirty while eating,” he says, as if he were reading your mind.

The butterflies spreading in your stomach make you sure that maybe you are starting to develop a crush on him and his sweet demeanor. He comes back to your side and slowly starts walking, watching you while you eat the spicy rice cakes eagerly. Jongseong isn’t sure what’s making him act like this with you. He never does this with anyone, but you feel different.

As you walk past the people also looking for something to eat, you let the familiar noise help calm your racing heart, feeling like a kid with a crush. The last rice cake enters your mouth just in time, and Jay throws the plate in the trash while his eyes scan the shops, wondering which one you would like.

“Stay here. I’ll get it,” you tell him, smiling.

“No, wait—” He stops you, his right hand gently wrapping around your wrist. Your eyes travel to his hand, scanning his fingers for a sign of a wedding ring. But you can’t find anything. “Let me do it for you.”

“No, there’s no need for you to pay for my food, Jongseong,” you insist, trying to push his hand away from your skin.

“I want to,” he responds in a stern voice, eyeing your face. Jay loves the way his name rolls off your tongue, as if you were spelling out each syllable carefully just to affect him.

You press your lips together and roll your eyes, wanting badly to give in, but still feeling guilty about it. Jongseong’s other free hand gently taps yours, and his fingers leave your wrist right after. You watch as he walks up to yet another small shop and buys you a steaming bowl of bibimbap. He walks back to you as fast as he left, a smile on his face.

“Here you go. I hope you like it,” Jay says softly, his eyes affectionate as he hands you the warm food. “It’s almost two thirty. I have to go back to work. I’m sorry I couldn’t stay longer, YN.”

You gaze at him, hypnotized, hating how much you love the way your name sounds in his voice. Then you realize you’ve never actually told him your name. But before you can ask, you remember that your uniform has a name tag, and maybe that’s how he knows.

“You work on Saturdays too?” you ask, a little disappointed.

“Yeah. Being a lawyer isn’t as easy as it may seem. I have to study the case before court,” he explains, his right hand reaching for your cheek and gently caressing it.

“I’ll see you on Monday,” he assures you, furrowing his eyebrows and looking down at you.

Another thing that makes you weak is his height and how much taller he is compared to you. “See you,” you wave at him as he starts walking away, blending into the big crowd of people.

You’ve never done this before, and you never thought you ever would, but all the mystery around Jay makes you curious. What he told you still hangs in your mind. Why didn’t he want people to see him with you? That must mean he has something to hide.

So, before you even realize it, you find yourself following his steps through the crowd. He seems to be in no rush, walking slowly along the busy streets like he has all the time in the world. You eat the bibimbap as you follow him, taking time to lean against a wall to hide every time he looks back or makes a turn.

Your heart beats faster the longer you go after him; the suspense of finding out something is making you nervous. As he crosses the road, you throw away the empty bowl and wait a few seconds before crossing it too.

From your hiding spot near a public bathroom, you watch him walk inside a big building covered in glass. The large letters outside spelling “Law Firm” confirm that his job is indeed being a lawyer. You slowly walk toward the building, taking your time to avoid running into him. You’re not sure what you’d do or say exactly if you did, but you can’t stop now. Not when you’re so close.

As you step inside the place, you’re met with a security pass just ahead. Behind it, a large coffee spot spreads out, with brown and white sitting areas and sofas. As your eyes scan the place, you notice a big sign saying they’re looking for a new manager for the coffee area, and a small smirk grows on your lips.

Is there any better way to get closer to Jongseong than working in the same building as him?

The next few days at work pass by surprisingly fast. Since it's officially summer, the coffee shop is always filled with happy teens asking for refreshing drinks. During the four days you’ve worked, Jongseong comes around just in time to see you get to work or a few moments before you leave, but this week he never kept you company after work.

You felt kind of disappointed about it, wanting to talk to him more and more every day, but he was always there at the café, waiting for you to call his name so you could hand him his drink. And every time you did, he’d walk over with that precious smile, making butterflies swirl in your stomach. Jay’s fingers would linger on yours every time you passed him the cup, causing a faint pink blush to paint your cheeks.

Sometimes, when the café was calm, you’d pretend to clean the tables near him just so you could admire him, mesmerized by his prominent jawline and expensive clothes. Other times he’d call for you, pretending he needed something, just so you’d come over to his table and talk to him. Jongseong would ask about your day, scold you if you hadn’t eaten yet, and always flash you his beautiful smile and those small dimples.

Of course, he was unaware of the days you followed him back to his workplace, unaware of how you weren’t exactly as innocent as he thought. This week, you’d started taking photos of him, carefully, of course. He was clueless about how you admired those pictures in your bed late at night, drowned in thoughts of him. Every time you lay down and closed your eyes, you could hear his voice saying your name in a needy tone; you could imagine his long fingers tracing your thighs and making you scream his name.

That handsome face of his—you wanted to see it contort in pleasure so badly. Or maybe in pain, as you sink your teeth into his flesh and mark him up so everyone knows he’s yours. Every time Jay asked if you slept well, you always said yes with the biggest smile on your lips.

Today you were working with your work-bestie, Jihyo, who was always funny and matched your energy at work. As you spoke to Jay, her eyes stayed glued to the two of you. She found it adorable how shy you became when he was close, but as Jihyo observed his face more carefully, she realized he was the man from the other day, the one who’d asked about you.

Something inside her stirred, and she felt sick. Call it a bad omen, but she wasn’t as happy to see you with him anymore, realizing how creepy the whole thing seemed. When you started walking back with a tray filled with empty cups, she ran to your side to help you load them into the dishwasher.

“I have something to tell you,” she said in a low voice, her tone hinting that something was wrong.

“I have something to tell you too!” you added with a bright smile, completely missing the worry on her face.

“I’m serious, Y/N…” Jihyo said sternly, her fingers tightening around a cup. “That guy you were talking to—he came here last week asking about you. At first, I thought he knew you from somewhere and was going to tell me something about you, but he didn’t even know your name. I had to tell him. The new hire mentioned you were on your rest day, and I told him that.”

She explained, pushing the dishwasher door closed. You looked at her with furrowed brows, not understanding where she was going with this.

“So I told him your schedule. I didn’t mean to, but it just happened. Munhee told me he’s been here every day just to see you. Isn’t that creepy?” she asked, her eyes wide as she looked into yours.

“Creepy? No!” you giggled. “He’s just interested in me and trying to impress me.” She didn’t like your answer.

“No, listen to me. It wouldn’t be weird if he came from time to time… but every single day you work?” Jihyo insisted, that bad feeling stirring inside her once again.

“I think it’s kind of hot, honestly. Relax,” you told her, giving her a side hug. “I know how to take care of myself, and besides, I like him too.” Jihyo wanted to believe you, wanted to ignore the heavy sense of dread sitting in her chest, but it was too much.

Still, she forced a small smile. “Well, you know I’m always here if you need me,” she added, and you made a cute pout before giving her a real hug.

“Aw, you’re so cute! I know you are; that’s why I want to tell you something!” you teased, excitement lighting up your face. “I’m going to be a manager!” you announced, and Jihyo’s face lit up with the biggest smile you’d ever seen.

“Oh my god, girl! I’m so proud of you!” she exclaimed.

“Yeah, but don’t get too excited… because it won’t be here,” you said, watching her expression shift. “It’s in a big building, a law firm. They have this massive coffee shop area, and the pay is wonderful!”

She stayed silent.

“Come on, Jihyo! Say something,” you pleaded, batting your eyelashes at her.

“I’m happy for you, girl, but… this whole thing… it has a weird vibe,” she confessed, still trying to keep her smile.

“It’s going to be fine~!” you said, brushing off her concern before turning your back to check on the new customers waiting at the counter.

You didn’t notice the horrified look on Jihyo's face when she realized Jay had been standing by the counter the entire time — his eyes locked on hers as she voiced all of her concerns. When her gaze met Jongseong’s, his stare was intense and uncomfortable. The charming and sweet aura he usually carried was gone. The way his eyes darkened made him look like a complete psychopath, and a shiver ran up her spine.

Quickly, she turned her back on him and hurried to the backroom, needing a deep breath before returning to the front. But the image of Jongseong’s deadly stare was already engraved in her mind.

Walking down the usual street today makes you feel emotional, knowing it’s your last day working in this place. Memories cross your mind, and you remember all the good days at work, the laughter, and the fun you shared with your coworkers. A small smile grows on your lips, but it doesn’t last long. When you walk into the café, you notice how empty it is despite it being a Saturday.

The day outside is warm and bright, spreading positivity that should motivate people to leave their homes, yet only a few customers are sitting inside, chatting quietly. Your eyes meet Munhee’s, and she gives you a fake smile, as if silently saying you should have come in earlier. You return a forced smile.

Since it’s so quiet and slow, you tell her to stay behind the counter while you grab some cleaning supplies to give the coffee machine a deep clean. To your surprise, she agrees without protest. So you busy yourself with the mission of scrubbing every inch of the machine while vibing to the music playing from the speakers.

Two hours later, the place is still somehow deserted. Your eyes scan the few customers inside, and you realize Jongseong hasn’t shown up yet. Maybe he won’t come today, and if he doesn’t, you won’t get to tell him it’s your last day. You hadn’t mentioned it before because you wanted it to be a surprise, but since he hadn’t waited for you after work this week, you never got the chance.

As your mind drifts, you remember how strange he looked yesterday. When you left work around lunchtime, you grabbed a quick bite and waited near the building where he works. But to your surprise, he didn’t leave until nine p.m., looking exhausted and maybe a little sick. His skin was paler than usual, and you watched him sneeze a few times before getting into his car.

Perhaps he’s taking a sick day, you think. With that thought in mind, you try to keep yourself busy, cleaning everything within reach. After the coffee machine, you tackle the pastry display, then the inside windows, the tables, and even the floor. Sweat forms on your forehead as you proudly admire the spotless windows, not a single fingerprint in sight.

You find yourself standing in the middle of the room when your eyes catch the TV, where an elderly woman is crying, pleading for her missing daughter to come home. The sight brings back memories of the girl who disappeared weeks ago. Tears well up in your eyes at the woman’s desperate words, so you quickly look away, trying to regain your composure.

With your shift almost over and hunger setting in, you grab a chocolate muffin and head to the back for a quiet moment. But your peace doesn’t last long.

“That weirdo stalker guy you like is here. He’s outside,” Munhee announces with a smug smile.

“Don’t you think you should worry more about your own creepy boyfriend? It’s weird how you pretend he’s not a whole thirty-five-year-old dating a nineteen-year-old,” you snap back, tired of her constant jabs.

Truth be told, her comments about Jay have been grating on your nerves for days. The second the words leave your mouth, her face twists in shock, clearly not expecting you to bite back.

“He’s not a creep! I’m not a minor!” she shouts as you head toward the back door, refusing to engage any further.

Outside, Jongseong stands against the wall, looking more casual than usual. He’s wearing a sleeveless shirt and sweatpants, and your eyes trail over his toned arms, following the line of his muscles until he notices you.

“Hey,” he greets you, his voice deeper than usual.

“Hey. What’s up with you?” you ask, pretending not to know he’s sick.

“Caught a cold. Not sure why,” Jay explains, his gaze fixed on you. “You’re not done with work yet?”

“No, but only ten minutes left,” you reply with a grin, your eyes drifting to his neck.

“I’ll wait here,” he assures you.

You nod and slip back inside, closing the rusty back door behind you. The last ten minutes pass quickly as you put the cleaning supplies away and wash your hands.

“I’m leaving,” you inform Munhee, untying the knot of your apron.

“No, you’re supposed to close!” she whines, but you just flash her a smile.

“I don’t care. Goodbye,” you reply, heading toward the changing room. Before you disappear, you add one final jab. “Oh, and tell your boyfriend I’d never sleep with him, no matter how much he begged the last time.”

The way her face flushes with rage makes you laugh as you slip away. Quickly, you change into your long black dress and boots, leaving the uniform behind for good. When you step outside again, Jay is standing right by the door. His eyes rake over your figure, taking in the way the soft fabric of your dress hugs your curves.

“Shall we go?” he asks, extending his hand.

You nod and let him take your hand; his fingers warm around yours.

“Where are you taking me?” you ask with a smirk, your other hand clutching your purse.

“I thought we could grab something delicious at the local market. Like last time,” he suggests, glancing at you.

“Sounds good. But you’re not going to ditch me this time, right?” you tease, pouting up at him.

“I won’t leave, princess. I promise,” Jay assures you, his dark eyes softening with affection.

Your face lights up with a wide smile as you stroll alongside him, the silence between you feeling warm and comfortable. You take in the busy street, the hum of conversations, and the scent of street food filling the air.

As Jongseong’s eyes wander over the bustling city, you wonder what’s going through his mind. He always looks so composed and serious, but when he looks at you, his entire face softens. That change in him is what draws you in the most. He’s unreadable.

“What are you feeling today? Rice or noodles?” he asks, stopping in the middle of the road to admire your face.

“Hmm… maybe noodles,” you say thoughtfully, your eyes meeting his.

Jay nods, his lips curling into a small smile. “Let’s see what options we have.” His eyes scan the line of food stalls ahead. “Oh, what about rabokki?” he suggests, and the way your face lights up tells him he’s made the right call.

This time you and him walk together to the small shop and sit down on the plastic chairs while waiting for the food to be ready. You rest your chin in your hands and look at Jay once again, analyzing every inch of his handsome face. Then, a question pops into your head:

“Can you tell me a bit more about yourself? We've been talking for weeks, and you didn't even tell me your age,” you say.

Jay presses his lips together and rubs his hands, seeming a little embarrassed. “I’m not half as interesting as you think I am. But you are right. I’m 25, I am a lawyer, and I’m single. Otherwise, I wouldn't be here with you.”

“Hmmm, a loyal man, I see. I like those,” you joke, earning a laugh from him. “I’m 23, a very skilled barista, and I'm also single,” you share.

Jay admires the way your lips curve into a smile as you speak, making your cheeks look fuller. He might seem laid back and confident, but the way you are making him question things about himself kind of scares him. You're so cute and hardworking… such an angel.

His thoughts are interrupted by the voice of the old lady saying that the food is ready. Proving once again how much of a gentleman he is, Jongseong gets up from his spot and reaches for the two hot bowls, setting them on the table. For drinks, you both choose a Coca-Cola can and get some kimchi on the side.

Silence sits with you at the table as you both start to eat, but despite not talking, there is something hanging in the air. You can feel it every time you accidentally lock eyes with Jay. A shot of electricity that you haven't felt with anyone else. You notice every single little movement he makes as you eat—the way he grips his chopsticks and the way his free hand gently holds the bowl.

“I need to tell you something,” you say in a low voice, your eyes nervously avoiding his.

“Tell me.”

“I quit my job, and I'm starting somewhere else,” you finally disclose.

Jay flashes you a smile.

“That is great! Why are you acting like it's a big deal?” he asks, chewing on a piece of rice cake.

“Well, I won't be able to see you so much.” It is an obvious lie because the place you've been employed is in the same building as his job, but he doesn't know that.

“Oh, that's what worries you?” he adds with a small smirk, teasingly. “We can try to make our schedules align and go out anyway.”

“Maybe,” you simply say as that weird feeling from the other day spreads across your body.

The words you want to say die in your throat as your body suddenly becomes hyper-aware of what is happening around you. Jongseong notices the way you suddenly turn quiet and finds it strange. As his eyes analyze your face, he sees that you have turned pale.

It seems like you are trying to listen to the girls behind you, your body leaning into them just enough for him to notice. “YN, are you okay?” he asks, concerned, his hand sliding across the table and gently holding yours.

“Yeah… It’s just that the girls behind me are talking about that girl and those men who have been missing for months. And I don't know why, but every time I think about them, I feel sick,” you explain, nervously swirling around the little bit of noodles you have left.

You don't notice how his face turns cold as you talk about the missing people. Your eyes are busy looking at your food. But Jay’s jaw tightens, and his skin becomes warmer.

“YN, I would never let anyone come near you to hurt you,” Jongseong tells you, his eyes serious and dark as he gazes into your face, looking at your eyes. “I can protect you. You don't need to be scared.”

You finally lift your face and look into his eyes, but they barely offer any comfort. Instead, they make your throat close. “Thank you,” you manage to say, pulling away from his hand. “Can we leave? I’m feeling suffocated,” you ask him, but it sounds more desperate than you intended.

Jay nods his head and stands up to go pay for the meal. After that, he signals you to walk in front of him as he slowly follows behind, his hand barely resting on your lower back, trying to offer you some comfort. When you are finally back on the main road, the fresh air feels incredible as you take a deep breath, but the discomfort from before is still present.

Not understanding what your body is trying to tell you, you try to come up with an excuse to go home. Soon enough, you find one.

“Thank you so much for the meal, but I'm feeling exhausted. I think I need some rest,” you explain, stopping your walk to look at Jay, whose eyes haven't left your frame for one second.

“Sure, princess, I can take you home if you want.” Jongseong suggests.

“No, it's okay. You're sick; maybe it's better you go rest too!” you deny his request, needing to be alone to process what you are feeling.

“Alright, as you wish,” Jongseong adds in a sweet tone, his hand reaching out for your face so he can caress your cheek.

You close your eyes and lean into his palm, the feeling of his touch burning your skin in the best way possible. As you open your eyes, you observe the little dimples on his cheeks as he smiles at your cute reaction.

“Maybe you can give me your number?” Jay asks, scratching the back of his neck. “I mean… I just want to know if you're okay when—”

“Of course I can, dummy. Here.” You reach for your phone and show him your number. He quickly grabs his cellphone and types in your contact information. Then he calls you for a few seconds so you can save his number too.

“Text me when you get home,” he adds sweetly as he leans forward and plants a small kiss on your forehead.

Your cheeks feel warm all over again, his manly demeanor putting you under his spell. You don't say anything else; just wave at him and start your way back to your place, your heart still jumping happily at the faint sensation of his kiss on your skin.

Later, when you get home, you quickly text him, “I’m home, Jay,” and then run to your bathroom to take a long, hot shower. You use that time to think about what you felt and what your next step will be since you've got the job at the same place as him. These feelings that you have for him are much more than just a crush. You crave him. You want to know every single detail about him. You want to be the center of his world, and you want him only for yourself.

As you start to dry your damp body, your phone vibrates, signaling that Jongseong has responded to your text: “I’m glad, princess. I’m also at home. My body feels heavy, so I'm going to sleep. Have a good rest of the day!” You read the message, and a smile automatically grows on your lips at the nickname.

Deep down, you want to pursue this relationship normally, but you can't help but want to know more about him as fast as possible. If he ever found out you follow him almost every day and that you got this job just to be closer to him, he would probably be freaked out and leave. But you would never let that happen.

When Monday rolls in, you jump out of bed with extra energy, excited to start this new job. You did apply to be closer to Jay, but the opportunity is genuinely attractive. Being the manager can't be much different from what you've done before, since you used to be responsible for the café all the time due to the many months you'd worked there.

So, you put on a black suit and a thin white blouse with the first two buttons undone, exposing your chest. On your feet, you wear some comfortable low heels, and you put on your favorite perfume. Causing a good first impression is the most important part. With one last look in the mirror, you leave your apartment and take the subway that drops you closer to the building.

Stepping inside the familiar building feels good; the thrill of the challenges makes you speed up with excitement. As soon as the doorman sees you, he comes by and hands you your key card so you can finally have access inside. On the other side of security, an older lady is waiting to show you around the whole coffee space.

She excitedly shows you around, starting with the sitting area and then moving to the kitchen. It’s equipped with the latest machines and hardware, making you wish you'd come here earlier. After the tour, you have a meeting to discuss your duties and meet all the employees, who are girls in their early twenties. They seem responsible and hardworking, and that’s all they need to be to keep you satisfied.

Lunchtime comes faster than you realize, and soon the entire morning is over. As you sit inside the small office behind the kitchen, you notice you haven't eaten anything yet, so you walk to the counter and snatch a small slice of apple pie and an iced coffee. But before you can turn around and go back to your office, a familiar voice calls out to you:

“YN? What are you doing here?” Jongseong asks, surprised, his eyes admiring your frame.

“I work here.” You watch as his face turns confused.

“Wait, the place you told me about is… here?”

“Yeah.” A silence settles for a few moments before you remember you need to act like you didn’t know he was going to be here. “Wait, what are you doing here?”

“I work here too. I mean, in the offices above, but yeah.” You open your mouth, faking surprise.

“There is no way! This has to be destiny,” you joke, smirking at him.

Jay shakes his head and smiles. “Yeah, let’s call it destiny.”

“I have to go back to work. There’s a bunch of paperwork to go through,” you complain, trying your best to sound bored.

“I understand. I’ll see you around.”

You wave at him one last time before walking back to the office. Closing the door behind you, you sit down on the tall chair, your mind making new plans to learn just a little more about your crush. Jay looked extra good today, wearing a full black suit and shirt, complementing his black hair. While your mind wanders back to his handsome face, you find yourself working automatically.

The rest of the day passes by incredibly slowly, and by the third hour alone in the office, you decide you need somewhere else to work. So, you grab your stuff and walk to the sitting area of the café, choosing a corner seat with a clear view of the exit so you can see when Jongseong leaves.

Just as you predicted, Jay appears at the exit a few hours later, and when his eyes meet yours, he waves goodbye and leaves. You know exactly how long it takes him to get to his car—four minutes—so you stand up, clear your stuff, and leave the building.

Today is the day you find out where he lives.

Since you came by subway, you need to find a taxi soon, and as if the universe is on your side, an old man stops right by you. You get inside and ask him to follow Jay’s car, faking a story that he’s your husband, and you think he’s cheating on you. The poor old man swallows your story and eagerly follows Jay. A few minutes pass, and as Jay starts parking, you tell the kind old man to drop you off. He shows you a sympathetic smile and tells you to be strong.

You leave the taxi with a stupid smile, not believing how well you lie. From the corner of the street, hiding behind a tall brick wall, you watch Jay grab his usual work bag and walk toward a very luxurious house, tall trees lining the front gate and surrounding the property. How can a lawyer afford this kind of house? You wonder. There is something he isn’t telling you.

Patiently wait for him to get inside the house before slowly crossing the street and walking closer. Curiously, you take a stroll around the house, your eyes carefully analyzing each door and window, making sure to avoid being seen. You catch a glimpse of him in the living room, taking off his blazer and then throwing himself onto the sofa, legs spread and shirt half unbuttoned.

The sight makes your body heat rise and your mouth water. Jongseong always looks so manly and confident, causing your obsession to grow. You leave him for a few moments to study the area and think about a good place to park your car next time you come to see him. You didn’t drive today, so he wouldn’t recognize your car if he ever spotted it while you were watching him.

You don’t like to call it stalking. You’re just looking after him, making sure he isn’t lying to you about his life. Your eyes dart up to the sky, and you realize it’s getting dark. For your safety, you decide to head home and be done for the day. You take one last round around the house before leaving, and to your surprise, Jay is no longer visible in any of the windows. Not even his shadow in the bathroom's opaque glass. Despite finding it a little strange, you start walking down the main road, planning to take the bus back home.

A month passes incredibly fast between learning your new position at work and watching Jay almost every day at his house. You find yourself enjoying managing the café more than you thought you would. Taking care of the employees, making sure everything is well done, and checking the weekly supply orders. It is definitely easier than dealing with rude customers.

You have also surprisingly enjoyed watching Jay eat his dinner at home almost every day while you silently eat something from the outside, as if you are eating together. You notice he has a very strict routine. He comes home, watches TV for an hour, then prepares dinner and eats. After that, he goes to his office, works a little more, and then goes to sleep.

You have watched him undress his work clothes and change into his pajamas a few times, but it still catches you by surprise every time. His body is well-built and proportional for someone who doesn't seem to work out. He has muscular arms and a lean frame. And his Calvin Klein boxers never fail to make you squeeze your thighs together, unable to control your mind from imagining all the possible steaming scenarios with him.

You can almost see yourself on your knees in front of his king-sized bed, face to face with his boxers, eyes locked on his as he gently brushes your bottom lip with his thumb and forces himself inside your mouth. You wouldn’t mind him being a little rough. All you want is to please him, to watch his face drip with sweat as you work hard to make him cum.

It hasn't been easy to keep your thoughts pure around him since you've been eating lunch together every day. Every time his dark brown irises meet yours, there is an unspoken desire that makes your body shiver. You feel his eyes linger on your chest when you're having a conversation, and the truth is you open an extra button every time he comes around, on purpose to give him a show.

You can also feel his eyes burn into your waist and thighs every time you bend down to get something from the ground, and you love it so much. You love feeling desired by him. You love the feeling of his hungry gaze on you. You're sure he can see how your breathing quickens every time he accidentally brushes against you, pressing his hips into yours when squeezing past the counter to follow you to your office.

The way he always leans in the door frame, his seductive eyes and addicting cologne invading your office, makes it impossible not to think about him even when he’s gone. And today is no different. You're sitting across from him in the building’s cafeteria. The atmosphere is calm and comfortable as the people around you chat and laugh.

As you put a bunch of glass noodles into your mouth, your eyes wander to the big TV on the wall. The same words flash across the screen again, and that unsettling feeling spreads across your body like wildfire. Another man is missing. That makes it three people in three months. Your mind wanders to how the police are doing absolutely nothing to look for them, just showing their faces in hopes someone has seen them.

“They should probably start looking for their dead bodies, no?” you comment in a low voice, your eyes now flicking in Jay’s direction.

“What?” he asks, sounding uninterested, covering his mouth as he speaks to keep chewing his food.

“The missing men and the girl. They should probably look for their dead bodies, right? I mean, it’s been three months since the first girl went missing.” You explain your point, uncomfortably shoving around the rest of your food.

“Maybe. I don't know,” Jongseong replies, his voice avoidant and deep.

The silence that follows feels suffocating, making it hard to finish your meal, but you eventually do. Jay finishes his food faster than you, then stands up and gives you a quick “see you later” before leaving the table. You find his behavior odd, but you already felt uneasy yourself, so you figure you could also use some extra time alone.

The end of the day rolls by incredibly slowly, and you find yourself exhausted. You consider skipping your usual routine of watching Jay tonight, but something in your gut tells you to go. Despite the exhaustion weighing you down, you change into black clothes and drive to his house.

As usual, you turn off the engine and stay inside the car for a few minutes, making sure he isn’t around, and it’s safe to leave. But as your eyes scan the road, you notice that Jay’s car isn’t in the driveway like it usually is. Intrigued and with a strange gut feeling, you decide to stay right where you are. The tiredness slowly starts to get to you, your eyes growing heavier by the minute.

Just as you’re about to fall asleep, the sound of a car passing by wakes you up. You focus the second you notice it’s Jongseong’s car, but unlike usual, he opens the gates and parks inside his house. You wait just a few more minutes before stepping outside, making sure he’s already in the house when you move.

You walk slowly to the front of the house, making sure no one can see you behind the plants lining the street. Your eyes follow his movements inside, from the hall to the bathroom and then to his bedroom. You glance at your wristwatch and realize it’s already one a.m., and this isn’t normal for Jay. He’s always home by eight and follows the same routine every day.

Outside, you peek around the corner and move to the bedroom side of the house. Between the curtains, you watch him start to undress. He’s wearing something unusual—black pants, a long black T-shirt, and a baggy black hoodie on top. Your brows furrow as your eyes travel along his body. There are dark, sticky stains on the side of his jaw and his forearms. From this distance, you can’t quite tell what it is, but it sends a strange feeling crawling up your spine.

For a brief moment, curiosity gets the best of you, and you lean forward, but you slip and fall against the bushes. You let out a faint, panicked sound, but you think you’re safe. Jongseong is close to the window, his eyes scanning the area, but he doesn’t see you. After a few tense moments, you carefully watch him move back to the center of the room.

Jay never thought he would feel this way, threatened and scared. He’d noticed a different car in his neighborhood, one that was never in the same spot in the morning, but he thought he was just seeing things. Now that he’s seen you, it all makes sense. He can’t believe you would do something like this, after all; he thought you were a naive person.

He knows that if he acts any differently than usual, you’ll probably realize you were seen, so he tries his best to give you a good show. Jongseong starts by slowly taking off the rest of his clothes, letting his hands brush against his bare abs longer than usual. He can’t see you, but he’s sure you’re there because he can feel your eyes on his body.

Jongseong then turns his back to the window and slips his boxers off, something he’s never done before. He takes his time reaching for the clean boxers on his bed, dragging out the moment before sliding them on just as slowly. When they’re finally secured around his waist, he turns back around and stretches, his muscles flexing under his skin.

Maybe he shouldn’t be enjoying this as much as he is, but if you came all the way here, he might as well make it worth it. After his little seductive show, he lays down on his bed and turns off the lights. As his head rests against the cold pillow, he wonders how long you’ve been doing this and how long you usually stay. Despite his tired and sore body, sleep doesn’t come easily, as the strange sensation of being watched still lingers.

After a few restless minutes, Jay figures it’s time to stop hiding the truth and finally tell you everything. Since you seem to be just as crazy as him, it shouldn’t be too hard, right?

The next day, the same routine with Jay follows. He waits for you by the cafeteria door so you can eat lunch together. When you start walking in his direction, he waves and smiles, seemingly happy to see you.

“Hey!” You greet him excitedly.

“Hello, princess.” He responds, matching your energy.

“Did you sleep well yesterday?” You ask as the two of you walk to the center of the cafeteria to grab your food.

Jay glances at your face, and there it is again, the innocence. Your eyes are big and sweet, and your lips curled into an affectionate smile. He can't believe you’ve been following him all this time.

“I didn’t sleep much, honestly. Bad nightmares kept me awake,” he explains as he reaches for a bowl of kimchi soup.

“Nightmares? They’re the worst. I have a lot of them.” You pout, grabbing a bowl as well.

“I know.”

Jongseong’s words make you quickly turn your face in his direction.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, statistically, women are more likely to have nightmares. So I figured you probably have more than me.”

Though he feels like that was a lame excuse, you seem to take it at face value.

Silence settles between you as you find a table and sit down, enjoying the peace. Despite seeming normal, you’re clearly deep in thought. Your eyebrows furrow as you eat, and your lips occasionally press together in a thin line.

“I have something to ask you.” Jongseong says, pulling you from your thoughts. “I’ve been talking for a while, and I was thinking… would you like to come over tonight? Have dinner with me?”

You’re obviously caught by surprise. He can tell by the blush that spreads across your face. Your eyes seem to sparkle under the ceiling lights, like you’ve been dreaming of this for a long time.

“Of course, I’d love that, Jongseong.” You smile, your heart skipping a beat under his dark iris.

“Good. That’s good,” Jay whispers, more to himself than to you.

Don’t get him wrong. He does have second intentions in asking you this. But he’s also genuinely excited to have a moment alone with you. To get to know you better. For you to get to know him better.

The rest of the day passes teasingly slowly, and when the clock finally hits six, you sprint out of the building to get to the subway as fast as possible. You’re finally taking a step further into the relationship, and you have to make sure you look your best, just for him.

When you get home, you leave your heels at the door and head straight for the bathroom. You take a long shower, using the expensive shampoo that leaves your hair smelling divine for days, and lathering yourself in a floral-scented body wash. You want him to lose himself in you the moment he gets close enough to breathe you in.

After the shower, you carefully dry your hair and style it with loose curls. Then, you put on the black dress that has been sitting in the back of your closet for years. It’s made of a thin, slightly heavy material that clings to your curves despite its loose fit. To finish, you slip on your red bottoms and fasten a dainty silver necklace around your neck.

Checking the time, you realize it’s almost eight, the time Jay asked you to arrive. He sent you his address by text, little knowing how familiar you already are with it. You arrive faster than intended, so you stay in your car for a few extra minutes, reapplying your lipstick and taking a deep breath.

After convincing yourself that you look good enough, you walk to the pavement near his house and send him a text, telling him to come outside since you don’t know which house is his. Jay responds almost immediately and appears within seconds. You watch as he steps out the front door, making his way toward the gate.

“Here, love,” Jay calls to you in the sexiest tone you’ve heard from him yet. You flash him a smile and walk toward him.

Jongseong watches your every move, mesmerized by the way you look. You always look good, but today you really took your time to drive him crazy. His eyes flicker down to your chest as it bounces with each step, lost in the sight of you. He thinks about dragging the truth out just a little longer, just enough to touch you. But he’s waited long enough.

“You look so handsome, Mr. Jongseong.” You flirt as you walk past him, your eyes accentuated by dark makeup.

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” he responds, throwing you one of his signature side glances, the ones he knows make you shy.

And the way you turn your head away to hide a smile? He finds it cute how well he knows you.

You both walk into the house in silence, the tension so thick you could cut it with a knife.

You carefully analyze every detail of the place, finally being able to take it all in up close. As expected, Jay has great taste in interior decor. The house is eclectic yet meticulously clean. As you stepped further inside, the sound of your heels echoed through the empty space, reflecting the rapid beat of your heart.

Suddenly, you feel Jay’s presence behind you, his figure still towering over you despite your heels. You turn your head slightly to the side, trying to follow the movement of his hands. He gently takes hold of your blazer sleeve, his eyes locked onto yours. First, one side slips off, then the other. Soon, he’s holding your jacket in his hands.

You turn to watch him hang it up. “Thank you, Jay,” you say softly. You're breathing unsteady from his faint touch.

“You’re welcome, princess. Shall we go to the kitchen?”

Jay guides you with his hand resting lightly on your lower back. When you step into the modern-style kitchen, you’re caught off guard by the dim lighting, the red rose petals scattered across the table, and the expensive champagne. Your eyes widen at the sight, the romantic gesture making you crave him even more.

“Woah, Jay, this is beautiful!” You exclaim, turning to look at the mastermind behind it all.

He gives you a proud smile, his small dimples appearing. “You deserve all of this.”

Jongseong steps closer, his intoxicating scent invading your senses. His hands settle on your hips, but his eyes never leave yours. The warmth of his touch seeps through your skin, sending heat through your entire body.

“Let’s sit down and eat.” He suggests, his head tilting slightly.

“Sure.” You respond, breathless.

Jay pulls out your chair for you, and your stomach flutters at the gesture. You love these little gentlemanly moves of his. He then circles the table, pouring you a glass of champagne as he begins serving the food.

But suddenly, something inside you shifts. Your breath quickens, and your palms begin to sweat.

What is this feeling?

Deep down, you know. It’s the same feeling that overwhelms you when you see the faces of missing people on TV. A warning. A bad omen.

Jay doesn’t notice the shift in your mood, too focused on making your plate look perfect, wanting to impress you with his cooking skills.

“Can I use the bathroom?” You ask suddenly, standing up a little too fast.

“Sure, it’s down the hall, the door on the right.” He gives you a curious look but doesn’t question it.

He could notice the weird way you were walking, as if your legs felt weak, but he tried to ignore it, wanting to follow his plan. Jay waits patiently for you while sitting down at his table, the hot rice and steak steam hitting his nose and making him hungry. But you were taking longer than you usually do, and he found it strange.

You find yourself lost in that immense corridor, or maybe it was the anxiety that was making it harder. You close your eyes and try hard to remember which side Jay said the restroom was, but it's all gone. The corridor is empty, quiet, and haunted, making goosebumps form all over your skin. Your legs fail you for a few seconds, and your body falls forward, towards the wall.

You use your hands to steady yourself, pressing them against the wall as all the oxygen in your lungs seems to fade away. Just as you thought that things couldn't get any worse, you feel something move under your fingers.

Confused, you knock on the wall a few times, and the sound that it makes is dry and loud, as if there were a room behind it. With a little extra stretch, you seem to press the right place, and a small gap forms on the wall. You take two steps back, unsure of what to do, but your intuition is screaming for you to check it out.

You ponder on the possibility for a few minutes, though your heart is telling you to leave this house and never come back. Despite the desperate pleas of your gut, you decide to slide the door just enough so you can step inside and are faced with stairs going down. Due to the lack of light, you let your right hand slide across the cement wall and go down, steadying your body.

Soon you find yourself inside a large basement. It is still rough, with no color or tiles on the wall or on the ground, just plain gray cement. The smell is unpleasantly clean, and instead of bringing you peace, it makes your stomach twist. As you walk further down, you are faced with a large table and a sink, and as you stroll closer, you realize that there is a small ax resting there. It is all clean, despite a few small red stains on the wooden handle.

A gasp leaves your mouth, and you cover it to try to keep quiet, but it doesn't do much, because when you turn to your side, what you see is even worse.

“What the hell is this?” you whisper to yourself as you step closer.

Before you is a big whiteboard filled with pictures of you and things related to you. You notice a picture of your apartment, one of your car, one of you walking by your main window, and one of your old workplace. As your eyes wander more, you recognize the faces of three people. They are pictures of the missing people, and they have a red cross on top of them.

Your mouth dries out, and your heart starts to beat uncontrollably fast against your rib cage. Fear takes over your body, and you start to shake, the adrenaline pumping hard.

“Oh, you're here already? I thought we were having dinner first.” Jay’s voice says, its mocking tone sending shivers down your spine.

Your head turns to him, and you watch how he slowly walks over to you, his face a mix of seriousness and something else you can't quite identify.

“What... what is all of this?” you stutter, your voice failing you.

“This is my master plan, YN,” Jongseong confesses. “I know you thought you were the one who had this under control, but I did. I made it all happen, princess.”

“I don't... I don't understand. You've been stalking me?” you ask with a strangled voice, your throat closing up.

“It's way more than that. Can’t you see it?” Jay adds, feeling annoyed. “I made everything happen. You getting that job instead of the other girl, coming there every day and letting you work in my company. I even protected you from creeps and evil men. Look.” He pointed at the two male faces. “Can't you recognize them?” he insists, tapping on the photographs hung on the board.

Now that you think about it, you do recognize the three faces. The woman was the girl who was fighting for your position when you applied for the job at the café where you met Jay. The first male face was from the guy who yelled at you at that same café, and the last one was Munhee’s boyfriend.

“What did you do to them?” you ask as tears start forming in your eyes. No, this can't be real; this can't be happening.

“I killed them all,” Jay responded with a smile. “Aren't you going to say thank you?”

“Say thank you... Are you crazy? What the actual fuck?!” you shout at him, tears silently rolling down your cheeks. But to your surprise, Jongseong just smiles as you yell.

“Yes, you should be thankful. If I hadn't killed that girl, you would never have had that job because she slept with the owner to secure it. The man that shouted at you was pleasurable to kill. After all, he was just a creep addicted to porn. And your coworker's boyfriend? It wasn't just a favor to you, but to the world. That fucker was a pedophile. Besides dating a literal barely adult, he had multiple videos of... you know what.”

You remain silent at his words. Though it is horrifying what he did, he kind of... did something good. They weren't exactly good people, and he just got rid of them for you. There is another shift in the atmosphere, and Jay seems to notice it because he steps closer to you and wraps an arm around your waist.

“Jongseong...”

“Don't act like you weren't obsessive over me as well,” he starts. “I saw you the other night when you fell and made that noise that startled me. And I know you followed me all the way to my company and applied to that job just to be closer to me.” Jay shows you a devilish smirk as he watches your cheeks turn red. “I had just killed that pedo when I caught you spying on me. It was a funny coincidence if you ask me.”

“What do you mean,'my company?’ ”You ask, confused.

“I own the building and the advocacy company. I was the one who accepted your candidature for the coffee department.” Jay explains as one of his hands reaches for a stray strand of your hair and puts it behind your ear. “And I did all of this so you can be mine.”

You know this is psychotic and disturbing; you know you should be afraid, and yet you find yourself leaning into his touch.

“I have been yours, Jay. All of this was unnecessary,” you try to reason.

“No, don't you get it? I made you fall for me,” he insists, his hands now holding your face.

“It doesn't matter how it happened. I am yours,” you confess once again, your eyes shifting into something that Jongseong had yet to see.

Slowly, he starts to lean in, his warm breath ghosting against your lips as he holds your face in place. With no more hesitation, his plump lips kiss yours slowly but eagerly. The kiss felt better than all the fantasies you've made in your head, and his tongue was definitely more dominant as it danced with yours, tasting you as if you were his favorite meal. Your hands fly to his hair, and you pull on it gently, earning a sound from him.

“But now, princess,” he whispers against your lips in a low tone, “I have to kill you too since you know all about me.”

Your heart starts beating fast against your rib cage all over again, his indifferent stare making you sweat cold. You open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out, too stunned to form coherent phrases.

Jay watches the way your features turn to fear in a matter of seconds, and he feels disappointed that you believe his words. After all, would he do all of this just to end up killing you?

“I’m joking, my love. I would never hurt you, never,” he adds with a smirk that worries you more than calms you down. His thumb caresses your cheek lovingly. “But I am serious about something, though. You can never leave this house ever again. After all, no one but you can know about all of this.”

Jongseong plants a small kiss on your forehead, and before you can realize what he said, it is too late. He was several steps away from you, and as you ran up the stairs behind him, he closed the invisible door, locking you inside the basement. Panic takes over your whole body that instant, and you bump against the door with all the strength you have, but it's useless.

As you slump down the door, tears start to form in your eyes, and you break down crying.

Jay listens to your sobs from the other side of the door. And though it makes his heart ache, it's necessary to make sure that you would never tell anyone about what he did. The playlist he made for the night is still playing as he sits down alone in the kitchen and starts to eat. His thoughts travel to the future, where you would freely walk around the house, waiting for him to come back from work so he can take care of you as no one else can.

As he sings the lyrics of the song with the feeling, ‘Love’s the death of peace of mind,’ he finds himself agreeing with them. Because ever since he laid his eyes on you, he was never at peace again.

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#enhypen #enhypen jay #enhypen imagines #enhypen x reader #enhypen scenarios #enhypen thriller #enha #jay #park jongseong #enhypen angst #jay angst #jat x reader #engene #enhypen smau #slow burn #stalker au #enhypen hard hours #strangers to lovers

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misswynters · 9 months ago

Text

Seaside

Addam Velaryon x Targaryen Princess!reader

[note | my very first drabble for the handsome valeryon bastard! nothing of the reader’s appearance is specified :3

[a/n: this was not planned and was out of a spur of the moment kinda thing <3

The night sky was clear, dotted with stars that shimmered like diamonds on black velvet. The salty breeze from the sea wafted through the open windows of the Dragonstone balcony, carrying the faint sound of waves crashing against the cliffs below. You stood there, wrapped in a fur-lined cloak, gazing out at the horizon where the sea met the sky. The cool air nipped at your cheeks, but you found comfort in the tranquility of the night.

A pair of strong arms wrapped around your waist from behind, pulling you close. You leaned back, melting into the familiar warmth of Addam Velaryon. He rested his chin on your shoulder, his silver hair tickling your neck.

"Couldn't sleep?" he asked softly, his breath warm against your ear.

You sighed, shaking your head. "Just needed some fresh air. Dragonstone, the handmaidens, the lectures, everything feels so stifling to me sometimes."

Addam chuckled, his chest vibrating against your back. "I know what you mean. It can be quite... unbearable."

You turned in his arms, looking up into his eyes. They were the color of the sea, deep and full of secrets. "But it has its moments," you said, a smile playing on your lips.

He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "Especially when shared with you, my princess."

Your heart swelled at his words. Being a Targaryen princess often meant a life of duty and expectations, but with Addam, you felt truly seen and cherished. He had a way of grounding you, of making the burdens you carried feel lighter.

"Let's take a walk," he suggested, taking your hand. "There's something I want to show you."

You followed him down the winding staircase and through the moonlit gardens of the castle. The flowers seemed to glow under the soft light, their petals glistening with dew. Addam led you to a secluded spot overlooking the sea, where a small picnic was laid out, complete with a blanket and lanterns casting a warm glow.

"What's all this?" you asked, your eyes wide with surprise.

"I thought you might like a change of scenery," he said with a grin. "And I know how much you love the sea."

You settled down on the blanket, pulling him down beside you. The two of you sat there, sharing stories and laughter, the world outside fading away. In that moment, surrounded by the beauty of the night and the warmth of Addam's love, you felt truly at peace.

As the night wore on, you rested your head on his shoulder, your eyes growing heavy. Addam wrapped an arm around you, holding you close. "Sleep, my love," he whispered. "I'll keep watch."

With a contented sigh, you closed your eyes, knowing that as long as you had Addam by your side, everything would be alright.

taglist: @benjicotblckwood @spn-obession

banners: @cafekitsune

#house of the dragon #hotd fanfic #hotd season 2 #hotd imagine #hotd x reader #house targaryen #addam velaryon #addam x reader #house velaryon #corlys velaryon #addam of hull #driftmark #addam velaryon x reader #addam of hull x reader

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finalgirlmorgue · 1 month ago

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LATE NIGHTS AND EVEN LATER GOODBYES

SUMMARY -༶ ⋆ Losing someone that you love isn't easy, not going back to them is even harder… Leon receives a picture of you late at night that rekindles the flame in his heart that once burned for you. What's another night spent with you?

༶ ⋆ Leon S Kennedy x F! Reader ༶ ⋆ Angst and Smut

༶ ⋆ No warnings ༶ ⋆ Requests Open

TAGS: AFAB reader, ended established relationship, nudes, breakup sex, happy ending, angst, resident evil 4 Leon, hate sex to makeup sex, P in V action.

༶ ⋆ ------------ NSFW UNDER THE CUT -----------༶ ⋆

The tears had already grown stagnant in Leon's eyes. Months of silence and no communication gave him the false sense that he had gotten over you. It had been months since you left. He only thought of you on the rare occasion he would find a piece of you in his haven. A lipgloss in his bathroom drawer, a sock that was too small to be his own in his laundry basket, and a stray hair on his pillow.

It was like you were planting seeds in his mind. They kept growing until they reached the back of his brain. The roots wrapped themselves around nerves and muscles and pulled until everything went numb. The flower bloomed in his mind, and he unblocked you. He hoped that you would reach out. Take his hand and pull him from the ocean and into the sun. Bring his heart through the dark sea as the storm clouds rolled in, threatening to rain more. Bring sunshine onto his skin so he might breathe once again. But it didn't happen that way. The storm came and crashed, the flowers withered away, and the cold, black water took its place once more. It was several more months later when you reached out.

Leon was in bed, blanket resting loosely over his body, when he felt it. The familiar sensation of electricity. His phone vibrated against his nightstand. His body reacted almost immediately, adrenaline flooding into his veins. In seconds he was sitting up, blankets and sheets falling forgotten to the floor. He was woken up like a sleeper agent. Your name, his Instagram dms, one attachment.

He stared at the button. 'photo'.

He would have to make the move to open it. He knew that he had given himself away, It had already notified you that he had seen it. He had once been a patient, stubborn man. But tonight a blue moon must have hung in the sky because after 5 seconds he opened it.

It was you, in the same situation as him, in bed, covers tossed aside, skin taking in the glow of a dim lamp, hair loose. In the light of the phone camera, you looked intangible and angelic. He barely noticed you were naked, barely. One hand held your pajama shirt up, exposing your tits, the other held the phone and pointed at a mirror opposite your bed. You sat there, leaning forward with your knees together, looking directly into the camera, smiling at nothing, posing for him. The angle was perfect, with just enough lighting to highlight the curves of your body, but enough to hide some of them entirely. Leon tried to catch every detail. His gaze swept across the curve of your neck, your shoulders, your arms. His mind reeled with images that he hardly tried to repress.

After 30 seconds, the picture closed on its own. Leon would never get to take in a sight exactly like that again. His thumb moved before he could even think about stopping it. "What the fuck." He texted. He wanted to tell you how beautiful he thought you were. How much he missed you. How long it had been. Tell you to come back to him. That he was sorry, he loved you. He needed you, he still did. But words failed him. So instead, he texted again. "I thought we were done. Is this your way at getting back at me? Huh?"

There was no answer. No movement on his screen. Just the sound of his breathing, fast and heavy. Leon's finger hovered over his keyboard. The urge to press send burned within him. To finally say something meaner, scare you off. Send those messages before he could chicken out.

No. That wouldn’t do. He had said all of it.

Now, he wanted you here. He wanted to talk to you, hear your voice, see you smile at him. He wasn't going to lose another chance at you now. So, instead he said. "Call me." He paused and added a couple of periods just for good measure. "Or I'll call you."

After a moment, his phone rang. He picked up after his ringtone sounded once, he wasn't taking his time tonight. Then he heard your voice, sweet, and low, "Hello?"

"Got bored? Decided you wanted to torture me?" His tone was teasing, but it shared a small indication of hurt underneath. Leon wasn't sure how he managed to keep his composure, but he did manage to.

Your laugh was soft, but it filled the hole Leon felt inside of him in completion. "Sorry," you said, breathy and warm. "Did you not like it?"

He cut you off, as he got out of bed and stared out of his apartment window. "Shut your fucking mouth." He whispered, trying hard to maintain control over his temper.

"Don't you ever fucking apologize. Don't you fucking leave me." Leon's tone turned vicious, his throat tightening, "I miss you." He sounded angry, frustrated, broken. He couldn't stop talking, just like he couldn't stop thinking about how much he wanted you here. It wasn't fair. "Get in your fucking car and drive over here, I know you remember my address."

You hesitated, unsure if you should follow his command or not. "I'm sorry. But can't we just sit tight, talk first? You're gonna need to give me a minute, Leon." Leon shook his head. He couldn't wait any longer. "No. We don't have a minute. Not anymore. Come over. Now."

It was silent for a few moments. Long enough for Leon to grow impatient. Then, "Alright," your voice softened, becoming quieter than usual. Leon could almost feel the guilt radiating from his side of the line.

"But, if you really want to see me, you can't stay mad at me. Can you?"

Leon sighed, shaking his head. "Not forever," he agreed. He wasn't completely confident that the anger he harbored would melt away with time. "I'm hanging up. Get your ass over here."

He hesitated for a moment. "I love you" He added, and quickly ended the call, discerning a sense of excitement and anxiety that he could not name. He walked out of his room, heading toward the stairs, he was nearly at the bottom step when he remembered he was in boxers, not exactly presentable. After a beat of hesitation, he returned to the bedroom, grabbed a pair of sweatpants from the closet, and ran down the stairs to the bathroom. He combed his hair, washed his face, and dressed his lower half hurriedly.

When Leon reached the living room he sat on the couch, arm on the armrest, palm on his cheek, other hand on his thigh. "Come on," he mumbled to himself, waiting. His fingers tapped the leather of the couch lightly, his foot tapped in anticipation. Then he texted. "Don't knock. Just come in."

He wouldn't greet you at the door like a gentleman. That wouldn't be appropriate for a man who hadn't been your man for a year. He didn't want to act like he had been waiting for you this whole time. Leon wanted to show you, without saying anything, that he'd made progress. He would show you just how serious he was, how over you he was. If not then maybe you could show him. Show him the way back into your arms. That was the more realistic option.

The doorbell rang, but Leon remained seated on the couch, staring at the door. You stepped inside, looking at him on the couch. Much to his disappointment you were clothed.

"Um.. hi.." you smiled at him nervously, your hands fumbling with the buttons of your coat. Your eyes flicked towards the window, then back at Leon. The tension between the both of you is discernible. Neither of you wanted to look the other person in the eyes, but you found yourself unable to break contact. Your lips parted slightly, but the words died as he spoke in your place.

"Come here."

Slowly, you approached the couch, placing your feet carefully on the ground. Leon watched you with a passion that you were not used to seeing. And then, slowly, hesitantly, you crawled onto his lap. His legs tensed under your body, as he assessed you into an acceptable position, making no move to embrace you. When you finally settled, Leon spoke again. "Tell me what you want." He whispered. You bit your lip, nervousness overtaking your features, as well as your thoughts. You didn't know what to tell him.

He unbuttoned your jacket, then gently pushed it to the floor where it landed on the carpet. Once your coat was off, he wrapped his hands around your waist, pulling your shirt over your chest. "This is what you want, huh?" His voice was rough, and he leaned closer, capturing your lips with his. He kissed you softly at first, allowing you to relax and enjoy the moment before deepening the kiss. Leon pulled away, holding you firmly against him, kissing along your jawline as he held you in place by your neck, his thumbs massaging your soft skin, watching as your skin moved and formed around his fingers. As much as he might want to continue, he knew better than to push too far.

"Tell me, tell me this is what you need."

"Yes- Leon just- keep"

He put a hand over your mouth. "That's all I needed." And he kissed you again. Pulling you apart nerve by nerve, relaxing you, he lifted your chin with his index finger and kissed your cheeks gently one last time. "I missed you so much."

"I missed you too." You replied, smiling shyly.

Leon took his hand from your shoulder, placing it on your neck. "shh." He whispered, pressing his fingers to your lips, "We can talk later." He gave a gentle push. "Bedroom. Wait there for me."

Your eyes fell shut at his touch. For a split second, you wondered why he was being so generous. Why he was taking such good care of you when he knew everything was over now? You wanted to say, "why?", but then realized that you wouldn't get any reply. So, you stayed quiet, nodded, and left to walk upstairs.

His room was bare, aside from a bed, a closet, and bottles of alchol. The rest looked like a guest bedroom. Leon's gaze lingered on you before he entered his room. A small smile came to his lips.

"You know," you began, your eyes fixated on the floor, hands clasped behind you, swaying slightly as you continued your story. "For someone who was always so eager to talk to me, you sure are quiet tonight."

Leon chuckled lowly. "Yeah, guess I am," he admitted, running his hands through his messy, swarthy locks as he leaned against the wall by the entrance, arms crossed against his chest. "What brought this sudden interest in me anyway? Wasn't expecting this, but I wouldn't say I mind it. It's been, so long.." he trailed off, not wanting to bring up anything unpleasant that went on before.

"I've thought about you every day for the past three months," you confessed, glancing sideways at Leon with a playful smile on your lips, hoping it would ease some of the stress in the air between them. "And I want to make things right."

"How are you gonna do that, hmm?" Leon inquired, moving towards you. "By sitting naked in my bed for me?" He hooked his thumb under your panties and tugged them down a little, exposing the sensitive skin underneath. He smirked, licking his lips at the sight of your flushed puffy, beautiful skin. He pulled his gaze upwards, looking directly at rosey, swollen lips. He lowered his eyes, looking straight at your soaking clit. "Fuck, you're beautiful." Leon breathed, "How do I make you scream my name?" He teased, running his fingers gently across your slit, teasing it slightly. "I hardly remember.."

You blinked furiously. "You don't even need to try." Your voice cracked slightly, and you cleared your throat, "Please, Leon. Make it easy for me." His hands slid up beneath your thighs, lifting you until you straddled his knees, pressing against him. "You sure?" He asked, running his tongue over his bottom lip, licking away a bead of sweat that had appeared on your brow. "Cause it doesn't seem that easy to me, babe." His fingers glided into your pussy, massaging your clit slowly as he ran his tongue across your neck. "Just let go, be a good girl." He suggested, pulling his fingers away and dropping his weight on top of you.

All 6.7 inches, pulsing against your navel, he pushed you down on your back as he lay atop you. Your hips automatically rose and sunk into the mattress, feeling his length glide up your thighs. He positioned himself between your legs, resting his upper body against yours. He kneaded the skin on your hips and waist as he situated you so you were ready for him. He paused momentarily, looking at you intently, before dipping his head down low and letting spit dribble over your folds, covering your flower with spit.

As you felt his saliva enter your body alongside his fingers, your eyes closed tightly and you cried out at the intense sensations. He kept working the moisture in between your legs, spreading it around lazily, as he waited for you to adjust.

You moaned, arching your back, your back hitting the mattress as Leon pushed his fingers deeper into you and then out, causing you to whine. "Shhh, it's okay," Leon whispered, leaning forward, pressing his forehead against yours. With his fingers spread wide over your opening, he slowly pushed himself inside of you, his head hanging loosely over your shoulders. You gasped at the feeling of Leon entering your middle. "There we go, yeah?" Leon whispered, still holding you close, his mouth brushing against the shell of your earlobe. His tip squished against your walls. You squeezed your legs together on either side of him, feeling yourself getting wetter. "Relax," Leon instructed. Slowly, you relaxed your muscles. It was only after several seconds that he seated himself completely, stretching you. You whimpered at the sensation of Leon filling you up, almost overwhelming. Leon's face contorted into a smile as he watched you writhe helplessly under him. He started thrusting into you hard, making you gasp and moan loudly as your hands searched wildly for stability as you both rocked against each other. "Oh god.." You murmured breathlessly, wrapping your legs tightly around Leon's waist, holding his hips tight.

"That's it, baby, take it." He encouraged, increasing his pace. He reached up and grabbed the headboard, pulling his hips back and snapping into you as his entire length filled you once more. Plushy walls encircled his cock. "God.. Little slut's… so tight." He muttered, throwing his head back as he thrust harder, faster, harder. The both of you were panting now, and he threw his head forward, almost slamming against your cheek. "So close. Fuck, so fucking close." He growled. He pressed the back of your head harder into the pillow in order to hold you in place. "You're so fucking- mean.. Leaving me all alone for a goddamn year" He panted. "You don't get to leave. Not this time-" he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his teeth grazing your pulse while his dick pumped lazily inside of you. You clenched your fist tightly around his hair, his name slipping from your lips involuntarily.

"Shit!" He cried, snapping back up, sensitive and overstimulated. He captured your nipple in his mouth as he thrusts into you again, and again, and again, faster and harder, your cries muffled by his hand as they vibrated in your neck, his breathing labored. "Come on.. baby." He begged. "Cum for me." He groaned against your neck. His words were slurred and his movements were slow, but he was still moving so vigorously inside of you that it sent shocks of pleasure through your whole body. Leon's grip on your waist tightened as he grunted, pulling you tightly against him. He was so sensitive that he could barely stand it. When he felt you tighten and cum all over his dick he pulled out. Looking down at your wet folds and his soaked, shiny shaft, Leon swallowed dryly, closing his eyes briefly. He stood up, bending over to the nightstand. He grabbed a half-drunken bottle of whiskey, uncapped it with a shaky hand, and drank from it. He barely felt the burn. He came back to rest and forced you to sit up. You reached for the bottle but he pushed your hand away.

"Open your mouth."

You opened your mouth wide enough for him, watching as he poured some of the alcohol into his mouth, and then he kissed you, lips moving against your mouth as fire trickled down your throat and warmed your insides. He tasted of liquor and mint.. and Leon.

You flopped against his pillow, still leaking and exhausted from your orgasm. You lay there quietly, waiting for Leon to finish drinking, but instead, his body tensed and he quickly got off you. "I'll be back." He took the bottle with him downstairs. You sat in his room, cold and beginning to feel a small bit of regret for what happened between you two. Leon returned moments later, carrying a towel and a glass of water. "Oh..' You smiled, laughing to yourself. Still so fucked out and intoxicated by him. You hadn't even noticed that Leon began cleaning you up. He dabbed at your lips and chin with the towel, wiping away any remaining evidence of his presence. You gasped and whined. "shh baby.. I'm here."

"always will be."

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aerynwrites · 6 months ago

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Rain

Sebastian (SDV) x fem!Reader

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A/N: idk what this is y'all LMAOOO. i love it, it's cute, it's fluffy, and I am apparently in my emo boy phase because between this video game emo boy and the emo eepy bois of sleep token they all have me in a chokehold i swear to god. Anyways. hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: none.

Summary: You propose to Sebastian after waiting much longer than intended.

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You always knew you were an impatient person. It’s just in your nature.

Which is…probably not a great quality to have as a farmer, considering how much waiting there is to do in this profession. Waiting for crops to grow. Waiting for animals to mature. Waiting for the kegs to ferment, waiting, waiting, waiting…

Well you didn’t want to wait for this.

You knew very quickly into your relationship with Sebastian that you wanted him to be in your future. But you had taken things slow for once, that worry in the back of your mind that you didn’t want to hold him back.

He always talked about wanting to go back to the city, to get out of Stardew valley…You almost pulled away when he had mentioned that to you. But then, not even a few weeks later you’d found him at the beach, rain pouring down from the sky and soaking him clean through from where he stood on the pier. The rain was so loud he didn’t even hear you approach on the rickety wooden boards of the docks.

“You’ll catch a cold if you’re not careful!” You call to him, shielding your eyes from the downpour with your hand.

Sebastian turns to you then, dark hair plastered to the sides of his face as his brows raise in surprise at your appearance. But he smiles anyways, hands tucked into the pocket of his sweatshirt.

“You’re one to talk,” he says as you move to stand beside him. “You’re out here, same as me. I’m surprised actually.”

You look at him from the side of your eye. “Surprised?”

Sebastian shrugs, eyes turning back to watch the black storm clouds rolling over the ocean.

“Most people don’t like the rain. They’d rather stay inside next to a warm fire or tucked into bed.”

You shift your weight slightly, the boards creaking beneath you. “But not you?”

He shakes his head.

“No, I…I like the rain. It’s comforting, I guess,” he begins pausing for a long moment before continuing.

“I get anxious around people,” he admits. “It’s why I spend so much time in my room or in this case, the rain.” He chuckles, the sound trailing off as he finally turns to look around you.

“But I don’t feel that way around you.”

Warmth spreads across your cheeks at his words, a stark contrast to the chilling rain pelting your skin.

“Sebastian..” You trail off as he waves his hand, a blush of his own tinting his cheeks as he turns to grab an umbrella he had laying at his feet.

He pushes it open, shielding himself from the downpour before he motions to you.

“Come on, there’s room enough for both of us.”

You oblige immediately, scooting closer a few small steps at a time until your side is pressed into his own, a familiar arm snaking around your waist as you both huddle beneath the umbrella.

“I feel safe with you too,” you say softly, the only acknowledgment he hears you being a small hum in his chest.

That was months ago now.

After that, you’d been brave enough to give him a bouquet, heart bursting with delight when he accepted the colorful flowers, warm lips gracing your cheek as he did so. And it wasn’t long after that when he took you on a ride on his bike just outside Zuzu city.

When he revealed to you that he might not feel called to the city after all. When he chose you.

You were certain then of your decision.

But no matter how many times you checked the beach that following winter, the damn mariner was no where to be found. Days turned into weeks, which turned into months which started to drag by in agonizing torture for you.

At least Sebastian seemed happy.

You tried to stop by and see him as often as you could between your running around. And every time he was elated to see you as you were to see him. Sweet words falling from his lips before you both caught up talking about your days or talking about nothing at all.

Impatience.

It truly was the bane of your existence.

Because as happy as you were with how things are, you want more.

Which is what brought you here now, smile nearly splitting your cheeks in half as you gallop through the rain on your horse, the delicate shell pendant clinking softly in your pocket.

It’s spring time now, and you almost broke your streak of checking the beach today because of the downpour happening. But something told you to go, a feeling so strong, it urged you from your cabin without so much as a raincoat and onto your horse to head to the beach. The rain almost stung as you raced down the familiar path, chest bursting with excitement as you spot the strange man stand beneath the protection of the trees on the beach.

You dismount just a few feet from him, and he gives you a knowing look as you approach, saying not a word as you hand him his payment. He places the necklace in your hand gently, the blue shell practically sparkling, even in the dim light of this stormy day.

It’s then that you speak, confusion tugging at your brow.

“You said last time I wasn’t ready,” you say to him, recalling your previous attempt to buy the pedant. “Why now?”

The older man smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners.

“It’s easy to tell when someone’s in love.”

You’d turned and raced away without another word, only a wave goodbye to the mariner as your horse’s hooves dig deep into the sand as you depart.

The rain soaks through you completely as you move through town, your excitement never fading even as you fail to find Sebastian in all his usual spots. Gus even gave you a worried look as you all but burst into the saloon, dripping onto his floor before turning and leaving without a words when you didn’t see your partner.

You’re now leaving Robin’s place, not finding Sebastian there either, and deciding to go and check Sam’s when you see him trudging up the path in front of the community center. He’s not wearing a rain coat either, or carrying an umbrella, so he’s just as soaked as you are when you climb down from your horse and call out his name.

“Seb!”

He looks up at you then, and your suddenly brought back to that day on the docks all those months ago. His hair plastered to his face agin, water dripping down the tip of his nose and gathering on his lashes.

And in this moment, you’ve never been more sure of a course of action in your life.

He says your name in question as you approach, but cuts himself off as you launch yourself into his arms, laughter escaping your lips without control.

“What are you doing?” He asks, chuckles of his own slipping from his lips as he pulls away just enough to look at you. “Why are you out in the rain?” He smirks, “You’ll catch a cold if you’re not careful.”

His words mimic your own, and your cheeks hurt from how hard you’re smiling.

“You’re one to talk,” you repeat, back to him. “You’re out here, same as me.”

He laughs at this, cheeks tinted pink once again, as he squeezes you in his arms. “You’re such a dork, you know that?”

“I do,” you say, reaching one hand down into your pocket, fingers brushing the smooth shell hidden there. “But I…I have a reason for being out here today, at least.”

Sebastian’s brows furrow at this, looking at you questioningly. “Looking to get away?”

You shake your head, chuckling lightly. “The opposite actually. I was looking for you.”

His lips quirk upwards slightly. “Me? What do you need?”

You reach up with your free hand, cradling his cheek as your other hand pulls the necklace from your pocket. “You. I’ve always just needed you,” you say softly, bringing the pendant up between you, unfurling your fingers to reveal it. “If you’ll have me.”

You watch the next few moments as if they were in slow motion.

Sebastians eyes widen in surprise, the red tint on his cheeks getting even darker before the biggest smile you’ve ever seen on him splits his lips.

And then he’s kissing you, lips warm against yours in the cool rain as his arms wrap around you and he’s spinning you through the air. You can’t stop the surprised yelp that slips past your lips at the unexpected moment, laughter quickly following as he slows to a stop and takes your face in his hands to kiss you one last time.

“I accept,” he says softly, lips brushing your own.

You smile wide, pulling away just enough to place the necklace over his head, watching at the crystal blue shell stands out against the black of his hoodie.

And as you look back up to him, his smile small but loving as water continues to soak you both.

You suddenly know that you love the rain too.

#sebastian x reader #sdv x reader #stardew valley x reader #stardew valley sebastian x reader #sdv sebastian x reader #sdv #stardew valley

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bitterrfruit · 7 months ago

Text

houndtooth [14]

[masterlist]

Ghost x f!Reader 18+ mdni - 4.8k words

Ghost grows more worried about you with each passing minute.

No, he reminds himself, not worried about you - worried about the state of you, worried that your condition will continue to deteriorate to the point of incapacity. Worried you’ll lay waste to the entirety of his scheme by merely being too feeble to enact any of it.

He doesn’t know how to help you.

When he asks you what is wrong, you give him nothing. You sweat and writhe and wretch into paper bags and nothing comes from your throat, no amount of water or air or comfort brings you any relief. Not ill, you insist; not pregnant, not made motion sick by the turbulence of the short ride in your private jet.

He couldn’t help but feel repulsed when he first laid eyes on the aircraft - your aircraft. Needle-nosed and jet black, needlessly large engines almost a third of its size stuck out from either side of its tail. So lavish and ostentatious it could have been played as a joke. The interior had been equally glitzy. Reeked of pine and rubbing alcohol. Vases secured to every surface, stuffed with real flowers, cut fresh.

For the duration of the short flight, you uttered not a word. Not to him, nor the pilot, nor the Ultranationalist footmen that had bid you farewell. He merely heard a whimper or a groan from you every odd minute, and you clutched your motion sickness bag wrenchingly tight in a sweaty fist.

Your eyebrows would twitch, curl in apparent distress, your eyes would remain squeezed shut. Lips would part softly to draw in wet breaths. You would stroke yourself where you clutched your shoulder, a rub of your thumb, as though yearning for comfort.

It made him itch. Itch with a pity, begrudged and discomforting - if you were anybody else, he might have felt inclined to ask if you are okay. To render aid. To offer the comfort you yearn for.

He hates feeling helpless. But he can’t bring himself to help you.

It’s not in his typical nature to be compassionate. Particularly toward the enemy. In truth, it has been so long since he employed any compassion that he thinks he might have lost the capacity entirely. In this state, though, you almost wring it out of him. You squeeze and wrench the dry cloth of his sympathy with an open mouth, hoping a single drop will land on your tongue.

The ear-splitting thunder of your private jet begins to quieten as it disappears through the cloud cover - it had taken off minutes after your disembarking, leaving him and yourself on the bare tarmac of your small personal runway.

Even still you struggle to keep yourself upright, knees wobbling and head bowed as you meander alongside him towards the sleek garage adjacent to the runway. He feels compelled to offer you an arm, to balance you, but keeps his mouth shut. Chooses to look away from you.

In the warmer south of Kastovia, the snow barely sticks to the lush green landscape of your summer estate. Where dense alpine woods had served as a natural rampart around your husband’s flamboyant palace, here pepper the skeletons of towering beech trees bare of leaves, spotted occasionally with richly green pines, taller still. The sky above them glows a dim white, the thin sheet of cloud inhibits the lustre of the setting sun from beaming through.

He inhales a deep and steady breath of the brisk air, cool and crisp in his chest - there’s a clearness to it, a weightlessness where the smog of your palace was thick with evil and the iron smell of blood. Your estate is alive with gentle evening birdsong, where your fortress had only the droning wails of owls and hawks from deep in the shadowed forest.

He wonders how often you came here. How often your husband allowed your escape.

Did he send you here when he grew bored of you? Did he ever accompany you? Did he ever pretend to be your loving husband, as loving as you must have believed him to be?

“Riley,” he hears you utter, and his drifting attention returns from the trees to you.

Riley?

Flummoxed at the use of his surname, his jaw tightens. The familiarity is sharp like a blade, grievously jarring. The first time you have earnestly addressed him, but you say it like you know him. You must have overheard it, and clung to it - somehow having only heard Riley and not Ghost, the name far more aligned with how you must see him. Monster and not man.

And yet, you call him Riley.

“Hey,” a bark from you regains his focus, and before he can answer, you throw a keychain at him. He catches it in a fist. Two car keys, three house keys, one key for a padlock.

The wide garage door opens smoothly, the metallic rumbling of its stainless steel panelling noisy in the breezeless quiet of the evening. Inside warm lights flick on automatically, illuminating two cars; one an ivory sportscar with a black convertible top, as glimmering and gaudy as he would have expected from the likes of you. The other a range rover, deep green and wearing a fine coating of grime, the tires muddy and door handles embellished in fingerprints.

With a quiet groan, you rest yourself against the side of the four-wheel-drive. Is that your preferred one?

“Can you drive,” you murmur, a whine of exhaustion in your throat. “Please.”

Only offering a terse nod, he unlocks the car, and you yank open the door of the passenger side and climb in without a word. The interior smells like leather and stale perfume, the woody undertone of tobacco, cigarette smoke having embedded itself deep and permanently into the seats and carpets. He adjusts the driver’s seat back with the lever underneath, having to fit his hulking form in the small space tailored to your body.

You reel down the window the moment Ghost revs the engine and reverses out of the garage, following the only road that leads from the tarmac. The road, lined with bare white oaks and dead hydrangeas, is made of bound gravel, crushed beige stones crackle loudly under the weight of the tyres. You rest your arm out of the window, surfing your hand in the gentle wind, and lie your tired head on your shoulder. The brisk breeze sends your hair billowing, silky tresses lap at the steel frame and over your neck.

There’s a loosening in his chest, a softening of the muscles that wrench around his ribs, an easing of his fist that grips the top of the steering wheel. It’s his exhaustion, he tells himself, that relaxes him. It’s the break from conflict that unwinds him. Not the subdued humming of the engine, the whisper of the wind through the car window, the image of you reposing unmarred in the seat beside him.

Not the brief imaginings of normalcy that cross his mind, each lasting the duration of a single heartbeat - sepia pictures of you in a different life, of himself as a different man, an elementary affection and a quiet drive through the country. Unspoken trust and unacknowledged bliss, a life where you would have known nothing different. Nobody to run from, nobody to chase.

He feels contrite even subjecting the image of you to such an impossible fantasy. A fantasy of a life he actively bars you from ever experiencing.

“How long is the drive,” he asks, voice gravelly after the duration of his silence.

He knows the answer. Price had sent satellite images of the entire two-thousand-acre property the moment he reported back detailed coordinates. He just wants to hear you talk.

“Not much longer,” you muse, followed by an agitated sigh.

It is another five-odd minutes on the quiet road, driving through lush unused farmland and fields of trees - melting into manicured formal gardens as he approaches your summer house.

Pulling up the gravel driveway, your second mansion is far sleeker than the baroque palace he had stolen you from. A mid-century modern sculpture - towering glass windows wrap around the building, framed by honey-stained walnut panelling and black trim. In the blue light of the late evening your villa lights up automatically, small glistening bulbs pepper the edges of the driveway as he comes to a stop by the front steps.

You don’t stir once he kills the engine. “We’re here,” he says dully.

He gets out, slams the door, and you stay put. So he trudges to your side, boots loud in the gravel underfoot, you rub the heels of your palms into your eyes and let out a soft whimper.

He begrudgingly opens your door, and you simply groan, “I’m coming.”

You follow him up the steps, barely lifting your feet. It’s alien to him, surreal; punching the code you give him into the black panel above the door handle of your grand front entrance. Something he would have spent hours of research attempting to acquire, if not resorting to simply shooting a few nine-millimetres through it. No, you just murmur it to him uncompelled; one-four-seven, five-three-five, nine-two-six. You repeat the last three digits when he asks you to remind him.

The downward lights in your white ceiling turn on by themselves, motion-activated, and he is confronted immediately with the vast emptiness of the foyer. Along the right wall is a staircase, modern slabs jutting out from the wall with a shimmering glass balustrade. A lush champagne runner carpet spans the length of the hall, a towering mirror confronts him to his left. So familiar with it all it must bore you, you wander straight past him and veer into the darkness of another room. Venturing deep into your mansion as though returning home from a long day of spending money. Ready to kick your feet up.

So he follows you. Doesn’t feel the need to bark orders at you, to tell you to stay within his sightline.

Into a formal living room, illuminated only by the ultraviolet dusk that glows dimly through your windows. Within sits a sumptuous sectional sofa and polished leather armchairs, all surrounding a standalone fireplace. The beige rubblestone of the chimney breast extends upward to the towering ceiling, a pillar in the centre of the room, the firebox closed off by glass and activated with a gas dial.

He snorts. Can’t even expend the effort to use firewood? No servants to chop it for you, hm?

But the needless insult he begins to utter is bitten off as he watches you kneel in front of the hearth, slipping off your plush fur coat and leaving it in a pool around you. Shaky fingers slither up your spine to grip the zipper at the nape of your neck, and you yank it down with a hiss. You shimmy the black sleeves down your shoulders, exposing your bare back just enough for him to swallow.

Toying with the gas dial, he hears a few loud cracks of the ignition, and the fireplace bursts to life. Faint blue and yellow flames rise in undisturbed tongues from the artificial coals. A quiet moan of relief escapes you. You lie yourself down directly in front of the warm glass, curl tightly into a knot. Nestled deep in your furs like a kitten in its mother.

He takes a step, and the sound of his boot on the stone tile makes you wince - so he stills.

“Just let me lie down,” you breathe.

He swallows the urge to defend himself - he had no intention to insist you stand, to disturb you, to force you to act in his favour. Not now, not yet. He’s keenly aware this is your last, your only chance to recuperate - your cruel and impatient comrades gave you little time to prepare before their invasion.

And if in your current state upon their arrival… he grits his teeth at the fear you’ll fail to fulfil your part in the mission.

So, if just for now, he’ll let you rest. He supposes you deserve it.

But, despite the sentiment, he finds himself unable to say so. “I’ll recon,” is what he settles for, uncaring and blunt.

With a grumble, you utter; “What does that even mean.”

A smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, you can’t see it. “I’m going to look around,” he clarifies.

“Okay,” you sigh.

“Stay put,” he orders, as he turns to begin his reconnaissance in the kitchen.

A moan. “Does it look like I’m going anywhere?”

He sweeps the mansion room by room. The kitchen, modern and marble, wears a layer of dust on every surface. Long unused. A wooden knife block stuffed with damascus blades, a glossy induction stovetop, a brushed steel fridge with an ice dispenser.

The dining room is sealed off by glass doors at each entrance, the long mahogany table seats eighteen. On the east wall towers a ceiling-height wine rack, stuffed to the brim with dust-covered bottles, and the first one he pulls out to inspect is twenty-two years aged.

The informal lounge is the first indication of life - a messy blanket tossed over the couch, cushions disordered, one on the floor. A shag rug sits under the glass coffee table, itself covered in dog-eared books, a pair of reading glasses, and a scented candle. Certain you can’t see him as he looks around so forwardly, he inspects your novels. Each unfinished two-thirds through. Normal People, A Game of Thrones, The Secret History. None of which he has read or has any interest in, and yet, he opens to the pages you last touched. Stare flits about the words for a moment, not absorbing any in particular. Curious at which point you gave up, which sentence prompted you to shut the book and leave it to gather dust with the others.

Lands on one line, at the end of a paragraph; we are only human, and the gods have fashioned us for love. That is our great glory, and our great tragedy.

He scoffs to himself. Finds it difficult to picture, the thought of you rugged up on your couch, a mug in hand, a blanket over your knees. Reading a book with your glasses perched on your nose, in blissful escape from the life you have made for yourself. Pleasant nescience of the carnage that paid for the cushions you sit on, for the woollen sherpa blanket you curl between your fingers.

He can’t even fathom it. And if he tries to, the disease of guilt churns in his gut. If he offers you hobbies, interests, personhood - sheds the image of the machiavellian profiteer he once knew you as - how can he justify how cruelly he has harmed you? He puts your book back down on the coffee table, grunts in disdain as he moves to the next room.

Bathroom one, bathroom two, conservatory, drawing room. He ventures up the sleek staircase once he is satisfied with the first floor. Takes mental notes of all entrances and exits, all strategic advantages, all choke points.

Down the hallway. Bathroom three, bedroom one, bedroom two, bathroom four. Empty study, linen closet, balcony.

At bedroom three, he finds himself paused. This one must be yours. Where the other rooms had sheets made so tightly, so crisply they looked like hotel beds; yours has thick plush blankets, one pink, the other navy with white polka dots.

Drawers pulled haphazardly from their teak chest, tongues of clothes sticking out where they hadn’t been properly shoved in. A pink tray housing seven or eight half-empty bottles of nail polish. Four varied shades of red, the others bright and shimmery, or dark and sombre. A small gold jewellery tree, a few necklaces knotted permanently hang from a branch.

You’ve got three bottles of the same perfume, two of them empty. As he nonchalantly saunters into your room, he tugs off the cap of the only full one and holds it under his masked nose. Even through the dense knit he can smell it, the same one you wore when he stole you. It fills his chest and makes his mouth water. Jasmine, rose, silk, musk.

Not long until he is snooping, and it serves utterly no tactical purpose. There could be no strategic benefit gleaned from whatever pieces of you he might find in your room, here untainted by your husband’s influence.

And yet, he snoops.

He opens your closet, runs his hand along the velvet sleeve of one of your dresses. He peers into the trinket boxes that sit atop your dresser, finds little pieces of doubtlessly priceless jewellery, or tiny keepsakes that to him seem unintelligible. A beaded bracelet, made with the dexterity of a child’s fingers. A collection of foreign coins. A small notebook, he flicks through the pages.

Sketches. You’re no undiscovered master, but he’s impressed all the same - pencil and ballpoint drawings, pieces of nature captured through your eyes. Flowers, trees, insects, a cat.

He yanks open the drawer of your nightstand, shuffles through the piles of clutter - receipts, notes, nail clippers, earrings. A bullet vibrator, one that he switches on unintentionally as he knocks the button with his bullish fingers, the hum echoes out of the drawer.

Finds himself inspecting it for longer than he should. So small, so innocuous, shorter and thinner than his little finger. Is that all your husband allowed you while you were parted from him? Too insecure to permit you something that might bring you real pleasure?

He holds it between fingers and pushes the button at the base with his thumb. Five settings, the highest intensity barely a whisper. Are you too sensitive for anything more than that, little thing?

He pictures how you use it. Imagines you trailing its silicone tip down your soft belly, letting the gentle vibrations of its engine tickle your mound before you allow yourself to move it any closer to your centre. Maybe you tease yourself with it, tracing it over your supple outer lips like a finger. Maybe you’d suck your bottom lip between your teeth, tucked under your thick duvet - maybe you’d stifle your private moans with the eiderdown as you push the end of it between your slippery folds, applying the perfect amount of pressure to your long-deprived clit.

Imagines your lips parting, brows curling, imagines the buck of your hips and the closing of your knees around your little hand. Imagines the orgasm it gives you is empty and unsatisfying, leaves you ravening and angry, hunger slaked only insofar as it allows you to sleep. Alone.

With a ragged huff and a tightened jaw, he switches it off and puts it back in the drawer.

He continues his rummaging, and his fingers land on a short stack of photographs. Only three, he tugs them out as he sits down on the side of your bed, the mattress sinks beneath the weight of him.

The first looks like it might have been taken in the seventies, the faded film capturing a bearded man playing an acoustic guitar. Your father? Grandfather?

The next of a little girl holding a black cat, squeezing it tightly and holding its little furry head against her plump cheek. Taken on a digital camera, dated in yellow font to 2005. She grins at the camera, eyes glowing red by virtue of the flash. Is that you?

The last, no doubt, is you. Barely younger than you are now. A photo you had taken of yourself and another woman, a friend, he assumes - her arms wrapped tightly around your shoulders, the both of you painted in makeup and beaming widely and dimly. Drunk. The picture is slightly blurry, captured in motion, taken on a night out.

The first time he has seen your smile.

His eyes fix on it; the points of your canines, the reflections of the flash on your teeth. The way your bright eyes squint, thick lashes weaved together, pushed shut by the full apples of your flushed cheeks. The creases and dimples your beaming grin pulls in the corners of your mouth, he can almost hear the music of your laughter.

You’re so pretty.

So normal. A girl and her friend, free to giggle and to dance and to move through the world unhampered.

Do you keep it as a memory? To remind yourself what your freedom looked like? Does it torment you?

He feels sick.

He stares at you for too long. He wonders if he’ll get to witness you smile so brightly, but knows that he never will. His observation alone would inhibit any smile that might ever stretch in your lips, as the architect of your suffering, the arm of your captivity. He won’t ever witness you as yourself, your unfettered self, if such a person exists anymore. Even if you escape the present cage of your life, he won’t be there to see it. You’ll fade into the obscurity of false identity and witness protection. Your paths have crossed, and once deviated, will continue as separate in perpetuity.

Before he has the chance to ruminate any further, his sat-phone beeps where it is hitched on his belt.

He releases a sharp breath, finds his stare clinging to the photograph as he brings the phone to his ear.

“Zero-seven.”

He hears a shuffle before a voice responds. “How’s the weather?”

Price.

“Clear out,” Ghost replies robotically. Code. Stormy would relay that he isn’t in safe company.

“Good. We - we’ve had some new intel from Laswell. One of her sleepers.”

He frowns. “Good news?”

“Negative. It’s fuckin’ missiles. Konni pricks have somehow manufactured three ICBMs.”

The surge of adrenaline hits him like a kick to the ribs.

“Shit.” He swears under breath, rubbing the back of his head with a tense hand, his mask suddenly too hot to breathe. “Nuclear?”

“Not sure,” Price answers, and even through the phone Ghost can see the divot of concern pulled between his brows. “Previous intel suggested they were manufacturing VX, but the leads have gone cold.”

“I’ll see what I can get.”

“Si- zero-seven, whatever the payload,” the Captain hesitates, “we need to know where they are storing it. Where they’re launching it from. That’s the priority.”

Ghost nods stiffly, forgets his captain can’t see him. “Understood.”

“Don’t fuck this,” he orders solemnly. “Millions. Millions of lives on the line if those warheads launch.”

“Copy that.”

Price releases a hoarse sigh, a brief and agitated pause. Eventually, he asks; “Sit-rep?”

“Sweeping the mansion. Nobody here. Makarov and his minions arriving tomorrow at eighteen-hundred.”

“Good,” he grunts. “Other VIPs going to be there?”

“Certain Vasiiev will be. Can assume the rest will tag along. We’ve kicked the hornets' nest.”

“Sure have. Primary COA?”

“Got an idea. Working on it,” he admits; in truth, he’ll play it by ear. “Will need some input from the wife.”

“Princess is still breathing, is she?” He asks it with a droll nonchalance.

Princess. The diminutive codename that had been bestowed upon you. Ghost’s mouth forms the word barely, but he holds his tongue. Doesn’t want to give Price any further reasons to doubt him. “Affirmative. She’s fine.”

“Not sure I believe that,” he snorts. “Gaz is worried about the bird. Won’t stop bitching about it. Too soft, that boy.”

“Worried about what, eh?” Ghost asks, through his jaw. Wonders if Price has the gall to say aloud what he already assumes Ghost to have done.

“Don’t play rough. Leave her walking.”

His blood runs cold. The mere suggestion fills him with a bubbling fury, acid on his tongue. Not merely the repetitive accusation that Ghost is capable of doing that to you, to anybody - but that his Captain would unrepentantly condemn you to that fate. Would knowingly allow you to be subject to the Lieutenant he believes to be so cruel.

Ghost chews the contempt in his words before he utters them. “What’re you suggesting, sir.”

“You know what I’m saying, Simon.”

With a dark growl, he threatens; “Say it.”

Price returns only a beleaguered sigh. “If you’re going to-” He cuts himself off, a hesitated pause. “Don’t stray from the mission. Don’t do something that’ll haunt you just for the fun of it.”

He swallows a venomous retort, jams a furious thumb into the end call button. Should have signed off properly, but he knew the direction the call was taking. He didn’t want to hear it.

Biting on nothing, he glances again down at the photograph in his palm. You smile at him, and he can’t look at it anymore.

He tosses the pictures back into your nightstand and shuts the drawer with a slam. He needs to focus. Needs to stop pissing around, rummaging through your belongings like an unashamed creep.

But there’s a second drawer, below the first. Bounced slightly ajar with the impact, something catches the light in a glint between the crack. And while he’s here…

He tugs it open, and hears the scratches of tin and the clicks of loose plastic. First dismissing it as more rubbish, he does a double-take - quickly leans over to inspect the contents.

Pills.

Blister trays, orange bottles, white cardboard cartons. It strikes him like a stab through the heart.

You’re in withdrawal.

The sweats, the vomiting, the itching. He’s painfully familiar with it all, has seen it far too many times. Chastises himself for failing to realise it sooner - it was so plainly obvious. Your denial that anything was wrong should have been enough evidence in itself of your affliction.

How long had he had you in his captivity? Close to forty hours? How long since you had taken anything prior to your abduction? He guesses you won’t even be at the peak of it yet. It’ll only be downhill from here.

He shuffles through the garbage and the paraphernalia. OxyContin. Vicodin. Percocet. Roxicodone. A real variety. Though most of the bottles and blister packs are empty, some are unopened. Saved for later.

You must know your stash is here. Plainly ready for you to alleviate your sickness and yet you have avoided it. Why?

Whatever the reason, he cannot abide your self-sabotage. There is too much at stake, too many casualties rest on his shoulders in the event of failure. You can hardly talk, scarcely even breathe in the state your withdrawal has left you in. He can’t let you around those mongrels, not like this - if the stories you tell are anything to go by, they’ll kill you just for the inconvenience of having to look at you.

A resolution to that problem has fortuitously presented itself to him. An act of a truly sick God.

He digs around the carcasses of your addiction, decides on an orange tube of Roxicodone, one of the few actually containing tablets. Fast-acting. Should pull you out quick.

He makes his way down the stairs with a hopeful confidence, that you’ll take the pills when he offers them to you. That you had simply forgotten the cure to your sickness is within reach. That you’ll be grateful he expended the effort to get them for you.

When he returns to the sitting room, you’re still coiled up in the nest of your fur coat, soaking in the amber warmth of the fireplace before you. Still you shiver, trembling as though hypothermic. He stands in the shadow for a beat. He can’t let the guilt find him.

But an unconscious movement of his body alerts you to his arrival, and with a jolt you shoot yourself upright and glance around panicked before you spot him. Even like this, still so frightened.

With the fire glowing orange behind you, he can’t make out the features of your expression. Are you scowling at him? Bereft at his return? Pleased for the company?

You stay perched upright, unmoving save for your quivering, watching him like cornered prey and waiting for him to act, to speak.

“Still feeling sick?” He asks monotonously, and as though the utterance of his voice settled you only slightly, you wipe a sweaty lock of hair from your forehead and your shoulders loosen.

You give him a slow nod, and murmur, “I think I just need some sleep.”

He reveals, then, your panacea - between two thick fingers, he gives the bottle a shake. He needn’t say anything. You recognise it immediately.

On his slow approach he can see your face more clearly, reflecting the faint glow of the fire that bounces around the room. Your expression crumples into a broken scowl, and he spots the glittering tears that quickly begin their swell. It makes his heart sink.

“You looked through my things,” you hiss.

His heavy boots echo loudly in the hollow cavern of your sitting room, despite the caution of his steps. “Was looking for something that might help.”

“Bullshit,” you growl, but the sorrow in your throat belies your anger. “You asshole. You didn’t need to go into my room.”

“I did,” he grunts, but you are right. He feels no regret, though, not anymore. “I can’t have you like this.”

Your chest rises and falls with a shaking breath, fingers claw into the furs beneath you. “I’m - I’ll be fine,” you breathe. “I’ll be better by tomorrow.”

“No, you won’t.”

“How would you know,” you snap, aggression unconvincing.

He grits his teeth. Thinks of his brother.

He spent years, decades, watching Tommy fall into the same pit you’re in. Watched him, helped him climb back out - only to see him fall again. How many times did he overdose? End up in hospital? Drop out of rehab?

He sees the glassy eyes, the pallid skin, feels the one-thump-a-minute heartbeat under his fingertips. Feels the terror of waiting for the naloxone to kick in, the apocalyptic possibility that it wouldn’t. Feels the crippling grief of watching him slip back into his vices, after weeks of a fragile sobriety he seemed to find more painful than his addiction.

“I know,” is all he says.

A whimper. “I’m almost there.”

He crouches down in front of you, boots squishing the soft mink of your coat. Hot tears trickle in a steady stream down your cheek, dripping off your chin, eyes averting the orange bottle in his hand at all costs. “You’re not even two days in. It’ll take weeks.”

“Don’t make me take it,” you plead, through a sob, and he feels his ribs close in around his lungs.

His eyes pierce through yours, hoping you’ll do something, say something, anything to make him feel less guilty. But, he knows, there’s nothing. Nothing you can do to make yourself deserving of this, of what he’s about to do to you.

“You need to,” he insists, through teeth; it hurts him viciously to say so.

You weakly shake your head, staring deeply; red eyes carve into him, chip away at his pitiless resolve with every tear that rolls from their corners. “I don’t want to.”

“You need to,” he repeats, hoping you didn’t hear the break in his voice, as he pops off the cap. Drops two eggshell-blue tablets into his palm. He hopes it’s enough. Suspects you’ve got a high tolerance.

“I don’t want it anymore,” you whine, “I’ve never got this far.”

He swallows a painful breath, takes your jaw in his hand. “I’m sorry,” he grumbles, and he means it. The first time he has said it. The first time he has earnestly felt it.

At his apology, you still, drawing in a quivering breath through wet lips. “I want to be clean,” you whisper, through a squeak, “It’s - it’s the last thing keeping me here. The last thing keeping me his.”

“I’m sorry,” he says again, with nothing more to say. He feels your resistance crumbling, feeble enough already. Your self-restraint is as fragile as glass, and as his thumb travels between your lips and hooks behind your bottom teeth, he feels it shatter.

Jaw now loose and pliant, you let him open your mouth for you, you let him put the tablets on your glistening tongue with two finger tips. He pushes them deeper, feels the grain of your tongue against his skin, his fingers not quite in your throat.

He waits for you to swallow. Feels your warm and slick throat roll against his fingers, and you shut your eyes, release a pent sigh that escapes as a sob.

You blink up at him, then, damp eyelashes clumped together. Your mouth grows wetter around him, your saliva coats his fingers and makes them slippery and warm. You raise a trembling hand as you keep his eye, and hook it gently around his wrist. Your palm is hot and sticky, but the tips of your delicate fingers are cold as ice.

With tentative stroke, a test of the waters, the pads of your fingers run over the rigid tendons in the back of his hand. So softly, and yet the touch sends a searing fire beneath his skin, it radiates through him like a high-voltage current and forces him to draw in a stifled but ragged breath.

Don’t.

Your other hand meets your first, then, and you hold his wrist resolutely with both - clutching his hand like a vessel you might drink from, you swallow his fingers deeper, and the tips of his fingers touch the hot wall at the back of your throat. Your writhing tongue runs down the length of them, jutting out above your lower teeth, you lick his palm, drinking from him.

That surging heat flares in his chest, potent and dizzying, pumps hot blood that burns in the back of his neck and swells in his cock. His eyes grow dark, lidded low, he tilts his head downward to glower at you from under his brow.

Don’t.

You blink at him, a flutter of your lashes, purposeful temptation as you suckle on his hand like he might alleviate your thirst.

He knows what you want. Viciously evident in the knitting your brow, and the fervour of your tongue.

His resolve grows weaker with each passing microsecond, each an eon. He could push his fingers deeper. Could press down on the back of your tongue and listen to you gag on him. He could feel your tight throat open and close around him, as you try to swallow the spate of saliva he milks from your mouth. He could trail your spit down your chin, between your breasts, down your stomach - use it to lubricate you as he slides his fingers into your warmth, though he wouldn’t need it.

Might you be wet already for him, little thing? Might your pink bud be swollen and eager, yearning for his touch?

Don’t.

With a grunt, he forces himself to look at the floor. Musters the dire effort to draw his fingers resentfully from your mouth, pulls with them a string of glossy saliva that sticks to your lower lip.

Don’t mistake the shameful comfort of relapse for his desire to bring you pleasure, little thing.

Maybe he will oblige you, one day, but not here. Not while you’re like this.

He wouldn’t do that to you.

#call of duty fanfic #cod fanfic #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #cod smut #cod mw2 #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x female reader #ghost cod #bella-writes

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bratzkoo · 7 months ago

Text

barely yours | mingyu pt. 5

Author: bratzkoo | navi Pairing: rockstar! mingyu x reader Word Count: 2.6k Genre: fluff, angst, smut-ish Rating: NC-17 Possible Warnings: mingyu is not an idiot anymore. not descriptive sex but there’s sex. written in third person.

Summary: you flirt, you fuck, but when you hint that you want to be more he dismissed it as if you’re joking… and when you decide to ignore him he comes back with flowers at your doorstep.

taglist (hit me up if you wanna be added): @ca-clover, @junniesoleilkth , @gaslysainz , @darkerrdaze , @mansaaay , @childish-fear r , @lixisoul99 , @cherrylovescheol , @yuyu1024 , @tacolombe , @black-swan-blog27 , @tulipndtale , @xuimhao , @cookiearmy , @gyuguys , @brownbunnyb

requests are open, but you can just say hi! | masterlist

The opulent Grand Palais glittered under the Parisian night sky, its glass dome reflecting the stars above and the flashing cameras below. Paris Fashion Week was in full swing, and tonight's show was the most anticipated of the season. Mingyu adjusted his designer suit for the umpteenth time, still somewhat uncomfortable in the world of high fashion. But as the face of several luxury brands and with HHT's growing influence in the industry, his presence here was inevitable.

As he made his way down the red carpet, Mingyu couldn't help but feel a sense of unreality. Five years ago, he never would have imagined himself here, rubbing shoulders with the elite of the fashion world. The flashing lights and calls from photographers were familiar, but the context was all wrong. He was used to stages and concert venues, not runways and fashion shows.

"Mingyu! Over here!" "Kim Mingyu, who are you wearing tonight?" "Mingyu, is it true HHT is collaborating with Chanel for your next comeback?"

He answered the questions with practiced ease, his idol smile firmly in place. But inside, his stomach churned with anticipation. He knew she would be here tonight. Y/N. The woman he'd never quite gotten over, despite years of distance and silence.

As he entered the grand hall, Mingyu's eyes scanned the crowd. A mix of celebrities, designers, and industry insiders milled about, their chatter creating a low hum that filled the space. He nodded at a few familiar faces, exchanged pleasantries with a designer he'd worked with recently. But his attention was divided, always searching.

And then, he saw her.

Y/N stood across the room, and the sight of her knocked the breath from Mingyu's lungs. She was radiant in a sleek, black gown that shimmered with every movement, its high slit offering tantalizing glimpses of her leg. Her hair, longer than he remembered, was swept up in an elegant updo, exposing the graceful line of her neck. She was engaged in conversation with a group of admirers, her laugh carrying across the space. The sound made Mingyu's heart skip a beat, just as it had all those years ago.

For a moment, Mingyu forgot how to breathe. She was even more beautiful than he remembered, more poised, more confident. This wasn't the Y/N he'd known as HHT's manager. This was Y/N the successful entrepreneur, the fashion icon, the woman who had taken the beauty world by storm with her perfumes and skincare line.

As if sensing his gaze, Y/N looked up. Their eyes met across the crowded room, and for a moment, the world seemed to stand still. The chatter faded away, the flashing lights dimmed. There was only Y/N, her eyes wide with recognition, a small gasp escaping her perfectly painted lips.

Mingyu watched, his heart pounding, as Y/N excused herself from her group and made her way towards him. Each step she took seemed to last an eternity. He felt rooted to the spot, his pulse quickening with every click of her heels on the marble floor.

"Mingyu," she said, her voice soft but clear above the ambient chatter. "It's been a while."

Hearing her say his name again after so long sent a shiver down Mingyu's spine. He swallowed hard, trying to find his voice. "Y/N," he breathed, drinking in the sight of her. "You look... amazing."

A slight blush colored her cheeks, and Mingyu was struck by how familiar that look was. For a moment, he saw a flash of the Y/N he used to know, the one who would get flustered when he complimented her backstage after a show.

"Thank you," she said, her composure quickly returning. "You're not looking too bad yourself. I see the fashion world has embraced you."

Mingyu chuckled, running a hand through his carefully styled hair. "More like they've tolerated me. I still feel a bit out of place at these things."

"Could have fooled me," Y/N replied with a small smile. "You look like you belong here."

They fell into an awkward silence, years of unspoken words hanging between them. Mingyu's mind raced, trying to find the right thing to say. Should he mention her perfume? Ask about her business? Apologize for the years of distance?

Finally, he cleared his throat. "Congratulations on 'Solène.' It's... quite a name."

Y/N's eyes flickered with an unreadable emotion. Was it sadness? Regret? Or was he just projecting his own feelings onto her? "Thank you," she said after a moment. "I heard 'Shadow' is topping charts worldwide. Seems we're both doing well for ourselves."

The tension was palpable. Mingyu was about to speak, to say something, anything to break through the wall of politeness between them, when a waiter approached with a tray of champagne. They both reached for a glass, their fingers brushing momentarily. The touch sent a jolt of electricity through them both, and Mingyu saw Y/N's eyes widen slightly at the contact.

"To success," Y/N said, raising her glass, her voice slightly breathless.

"To old friends," Mingyu countered, clinking his glass against hers. He held her gaze as they drank, searching for any sign that she felt the same turmoil he did.

As the night wore on, Mingyu found himself gravitating towards Y/N again and again. They made small talk with other guests, posed for photos, applauded the runway shows. But always, his eyes would seek her out in the crowd, and more often than not, he'd find her looking back.

One drink led to another, and soon they found themselves slipping away from the main event, seeking a quieter spot to catch up. They ended up in a secluded balcony overlooking the Parisian skyline, the Eiffel Tower glittering in the distance.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Y/N said, leaning against the railing. The soft breeze played with a few loose strands of her hair, and Mingyu had to resist the urge to tuck them behind her ear.

"Yeah," he agreed, though his eyes were fixed on her profile rather than the view. "Beautiful."

Y/N turned to him, a knowing smile on her lips. "You're not even looking at the skyline, are you?"

Caught, Mingyu felt heat rise to his cheeks. "Can you blame me? The view right here is much more captivating."

Y/N laughed, the sound sending warmth spreading through Mingyu's chest. "Still the smooth talker, I see. Some things never change."

"Some things do," Mingyu said softly. "You've changed. You seem... happier. More confident."

Y/N's smile softened. "I am. This life, this career... it's everything I ever wanted." She paused, her eyes searching his face. "What about you, Mingyu? Are you happy?"

The question caught him off guard. Was he happy? He had fame, fortune, adoring fans. HHT was more successful than ever. But standing here with Y/N, he realized there had always been something missing.

"I thought I was," he admitted. "But seeing you again... I'm not so sure anymore."

The air between them seemed to thicken with unspoken emotions. Y/N took a step closer, close enough that Mingyu could smell her perfume – "Barely Yours," he realized with a start.

"Mingyu," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Why did we let so much time pass? Why did we stop talking?"

Mingyu's heart raced. This was it, the moment he'd both longed for and dreaded. "I don't know," he said honestly. "I guess we both got caught up in our own worlds. It was easier to focus on work than to face... whatever this is between us."

Y/N nodded, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "I've missed this," she said softly. "I've missed you."

Those words broke something in Mingyu. Without thinking, he closed the distance between them, cupping Y/N's face in his hands. "I've missed you too," he whispered. "So much."

Their lips met in a kiss that was five years in the making. It was soft at first, tentative, both of them unsure. But then Y/N's arms wound around Mingyu's neck, pulling him closer, and the kiss deepened. Years of pent-up emotion and desire poured out, leaving them both breathless and wanting more.

When they finally broke apart, Mingyu rested his forehead against Y/N's, his eyes closed as he savored the moment. "What are we doing?" he asked, his voice rough with emotion.

Y/N's fingers played with the hair at the nape of his neck, sending shivers down his spine. "I don't know," she admitted. "But I don't want to stop."

Mingyu pulled back slightly, searching her eyes. "Y/N, I-"

But she pressed a finger to his lips, silencing him. "Not here," she said. "My hotel is just around the corner. We can... talk there."

The implication in her words was clear. Mingyu swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry. "Are you sure?"

Y/N nodded, her gaze steady despite the flush on her cheeks. "I've never been more sure of anything."

The walk to Y/N's hotel was a blur. Mingyu was hyper-aware of her hand in his, of the way her dress shimmered under the streetlights, of the anticipation building with each step. They barely made it into the elevator before he was kissing her again, pressing her against the mirrored wall as her hands fumbled with his tie.

As the hotel room door closed behind them, Mingyu felt his heart racing. He couldn't believe he was here, with Y/N, after all this time. The soft glow of the bedside lamp cast a warm light across her features, making her look almost ethereal.

"Y/N," he breathed, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "Are you sure about this?"

In response, Y/N stepped closer, eliminating the space between them. She placed a hand on his chest, and Mingyu was sure she could feel his heart pounding beneath her palm.

"I've never been more sure of anything," she whispered, echoing her words from earlier.

Their lips met in a kiss that was both familiar and thrillingly new. Mingyu's hands found their way to Y/N's waist, pulling her closer. The scent of her perfume enveloped him, igniting memories of stolen moments from years past.

As they made their way towards the bed, Mingyu couldn't shake the feeling of surreality. Here he was, with the woman he'd never quite gotten over, the one who had haunted his dreams and inspired countless songs. His fingers trembled slightly as he unzipped her dress, revealing smooth skin that he'd thought he'd never touch again.

"You're shaking," Y/N murmured, her eyes searching his.

Mingyu let out a shaky laugh. "I just... I can't believe this is real. That you're here, that we're..."

Y/N silenced him with another kiss, this one deeper, more urgent. "It's real," she assured him between kisses. "We're real."

As clothing fell away and they tumbled onto the bed, Mingyu took a moment to simply look at Y/N. She was even more beautiful than he remembered, her body a canvas of soft curves and elegant lines. He traced a finger along her collarbone, marveling at the way she shivered at his touch.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I've missed you so much."

Y/N's eyes glistened with unshed tears. "I've missed you too, Mingyu. More than you know."

What followed was a rediscovery of each other, a dance of passion and tenderness. Mingyu kissed every inch of skin he could reach, relearning the map of Y/N's body. Her sighs and soft moans were music to his ears, more beautiful than any song he'd ever written.

As they moved together, Mingyu felt overwhelmed by the intensity of his emotions. This was more than just physical attraction; it was a reconnection of souls that had been apart for far too long. He poured years of longing, of regret, of unspoken love into every touch, every kiss.

"Y/N," he gasped as they neared their peak. "I lo-"

But she pressed a finger to his lips, shaking her head slightly. "Not now," she whispered. "Just feel."

And so he did, losing himself in the moment, in the warmth of Y/N's embrace, in the perfection of their bodies moving as one.

Afterwards, as they lay tangled in the sheets, Mingyu traced lazy patterns on Y/N's bare shoulder. The reality of what had just happened was starting to sink in, bringing with it a mix of elation and uncertainty.

"What happens now?" he asked softly, voicing the question that hung heavily in the air.

Y/N was quiet for a long moment. "I don't know," she finally admitted. "But can we... can we just have this moment? Before the real world comes crashing back in?"

Mingyu nodded, pulling her closer. As Y/N's breathing evened out and she drifted off to sleep, Mingyu remained awake, his mind racing. He knew that morning would bring complications, questions, and possibly regrets. But for now, he allowed himself to simply be, holding the woman he loved in his arms, savoring a moment he'd thought would never come again.

The next morning, sunlight streamed through the hotel room windows, rousing Mingyu from a deep sleep. For a moment, he was disoriented, but then the events of the previous night came rushing back. He turned to find Y/N still asleep beside him, her hair splayed across the pillow, her face peaceful in repose.

As he watched her sleep, a mix of emotions washed over him. Joy at their reunion, confusion about what this meant for their future, and a lingering fear that this might be nothing more than a one-night trip down memory lane. But underlying it all was a sense of rightness, as if a missing piece of himself had finally clicked back into place.

Y/N stirred, her eyes fluttering open. When she saw Mingyu, a soft smile spread across her face. "Good morning," she murmured, her voice husky with sleep.

"Good morning," he replied, his heart swelling with affection.

They lay there in silence for a moment, the weight of their actions settling over them. There was no going back now. The question was, where did they go from here?

As the bustling sounds of Paris waking up filtered through the window, Mingyu knew they had a lot to talk about. The shadows of their past and the echoes of their promises hung in the air, waiting to be addressed. But looking at Y/N, seeing the warmth in her eyes and the soft curve of her smile, Mingyu felt a surge of hope.

Whatever challenges lay ahead, whatever complications their night together might bring, Mingyu knew one thing for certain: he wasn't letting Y/N slip away again. They had been given a second chance, and this time, he was determined to get it right.

"Y/N," he said softly, reaching out to caress her cheek. "I think... I think we need to talk."

Y/N nodded, her expression turning serious. "I know. But first..." She leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. "Thank you for last night. For everything."

Mingyu loses his smile when Y/N seems to get ready to leave.

#svt #mansaenetwork #mingyu fic #kim mingyu #mingyu #mingyu imagine #kim mingyu fic #seventeen scenarios #svt scenarios #mingyu fluff #mingyu angst #mingyu smut #svt x reader #mingyu x reader #kim mingyu x reader #rockstar! mingyu

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call-sign-shark · 2 years ago

Text

After the Storm, the Sun || Tommy Shelby x Reader

➢ Prompt "Don't you Dare" requested by @runnning-outof-time

Words: 1K (no proofreading)

If there was one thing you had never seen since your wedding with the infamous Thomas Shelby it was his smile. As both his wife and new secretary, you knew every feature of his face and how they contorted at his emotions’ discretion. Slightly, almost imperceptible. But day after day you ultimately learned how to read through the lines and catch those glimpses of faint emotions. For instance, you could tell he was mad by the way his sky blue eyes became blank and his brows slightly furrowed. That was when you knew someone had cross the line.

When it came to sadness, the change in his traits was even more subtile but nonetheless heartbreaking for observant eyes. He would avoid looking at you, rather focusing his attention on paperwork or something else as if a sole glance at your iris could break the fortress he had spent years building around his heart. All of these held no secret anymore for you — But regarding joy, you could not tell.

You started to wonder if Thomas was even able to feel happiness, or if the war, responsibilities and Grace’s death had definitely faded colors away from his life and turned it into a dull black and white movie whose ending would be definitely woeful.

Sometimes you would caught sight of a light, almost imperceptible smirk at the sharp edge of his lips — especially when Arthur would stumble on his own feet. It also happened that one time John almost choked with his toothpick after laughing too much at Finn’s clumsiness. But these short moments of innocence usually disappeared as quickly as they had appeared as if they had never really existed. Thomas’ genuine smile was a mirage and you, the thirsty and exhausted wanderer lost in the desert of his heart. At first his lack of positive emotions was mere detail, an interrogation born out of curiosity. Yet, the idea of making him smile soon became a bit too obsessive to admit. That was how you came to the decision to do everything in your power to snatch a sincere smirk off your morose husband — a silly mission John, Arthur and his young wife Heaven agreed to join in.

He did not smile when John stole clothes from Polly and made his best imitation of their Aunt, even though it was hilarious when he fell on the floor because he did not know how to walk with heels.

He did not smile when Arthur, wasted with whiskey, cut half of his mustache when he was shaving. The unfortunate event led him to shave it off and wait for it to grow back. Half of Small Heath could not recognized him for days. Let’s not be afraid to state that he cried a little.

Nor did he smile when Heaven’s gargantuan watchdog, Kaiser, jumped on her small frame, happy to see her, and shoved her right in a puddle of mud, ruining both her white hair and her expensive new coat. The expression on her face had been priceless. As well as Arthur’s silly way to run to her.

You laughed each time, almost straining your ribs, but your husband did not even smirk.

As days passed your hopes crumbled bit by bit, until you gave up on the idea. A sigh escaped your lips as you watered the roses of the mansion’s garden, for when Tommy’s darkness started to infect your mood the only place you would find peace was that place in which hundreds of wonderful flowers blossomed. Lost in an ocean of colorful petals, you did not notice the threatening black clouds that were coming your way, with an urging desire to rain down on you. When the first lightning bolt striated the sky, its roaring thunder making you jump like a scared cat, it was already too late.

You ran to the mansion, shutting the door close behind you. It was at that same moment, when you were looking down at your soaked up body with a look of pure despair on your beautiful face, that Thomas came out of the living room. His piercing blue eyes, whose quiet oceans had been darkened with memories of war, fell upon your frame. And then it happened. A little sparkle lit up in his irises at the sight of you, his wife, caught in the rain. Your entangled wet hair, your new dress sticking to your skin, your runny make up…

“The fuck are you looking at Thomas Shelby?!!”

Tommy took off his little glasses and, all of sudden, burst into laughter. The melody of joy, long forgotten, washed away the dust of his tired soul and boomed in the hallway. Laughing was so unusual for him that the corner of his mouth felt numb after a few seconds, but Tommy got the giggles and could not stop. You wanted to yell at him, to tell him it was not fun, but the beautiful symphony of his laugh awoke the flame of your love. It was the very same laugh he had before the war. Before Kimber. Before Campbell and all the other bastards… Scared of moving by fear of disrupting such a rare vision, you remained still. It was Tommy who broke down the distance between you and wrapped your hips with his strong arms, not minding to ruin his own expensive suit.

“I love your laugh. I wish I’d hear it more often.” You said with a little smile, your fingers gently caressing one of his hollow cheeks. He has been so stressed out he had barely eaten in a week.

“Well, you should get caught in the rain more.” He replied, raising an eyebrow, “You look like a wet cat.”

“Fuck you.”

“Language, Mrs. Shelby.” He leaned forward to kiss you but you denied him. Surprised, Tommy frowned and looked at you in hope of getting a reason behind your refusal, "Come on, kiss me."

“No.” You taunted him, freeing yourself from his embrace and taking a few steps back toward the closed door of the mansion.

"Don't you dare, Y/N." He warned you, for the cunning gleam in your eyes foreshadowed what you were about to do.

"Catch me, Tom!" You suddenly said, before rushing outside and running under the batting but warm summer rain. In truth, you were convinced he would not follow you.

How wrong you were.

“You bet I will.” He muttered to himself, putting his glasses on the nearest furniture before joining you in the chase.

The rain was pouring in Arrow House, but for the first time in years, sun shone bright in Thomas’ heart.

Any comment, review, reblog, or constructive criticism is welcome. Your reactions really motivated me, so please don't be shy. English is not my first language.

Arthur's wife is Reader in the ongoing series Heaven in Your Eyes.

#Tommy Shelby #Tommy Shelby x reader #Tommy Shelby imagine #Peaky blinders imagine #Peaky blinders x reader #Peaky blinders #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby x y/n #Tommy Shelby smut #Thomas Shelby #Thomas Shelby x reader #Cillian Murphy #peaky blinders x y/n

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novaursa · 8 months ago

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hii!

can you make a where dragons dare oneshot focused on reader and alicent? the other one had nothing of her and the story was originally about them so we need the ship back <3 it could be about the kids being around the driftmark episode ages and reader take alicent for a dragon ride and they have some cute date/picnic bc alicent is too stressed about something (could be the aftermath of the driftmark drama) and reader notices her harming herself at her fingers again and decided to do something. they go to a pretty place with flowers, a small river etc etc thank you in advance

-🌬️

Where Dragons Dare (Lost Chapter With Alicent)

Requests are closed!

- Summary: In the aftermath of events at Driftmark, you take your wife away from it and comfort her.

- Paring: male!reader/Alicent Hightower

- Note: This is another expansion of the story Where Dragons Dare. You can find all parts of the story on my first list that is pinned to the top. This part will be on the second list.

- Rating: Mild 13+

- Previous part: Lost Chapters

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @literaturedog

The wind rushes past your ears as Dallax’s massive, dark wings slice through the sky, each powerful stroke carrying you and Alicent far from the oppressive atmosphere of Driftmark. Beneath you, the landscape stretches out—a patchwork of green fields and rocky coastlines dotted with clusters of wildflowers. The sea shimmers in the distance, the sunlight glittering off its surface like shards of glass.

You guide Dallax down toward a small clearing by the edge of a river, where wildflowers grow in abundance, their vibrant colors standing out against the lush greenery. The clearing is secluded, far from the eyes and ears of the court, and the only sounds are the soft rustle of the wind in the trees and the distant roar of the sea. It’s peaceful here, a sharp contrast to the chaos that has consumed your family in recent days.

As Dallax lands with a graceful thud, his scales shimmer under the afternoon sun, the deep black glinting like polished obsidian, his glowing green eyes watching as you dismount first. You turn to help Alicent, offering her a hand as she slides from the saddle. You feel the slight tremor in her grip, the remnants of her old fear of flying, though she has grown accustomed to it over the years. Her green dress, embroidered with gold threads, billows around her as she steadies herself on the soft grass, her eyes flitting nervously to Dallax before settling on the river that flows nearby.

“A small reprieve,” you murmur, your voice low, trying to ease the tension you see in her. “A place away from all that’s happened.”

Alicent’s smile is faint, her lips barely curling, but the strain in her expression is unmistakable. Her thoughts are elsewhere, caught in the tangled web of recent events. You can see it in the way her fingers twitch at her side, picking at the skin around her nail—a nervous habit she has developed in the wake of the stress that has overtaken her life since childhood.

Your chest tightens at the sight. The weight of everything—the bitterness, the pain, the powerless feeling that gnaws at your heart since Viserys refused to punish Rhaenyra’s son—presses down on you. Aemond’s eye is gone, your son maimed, yet there has been no justice for it. The bitterness threatens to consume you, but you push it down. Not now. Not here.

You kneel beside her, gently placing your hand over her own, stilling her fingers. “Alicent,” you say softly, your voice barely more than a whisper. “You’re hurting yourself.”

She looks down at your hand, her brow furrowing as if only now realizing what she had been doing. Slowly, her fingers relax under your touch. For a moment, she doesn’t say anything, but you can see the turmoil in her eyes—the exhaustion, the fear, the grief for Aemond, for your family.

“I don’t know how to fix this,” she admits, her voice barely audible over the sound of the rushing river. “Everything is falling apart, and I…I feel so helpless.”

You shift closer to her, your hand remaining on hers, a grounding presence amidst the storm that swirls around you both. “You’re not helpless,” you reply, your voice firm yet gentle. “We are not helpless, Alicent. Aemond did nothing wrong. He claimed Vhagar as was his right. No one can take that from him, or from us.”

She exhales sharply, her gaze lifting to meet yours, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “But he’s lost an eye because of it. And Viserys…he refuses to act. He refuses to defend our children, his grandchildren.”

Your jaw tightens at the mention of your father. His inaction stings more than you care to admit, but you can’t show that to her now. Instead, you lean closer, resting your forehead against hers, your voice low and steady. “Aemond is strong. He will rise above this. We will rise above this, together. And when the time comes, justice will be done.”

She closes her eyes at your words, as though drawing strength from them, from you. The tension in her body begins to ease, her breathing slowing as the weight of your presence offers her a moment of peace, however fleeting.

After a long silence, she pulls back slightly, her hand still in yours. “I hate feeling this way,” she confesses, her voice softer now, more vulnerable. “Like everything is out of my control. Like I’m losing everything.”

You cup her face with your free hand, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “You haven’t lost me,” you say firmly, your gaze locking with hers. “We may not have control over what others do, but we have each other. And that is something they can never take from us.”

Her eyes search yours, as if looking for some reassurance, some promise that things will get better. And though you can’t promise her that the days ahead will be easier, you can promise her this—your unwavering support, your love.

“I needed to hear that,” she whispers, her voice cracking slightly. She leans into your touch, resting her cheek against your palm.

You smile softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Then you’ll hear it as many times as you need.”

For a moment, the weight of the world falls away, and it’s just the two of you in this quiet clearing, the sound of the river and the distant sea a comforting hum in the background. You sit with her on the blanket you had brought, sharing a simple meal, your fingers occasionally brushing hers as you pass her bread or fruit. It’s a small thing, this picnic, but it’s enough to remind you both of what truly matters.

You watch her as the afternoon sun casts a golden glow across her face, softening the lines of worry that have creased her brow for so long. She looks at peace, if only for a moment, and you find yourself wishing you could keep her in this moment forever—away from the court, away from the bitterness and the bloodshed.

But for now, this is enough. This moment, here with her, is enough.

#house of the dragon #hotd x reader #hotd #hotd x y/n #hotd x you #alicent hightower #hotd x male reader #alicent x you #alicent x male reader #alicent x reader #hotd alicent #alicent x y/n

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libbyfandom · 1 year ago

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Soft Modern!Mizu Headcanons

Loves ASMR. Likes Japanese soft spoken ASMR. There’s a nice older woman ASMRtist on Youtube that reminds her of how her mom would speak when she was little.

Has a plague doctor plushie.

Very much into the cottagecore aesthetic. Loves the idea of having a quiet little stone cottage with ivy growing up the side, shutter windows, and a little garden behind.

Speaking of gardening, her adoptive father taught her how to garden when she was small. He’d raised her on the smell of wet soil and the feeling of digging her little hands through to pull up the vegetables. She doesn’t have room for a garden in her little college apartment, but she does have a windowsill planter where she grows basil and rosemary for cooking.

Curls up in fetal position when napping.

Uses scrunchies to tie her hair up. Blue and black are the most common colors.

Mizu follows hopecore stuff on every social media platform and saves her favorite quotes and videos to a folder in her phone.

Mizu’s first sleepover is in college with you and Akemi. Akemi got all of you matching pajamas but in different colors and ya’ll made cookies and watched childhood movies Mizu’s never seen like Barbie. And I mean the CLASSIC Barbie movies like "Rapunzel" and "Princess and the Pauper". She makes lighthearted, snarky comments the first half of the movies but by the end you see how her eyes are bright as she sits in front of the TV.

Ringo taught her about wishing on dandelions. If she doesn’t pick them to use herself when she sees them, she saves them for you or her friends.

She’ll doodle on your arm with pen when she’s bored in the one class you share together.

She’s not the baby of her friend group, she’s the second youngest, right before Akemi. But she’s the baby of the group. It’s just, no one outright tells her so she doesn’t get defensive. Akemi will braid her hair for her before kenjutsu practice, because she never learned how. Ringo will always keeps snacks in his bag for her, and pulls them out when he sees her holding her stomach with the slight pinching of her eyes hinting that she’s upset and pained. Taigen and her are, you know, but when he sees her in a four v one fight against upperclassman he jumps at one of the guys, swinging without hesitation.

Mikio never got her flowers. But when roses show up on her kitchen table with a note in your handwriting, she has a moment where her heart is fluttering. Her eyes close as she brings one close and inhales its floral perfume with a soft smile.

Mizu drinking a milkshake.

She hung fairy lights on the ceiling of her room.

One time for a college event Akemi absolutely doused her hair with silvery spray on glitter. Her raven hair ended up sparkling like the night sky and she got so many compliments she started getting flustered. She'd hide behind Ringo and Taigen when she would see groups of girls walking by that would gasp at how pretty her hair looked and come closer to either compliment her or ask her where she got the glitter.

#shesbabyyourhonor #mizu #mizu blue eye samurai #blueeyesamurai #blue eye samurai x reader #mizu x reader #modern mizu

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jeonginsleftcheek · 9 months ago

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Seasons with you

pairing: changbin x gn!reader

genre: hurt/comfort, friends to lovers au

word count: 5.0k

warnings: vague descriptions of anxiety, insecurities, depression, abusive exes (not physically), lots of metaphors, they're in love your honor!

a/n: okay this might be one of my favorite fics i ever wrote, i got so emotional and sappy while writing it (i cried aksksll) and i hope y'all love this as much as i love it🥹🩷 binnie deserves the world and so do you, reader💕

(the book i'm referencing in my fic is called 'my name is memory' by ann brashares)

~check out my: Masterlist

🌸SPRING🌸

It is a known fact that everything comes alive with the arrival of spring. The sun rises earlier in the morning, illuminating the trees and the flowers, uncovering new sights to be seen, ones that were blanketed by the darkness of the night before.

The first drops of dew are heavy on a small leaf, making it bend but never break as they slide down to the grass, all the way into the earth below, satiating it's thirst, kissing the roots buried deep.

It's silly to think so, but you kind of relate to the little leaf as you sit on your picnic blanket and stare at it. You always bend to other people's will, always put yourself in the second place, forgetting about your own needs, telling them and yourself that it's fine and you're fine just like this. You bend and bend, and you wonder how much longer you can bend without breaking.

Sometimes you're the little drop in the sea of other drops, invisible and unremarkable, existing just to serve some higher purpose, to feed the earth and disappear like you never even existed before.

Thoughts like this plague your mind often times, especially on a beautiful day like this, when the sun is shining high in the sky, revealing all the colors of pretty flowers that bloomed in the grass, the clouds that look like cotton candy, so fluffy you wish you could bite into them and taste the sweetness of sugar.

The serenity and the beauty around you only feed into the sorrowful black hole inside you that grows bigger and bigger each time you give a piece of yourself and get nothing in return.

Everything comes alive with the arrival of spring, and you hope that this spring you will come alive too, blossom with all the pretty flowers, be one of them and not just a disregardable little leaf.

You wouldn't dream of being the sun itself, when that title is already taken, saved in your heart for your best friend Changbin. The one who is as warm and bright as the sun itself that you're sure the flowers bloom whenever he passes by them. They bask in his incadescence, seeking his light just like you do, but you would never ask for too much, never say it out loud, never bother him with the darkest parts of you in fear of dimming his brightness.

You have no idea that you don't even need to ask, Changbin would reach up and pluck the stars out of the sky only for you, just so he can see that beautiful smile you give him as he approaches you. And as much as he loves the smile that dances on your lips, he can't help but notice every time that it doesn't reach your eyes.

You hide, but the eyes are a mirror to the soul and the dark hole that grows inside you is reflected in your gaze, making Changbin wish he could reach in and touch your soul, illuminate the darkest parts of you. Where you see yourself as the insignificant leaf, he sees you as the most beautiful flower, too delicate to be plucked out roughly like you were before when uncaring hands wrapped around you. Where you see yourself as a little droplet, disappearing and forgettable, he sees you as the water giving life to everything and everyone you come in touch with, the love you carry inside your heart for others quenching their thirst as you scatter parts of yourself all around.

You wave at him, your other hand coming up to shield your eyes from the rays of sun peeking through the leaves as they start rustling. The wind is picking up and your eyes fall to the flowers swaying in the field and then back to your friend's fluffy hair, swaying in unison with the flowers.

Changbin waves back at you, a smile so big on his face that you wish it was all yours, you wish you could be selfish like that and keep him all to yourself, but you can't.

"You left without me."- he pouts as he sits next to you, placing the basket he brought next to his legs.

"Sorry, I peeked into your room and you were still asleep. I didn't want to wake you."- you say, placing your book aside as Changbin opens up the basket.

"Brought you apples."- he says, knowing it was your favorite thing to eat early in the morning. "I washed them, too!"- he adds as he hands you one and you chuckle.

"Thanks, Binnie."- you smile and bite into the apple. It's the perfect sour and refreshing taste sprinkling on your tongue and waking you up a little, spreading through your body.

"Are you still reading that book about soulmates?"- Changbin asks, getting more comfortable on the blanket as he chews on an apple too, the crunchy sounds filling your ears, melting together with the birds singing in the tree above you.

"Yes well, it's the third time I'm reading it actually."

"Doesn't it have a sad ending?"- he asks, tilting his head to look at you as you stare ahead, counting how many red flowers you can see in front of you. Sometimes counting stuff like that calms you down and you do it almost subconsciously, listening to what Changbin is talking about at the same time.

"Not everything is meant to have a happy ending."- you sigh, he reads between the lines. You're referring to yourself, he knows it as well as you do and it's like a thorn in his heart, piercing through the muscle, making him bleed red, red like the flowers you're tallying up.

"Maybe the journey should be appreciated more than just wanting to skip to an ending. Be it happy or sad."- he smiles and you chuckle at his words, the warmness of the sun on your legs is nothing compared to the warmness Changbin envelopes your heart with.

"Maybe."- you shrug, your apathy deeply rooted inside you, you're stubborn like a child and you can't or maybe don't want to let the sunshine in.

🌸

Today must be a special day, a day filled with warmth and laughter. You don't remember the last time you had this much fun, the last time you were this carefree, finally forgetting about what you have to do and who wants to tear away another piece of you.

There's a fair in town, one that has been a constant in your lives, you attended it every year, ever since you were kids when your mothers had to hold your hands and warn you not to wander too far. You never missed a year and this one was probably your favorite.

The only thoughts in your head are Changbin and how you had to try so hard to resist kissing him all over his face when he picked up a kalimba from one of the stands and started playing a random melody on it.

He looked so gleeful like he was that child again, your best friend, who grew up with you and who you grew to love more than yourself, so irresistible and loveable to you. He focused on the instrument in his hands and you didn't want to shatter the sweet moment even though he wasn't even hitting any of the notes right.

"I'll get it for you."- you say when he finally looks up at you, his eyes are shiny as he smiles.

"Really?!"- he asks excitedly and you nod, thinking nothing of it, it wasn't something very expensive and you didn't mind buying him a gift he liked but to Changbin it meant so much more.

After all, he still has the pretty rock you found on the beach when you were 9 and gave it to him as a present, claiming you were sure that it was the prettiest one and that he deserves to have it.

"I swear I'll learn to play it."- he says after you pay for it, making you laugh.

"I'm expecting a full concert."- you tease, wiggling your eyebrows.

"With an encore!"- he adds, both of you giggling as you stroll together, your shoulders brushing occasionally, making your heart skip a beat or two.

You browse through many stands and both of you get hungry, stomach growling and legs cramping from all the walking. You decide to get some dessert, pancakes with ice cream, and you sit on one of the benches, the view of people eating, laughing and talking with their loved ones before you.

Changbin notices pretty flowers right there next to him and he gently plucks one out. You look at him and he smiles at you, like you're the most beautiful of them all as his hand reaches towards you and places the flower in your hair.

"What is that for?"- you chuckle, your cheeks warm and you almost bring your hand up to touch them, but you're balancing the ice cream pancake in your lap, you don't want it to fall and make a mess of your clothes and the floor.

"Looks prettier there."- he says and your breath is caught in your throat.

He means the flower, not you, it's not you, it's never you, that is what you think.

You don't say anything, you look back at your food and Changbin deflates, wishing he could find a delicate way to yell out how beautiful you are, how precious your heart is and how rare a soul like yours is. He wishes to do so quietly, so you don't get scared and run off like a vunerable animal that jumps at any loud sound.

You feel down suddenly, but Changbin doesn't let you feel blue for too long, quickly changing the subject to something funny he remembered or a movie he found interesting.

And when you finish your pancake, your stomach is full and so is your heart. Even just for a moment, you feel full.

You start walking back home, your legs hurting and Changbin offers you to climb on his back and you do so, both of you laughing as he jokes around, pretending he'll drop you as you squeal before he actually starts walking normally with you attached to his back. He carries you home as your limbs wrap around him, wrapping around his heart even more.

You fall asleep as he carries you and he hates having to wake you up as he stands on your porch.

Your peaceful sleepy state is something Chanbgin wishes you could have when you're awake. He wishes he could be your peace, your comfort, your home.

And as he bids you good night, he stands on the porch a little longer than he needed to, even after you close and lock the door.

"I love you."- he whispers, his hand clutching the kalimba you so happily bought for him.

🫧SUMMER🫧

You don't like it. None of it. Not the weather, not the sun constantly making you feel like you're sizzling, not the crowded streets, not the laughter and squeals you can hear whenever you arrive at a beach.

You're a starfish, arms and legs spread out on your bed as you melt into it, the only sounds you hear are the fan turning and the music playing low as you stare up at the ceiling.

There are weird little spots on the ceiling, they were always there, you remember them since you were a child and you know how many there are. Exactly 43 of them but you will count them again and again, with the thought that a new one may appear any day now.

You concentration is broken on spot number 21, when Changbin walks into your room carrying a towel and a backpack.

"No."- you say before he can even open his mouth and he shakes his head, opting to try a light approach as he chuckles at you.

"You're gonna burn a hole into that bed if you keep laying in it."- he says.

"Great. Maybe it swallows me."- you say.

"You're a grim little thing, aren't you?"- he asks and you laugh, throwing a plushie at him but he manages to catch it mid-air.

"Come on, look I have watermelon. And sandwiches. And cards, we can play cards, you love that. And I brought my portable speaker."- he pouts at you and how can you say no to that?

"Alright, alright, you won me over. Give me 15 minutes to get ready."- you say, finally getting up and only then feeling how sweaty your back actually is.

Changbin waits for you in the kitchen, as you pick yourself up, take a quick shower and finish getting ready.

Your heart flutters just a little when you come down and see him helping your mom with the dishes.

In moments like this you wish you could tell him how much he means to you but your tongue twists, a knot in your stomach and a void inside your chest pulls you deeper under water, drowning you in the darkest depths of the ocean.

There's a smile on Changbin's lips the whole way to the beach as he leads you down the path you're familiar with, where your feet have padded through countless times before.

It's unbearably hot and you try to chase the shade as much as you can, the crickets screaming in unison with your burning skin. The closer you get to the beach, the more excitement courses through your veins and Changbin notices how the ends of your lips quirk up and how there's a skip in your step. His mood instantly shifts, matching your pace before the two of you start racing to the beach and giggling like crazy.

"Whoever gets there last, pays for lunch!"- you shriek as you start running, and Changbin scampers behind you slowly, ofcourse letting you win as he looks at your figure getting further away from him and fusing into the sparkly ocean and the blue sky before you.

The little giggles spilling from your lips fuel his heart and his desire to drink from your lips and taste the love that you carry inside you. He hurries to catch up and you turn to look at him breathless, weightless, elated.

The smile he loves reaches your eyes, for a fleeting moment, the sparkle that he unknowingly ignites is burning in your irises, bringing your soul out transparently only for him.

"Thank you for lunch in advance."- you smirk and he giggles.

"You don't have to thank me."- Changbin says and he means it, you don't have to thank him for anything he does for you, he would do it in a heartbeat again and again.

The two of you make it to the water, finally stripping and all but running into the water, excited to cool off a little on a hot summer day.

As soon as you adjust to the temperature of the water, laughter travels through the air between the sounds of splashes as you and Changbin start playing around, not caring if anyone is looking at you, feeling like only the two of you exist.

You wished every day of your life feels just like this.

Only when you get exhausted and the skin on your fingertips shrivels is when you finally get out of the ocean. Changbin is quick to grab a towel and put it around you, another one of the little things he does that makes your face and chest warm.

He opens the mini portable fridge, taking out some watermelon that was cut into pieces. You are the dj, playing some music on his speaker as the two of you settle into a chat.

You get lost in the ocean, watching as the waves roll and roll, your head is a little dizzy and it feels like your body rolls and crashes together with the waves. At first, it soothes you together with Changbin talking about some new band he discovered. Suddenly you feel like something's grabbing your ankles and pulling you down, and you try to fight against it. But the turmoil grows bigger and stronger, grappling to pull your head under water. You want to fight so bad, you wish to have it in you to fight for survival but you are just so tired and you have no fight left inside you anymore.

The sweet juice from the watermelon melts down your fingers, mixing with the salty tears sliding from your face down to your hand.

"Y/n?"- Changbin looks at you. "What's wrong?"- he asks, his face turning into a face of worry, his eyebrows pinched together.

You hate it, hate seeing him unhappy, hate bothering him with your silly little outbursts that you don't even know the cause of.

"N-nothing. I don't know."- you wipe at your face and his eyes soften, his hand coming up to caress your upper back gently.

"It's okay. We can count the clouds together and take deep breaths, what do you say?"- he smiles and you're slowly being pulled up from under the ocean, Changbin being the first thing you see as you emerge out and steady yourself, his hand searching for yours, fingers slotting perfectly together.

You count and he squeezes your hand, sticky from the watermelon but neither of you care. All you care about is him, and all he cares about is you finding your way back to him.

That evening, Changbin goes home with a new pretty rock you found before the two of you made your way back from the beach.

He places it next to the other one,

"I love you."

🍁FALL🍁

The heat has gone away, replaced by crisp air and the smell of petrichor. The rain drips, drips, drips on your windowpane as you sit with your warm cup of tea, a comfy blanket wrapped around your body, your book laying on the side forgotten as Changbin paces around the room, talking excitedly about some people he met who share the same love for making music as he does.

You gaze out the window, watching as the leaves fall down, hitting the ground soundlessly and making piles under the trees. You wanna count how many red ones fall down, but you can't, not when your friend is literally bouncing off the walls as he talks, distracting you from the task you gave yourself.

"Okay Binnie, I love that for you but please slow down, you're making me dizzy."- you chuckle.

"Oh! I'm sorry!"- he bursts into laughter with you, before he finally sits down, taking a deep breath in.

He talks about this Chan and Jisung that are apparently geniuses at what they do and he wants to join their little squad, and they want him to make music with them.

You're extremely proud of Changbin, you're estatic for him but you can't help feeling just a tiny bit jelaous and weird, like someone is bursting your little bubble and taking Changbin away from you. You know it's irrational, but you can't stop the tears that slide down your cheeks that night together with the raindrops sliding down your window glass as you stare at it, your legs pulled up to your chest.

You wonder what is wrong with you, why you feel so cold and abandoned, why you feel so completely alone when you know you're not.

You fall asleep only after counting raindrops.

🍁

Halloween might be your favorite holiday ever and Changbin shares the excitement with you as you decide to dress up in matching vampire attire. It wasn't the first idea that came to his mind for costumes but when he saw your puppy eyes and your lower lip jutting out cutely he couldn't say no.

There was a party held by one of your acquaintances from your uni, Hyunjin, who was popular enough to probably have the whole town come to his house, which is what went through your mind as you arrived at the party.

There were too many people for your liking, and Changbin assured you he wouldn't leave your side the whole night and if you needed to get away, he would be your partner in crime.

The evening was going fine until you caught sight of your abusive ex. A chill went down your spine. They never lifted a hand on you physically, but they always took from you, never gave anything in return, they peeled away all the layers, cut out all the pieces, fed their own desires and just kept taking and taking until you were left shattered on the floor like a porcelain doll. There were so many broken pieces that you're sure you'll never be able to glue them back together.

Changbin follows the line of your sight and finds out the reason the look on your face turned sour. He wrapps his arm around you and pulls you closer to him as your ex had the audacity to approach you.

"What are you doing?"- you whisper to Changbin and he just squeezes you gently.

"Trust me."- he whispers back, and you do. You would trust him with your life.

"Well, well, what do we have here?"- your ex smirks.

"A loving couple. You got a problem with that?"- Changbin speaks up and you gasp, you've never seen him speak to someone like that, you always saw him as a soft teddy bear, tender and sweet, always delicate with you like you were made of glass.

Your heart beats hard against your chest at the thought of you and Changbin being a couple, a loving couple at that and you dare to let yourself dream for a second as you drown out the sounds of the party wilding around you and your ex scoffing as they fuck off back into the mass of moving people.

"You okay?"- Changbin asks and you nod.

"Yeah, I'm okay. Surprised they didn't talk back to you, honestly."- you say as Changbin leads you to the couch so you can sit and calm down.

"Maybe they turned over a new leaf."- he says and you chuckle, it sounds so easy to do that, a leaf weighs absolutely nothing. You wish you could do the same, but when the hands are heavy, even lifting something as wispy as a single leaf seems impossible.

Changbin hold your hand again as you sit and count the fairy lights in Hyunjin's living room.

You don't know how, but your eyelids get heavy and you fall asleep on Changbin's shoulder.

His lips gently press into your hair amidst the chaos of the party, something so simple and gentle unfolds as his heart hammers inside his chest, spelling out,

"I love you."

❄️WINTER❄️

It's a yearly occurence, your families get together every Christmas and travel to a big house in the mountains to enjoy winter in all of it's glory; the snow high to your knees, the skiing resorts, the cable car where you can take in all the sights, the mountains massive, strong, soaring, touching the clouds and sky itself, they almost seem surreal to you.

Something like Changbin, who is always strong for you, a rock you can lean on, someone with a soul as big as his definitely touches the clouds and deserves to have the sky.

You almost feel like a little ant staring at the mountain, like you're nothing compared to it. Nothing compared to him.

Thoughts swirl in your mind, painting your soul black again, the dark void is now almost swallowing you whole, you're afraid you'll disappear inside it.

It grows even when your families are all together, wearing stupid christmas sweaters and exchanging gifts, it grows when you and Changbin go sledding, screaming and racing each other which ends up in a snow fight and him profusely apologizing because he hit your leg too hard with a snowball. It grows and grows, and you know you can't bend anymore, you're about to break. About to run out of fake smiles and I'm fine's, terrified of spring coming and nothing ever changing.

The vast snow covered hills and mountains that you stare at look like the void inside you feels, and that void looks back at you and mocks you, laughs at you.

"Hey, it's pretty late. Come inside, you'll get sick."- Changbin appears on the balcony and you jolt out of your thoughts and turn around to look at him.

He looks at you ever so softly, a beacon of light in the darkness of you.

"Where is everyone else?"- you ask, peeking into the living room behind him.

"They went to sleep. It's just you and me. Come on, we'll make some hot chocolate and gossip by the fire."- he wiggles his eyebrows and you can't help but laugh as you follow him inside.

Your eyes are trained on the fire, as Changbin's are on you, the reflections of it dancing on your face and illuminating every single spot, freckle, wrinkle that you have, everything he loves about you, everything he's already counted many times before wishing he could count them with his lips too, not just in his head.

"Is the chocolate good?"- he asks.

"Yeah, perfect."- you nod, but you want to scream. You want to tell him how scared you are of being unloveable and broken, scared of ending up alone, scared of never blossoming into a beautiful flower.

It's like he feels your thoughts and Changbin's heart swells, growing and expanding to fit everything that makes you you inside it, as the words spill from his lips;

"I love you."

Your head snaps towards him, the movement making you spill a few drops of chocolate on your sweatpants.

"W-what?"- you say, sure you've gone deaf in the middle of everything else.

"I love you. I can't keep it in anymore, I'm sorry. I've loved you always and I don't know living without loving you. I don't know who I am if I don't love you."

Your ears ring as you stare into his eyes, the crackling of the fire sounds like the crackling of your heart as it bursts in little fireworks and you feel like you've lifted up into the air, your body weightless like the little leaf, unbothered and carefree, and you cry.

You burst into tears as sobs escape your lips and Changbin's arms envelop around you, keeping you safe and pulling you back down to root yourself in the ground.

"Shh, it's okay. It's gonna be okay. I'm here."- he keeps whispering as he rocks you and you clutch onto him like he'll fade away from existence if you let go.

You want to tell him you're unworthy, that he's so much better than you and he deserves someone with an open heart, not you, the black hole that sucks everything in, you want to tell him you feel as empty as the white snow covered field, you want to tell him of your fear, your insufficiency and your doubt, residing in your soul that was tainted with darkness of other, befouled souls.

But you don't have to say anything, he knows you better than you think he does, and he holds you tightly, like you're the most precious thing to exist since the dawn of time until now.

But most importantly, you want to tell him that you love him too. And you can't. It eats at you as you cry harder but he understands. He always does.

His hands are smoothing down your back as he whispers over and over again;

"I love you."

🫀EPILOGUE🫀

And with the arrival of this spring, you have come alive too. You're not just a little leaf anymore, nit just a drop of dew, you're the most lovely flower of them all, you're his flower. Like a butterfly you've emerged from your cocoon, more beautiful, more colorful, more mature and loved. Your sun rises in the shape of your wonderful boyfriend, the one who removed the blanket of darkness from your eyes, the one who helped you pick the pieces back up, helped you love yourself.

It's a journey, the hole is still there albeit considerably smaller and you sit and count the red flowers while Changbin feeds you sliced up apples, nothing but love and adoration in his eyes as they observe you.

"Seventy six."- you exclaim suddenly, startling your lover from admiring you.

"Oh yeah? That was pretty fast."- he smirks jokingly at you.

"I'm kinda good at counting, actually I'm a professional at it."- you say matter-of-factly.

"I expect you to count all the kisses I give you today."- he giggles, pecking your cheek.

"Right, like you don't kiss me every second."- you roll your eyes playfully.

"Mhm, acting like you don't like it. Maybe I should just stop and make it easier for you to count when there's less of them."- he jokes and you laugh, the smile gracing your face reaches all the way up to your eyes.

"No, you should keep going. That way, I'll get even better at counting."

You continue joking around, like there's no care in the world, your book is next to your legs, the one you read over and over again. Maybe it doesn't have a happy ending, but now you know you don't need a happy ending in a book because yours is right next to you, being silly for the purpose of making you laugh.

The gaping hole inside you shrinks smaller and smaller and you don't feel like you're constantly on the edge of a cliff anymore. And even if you were, Changbin would be there to catch you.

You're lost in counting his eyelashes as he leans in closer to you and before your lips touch his, you whisper,

"I love you."

🫀

✨Taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @hwanghyunjinismybae

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