#they really would go to the end of the world for each other

[prael]

Day 1: Scandal

Aespa Karina x male reader smut

words: 4,260 12 Days of Praelmas Masterlist

They're calling it the scandal of the century. A downright disaster. People scrambled in the aftermath, but the damage had been done, the proverbial milk spilt. And oh, did the milk spill alright. It sounds like everyone had tuned in right around the country. Hell, right around the world.

If they didn't catch it live, then they certainly caught the post-game replays.

There are a lot of those going around.

No amount of damage control could have prevented it from exploding all over the Internet and into every gossip rag imaginable. But damn it if her PR team hadn't tried to stop it anyway. They had gone on the offence—attacking everyone and anyone who had even so much as hinted at the incident. Filing every legal document they could just get it removed.

It doesn't matter. The damage is done. The ties are cut and you're both hung out to dry.

Well before it happened, there had been warnings. Karina was still fresh off the back of her first Dispatch leak. The two of them weren't even really dating. Two young, rich and hot adults were just fooling around, so once it hit the press and the online articles came in, she took the axe to that relationship right away. She could always find another dick to ride on.

That she did; your dick, and damn did she ride it.

It was a friend of a friend thing. You know one of those 'I showed this girl your picture and she wants to get to know you' things. To be honest, you thought it was a joke. Of course, you did. How often does some K-pop starlet want to have dinner with you?

Anyway, three months down the line and you're two and half months deep into, well, being deep into her.

Her apartment is nice. Her bed is nicer, or at least it is with her in it.

You spent night after night together doing every nasty, carnal thing she wanted. She loves it. You would come to realise she's a bit of a nymphomaniac—and you fucking love it. But, even still, you kept it casual. Kept it quiet.

Didn't work too well.

There was a close call, once.

You put it down to getting a little too comfortable. The guard slipped for just the briefest moment of weakness. Though, if anything, you would at least put part of the blame on the whole system. See, Karina can't catch a flight without the entire thing being documented. She arrives at the airport and they're all there waiting with cameras in hand to get the latest snap of her airport fashion as she comes out of the van. They know what flight she's on and the exact departure time, and then when she lands there's another group of fans waiting.

So it goes without saying, you two can't just waltz in there hand-in-hand. So you book the same flight, seated far enough away from her that no one would question a thing. You shouldn't speak, not until you're safely at the other end and in the privacy of the hotel room, but Karina is Karina.

So she texted you, this one time in the departure lounge. A twenty-minute window and directions to the toilets of the private lounge. There, in the small cubicle, you slipped down her jeans, turned her around, bent her over and made her feel good.

It was quick and messy. Nothing like how the sex would be in her hotel later that night. You had her cheek pressed against the door of the cubicle, your hand covering her mouth to stifle the noise, and your dick going balls deep in her hot pussy while her hand rubbed away at her clit. It was desperate and hungry—more the need to release the sexual tension than to enjoy it.

But damn was it fun.

She deepened the arch of her back and presented herself just that bit more for you and you watched every inch go inside her with each thrust. Watched as your cock spread apart those soft pussy lips of hers and vanished into the warm embrace of her body. Her ass shook as your hips slapped against it and eventually, her legs trembled so much that you had to wrap your arm around her waist to keep her up.

But when you came—and you came deep—someone entered the bathroom. Their presence was unknown until you heard the faucet run. For a brief, horrifying moment you thought it might be someone waiting to bust you.

A security guard or maybe a tabloid reporter ready to get their story. The scandal of the century? Not quite.

Just another passenger. They didn't even realise who they were next to as they washed their hands. But the idea that you both could've been caught, had Karina let that moan slip or if you hadn't just stopped pounding her against the door so hard that it rattled the hinges.

Afterwards, with your spent dick sliding out from between her tight thighs, it was something Karina whispered in your ear. She said, "That was close. We'll have to be more careful."

If only you knew just how careless she was about to be...

See, it was a pretty normal evening. She texted you a time to come over, and you took all the usual precautions. (There's a side door into the block and a service elevator that Karina made sure to get the passcode for.) Admittedly, you got there five minutes early, but it wasn't the first time it had happened, and since the first time, Karina made sure to leave a sock on the bedroom door just in case it happened again. She was streaming, you see, an Instagram live session. One of those things where the adoring fans get to listen to their idols talk about themselves, or their day, or sometimes with Karina, something a little out of the ordinary.

So you waited. A drink of water, sitting on her couch, and letting curiosity take over. You opened up her Instagram, watched her for a few minutes, and smiled to yourself because, as usual, she was simply being Karina. No topic, just rambling, but there were thousands watching anyway, because well, why wouldn't they?

A smile crept onto your face as you watched, knowing that she was in the next room, just looking that good, and soon enough you would be in there ravishing her. There were thousands upon thousands of other people, jealous of you without even realising you existed, who would give almost anything to be in your shoes—to be able to do the things you do to Karina. Fuck, some of them would probably sell everything they owned.

Then she started saying goodbye to people. Signing off, wishing them a good night, whatever. So you locked the phone and waited until she came down the hallway.

She was moving quickly, right towards you. Bare feet hitting the wooden floor in hurried little slaps. She jumped right into your lap without so much as a 'Hello', and she clamped her legs, clad in tight yoga pants, around your waist. She grabbed either side of your face and kissed you, a hand reaching back and pulling on the hair at the base of your skull as she did.

And it wasn't soft either.

It was fierce and aggressive. Her tongue forced its way into your mouth, pushing against your own, flicking over your teeth. She ground herself against the erection growing beneath her and breathed hot breath against your lips while biting down on the lower one.

"You," she gasped. "Take me to the bedroom... Now."

"Hi to you too," you joked, putting your arms under her butt.

She was so very easy to carry. Maybe because you had done it so many times before. But she had always been a light little thing, so slender apart from exactly the places you would want her to be big. It always made it so easy to pin her against the wall with her leg over your shoulder, to press her up against the shower and bounce her up and down on your cock while steam filled the bathroom. But mostly it was great because you could easily throw her down on the bed.

Tonight wasn't going to be any different.

Except it was, wasn't it? But neither of you knew that just yet.

As you walked toward her room, holding her gorgeous body up with nothing but a firm grasp on her ass, she kept whispering things to you. Whispered them right against your ear, her voice low and husky as she did. She told you about all the things that she wanted you to do to her. The things that she wanted to do to you. Like some raw, filthy script of a play long overdue to be performed.

"...and then I want you to put it right back in my pussy and cum in me again and again," she said it right as you pushed through the door. Look, Karina's room isn't that huge, but when you're dying to get your cock into her, going all the way to the bed seemed like such a pain when there was a perfectly good wall right there. You turned and pinned her against it.

There you two stayed for a while, locked in that embrace, kissing and nibbling. She wrestled your shirt off over your head while you peeled up her sports bra. You bent your head down to her chest and kissed along the valley between her breasts. Her soft skin warm against your lips, and you kept pressing them down on her, leaving faint wet marks until you reached one of those pert pink nipples. You cupped her tit and you sucked. Hard.

A little whimper of appreciation followed by a slight tremble through her body was the response.

You went from one to the other. Fingers caressing one and your mouth on the other, switching between them, never fully committing to either, keeping her guessing as to which nipple would feel the bliss next. Karina knew what she wanted, and she simply wouldn't wait. Maybe the rush to get fucked could be blamed for all of this.

See, while you sucked her tits, she pulled down her leggings and her underwear. Maybe it was desperation, maybe it was convenience, but she didn't even pull them past her knees. Instead, as you continued your adoration, she unbuckled your belt and let your trousers fall to the floor. Your underwear didn't last long either. She gave a couple of lazy strokes up the length of your cock, just enough for her to feel it getting hard. Enough for her to know you could give her what she needs.

She twisted between you and the wall and leaned against it; her tits pressing against the white paintwork, and she stuck out her ass. "Don't hold back," she instructed. "I need it."

For all the focus you gave her tits, Karina does have a hell of an ass.

So with her arms up above her head and grasping high, she looked perfect. The swell of her hips, the curve of her ass—it was just to be grabbed and slapped. Those legs looked fucking perfect, slightly muscled from hours of dance practice but still so thin and lean. And between them... fuck. If there's such a thing as a pussy so good it should win awards then Karina better prepare her speech.

You weren't gentle.

Gentle doesn't work for her. Gentle is boring. Normal. Vanilla. Karina's tasted it all before and she's bored. You won't remember the first time she said those words to you. She made you promise not to judge her but she told you exactly how depraved and slutty she really wants to be in bed.

So when she said, "Fuck me hard," you did exactly that.

Spit on your cock was enough to get it slick. You stroked the tip up and down across her waiting pussy a couple of times and found the right place. Then you slid it right inside her, letting it rest buried for just a moment before you pulled back. You didn't even go halfway before you thrust it right back into her. Right down to the balls. Deep as you can go.

A pleasured hiss passed over clenched teeth as her cheek pressed against the wall and she nodded, just once, telling you that she wanted more. You fucked her harder, feeling her hot insides clench at your cock. Her hips smacked against the wall with each thrust, the room echoing with the sounds of your flesh coming together. The squelch of her wet hole was barely audible over her cries. Cries that steadily increased in volume the longer you held her against the wall, the more aggressively you bucked your hips against her, the harder you drove your dick into her body.

"Don't stop!" she cried out as her legs shivered.

No danger of that.

Maybe you should have.

Karina was struggling. To not fall apart in your hands, to hold herself against the wall, but also just to keep breathing as the intensity of your deep pounding washed over her, making her shudder and shake in front of you. One of her hands flew down to between her legs. The tips of her fingers went in a circle around her clit.

But as much fun as taking her against the wall was, she would fall if you continued.

So you did what you knew you could so easily do, just threw her. Her quivering body collapsed onto her bed after a small stumble. Right into the one place in the room, she shouldn't be.

See, Karina was sitting just here, maybe ten minutes earlier. You were watching, on your phone. She had chatted and joked and waved goodbye, just where you were about to fuck her.

She clambered up the bed and onto all fours, looking back at you with lust-drunk eyes, urging you on, needing to be fucked some more. So you crawled right up behind her, took a grip of those beautiful hips and you slipped your cock back inside her.

One stroke and you bottomed out within her.

Two strokes and she began moaning again.

By the third, you were slamming her forward with each push.

The bed creaked in protest as you hammered yourself into Karina, keeping up with what she wanted as she pushed back at you, meeting every buck of your hips with equal force and speed. At least one orgasm tore through her body. You felt it in the way her body contracted around your thick shaft as you drove it deep inside her, but also heard it in the way she screeched through gritted teeth. Saw it as she clawed at the blankets, grabbing handfuls of material and pulling at them as her body tensed up.

"Cum," she pleaded with just the one word.

And that's what you did. Her little pussy made sure of it. Feeling her spasm around you, squeezing your throbbing cock so tightly that you couldn't resist but join her in ecstasy. So you flooded her sweet cunt, sending ropes of cum into her waiting body, painting her walls, feeling every inch of her pussy pulse as her body urged yours to give her everything it had. Her cries mingled with the heavy panting as you emptied your balls within her.

You couldn't keep it up. Fucking Karina sometimes feels too intense, takes so much energy out of you, makes your muscles burn. So you had to withdraw from her and rest back on your haunches, catching your breath, your heart racing. But Karina is Karina.

She turned around and before you could move, she had taken hold of your thighs and moved forward. Her lips wrapped around the tip of your glistening cock and began sucking on it. As her tongue rolled across the slit and along the underside, tasting your seed and her own juices combined. Her cheeks hollowed, eyes staring up at you from behind damp hair and you felt her moans reverberating through you.

How can she do this every time? How can she make you recover so quickly? Because you did. No sooner had Karina placed her head in your lap than you grew hard again. You were left fighting that war against conflicting desires: whether to push her off and have her again or keep the pleasure of having her mouth on you. Every swirl of her tongue across the sensitive parts of your cock, the feeling of her lips gliding along its length, her throat opening and the tightness taking your crown.

"Oh shit..." you groaned. "Are you trying to kill me?"

She didn't answer but you noticed her hips wiggle slowly side-to-side.

It wasn't long before she relinquished the grasp she had on your thighs and let you pull her into position. A roll onto her back. A pillow under her lower back. You hooked one leg over your shoulder while she held the other out wide, laying right on the edge of the bed. You sank into her again and again, rocking the entire bed with each thrust.

And how you only wish now that you had at literally any point taken a look to your right. Maybe you would have questioned why her phone was still there. Maybe you would have made her check the thing was actually off.

Of course, you know now the mistake that Karina made.

You pushed her down into the bed, pressing her leg against her chest as you fucked her. Fucked her deeply. You had changed the tempo now, switched to something slower, more powerful and purposeful. That load you left in her cunt made the whole thing a mess. You pounded into her and it spilt between you, running down her ass and soaking her bedding. Karina gasped as her second climax crashed through her.

Her phone caught it all.

Every minute.

When Karina came, so loud, so hard, so intense that she didn't know who or where she was, people were watching. Her fans watched. When she said your name as she stared up into your eyes with such gratitude, they were listening. And when you came for the second time, she made sure everyone could hear.

"I feel it," she whispered, her fingers digging into your arms. "I feel it. All of it. Give me more. Fill me."

She pulled at her thighs, spreading herself open and making you groan into the crook of her neck as your throbbing dick pulsed, unleashing another load of thick cum deep within her body, making another wonderful mess. Leaving her already soaked cunt saturated. Together you lay like that, two exhausted bodies wrapped in an embrace, your cock twitching, occasionally releasing a few drops inside her. Karina giggled.

"There's nothing better than that feeling," she groaned. "Nothing... better."

She looked right into your eyes as she said it.

"It's my favourite thing in the world."

So you kissed her, both of you falling into the tangled mass of sweat-soaked blankets while you stayed on top of her. She didn't want to let go, not yet, not while the closeness and warmth were shared. Your bodies pressed together with your softening cock still inside her until eventually you slipped out and came to lie beside her. She nestled up against your chest.

In the silence that proceeded, there was a vibration across the room. Your phone is still in your pocket, somewhere on the floor. You let it ring out, while you lay there, breathing heavily. Again it vibrated. "Ugh," you groaned, "Leave me alone."

"Is someone missing you?" Karina teased.

"Doubt it," you replied.

Karina let her hand trace patterns across your chest, moving slowly towards your hip. You knew the game. Get you hard again, and ride you into the middle of next week. It worked, too. Even though you protested, her hand wrapping around your shaft soon brought it back to life. Sensitive strokes had you squirming and groaning.

"Well, whoever it is will just have to deal with the fact you're mine tonight," she purred.

Then you heard an unusual noise. Another buzz. But not your phone. From somewhere else. But you paid it no attention as Karina got up from your chest, swung her leg over you and began lowering herself down onto you. What started as slow gentle fucking quickly progressed back to something far hungrier and desperate. Her nails dragged lines across your torso, your hands gripping tightly at her waist to steady her. You watched as your cum leaked out of her cunt and onto you as she rode.

You reached between her legs and scooped up a blob, bringing it to her lips.

"Lick it," you told her. "Taste it."

And she opened wide for your fingers and cleaned them up. "That's what you wanted?"

"Yeah. Tell me what it tastes like."

"Tastes like us," she moaned, fucking you faster, pushing you deeper.

Then she leaned back, making a show of the way she rolled her hips against you. Bouncing as she impaled herself on you. Her head rolled back and her eyes closed as another orgasm approached. It built slowly, the intensity growing higher and higher until she teetered on the edge, balanced between bliss and rapture. The way her tits bounced had you hypnotised. Focus locked on her. Ignoring the phone that continued to ring.

She was close. Really close. Riding you frantically. Her moans turned into short desperate gasps until she had no voice left. You heard the scream before and saw how hard she came, but now you had front-row seats to watch it all again. Her muscles tightened and spasmed. Her rhythm faltered.

Your phone rang.

"Shit. Oh fuck!" she screamed, throwing her head back, arching her spine and freezing mid-thrust.

Her cunt gripped you tightly. Squeezing, milking. Urging you to release within her once more and give her that final gift. You felt her leak over you. Watched as her pussy throbbed as she rode out those final moments, struggling to continue as her strength failed. You grabbed her hips and did the work. Thrusting up into her repeatedly. Feeling her cum dribbling down your shaft and over your balls. Fuck, she's messy.

She panted desperately and let her arms drop by her side, staying arched and leaning back. You helped her balance. She needed it.

Your phone kept ringing.

You ignored it. You fucked up into her, wanting nothing more than to cum inside her again. Your muscles burned. You clenched your teeth. The pressure in your lower abdomen was unbearable. But you pounded up into Karina, making her call out with each thrust, while your grip on her probably turned her hips purple. The pleasure in you rose and rose, so fast, so intense, and without warning it broke.

You came again.

Holding her down and shooting your cum deep inside her. Gasping for air as you did, flooding her body with rope after rope until her insides dripped. Her thighs became glazed in the evidence of your passion.

Then you lowered her down to lie against your chest and you held her close. Until her breathing settled and you could hear her purr, "I think you've outdone yourself this time."

"I think you'll kill me," you joked in return.

"But imagine how happy I'd be if you died from giving me too many orgasms."

A laugh. Another vibration. "Whoever that is must really need me," you grumbled.

"Fuck them," she laughed.

"Why, when I can keep fucking you?"

Karina bit her lip. She seemed pleased with that answer. Then you realised that even as you softened within her, she hadn't stopped grinding against you. Making those slow circles, keeping herself stimulated and trying to get you hard again.

"You're relentless," you marvelled.

"And you love it."

"I love-"

There's a bang at the door and then a bell.

Karina groaned. She sighed. She relented.

Then she rolled off your spent cock, letting it slip from her swollen cunt and you both stared at the ceiling. "Maybe they'll go away?" you mused. They didn't.

"Come on," she huffed. "Stay there. Let me get rid of them."

You listened to her walk across the hardwood floor in her bare feet. Unstable steps courtesy of your enthusiastic rutting.

She pulled on a robe and left the room. Your phone vibrated again as she left, so finally you rolled out of the bed, crawled to find your pants and pulled the damn thing out.

More missed calls and messages than you could count, and not just one person. Your friends, Karina's friends, and... Karina's manager? Face recognition kicked in and the phone unlocked. You're staring at Karina's messy bed.

You're staring at Karina's messy bed on your screen.

The icon has the word 'live' beside it.

You're staring at Karina's messy bed on Instagram Live.

Your heart stops beating. Your breath catches in your throat. You swallow nothing. Wait. One. Two. Three.

"What the fuck are you doing!?" is the scream from across the apartment. You look at the phone again. Karina's messy bed, on Instagram Live, with millions of viewers.

Oh.

Oh fuck.

That was when the realisation of your combined carelessness struck you both—separated by a wall, finding out from two different sources.

Now, they're calling it the scandal of the century. A downright disaster.

[okwonyo]

ℰ SWEET LOVER, ❛ 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗆𝗒 𝗋𝗂𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗌 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖾𝗌, 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗂’𝗏𝖾 𝗌𝗅𝖾𝗉𝗍 𝗌𝗈 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝗋.

𝖠𝖫𝖳𝖤𝖱𝖭𝖠𝖳𝖨𝖵𝖤𝖫𝖸──── they love you, their wallet loves you too.

( 𝑓𝗍 ) ㅤㅤ𓈒 日语 + fem!r 𝑖𝑛 8OO ⟡​ fluff established relationship 警告 kissing skinship crying ࿁ 𝘮𝑢𝘴𝑒𝘶𝑚

antescriptum. can be read as christmas gifts or not ♥︎

reblogs&feedbacks ૮ ♡◞ ◟ ა click

HEESEUNG ｡｡ spends several weeks running through every beauty stores he knows to find the perfect gift to give you. the man would spend hours on end to find a fragrance that would be ‘perfect for the most perfect girl in world’—as he says to every employee that tries to help him. his world would change to wonderful colors when he finally finds the one. a fragrance that matches your beauty and aura, luxurious and, oh, so beautiful. he gives you the perfume like it’s nothing on chistmas day, even if his hands are sweaty from anticipation.

JONGSEONG ｡｡ gives your gift to you—if you can even call it like that— in the morning. while the sunlight is peaking through the blinds and the winter’s cold can’t get under the covers. “baby,” he calls you softly as you are hidden in his arms. “remind me what is you dream travel again,” he asks gently. while he smiles, you go on a rent about northern italy in the summer, in a big summer house, close to the sea. he hums all along amd when you finish he nuzzles his nose in your hair, “great, because we are doing that this summer, baby.” it takes a while for you to process, but when you do, you get up so fast that you almost feel nauseous… because, what?

⠀ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ﹙ᵕ ᵕ⠀look under the cut ! ♡

JAEYUN ｡｡ he does get your presents. not only one or two. so much more, as if he bought a gift for you every month of the year to make sure he had something to give to the ones he loves. he gifts your favorite type of clothes, in you favorite colors, from your favorite designer brand. to them, he add expensive bags that you mentioned vaguely over the year. he remembers when and where you said you liked this specific clothing from this one brand— he keeps it’s name in his notes like a secret that is waiting to be shared. and he give these gifts to you with a smile that translates his adoration for you.

SUNGHOON ｡｡ he makes you enter the living room with his hands covering your eyes. “here you go,” he whispers in your ear as he reveals a dozen little blue boxes with bows on them sitting all over the room. there is jewelry in each one of them, each one more beautiful and pricey than the other. then, when your eyes are already watery, in his hands, he offers you a beautiful red box. in it, a darry ring. the one that can be bought only once in a lifetime— a silent promise that you are together for the rest of your lives. he puts the ring on your finger as your tears fall, then he wipe them with his thumb.

SUNOO ｡｡ he knows how much you love to take care of yourself, how good pampering yourself makes you feel, how bad you adore looking beautiful. it is logical that he buys you the best skincare and makeup he can find. he looks at it for months, finding the perfect products for your skin, the one that nourish and make it glow at the same time. he buys you loads of products, because he wants you to have a tons of choices. he takes the bear ones, no matter the price. “your beauty is unmatched,” he tells you. “cannot let any bad products ruin your beautiful face.”

JUGWON ｡｡ listen, at first, he was really thinking of buying you only two or three jellycats. seriously. he didn’t think that he would end up with so much. his heart just knew you too well, it murmured what you would want to your boyfriend. it guided him to the jellycats that you would love— which are every single one of them. and yes, of course, he ended up with the entire collection. you enter your room with jellycats plastered everywhere, covering every single space. you moth fall agape when you see your boyfriend face amongst all of them. “i couldn’t choose, so i took them all,” he defends himself with a grin.

RIKI ｡｡ he loves to play video games witt you. it might be his favorite moment when he comes over, which is everyday because he never really leaves. he adores when you punch him because he is allegedly cheating, when you hug him every time you win and when you have to kiss his cheek because he it is turn to hold victory. his love for those times sits in your heart as well, he knows it, which is why he buys you a nintendo switch. with almost every game you love on it, pretty stickers to put on it and everything that comes with it. the expression on your face is enough to make his entire year.

ᩰ ᩙ𓈒◞ ˕ ◟𓈒ᦡ ’s .. have a wonderful day, luvdolls 🎀 thanks to @soov for the help >3<

𓈒ㅤㅤ𓈒 taglist open。

[lo1k-diamonds]

I suppose this is what people call a Christmas miracle.

I had to leave the most Christmassy fic I've read for the end. Leave it to none other than the Queen to make a new classic filled with drama and plot twists.

Initially, I didn't touch this fic because I thought, Hmm, the way this summary goes, there's cheating for sure. Which is not my thing. BUT THEN someone made an ask or something about it, and I gave it a shot, and oh boy!

As the story played out, I kept thinking, But why? Why this decision? Why did he answer like that? Why did she act like that? Where is this going?!

And it's an art, really, to concoct such an engaging story with complex characters, each with their own motivations, fears, and ghosts. I know it may sound obvious, but this type of world-building and character development in a story with a fairly straight-to-the-point premise that ends up being anything but is not so common. I was entangled from the first scene, wondering what OC was running away from and how that meeting would shape the story, and then it hits, and it doesn't stop.

This story is like a book, with constant twists and turns, and when shit hits the fan, it does! I was so shocked when Alia actually came through and turned out not to be petty or just a c*nt, basically. I was constantly fearing that she'd turn out to be sooooo much worse, but in the end, she's human, making mistakes, and redeems herself. Taehyung is very respectful in all this; I'm not sure I would have handled it with so much grace cause Alia be damned, that confrontation was fucked up, and he didn't deserve to be treated that way. I'd also give OC kudos because between fainting of mortification and running away, I know for sure I would not have stayed put after that whole thing went down 🙈

But long story short - incredible read, through and through! I was so curious, anticipating every confrontation, and screaming and kicking when it happened, not to mention their sweet reunion and baby talks and awwwwwwwwwwwww, so cute 🥰🥺

But maybe they should visit Taehyung's family next year for Christmas... 👀

A Christmas Fix — 01 (m) | kth

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

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

⟶ Title | A Christmas Fix

⟶ Pairings | Taehyung x female reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⟶ Read on AO3

One month ago…

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

Everything. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Another sigh came from your lips as you wondered—

Now how am I supposed to answer her text? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I order you another glass of drink?” 

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry?” 

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

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

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

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

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

And he wasn’t completely wrong about it. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The comment he gave you made you feel warm inside. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Would you like it to be?” 

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

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

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

Present…

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

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

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

Well, almost everything. 

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

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

You scoff at the thought. 

Right. Miracles. 

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

Not for you, at least. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, fuck.”

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

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

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

“Okay.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Because you were already feeling sick that day. 

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

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

If only you knew then. 

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

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

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

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

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

Why does it seem like she is the one panicking? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I have no idea where to start.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, shit. 

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

Long before the trip. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you remember his name?” 

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

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

You bite your lips. “It’s Tae.” 

“Tae—what?” 

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

“Seriously?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Two weeks later…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ah. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So much for trying to not draw any suspicions. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until now. 

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

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

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

In Skye’s own words, “Just in case.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Stepsister. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That voice. 

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

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

But you cannot say the same about his voice. 

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

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

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

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

Your eyes fall on your stepsister first. 

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

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

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

Too familiar. 

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

No. That can’t be.

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

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

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

No. 

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

Taehyung, you wonder. Tae? 

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

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

Please. Please don’t let it be him. 

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

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

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

Please tell me that it’s not him. 

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

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

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

Fuck. 

Me.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Taehyung. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No, Honey. What would that be?” 

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

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

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

But, alas…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But what’s in it to you? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Huh, strange.

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

Or perhaps…

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

Fuck. 

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

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

Last summer? But that was before—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But not this time. 

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

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

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

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

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

“_______?” you hear your mother calling you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

About him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But what if that was all just another lie? 

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

Fuck. Now what? 

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

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

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

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

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

Better yet, it helps make you feel less alone. 

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

But even if it turns out that he was…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No matter how fucking messy it is. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

As though he has been waiting for you. 

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

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

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

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

“I’m fine, it’s just—” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The tightness in your chest grows tenfold. 

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

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

A night to escape from reality. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He falls silent, taken aback. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You frown at him. “What is it?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You may have to deal with everything yourself. 

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

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

Stop it. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Six weeks ago…

You opened your eyes and squinted. 

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

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

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

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

“Hmmm…You think so?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until this moment. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you had gone deep. 

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

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

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

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

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

“This is what I want.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tae—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now it was your turn to give him a show. 

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

“Please, fuck me, Tae. Fuck me good.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tae—!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You are perfect.” 

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

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

© All rights reserved. 2024 Yoonia — Unauthorized use and/or duplication of these works, including reposting, translating and modification in any form, is strictly prohibited. 

[adieutristana]

Hiiii, i have request for a fem r x jinx, so like r and jinx have known each other alll their lives, maybe r is like sevika's niece or smth close, then when jinx gets adopted by silco, they ontinue to grow close until they become lovers, now you can do whatever you want here, just req that somehow r gets seperated with jinx and joins ekko and the professor breaking into the lab, which led to r joining then in the alt uni, the same time as ekko or maybe earlier, then au!jinx(she's alr r's gf in that au) suddenly gets worried or jealous cause ekko and r suddenly without any reason becomes close and starts spending time together, you can end it however u want, just give us a happy ending!! That's it rllyyy, thank you for reading this req, and it's ok if you can't do it, no pressureee

of course!! thank you for the request <3

this one is pretty long, sorry ^^; i just wanted to include everything and do your request justice

summary; sevika’s niece, jinx’s childhood best friend becomes jinx’s girlfriend. they get separated in the alternate universe, and powder grows jealous.

characters included; jinx, powder (act iii au), sevika (familial), ekko (platonic)

tags/warnings; fluff, hurt/comfort, s2 spoilers, idk if sevika has living relatives but we're making up a sibling for the story, mentions of death, arguing, mentions of drinking and smoking, jealous powder

men dni.

sevika has never been great with children. the day you were born, your small form writhing in her brother's arms as you cried, and cried, and cried, sevika didn't know what to do with herself. this was family. sevika was loyal to family. but she just... couldn't deal.

yet as you grew older, she grew used to it. whenever you went to auntie sev's, she pulled out whatever non-alcoholic drink she had for you, pouring it in a stained glass and sitting down opposite you at her table. she'd teach you to play card games- ones appropriate for children, of course. war, go fish, the like. nothing like the blackjack or poker that gave her a thrill under dim lights, but it was honestly... nice, to have this company. even if you were small and still struggling to speak for yourself.

she found herself growing comfortable with you. she had always loved you, had always cared for you. you were her niece. but the fact that you were still learning to navigate the world, learning how to be a person, scared sevika- especially considering the state of the undercity. how was a child supposed to thrive in such a troubled city? how were sevika and her brother supposed to protect you from the harm that inevitably comes everyone's way?

and then, you found a friend. a little girl, no more than a few months older than you, with turquoise hair and warm, sky-blue eyes. powder was her name. a playful, friendly girl who would play tag with you in the alleyways of the lanes. she showed you all of her contraptions, little bombs with scribbled drawings of various animals for faces. handmade. your young mind found this incredible. how could one girl have this much talent?

each day, after your lessons, you'd go to a specific place close to a boarded up, abandoned home in the outskirts of zaun. it became yours and your friend's designated spot. a spot where powder would train, punching and kicking at the air with a wide grin, you sitting and observing. a spot where she’d sit down and whistle her favorite songs painfully out of tune. a spot where you shared secrets, talked about her adventures with her siblings, and you shared your frustrations about stupid homework. you'd brag about how cool your auntie sevika was.

"she's just so strong! and she can fight off anyone. she plays games with me, and she helps me with my reading work. even if it's hard."

powder's eyes would widen, and she'd nod enthusiastically.

"really? she sounds awesome! maybe i'll get to fight like her one day..."

"why can't you?"

and then powder would grumble, her eyes flickering down as she folded her hands in her lap.

"my sister doesn't think i'm ready. she says i'm not experienced enough."

she makes air quotes when she says 'experienced enough,' huffing and rolling her eyes. you'd reach out to squeeze her shoulder, trying to give any kind of comfort. you weren't the best at offering consolation, but you could at least do this for her.

when powder came to that same spot a mere few weeks later, she was bursting at the seams with excitement. she couldn't stay still, and as soon as the girl saw you, she bolted in your direction. throwing her arms around you and squealing. you were confused- but powder was clearly happy, possibly the happiest you'd ever seen her. so you wrapped your arms around her in return. she pulled her face back, blue eyes sparkling.

"vi finally said i'm ready. i'm going on a job, tomorrow! topside! it's gonna be a good one."

powder was positively beaming, and you could only smile. you tried to find the words for a moment, although you were ecstatic for her.

"really? that's awesome!"

"mhm! she said she's gonna take me with the others, and i can help!"

powder heard violet's voice calling for her from the end of the alley, seemingly having searched for her. she looked back at you.

"i'll see you soon, okay?"

then, radio silence.

you visited your usual spot a few times after that, your heart wrenching in your chest upon seeing the spot powder usually occupied empty. you had heard rumors swirling around of powder being caught after her job, her sister growing angry. yet, you didn't want to believe it. powder was your best friend, she was amazing! there was nothing the girl couldn't do.

but it was true. your best friend, powder, didn't pull it off. an arrest. an explosion. what caused it? what happened to powder?

it was driving your mind wild, pulling you in different directions and eating at your insides. you asked around, other children of zaun, but each one ignored you, shook their head, shrugged, muttered a quiet 'i don't know.' it was killing you.

that was, until the next time you visited your aunt. you sat down at her dining table, cheap leather peeling off of the seat. uneven legs, heightening your fear of toppling over any time you shifted. sevika brewed coffee instead of lighting her usual cigar, her back turned to you as she slowly moved through the kitchen.

"hey, aunt sev?"

you asked, voice unsure. shaking.

"huh?"

she responded, her back still turned to you.

"you know my friend, powder. you've met her, haven't you?" you saw sevika pause, leaning over to brace her hands on the edge of the counter. "she's kinda... missing. do you know what happened?"

"i do."

she responded, tone blunt with a sharp edge. you winced at this, you knew just how scary your aunt could be if provoked. but you cared too much for powder, this was too important-

"she's with silco and i. he took her in. she's a problem."

"a problem?"

your heart sunk in your chest. god, how could your best friend be a problem?

"yes. she's distracting silco, but he insists that she'll be an asset."

"please, sev, tell me m-"

the woman turned her back and slammed an empty mug onto the table.

"i'm not talking about this anymore."

✧.*

the day after your seventeenth birthday was when you found powder- ‘jinx,’ they now called her. a dark alleyway in the outermost of zaun, not far off from your spot just a few years prior. you’d begun taking morning walks to clear your head of all the bullshit that came with being a young girl in the middle of a troubled city- one with a close relative who worked for silco of all people. to get the swirling anxiety, political unrest, friends disappearing left and right, all of it- out of your damn mind.

you’d experimented with walking routes, going through the lanes, through some of the highest roads in zaun, but none were quite as… peaceful as the outskirts. much more nature, less people, more tranquil than any other area. your head hung low, hands in your pocket, gaze on the ground. whistling.

you would recognize that sound anywhere. the same song powder used to always whistle, you heard it again. the tone was a bit deeper, a bit more raspy, but god, it had to be her. your head shot up, eyes darting around for the source of the song. busted windows, trash cans… blue braids.

your feet moved quicker than your mind could. you ran to the girl, breathless, throwing your arms around her.

and then she pushed you off of her, your back hitting the ground.

“powder- powder, what the fuck?! you don’t remember me?”

she stood over you, breath heaving, blue eyes boring directly through you. searching for any sign of danger or betrayal, studying your features…

“oh. oh.”

“powder, please-”

the girl yanked you up by your shoulders and got onto her knees, immediately pulling you into a bone-crushing hug. long nails dug into the fabric of your top.

“it’s jinx now.”

oh. oh god. you’d heard that name before. the name of a master criminal in the making, under the watchful eye of silco. his prodégé, his daughter. she had been powder, this entire time? under your nose for years, and you had no idea?

you wrapped your arms back around her, tentative, so scared to break her. the way she flinched told you all you needed to know.

“po-jinx, it’s okay… you’re okay…”

she only held you, her chin resting on your shoulder.

"a lot has changed."

"i know. but it's okay." you pause. "are you busy?"

jinx has her hands resting on your shoulders, pulling back the same way that she did the day before her job.

"no... no, not right now. why?"

the corner of your lips tug into a gentle smile.

"we have some catching up to do."

✧.*

the first thing jinx did was drag you around her newfound hideout. slim floors of metal with a seemingly endless drop below them, and a lack of railings. anxiety peaked as you walked through her home, but it was... charming. black lights paired with bright, colorful graffiti enhancing each surface. her face lit up as she showed you each of her handmade weapons.

you remembered the young powder with a single braid and defected color bombs, but these..? these were fully functioning explosives and assault weapons. god, where did she learn to do this?

"hey, whatcha thinking about?"

you're pulled out of your thoughts by one of jinx's fingers poking at your forehead. her blue eyes fixed on you...

"nothing. just... this is different."

jinx swings a leg over her seat at her workbench, picking up... a blowtorch?

"well, yeah. i told you things changed."

she quips, so nonchalant. how could she be so calm about her new lifestyle? it was such a drastic change, yet you couldn't help but... admire it. the environment surrounding you was a direct reflection of the person your friend had become. pilties feared her, zaunites revered her. to be able to make such a name for herself and have the unwavering sense of justice jinx had at such a young age was incredible to you.

god, jinx. she had really been staring you in the face for all of these years.

"tell me more.”

you said, slowly settling down beside her, bracing your elbows on the cold metal.

“oh, where to start?” she grinned. “well, right now i’m doing a lot in the way of enforcers and firelights. inventing, and all that. blowing stuff up.”

she giggled, not looking at you for a second. her thin hands held one of the very blue crystals a young powder held as if a precious amulet.

“and what about silco?”

“silco? he’s great! he’s always believed in me, said i’m smart and i can do whatever i put my mind to. he thinks i’m perfect.”

she hums, continuing to tinker away. your heart sinks the slightest bit. although silco was definitely a symbol of the undercity, he was feared. it just didn’t sit right with you. for him to have somebody like jinx in his grasp was frightening, but if she turned out relatively okay in the end, it was fine… right?

“oh, and sevika’s an ass.”

“my aunt?”

jinx turns to you suddenly, lifting her goggles off her face.

“since when is sevika your aunt?”

“…since i was born?”

you reply, raising an eyebrow… the same way sevika does with jinx. she folds over in a fit of laughter, her forehead on the workbench-

“oh, oh gods! that’s too good. how did i not know?”

✧.*

october 10.

jinx’s birthday.

jinx’s eighteenth birthday.

being slightly younger than her, you didn’t know exactly what was appropriate for an eighteenth birthday celebration. you were never good at birthdays to begin with. but you had to think, think. this is for jinx.

you’d grown accustomed to her new lifestyle, the mischief that followed her everywhere she went. whether she always found trouble or trouble always found her, you were unsure, but one thing was for certain: she had grown into one of the most badass women you’ve ever met. becoming close with her again, stepping into her shoes and experiencing a taste of jinx’s world, it was almost as if nothing had changed. in terms of your friendship, at least. she would still talk about her sister (although their relationship was less than ideal now), show you her contraptions, and whistle her favorite songs.

except for when you noticed your affections for jinx becoming something more than what was appropriate for friends.

curse you, curse you for falling for your childhood best friend. that was what you kept telling yourself. how could you fall for someone you had considered your best friend for so long? the thought of losing jinx again over something as trivial as a crush made your heart ache.

so you repressed it.

you repressed the way that your heart skipped a beat when she inched closer to you on her workbench.

you repressed the way her smile brought a swarm of butterflies to your stomach.

you repressed the way you wished to call her late at night just to hear her voice.

you repressed the way those blue eyes could make you give in to anything.

but that’s not important. no. what’s important is decorating jinx’s hideout while she’s out on a job for her birthday and throwing together a cake. pink and blue banners, big balloons with the number ‘18,’ crude paper-mache iterations of her monkey bombs, and making a gift.

you were hunched over your desk for hours trying to make her a charm bracelet, representative of your history. scrap metal from crushed cans, pliers, discarded chains, and acrylic paint could take you further than you expected. a mouse, for mouser. a blue ball, for her crystals. a can of spray paint. a bomb. a monkey. all little charms representative of what made jinx jinx.

did you burn yourself? yes. did you have to bandage yourself from getting cut by thin metal? also yes. but it was for her.

and a card. you decided in the days leading up to jinx’s birthday that you had to tell her somehow how you felt. it was eating up at you from the inside out.

when jinx arrived to her hideout, kicking the door open, it took a moment for her to notice that anything was different. somehow the streamers, candles, and smell of cake didn’t give it away, but she quickly strode over to you with the same jump in her step as always.

“heya t-”

and she finally noticed. glancing around at the handmade decorations on her workbench and the balloons, the pink and blue icing on her cake…

“oh. oh wow.”

she chuckled, in mild disbelief.

“wow, all of this for little ol’ me?”

you nodded, body tense with anticipation and anxiety. you knew the second she opened that card, everything would change. she sighed in that playful way she always did, and put her hands on her hips.

“okay. where to start?”

she glanced over the workbench. the cake, card, and small wrapped gift.

“well, it’s only right to start with the card.”

she sat down, and unceremoniously began tearing the envelope open at the top with her fingernails. not even using the flap in the back. you should’ve expected as much. she finally gets through to the card and looks at the front- a drawing of the two of you sat side by side.

“oh, this is cute!”

she beamed, and eagerly flipped the card open, and that’s when you saw blue eyes beginning to scan over the words inside.

“powder, rather jinx, i’m sorry that this is so sudden. eighteen is a big feat. you’re grown! and i’m proud of everything you’ve done. all the progress you’ve made for zaun, and all of the things you’ve come over. you’re a strong, smart, wonderful girl. but i need you to know that i’ve had feelings for you for a while now, and i can’t keep ignoring them. meeting you again and getting to know the person you’ve become has been one of the best experiences of my life. i wish i could spend those days alongside you as your girlfriend.

if you want to throw this card away and forget about it, i won’t be mad. just think about what i said.

-your best friend.”

her eyes scanned over the paper. again, and again, and again. did she really have to read it so many times? her brows furrowed, then raised, then furrowed again, before she glanced up at you.

“you… mean this?”

you let out a shaky breath.

“of course i mean it, jinx.”

you then felt thin, yet strong arms thrown around you and a head buried into your chest.

“i thought i was crazy…”

she murmurs, voice muffled by the thick fabric of your top. her tone is softer than usual, a side of her you’ve grown to realize is reserved for you only.

“crazy how?”

“crazy because i feel the same way.”

did the world stop?

was time hanging over your head?

“oh, god- jinx, you’re serious?”

you laughed, returning her embrace with tears pricking at your eyes. she squeezed you even tighter to her, beginning to pepper little kisses all over your face- no doubt leaving stains in their wake.

“ah! you still have a gift to open, jinx!”

you were mockingly protesting. in truth, you felt like you were floating.

“don’t care!”

✧.*

shortly after jinx’s own, your nineteenth birthday came and passed with jinx clinging to your arm. a day of being dragged through zaun tagging walls together, your girlfriend presenting you with a barely-edible cake, and rushed kisses on her couch.

which sevika walked in on.

regardless, you woke up to the sound of jinx’s deep breathing, close to your ear. still sleeping, her ear right up against the left side of your chest. you’d noticed she liked listening to your heartbeat, especially during late nights together. the first and only time you asked about it, she just said, ‘it’s relaxing.’ if anything could relax jinx, you’d do it.

you couldn’t move, not yet. you could only look down at the sleeping girl on top of you, snoring like an old man. if it were anybody else, you’d have stopped sharing a bed a long time ago. but jinx was kind of… endearing.

“mm… what time is it, toots?”

you heard her grumble.

“uh…” you moved your wrist from under her to glance at your wristwatch. “11:20.”

“ugh… it’s too early.”

“too early?”

“yes! i need to sleep more… five more minutes.”

one of jinx’s classic lies. but you let her, regardless, because who were you to deny a little longer of the girl you loved clinging to you? your free hand came to her lower back, your thumb rubbing gentle circles over soft skin.

“okay. then while you’re here, i need to tell you something.”

“mm… go ‘head.”

there was no easy way to put this, but you had to spit it out.

"i'm going to topside later. going to jayce's lab with ekko and the professor. they said there was something... important i needed to see. something about hextech."

with this, jinx's eyes fluttered open, looking up at you. thick brows furrowed.

"why?"

"something about hextech."

you repeated yourself. she grumbled.

"why d'you have to be the one to do it?"

your eyes widened for a moment. damn. you weren't sure how to answer this question, exactly. why did it have to be you? clearly, jinx wasn't asked about it if this is the first time she's hearing about it. but you knew it was important enough if you, a relatively ordinary citizen of zaun were asked to accompany heimerdinger and his newest student.

"i... i don't know. but it's important enough. i'll be a few hours tops, okay? a few hours, then i'll come back and be right here when you're ready to sleep. we can be just like-"

you pointed to her head still laying directly over your heart,

"this, again tonight."

jinx grumbled, slowly pulling herself away from your chest, bringing herself to loom over you. unkempt blue braids on either side of your face, rosy eyes locked on yours.

"fine. but you better be back when you say you'll be."

you reached up to place your hands on pale cheeks, tracing your thumbs underneath her eyes, still heavy with sleep.

"i'll be back before you know it, baby. it'll be like i never even left."

✧.*

the lab. the lab.

that's the last place you can remember being before waking up with a gasp. you felt as if you got a punch directly to the stomach, body reeling with the aftershocks of... something. all you could do was heave, pant, use your hands to brace yourself against a... bedside table? desperately trying to find some kind of support.

you slowly gain your composure. your breath coming to you in short gasps, as your eyes finally manage to scan your surroundings. a bedside table, a full-sized bed with blue sheets, a bookshelf with various travel guides and science textbooks scattered about. a corkboard on the wall, with photos of... you? and somebody else.

you stumble over the corkboard, slowly lifting your gaze. photo strips from photo booths hang on the board, as well as post-it notes with scribbled drawings. the pictures are of you, and a girl. a girl who, upon closer inspection, looks almost exactly like jinx. but not quite. her eyes didn't have those bags you'd grown accustomed to, and her face seemed fuller. she had a wide grin or silly expression plastered onto her face in almost every picture. the jinx you knew hated her picture being taken.

this girl's hair also was chopped to her shoulders. jinx kept her hair so long she had learned how to not trip over it. a gentle breeze sweeps the room, and the air is... more clear. not as overwhelming as the usual pollution of zaun. you think you can manage a deep breath in without feeling any side effects.

"there you are, silly!"

you hear from behind you. you snap your head over your shoulder with a gasp, and it's the girl from the pictures. oh, god.

she sets down a box on the bed, a few bolts spilling out from the cushion of the mattress.

"heh, whoops."

she chuckles, placing both hands on her hips. she really does look exactly like jinx. blue hair strung up into messy space buns and a little pink streak. that's new. you glance around at the room once again, noticing the corkboard. a drawing of you and the girl on a yellow post-it, with "POWDER" scribbled beneath it.

powder?

"what... what is this?"

you manage to breathe out. the girl- powder, strides over to you and wraps her arms around your shoulders from behind.

"only materials for my next big project! i told you about this. remember?"

she giggles, voice playing directly next to your ear. a chaste kiss to your cheek and a bubbly girl holding you. you raise an eyebrow, looking back at her. your shoulders tense, eyes blown wide. how could this have happened? didn't powder adopt the identity of jinx after that job?

"this is what happens when you pull a double two days in a row. i know you need the extra time, babe, but you're exhausted."

powder pinches your cheek between her forefinger and thumb. that same playful smile unwavering.

"come on, we've still got a lot to do today. we're talking some stuff over with benzo, remember?"

benzo? the benzo whose corpse you saw?

"i... okay. just give me a minute to freshen up."

you make your way down the hall to a bathroom. this place was set up like a goddamned labyrinth, but you managed. you look at yourself in the mirror.. your clothes seemed nicer. more tailor-fit. your skin was more clear, almost no blemishes or scars. your hair was a bit longer, you still had split ends- guess you could never be bothered to trim those in any world. but... this was different. you huff, deciding to cut your losses and just go to this meeting you apparently had planned.

as soon as you arrive to the last drop, it's like being flashbanged. your eyes widen at how much more bright the place seems. new booths and tables, it seems as if it's been recently renovated for the sake of modernity. and then you noticed vander.

you knew how much vander's loss affected jinx. she talked fondly of him often, but you could tell the fact that he was no longer here was killing jinx, no matter how much time had passed since that day. yet, here he was in the flesh, chatting away with a customer behind the bar as if nothing had happened. had anything happened?

"oh, oh my god. you're here. do you know what happened?"

your body jutted forward and you snapped your head around, your first instinct being to shove whoever was behind you. but you didn't thankfully. ekko.

"you're here too? shit, i don't know, i just- i woke up, and i was here, and everything's different, and everyone is acting different."

you muttered, beginning to pace around. the boy in front of you seemed stunned, shaking his head in disbelief.

"you don't know anything?"

"i'm just as confused as you are, ekko."

"sorry! ran a little late. you know how the streets get this time of day."

you heard from behind you, powder carrying a brown messenger bag.

"...jinx?"

powder just quirked an eyebrow, one of her signature confused expressions. she shakes her head, brushing off the fact and makes her way toward the bar. benzo's sat on one of the stools, waiting.

you shoot a glance in ekko's direction, mouthing 'sorry.'

✧.*

the second the meeting is over, you grab ekko by the arm and pull him into an alleyway behind the last drop. you sigh, letting his arm go, and he's visibly peeved.

"what the hell?!"

"i'm sorry, ekko, i just... this is all so weird. apparently powder never became jinx, and benzo is alive, and so are vander and silco and things just seem so... nice. i keep telling myself it isn't real, but i'm not waking up from whatever the fuck this is."

ekko looks down, his hand pressing into the spot below his eyebrows. he shakes his head.

"i talked to heimerdinger earlier. he said this is some kind of parallel universe. no hextech, so there's not a good chance of us getting back."

you swore you could've felt your stomach drop. oh no.

"how is there no hextech? are you serious?"

"i wouldn't lie about this."

"fuck. fuck."

you're tangling your hands in your hair, once again finding yourself pacing back and forth. the alleyway is clear aside from a few palettes and trash cans, yourself and ekko being the only occupying presence.

"we're trying to figure something out, together. but it's going to take a while."

your feet still, and you take a deep breath in. your lips press into a thin line. you don't exactly have it in you to be patient right now, but did you have another option?

"shit. okay. it's not like i've got any better ideas."

ekko sighs, his shoulders dropping. you glance over to him, and put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing in an effort to reassure him.

"i'll try and think of something, too. just keep me updated, okay?"

ekko gives you a small grin and nods.

"i will. it'll be alright- let's hope, at least."

your eyes wander over to the last drop's back door, and it's cracked open, with powder looking out.

shit. how long has she been there?

you walked to your apartment side-by-side with powder, but she seemed so... tense. she didn't look at you much during the walk back, which made you a bit fearful. she was so chipper just an hour or two ago, what happened?

you swung open the door after taking a few tries to find the correct key, something powder also noticed. thankfully, she didn't mention it, or you'd have a difficult time explaining.

you stepped in, taking off your jacket and dropping it on the arm of a leather couch. one that wasn't peeling.

"so, when did you and ekko get so close again?"

she asks, crossing her arms over her chest. this may not be jinx, but she has the same facial expressions. she thinks you're hiding something.

"huh? we've always been friends."

"you guys fell out two weeks ago and you swore you'd never talk to him again."

oh shit.

"you don't remember? i mean... i guess it makes sense, i thought it was just a misunderstanding. you're usually the one to talk things out."

huh? you and ekko were never particularly close, but you'd never had a falling out. shit, everything really was different here.

"yeah... uh, yeah. we made up."

you say, hoping to whatever was out there that she wouldn't catch onto the fact you didn't have a damn clue what she was talking about.

"huh."

she huffs, clearly unconvinced.

"what, powder? come on, you've gotta talk to me."

"ugh- that doesn't explain why you were touching him like that!"

she snaps, her voice raising, yet not quite yelling. the look in her eyes, she looks as if she's genuinely been betrayed.

"i.. what? i was touching his shoulder, powder."

"yeah, and yesterday you were resting against it. what next, you'll be kissing his neck?"

were you really? god dammit, you had no way of knowing what this other version of you was doing before-

"no! powder, no. i... i'm sorry. but you have to believe me, we're friends. we were discussing something important to us."

she rolls her eyes, tapping her foot against the ground.

"come on. i respect your privacy, i trust you to not cheat, but you've got to ease up on him. rather, he has to ease up on you."

"powder, nothing's happening."

she sighs, her head hanging down in defeat.

"you promise?"

"i promise you."

powder slowly steps closer to you, shaky hands slowly coming to cup both of your cheeks.

"i just don't want anything to happen between us, okay? things are good."

"they are. but nothing will happen."

as... unfamiliar as this is, this version of powder, this supposed life of yours, you couldn't deny that it was welcoming. in some ways, it was a lot better than the world you came from. the overrun streets of zaun, the political unrest of piltover, thousands addicted to shimmer and more friends dead than alive. you could get used to this, but you wouldn't.

you suppose it wouldn't be so bad to indulge yourself until ekko figured something out, though.

"hey. you still like wearing braids in your hair, don't you?"

powder hums, pursing her lips.

"uh... i haven't worn one since i was a kid, but sure."

you sigh, and gently take both of her hands in yours.

"come on. i'll do some twin braids on you, braid pink ribbon into your hair. does that sound alright?"

powder seems to perk up at this, blue eyes going wide.

"ribbons?"

"yeah. you've got that pink streak going on."

"oh... okay. sure. knock yourself out."

she squeezes your hands, smiling.

[kumkaniudaku]

Caught

Summary: When their guest is away, Terry and Patrice will play.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 3,067

Warnings: Smut (18+ content)

Recommended Reading: Spoiled

Author's Note: Spoiled, Back Up, and Caught all happen on the same linear timeline. Consider them present day events. Hopefully that helps pull things together because you'll need the context later. Merry Christmas! Happy Holidays!

"Mommy, the recipe for the hand pies is so good. Thank you for finding it for me." 

"Oh, of course, baby. One day, I gotta get you to help me put all your Nana's recipes in a book or something. I'm tired of digging through all these scraps of paper." 

"I didn't wanna say anything, but that's insane. I can barely read her handwriting." 

Rosalyn scoffed on the other end of the phone line. "You and me both. I have to call Sybil every time or end up making up what I think goes there. I cook. I don't decipher chicken scratch."

Patrice laughed along with her mother as she passed a piping hot meatball over her shoulder to satisfy her taste tester for the night. He hummed his approval of her gift, providing a thumbs up as his rating before returning his hand to her waist and swaying them in time with the slow rhythm of Christmas music playing in the background. 

Christmas Eve brought preparation for the big day on the other side of a wake-up and a smaller get-together to celebrate Imani's and Jesus's birthdays in one evening. Patrice had offered to continue the tradition at her house to accommodate her cousin's request for loud music, liquor, and good, grown folks' fun. In a few short minutes, she and Terry would have a house full of adults gorging themselves on party food and fighting fits of giggles during a drunk game of Taboo. For now, she'd enjoy the calm before the storm with her shadow attached at the hip.

"The cinnamon smell for the apple version was way too strong, though. I almost skipped those altogether." 

Rosalyn responded with a sound of cautious curiosity. "Really? You usually love the smell of cinnamon." 

"Right," Patrice exclaimed. "Maybe I had a bad batch or something. It doesn't taste bad, but it smelled awful."

"Hm." Rosalyn filed the information in her head for a later moment of privacy, preferring not to stress her daughter with the questions buzzing around in the mind of a mother who knew her child better than anyone in the world. Instead, she continued. "Terry, did you like the hand pies?"

"You don't know if Terry is even in here, mama. He could be anywhere in the house," Patrice answered, her face screwed in confusion.

"Child, don't insult me. If you're in the kitchen, Terry is in the kitchen."

She wasn't wrong. A few too many glasses of Patrice's special holiday cocktail mixed with his ever-present desire to feel his wife at all times had Terry sticking to her like glue. Even after she'd given in to each of his kisses and allowed him to taste her the moment Imani stepped out to run a few errands, she still couldn't shake him. Whiskey was in control. Terry was only along for the ride.

He chuckled into the crook of Patrice's neck before confirming his presence. "Yes, ma'am, I loved the pies. Treece made a few on the side for me so I wouldn't have to share." 

"She still got you spoiled, I see."

"Nah, not too bad. You know she gets sweet once a week. I caught her on a good day." 

"Oh, hush."

Patrice's attempt to get out of Terry's grasp came up empty, prompting him to hold her tighter and press wet kisses onto the back of her neck. She was sadly mistaken if she thought she could get away from him that easy while Uncle Nearest was pumping through his veins. 

"Well, let me let you two go," Rosalyn started with a small laugh. "Tell me how the chicken salad turns out. I might throw some together as a little snack for your daddy tomorrow. You know how he gets when he's ready to eat." 

"Mhmm. Just like somebody else I know."

Terry patiently waited for Patrice to wrap up her conversation and safely end the call before resuming his handsy approach to PDA. His hands slid up and down the fabric of her cotton pajama pants, the pair matching his at her request. Full lips attached to her neck, creating a light suction with every open-mouthed kiss. 

His wife rolled her eyes as she loaded a pita chip with dip for his culinary opinion. "You are insatiable, TJ. Taste this." 

He obliged, opening wide as she slid food into his mouth and waited for a response. Instead of a verbal assessment of her work, he kissed her cheek twice to signal his approval, then returned to his shameless groping.

"How long before Imani gets back?" 

"I don't know. Fifteen minutes or so. She only went to grab some more cups and water." 

Terry's eyes flickered to the digital clock on the stove before sliding his hands up Patrice's torso and leaving a trail of kisses on her shoulder. "Think you got a few minutes to get back to what we started?" 

"Haven't you had enough of me yet? We've been going at it every day since New Orleans."

"What you think?"

Having enough of her touch, the feeling of her body against his, or her attention was a foreign concept for Terry. If he could quit his job and be totally devoted to her pleasure, he would do so without a second thought. Fortunately for him, though, extended absences from the slough of office life due to the holidays provided the closest opportunity to spend the whole day in it. 

Patrice smiled to herself as Terry slowly removed the serving spoon from her hand, bringing her delicate palm up to the back of his head. Coarse hair grown into a short tuft of curls and shaped by his barber tickled her fingertips as she closed her eyes, officially caught up in how Terry caressed her with the care afforded to precious works of art. 

A low purr slipped past his lips as his hands slid beneath the hem of her camisole to rub her stomach, filling her ears and mind with filthy sounds and images from earlier in the hour. Had he had enough of her? She wasn't sure she'd had enough of him. 

His fingertips inched higher, further intoxicating Patrice until a full squeeze on both breasts at the same time made her hiss and wince in pain. 

"Easy, baby," she complained as she gently pressed down on his arms to direct him away from the sensitive area. "They're super tender right now. I'm not sure why." 

Lust was quickly replaced by concern as Terry dropped his hands and turned Patrice to face him. "You okay?" 

"I'm fine, Pooh. It's probably the tattoo healing. 

"Yeah, but it shouldn't be making the entire area hurt. Especially not on both sides. Let me look."

"Terry, you never just look."

His attempt to slide the thin straps of her tank top down her arms was quickly cut short as Patrice brushed off his contact to save herself from what she assumed would come next. Her aching was a serious matter. Terry getting a look at her bare tits was not nearly as high on the list. 

Terry softened his eyes in unmistakable sincerity. "I'm serious, Treece. I know what it should look like. Come here."

Patrice didn't protest as Terry led her to the kitchen table. She stood perfectly still until Terry was comfortable in one of the chairs and then placed her between his legs. 

He gingerly pushed her tanktop straps down her arms before bunching the thin fabric at her waist to free her breasts, watching for any sign of discomfort.

"You don't think you're like…sick, do you?" 

"I think it's just tenderness," she quickly retorted, wanting to push the thought of more grave explanations for her discomfort far from her mind.

"Okay, okay. I'm only asking." 

Her brows furrowed as he lifted the right side to get a look at the moment from a charged few days in his family's old stomping grounds. 

A day alone and nothing to do but explore had them wandering into the same shady tattoo parlor where Terry got his first piece for matching ink. Terry opted to tat their wedding date on his ribs after having to be talked down from plastering her name on his neck. Patrice, however, was set on making her first experience one to remember. 

Slanted script crafted from his handwriting spelled Terry's full first name, curving just under the crease of her boob and the spot that he liked to grip in the depths of passion or simply at his leisure. Terry ran his thumb along each letter to check for abrasions or abnormalities. 

He looked up at Patrice to gauge her reaction. "That hurt?" 

"Not really. It's more here," she added, gesturing toward her areola. "Anything rubbing against it is so uncomfortable. I can barely wear a bra." 

"I noticed. They've honestly been looking a little bigger. Do they feel heavy to you?" 

"Not heavy. Mostly…full? They look great, though. I'm not complaining about that part." 

She joked, the attempt sounding silly once it received no reaction past Terry blinking as he used the pad of his thumb to ghost contact over her pebbled nipple to test her pain level. It was challenging to stay present, with a third of her upper half unnecessarily exposed in their kitchen for no real reason. The entire ordeal felt like a farce. Terrence wasn't a doctor, and him holding her titties in his hands like fleshy snowglobes was as much an actual check-up as WWE was real wrestling. 

When she giggled like a teenager learning about sex for the first time, Terry looked up at her with a quizzical expression, and his left eyebrow lifted high. "What's so funny?" 

"You, Doctor Richmond," she laughed. "How can you tell they're bigger? I couldn't even tell until the other day." 

"I spend a lot of time with my girls. I better notice when they change. Been looking at them since I was sixteen." Terry answered, a boyish grin making his cheekbones nearly touch the corner of his eyes. 

"I knew you used to look!" She exclaimed, finally feeling vindicated in her suspicions from childhood. 

"Looking was the least of what I was doing." He shrugged as he gently pushed both breasts together for his own viewing pleasure. He kissed the small crease they made two times over, then looked up at Patrice through long lashes. "Unfortunately, ma'am, I couldn't diagnose you, but I think I have some treatment available if you're interested." 

Patrice bit back a smile to play along. "Oh yeah? How much is this gonna cost? It's the holidays, and I ain't got it." 

"I offer payment plans that we can discuss in that room back there later tonight." 

"I like the sound of that," she answered, previous problems vanishing into thin air as he roped her back into his web of liquor-charged desire. 

"I knew you would," he winked. "Don't move."

Tingles rippled across Patrice's skin while she listened for any indication of Terry's secretive treatment plan. The soft crack and subsequent rush of cool from the freezer created goosebumps on her bare chest, making her nipples jut out proud from the sensation. Next came the cupboard opening and shutting in two seconds time. From the direction, she could tell he was grabbing a glass from over the sink. 

Ice cubes clinked against the cup like little masters of whispers attempting to give Patrice the scoop on what to expect. Terry quietly shut the freezer and took heavy steps back to his seat, smiling at how Patrice truly hadn't moved a muscle in his few minutes away. 

He placed the glass on the table behind him before tugging her hand to guide her closer. "Cold hot therapy. I sprained my knee once, and this got me back up and running in no time. Ice for the cold…" Terry's voice trailed as he plucked a piece of ice from his glass and pressed it to her nipple. He watched her jaw drop with a sharp inhale, intently focused on the way her eyelids fluttered closed at the sudden shock of frozen water. When a single drop began to make a trail down the swell of her breast, he pulled the ice away and brought his mouth closer. "And I'll take care of the hot."

"Oh…my God." 

Whispers of unexpected pleasure sent Terry into a far-off place where he was only concerned with running a flat tongue across supple skin. Patrice rushed to steady herself by bringing her hands to the back of his head, cradling him while he went to work. 

Ice cold. Soothing warmth. Ice cold. Soothing warmth and a light suckle. Again. And again. 

He eyed her like a lion watches prey, taking notes of every little sound and twitch to know that he was fulfilling his job. 

"Good job, baby," Patrice whispered, her head tossed back and praises spoken to the ceiling. "Good fuckin' job."

Terry ran his hands up the back of her thighs to roughly grip her ass. He groaned at the affirmation before pulling away to retrieve more ice. He held a small cube between his teeth to multitask, running it across her left nipple and areola until it had melted enough to fit both in his mouth. 

Was it fixing her tenderness issue? Not really. But Patrice would be damned if his subtle slurping and moaning with her backside firmly in his clutches wasn't sufficiently taking her mind off things. So far off, she'd lost all concept of time and space. 

While Terry pulled Patrice into his lap for a more intensive inspection, Imani entered the house high off the exhilarating freedom that can only come for night drives with a carefully curated playlist blasting from the speakers. Being stateside for the first time in a year was the perfect opportunity to experience one of life's simple pleasures. 

Grocery bags rustled and knocked against the wall as she hummed along to the fragmented lyrics from a song on her Spotify playlist still coursing through her brain. A short pause in her personal concert to lock the door left space to hear a string of curious noises. Muffled half-sentences and a sort of trembling sigh made her quirk an eyebrow. She thought to herself that Terry and Patrice left the television on far too often for a pair of people who claimed to not spend much time in front of the tube, but quickly found that they'd taken to making a scene the old-fashioned way. 

She stood in the open space, a perfectly shaped eyebrow pushed high on her face and an impressed smirk tugging at the right corner of her lip while she watched her baby cousin makeout with Imani's newest family member with a ferocity she didn't know Patrice had in her. 

Patrice held Terry steady by his jaw, slightly hovering over him while she had her way leading a sloppy kiss. When she moved to push his head back toward her chest with a string of words filthy enough to make a pornstar blush, Imani cleared her throat to finally announce her presence.

"Oh shit," Patrice yelped, rushing to tap Terry's back and end his check-up. 

His head popped up to survey the room, then slowly found a home on top of Patrice's once she pressed close enough against his chest to cover her naked breasts. The vibrations from his concealed chortling made Patrice pinch him in frustration. Nothing was funny, at least not to her. 

Imani held her hands up in faux surrender. "No, please. Don't stop on account of me," she laughed. "Y'all were just getting started." 

"We are so sorry, Moanie. This isn't what it looks like. Well, this part is exactly what it looks like, but I promise it didn't start like this. Terry was looking at my boobs to check on my tattoo and -" 

"Girl, you do not have to explain anything to me. This is your house! Honestly, if I had those big ol' mommy titties, I'd want them in somebody's face too. And you got them for free! The girls gotta go under the knife or get pregnant for those. How does it feel to be God's favorite? Terry, can you help me get the water out of the car when you finish?"

Terry looked down at his visibly distressed wife and then back at Imani to save face for the both of them. "Yeah, I got you. Gimme a minute." 

Moanie didn't notice how she'd launched her cousin into an internal spiral as she pranced off to busy herself with getting ready in her room for the week, but Terry did. He carefully sat Patrice up and helped redress her, careful to ease into conversation. 

"You alright?" 

"I had my cycle this month," Patrice rushed out, her gaze far off as Terry lifted her arm to put it back in her camisole strap. "It can't be that. I had my cycle." When her focus returned, her eyes snapped to Terry's for confirmation. "Right? I did, right?"

He nodded, unsure of how to proceed to quell her fear. "You did, baby. But, maybe…"

Sure, it was lighter than usual, but she'd had a cycle. Her body functioned like it did every month, on time and without pomp and circumstance. There was no cause for concern. 

But…maybe. 

Patrice looked down at her belly then back up at Terry, searching for answers in his sympathetic expression. He leaned forward and held her head with both hands to give her a kiss she couldn't return before he spoke. 

"Don't drink tonight. Just in case. We'll figure it out in the morning. Okay?"

"Okay." She whispered back without truly processing the gravity of his instruction. 

Terry slowly lifted Patrice from his lap to fulfill Imani's request for assistance, leaving her to stand perfectly still in the kitchen. She counted backward in her head, retracing her steps and important dates until a headache sent her to take a seat. 

It was just tenderness. It'd go away by morning, and all of this would be a silly story to tell whenever they got together in the spring for their European honeymoon. She'd drink an entire bottle of wine over heaps of pasta, turning the whole situation into a fond memory before raising her hand to call the server for another round. All water under the bridge, right?

But…maybe.

------

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[sencrose]

— ENCORE!

pairing: gojo satoru x f!reader

tags: exhibitionism, established relationship, toys (vibrator), idol AU (reader's an idol), praise, multiple orgasms, overstim, dacryphilia, clothed/floor sex, pet names (angel/sweetheart/princess), satoru being a wee bit possessive/mean, reader’s kinda tsun

wc: 4.6k

summary: your boyfriend wants you to put on a special show for the night, and your audience is none the wiser.

a/n: happy holidays! let's completely ignore canon together <3 i'll be free from idol AU bs one day. today is not that day. i got a tag on my blog for any idol!reader stuff involving gojo at #iettoru! if it piques your interest! special thanks to @angelbunsx and @surpassing-morning for looking over this for me <3 dividers by @/adornedwithlight

❥ ao3 link here

This was a horrible idea. Well, it still is a horrible idea, but you went along with it anyway. At the end of the day, you only really have yourself to blame, even though you would really like to split it with your boyfriend.

It took a bit of convincing, maybe a bit of guilt tripping, but it doesn’t change the fact that there’s a vibrator stuffed inside you as you walk onto the stage. Everything feels more intense than usual– the brightness of the stage lights, the stuffiness of the venue, the cheers of the crowd.

You inhale deeply but the words that follow come out shaky, “T-thanks for coming, everyone!” It catches you off guard, but not enough to stop talking. Your group members, however, give you a worried glance. You can’t afford to make them worry about you, not when there’s nothing worth worrying about other than your boyfriend’s perverted fantasies. So you continue, yelling into the mic as a way to hide your unsteady breathing, “We have a great show planned for tonight, so we hope you enjoy it!”

The crowd cheers, as per usual. Though this time it rumbles through you, intensifying the already overwhelming vibrations stirring you up. You don’t have much time to think about it. The start of the backing track catches you off guard, as you rush to catch up with your members’ formation. Everything feels hot, and you’re not sure what it is, the embarrassment of a rare mistake, or the vibrations rushing through your body with each step.

And though you’re struggling to keep up with the routines you’ve practiced dozens of times over, Satoru doesn’t seem to be phased. He’s business as usual, a sun bright smile plastered on his face as he yells and waves his penlight in the air. He might even be cheering louder than usual, the bastard.

Every move feels risky, like taking a block from an unsteady tower of jenga. The world’s worst game of flipping the coin. Either the vibrator will adjust inside you, press against somewhere that might make you moan, or maybe it’ll move around enough and slip out. Thinking about the latter is too much for you, so you surrender yourself to moving a bit less than usual. Focus on shining that dazzling smile to the crowd and hope they won’t see how it falters with every shift of your body.

And thankfully, it works for the first performance. You’ve never been so grateful to hear the crowd whoop and holler. Even more so that you’re not introducing the next song.

But that moment of relief is cut short. The vibrations pattern changes to something more intense, staccato pulses that make you wince with each throb. It catches you off guard, a soft moan escaping your lips before you try to cover it up with a cough, though you’re not sure it’s that convincing.

“You doing okay over there?” Your member’s voice barely registers in your ears as you rush to put on a fake smile.

“S-Sorry, I’m doing okay! Just recovering from a cold,” you reply with a shaky chuckle. Everyone seems to be content with your answer, though Satoru seems exceptionally proud of himself. It takes every bit of self control to keep your breathing steady, as your members banter amongst themselves before introducing the next song. Their speech feels like it’s going on for ages until they finally get themselves in position.

Thankfully, you’re not caught off guard this time, though the choreo’s a lot more complicated for this song. You don’t have the safety of being hidden in the back, being front and center for a good chunk of the performance. Though the audience cheers, you can see some concerned faces interspersed between the sea of penlights, some murmurs and whispers beyond what you can hear. It’s not hard to imagine what the conversation would consist of.

Even on a good day this routine would leave you breathless, but it’s on a whole other level now. It’s hard to keep your muscles clenched, terrified of having the toy slip out of you from your frenzied movements. And seriously, who thought adding this many jumps was a good idea?

But with each hit of a drum, you jump anyways, though a little less enthused than your members. Then, as if it’s a punishment for not giving enough effort, the speed of the vibrator increases. Your eyes dart to find Satoru in the audience, but he’s cheering innocently as usual, though one of his hands is dug deep in his pocket.

You’re going to kill him later.

With each move, it’s getting harder to ignore the tension building in your core. But you just have to get through this song and another before the buppan period. It’s only another ten minutes max, you can keep it together till then, you think.

Satoru plays more with the settings and you can feel him pushing the buttons for each one, carefully watching your reaction to see which is the most effective. Unfortunately for you, it’s written clearly on your face when your smile breaks and your eyes squeeze shut for a brief moment, just enough for Satoru to hone in on it.

You’ve vastly overestimated your ability to stay calm and collected. The buzzing inside you is erratic now, each pulse getting you closer to the edge. But the song is so close to being over, maybe if you just move a little less, catch a small break where you can focus on standing still, you can make it through. Though, it’s hard to concentrate when you can feel a pool forming in your underwear, the wet cotton sticking to your skin wherever you go.

It’s as if you can feel yourself developing a fever in real-time, heat boiling beneath the surface of your skin as you struggle to keep up with your members. It doesn’t help that Satoru keeps changing the vibrations to a pattern that doesn’t match the rhythm of the music, yet another added distraction. It demands your attention as if it’s a living, breathing being, gnaws and claws at your core until you finally give it what it wants.

The vibrator wins over your self-determination.

You at least have the self control to fake a cough over it, but not before your knees give out on you, trembling as you try to hold yourself back up. With every pulse, ecstasy courses through your body, small choked moans escaping your lips.

Your group members, sweet as they are, immediately come to your side to help you up, and you’re rushing back to coughing to hide the truth.

“H-Hey, you really don’t have to push yourself, you know,” she whispers to ensure the audience doesn’t hear.

You do your best to swat her away without actually hitting her, afraid she’ll be able to feel the toy vibrating through your skin and discover your dirty little secret.

“N-No, I’m fine, I can do one last song,” you get out, enunciating each syllable carefully to not spur any suspicion.

“You sure?”

“Y-Yeah, it’s just one more,” you assure her.

“Okay…” Hesitantly, she lets you recollect yourself, watching over you until you stand, give her a smile and a thumbs up.

“Sorry about that everyone, I’m okay! But this will be our last song of the night,” you announce into the mic, swiping the dust off your skirt.

You get a bit of your spirit back now that you got that out of your system. That doesn’t make the vibrations any less incessant.

Unbeknownst to the audience, it’s not a performance anymore–it’s a competition. To show Satoru you can hold it out till the end.

And with the start of the instrumental, you’re off to the races.

A thread of melodic synths weaves its way through the room, and the crowd fires off their usual chants during the introduction. It’s a nice distraction to hold you over until it’s your turn in the center. When it’s your time, you beam and sing sweetly into the mic, like it’s just your average performance. Satoru doesn’t let you go that easily, adjusting the attack pattern to diminish and swell in a way that catches you off guard.

And though it’s hard, it’s not the worst of the night. You hiccup on a note for a split second, but it seems to go unnoticed by the audience, considering how hard they’re waving their penlights. That’s one third of the song out of the way.

Even when you’re out of the spotlight, Satoru doesn’t take his eyes off you, nor does he take his fingers off the remote. Every move is an opportunity to see you break, even if it’s just a little. He does his best to find a rhythm, one that pulses with the beat of the music, and you feel it reverberating through you with each step. It’s not quite enough to make you break, but it’s enough that you’re hyper aware of it.

A frenzied mix of bass and synths meld together for the bridge, and the crowd takes it as their cue to do the appropriate chants, their yells rattling your chest almost as intensely as the vibrator. It’s bad timing to feel the heat in your core swell as you take your spot center stage for your solo with the instrumental toned down. The crowd quiets down too, a rush of soft claps pattering like butterflies filling the room. On a regular night, this display would be cute, heartwarming even. But now it only serves as a reminder that all eyes are on you, and only you.

Don’t mess up.

So you take a deep breath, gripping onto the mic like a vice. All of your focus is on the lyrics, singing them as softly and sweetly as you can. Even though the night was off to a rough start, you think you’ve redeemed yourself with this, hitting every note just right, even with the vibrator doing its best to pull your attention back to it. Back to Satoru.

You can take it easy now. It’s almost over. Just repeat the dance you've already done twice over from the other choruses.

And for once, it’s just as simple as that. The vibrating is incessant, but you’ve gotten used to it at this point, even with the occasional change in pattern. Your chest rises and falls harder than usual as you hold your finishing pose, your skin covered in beads of sweat you aren’t accustomed to.

Despite everything Satoru attempted to throw at you, you made it, and that’s all that matters. The performance is over.

For now. —

The buppan period is worse than you thought it was going to be. To your surprise, Satoru didn’t do his usual frenzied ticket buying spree and now you’re left to face the masses he usually doesn’t let you see. You don’t recognize the fan in front of you, can’t even determine if he’s a first time fan or if you’ve met him so long ago the passage of time has done your memory in.

“H-Hi, thanks for coming!” you exclaim, taking his ticket and placing it on the table.

“Thanks for the performance! I really hope you’ll feel better soon,” he remarks. The way he scratches his neck tips you off that he’s nervous.

“Aw thank you! I’m already feeling better for the most part, I’m just coughing a little here and there,” you do your best to assure him, lying through your teeth.

“Despite it all, you still did great today,” he says, whispering towards the end of his sentence.

“Thanks,” you smile, and you don’t want to admit it but you are a bit touched by his words. Quickly, you shake the thought away. Maybe you understand why Satoru monopolizes your time now. “So, did you have a pose in mind?”

“Yeah, just a hand heart, if that’s okay,” he offers, a bit hesitant, shakily playing with his hands to show you the gesture he’s thinking of.

“Sounds good!” You give him a thumbs up before leaning in a bit closer to him, just enough that your fingertips are touching. Look into the camera with your usual smile, and count down from three.

As soon as the flash of the camera dissipates, you’re hit with a rush of pulses to your core. It’s almost enough to make you keel over, a sliver of a groan escaping you as you bend over to grab your stomach.

“A-Are you okay?” he asks, his hands hovering over you wanting to help, but unsure if he should touch.

You don’t think you deserve his kindness.

“Y-Yeah, sorry, just,” you sigh, barely able to keep it together. Each pulse takes the wind out of you, gets you closer on that precipice you don’t want to experience here, not this close to a stranger, much less a fan. So, you wave the white flag for now, gritting your teeth to get the words out between deep breaths, “I think I gotta go. I’ll be back in a bit.”

–

Your absence doesn’t go unnoticed by Satoru. If anything, this is probably what he had in mind, push you to your limits until you just can’t take it anymore. By the time you barely have a moment to collect yourself, he’s already found you on the floor of the green room. It’s pathetic, letting him see you like this–breathless, panting, and desperate for relief.

The way he hovers over you paints him in a surreal, hazy light, as if he’s an angel coming down to save you from your strife, when he’s really the demon who put you in this scenario to begin with.

“My angel loves the attention, doesn’t she?” he asks, sickly sweet.

“Fuck off, Satoru,” you bite back, but you don’t stop him when he bends down to shuts you up with a kiss. It’s impossible to keep your voice back when he splits your legs apart with his knee, pressing up against your soaked panties while the vibrator continues to hum inside you. It’s more overwhelming than you thought, finally getting what you want and letting yourself melt into his touch. Satoru doesn’t let you savor it for too long, pulling away with a shit-eating grin.

“Feisty. Did I make you wait too long?” he sneers, pressing his forehead against yours.

You don’t give him a response, too embarrassed at the mess he’s made of you, at the way your wet underwear clings to your sticky folds.

“Don’t worry, I’ll give you all the attention you need,” he coos, sliding his hand up your thigh to pull down your shorts and underwear.

Satoru takes his sweet time because he always enjoys seeing how restless you get over him. The way you look up at him, the hint of tears forming on your waterline while pawing at him as you silently beg for him to take care of you. He could never get sick of it. So, he gently massages your inner thigh, fingers creeping up closer to your pussy until you’re nearly crying, pleading for him to do something.

“P-Please, take it out ‘Toru,” you whine, sniffling a bit because you’re so close to being overstimulated.

“Such a good girl for me,” he whispers soft and low, “since you asked so nicely…” he trails off, lithe fingers pressing into your soaked cunt, but not before he has some more fun with you. Satoru takes his sweet time, letting out a little “oops” to pretend the toy is slipping from his grasp, only for his fingers to go deeper than the vibrator.

The moment you part your lips to ask him to stop is the moment he finally shows mercy and slowly pulls out the vibrator. The sudden loss of sensation is a contradiction, both welcome and not. It’s strange to have nothing inside you, it almost makes you wish something else was in there to take its place.

One thing that catches you both off guard is just how wet it is, nearly dripping with your arousal.

“Wonder if any fans noticed you’re practically leaking,” he says before licking a long stripe off the vibrator, “not that it matters, you’re all mine, aren’t you?”

“It’s just sweat,” you retort, looking off to the side because you can’t stand to inflate his ego when he gets like this.

“Sure it is. Were you thinking of me up there?” he asks, following your gaze.

“Maybe,” you mumble.

“Huh? What was that?” he perks up, bringing a hand to his ear for dramatic effect.

“Toru, just put it inside already,” you huff with a soft pout.

“Wooooow,” he comments, drawing out the vowel for dramatic effect, “needy today aren’t we?”

“It’s your fault anyways,” you say, an attempt to throw the blame back at him. Still, you wrap your fingers in his shirt before pulling his body closer.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll take the blame as always. For what it’s worth, you’re just as bad as me,” he comments. His fingers slide against your slick folds and you bite your lip to hold your voice back.

Satoru savors every moment he has with you, drinking in the sight of your cunt practically dripping arousal onto the floor. The more he stares, the more your face burns. No matter how many times you’ve done this, you can’t get over how attentive he is.

He sinks in a single finger, and it’s already enough to have you groaning at the sensation, to have your hips bucking into him.

“What kinda idol runs off to the green room in the middle of an event to get fucked?” Satoru teases, his finger pressing into you harder.

“Y-You’re being mean, ‘Toru,” you whine.

“You like when I’m mean,” he quips back before pressing in another finger with little resistance.

Satoru does what he always does–starts slowly, listens carefully to the way your breath hitches as he curls his fingers to find that special spot. When he gets there it’s hard not to relinquish control, as you lean back and let him take care of you. As much as he loves to listen to your moans, he likes swallowing them up too, feverishly kissing you without letting a single one slip from your lips. Satoru only pulls away from a moment to tease you.

“C’mon angel, you gotta let me know if it feels good,” he coos before picking up the pace. It’s too much, embarrassing to hear the wet squelches leaving your pussy the more he fingers you.

Every part of you runs hot as the tension that’s been simmering in your core builds to a roaring boil. Desperation overrides any rational thought as you find a rhythm and ride his fingers, nearly drooling as you feel your muscles tensing up. You’re so close, and he knows it too, because Satoru’s kisses always get messier when you get close to cumming.

“T-Toru, please,” you whine between moans, but you’re not sure what you’re asking for.

“I know, I know,” he coos before giving you a soft peck on the cheek, “let it all out for me, sweetheart.”

It’s as if he knows your body better than you as the tension in your core finally snaps as you cum on his fingers. Satoru being the fiend he is, continues fucking you through it, pushing his fingers in harder when you inevitably clench around him.

“Too much, too much, ‘Toru,” you cry, attempting to grab his wrist but he simply pushes himself deeper into your cunt.

“One more? I know my princess wants another,” he teases before kissing you to cut off of any chance of a response. It’s not like you would be able to give him an answer anyways, not when his fingers play with you so easily, his lips greedily stealing every one of your breaths and moans for himself.

One thing about Satoru is that he likes to overindulge. Likes when you’re extra loud and needy for him, seeing the pleasure written plainly on your face when he fucks you, whether that’s with his fingers, his tongue, his dick, or anything else he can get his hands on. But that makes him insatiable in some aspects, when he makes you cum on his fingers multiple times before he’ll even entertain the prospect of fucking you properly.

Can you really blame him? He just wants to feel all your love for him dripping down his cock. Maybe even make you cry a little because you just look too cute when you do, and even cuter when you sniffle as he wipes your tears and kisses them. It sets off something in him.

But it’s also hard to keep up with him. When you grip onto his hand and try to pull his fingers out because it’s too much, he simply wraps his arm around your waist and keeps you from escaping. Satoru’s determination is a wild animal that can’t be tamed, especially when it comes to you.

It always pays off for him, but that means it pays off for you as well. Though, you’re in tears when he rips another orgasm out of you, your moans too deafening to quell with a kiss. Your legs involuntarily squeeze close as Satoru gets you near the edge of ache and overstimulation, but he uses his other hand to split them open, watching closely how your pussy convulses and flutters around his fingers as you come undone. Only when you finally come down from your high does he slow down, examining just how much you soaked his hand.

“You didn’t have to go so hard, Satoru,” you scoff when he finally gives you a break.

“Just gotta make sure you’re all prepped for me,” he mewls, pulling out his fingers from your messy cunt. They glisten under the fluorescent lighting, before Satoru shamelessly sucks on them before releasing it with a pop.

“Don’t have to go all above and beyond on me,” you mumble, a bit embarrassed at his shamelessness even though it’s just the two of you in the room.

“But my angel only deserves the best,” he says, voice low and sultry. Hastily, he’s stumbling over himself to unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants before palming himself over the fabric. That doesn’t last long before he finally frees his cock, already hard and raring to go.

Satoru pulls up your skirt to your waist before slotting himself between your legs. Even still, he teases you, tapping his cockhead on your slick folds and letting out a whistle when a thread of your arousal sticks to him before thinning out and breaking.

“T-Toru, please,” your voice breaks with each tap of his cock against your cunt, the desire to be filled up driving you to the edge of tears.

“Please what?”

“Put it inside already,” you beg with a pout.

“Whatever you say, princess,” he coos before pressing the tip of his cock against your hole, and both of you moan when he bottoms out quicker than usual, thanks to all his hard work. Satoru holds your head in his hands as he pumps into you with a steady rhythm, each stroke punctuated with a hard snap of his hips.

“Fuck, you really are made just for me, aren’t you?” he pants breathily, before planting a wet kiss on your neck.

You can’t bring yourself to answer, not that he really needs one. With his mouth elsewhere, your lips are free to spill all the moans it wants, and they’re abundant. It’s music to Satoru’s ears, as he hums in delight while biting down on your shoulder.

“Can’t be so loud angel, the others’ll hear you,” he teases, as if that isn’t his dream come true. His lips press into yours, and you don’t hesitate to give him the opening he wants. Satoru kisses you sloppily, spit and drool mixing with yours before spilling from the sides of your mouth.

“Is that what you want? Want your fans to know what a pervert you are?”

“No, no, no,” you protest, shaking your head with a tinge of guilt in your chest. You can only imagine the shock your fans and members would have if they ever knew about this happening just a handful of meters away. But that concern disappears as fast as it came when Satoru turns on the vibrator again and plants it against your clit. Your body writhes from the simulation suddenly being introduced again, but Satoru is unrelenting, keeping it right against the sensitive bundle of nerves no matter how much you move.

“It’s okay, I’ll keep your secret,” he says softly, almost gentle, contrary to the position he currently has you in.

Satoru adjusts and presses your legs as far back as he can before he starts building a merciless pace. The weight of his body against yours is suffocating, but you can’t bring yourself to care, not when he hits your deepest parts from this angle.

“Fuck, you’re getting close, aren’t you? Can tell from the way you’re squeezing me,” he groans, his voice getting breathier with each word, “you wanna cum, sweetheart?”

“P-Please make me cum, ‘Toru,” you pant out.

Satoru answers by frantically thrusting his hips into you, hitting your deepest points at a pace that’s dizzying. Words are the last thing on your mind, too fucked out and crying from how good it feels. You don’t even protest when Satoru bites down on your neck, even harder than before. All you give him is a drawn out whine as he sucks on the skin and with how intense he’s being, it’s definitely going to leave a mark.

It doesn’t matter. All you can focus on is tightening your muscles, preparing yourself for your fourth climax of the night. Satoru is merciless, thrusting into you like an animal functioning on a base desire to breed. The sound of skin-to-skin slapping fills the room, nearly muffling your own babbled cries as you get close. The tension in your core builds and builds until it snaps and crashes into you like a tidal wave, deep and full-bodied.

Your nails dig into his chest when he continues to fuck you through it like he always does, thighs trembling as your walls convulse and flutter around his cock. Satoru curses under his breath as his pace slackens, your orgasm being a precursor to his own. Despite him making a mess of you, he’s just the same as you when he’s cumming, maybe even worse–desperately humping into you and repeatedly whispering “I love you” and moaning until his hips finally give out.

Satoru digs himself deeper into you as he cums, making sure you can feel all of his love for you in the hot ropes of white that paint your insides. After he’s emptied all that he can inside of you, he finally dismounts and gives your body the chance to recover.

You barely take a moment to recollect yourself, still panting and sweating from the intense orgasm when Satoru uncharacteristically rushes to get his clothes back on.

“What are you doing?” you ask, still out of breath.

“Going back out. I still have these to redeem,” he says matter-of-factly. Satoru rummages through his pockets before brandishing a handful of cheki tickets, all with your likeness smothered on them. Before you can even offer up a response, he gives you a peck on the cheek. “You’re not going to keep me waiting, are you?”

[fozmeadows]

This is a sidebar from my original point, but the mention of Amazon and its ubiquity makes me want to add on a theory of mine about why I think Amazon has been able to get such an insane foothold in the US market. Because the thing is, while Amazon originates in the US, it's now a global company - and yet, compared to other places in the world, it seems like Amazon's dominance over brick-and-mortar stores in the US far exceeds its grasp elsewhere. And while I was doing my Christmas shopping, I was suddenly struck by a possible explanation: the lack of walkable cities and public transport generally in America, coupled with the emphasis on strip malls rather than general commercial areas, which makes it much harder for people to quickly and easily access a wide range of goods in person.

See, in principle, I hate buying from Amazon; in practice, however, I live in a part of the US with negligible public transport and - crucially - do not have a car, which means that, if I want to buy something at at a physical shop, I'm broadly restricted to one of a handful of locations that are within a reasonable distance of my home. While I'm comparatively lucky, in that there are several such destinations to choose from, what's annoying is that it's only really feasible to rideshare to and from one of them on a single excursion, as opposed to hitting up multiple locations - and even if I had a car, these places are all far enough apart from each other that going to more than one in a single outing would take up a hefty chunk of time and involve driving on multiple freeways.

If I want to go to, say, IKEA, that's a 15-20 minute freeway drive to a location where there are no other shops nearby; if I want to go to Barnes & Noble - and I frequently do - there are three locations to choose from, but while the nearest one has the advantage of being next to my favourite boba place, the other surrounding shops contain little to nothing of interest to me, while the two more distant ones have more interesting surrounds, but no boba. There are two decently-sized Targets in driving range, but there's nothing else near each of them that makes the trip worthwhile, so I never get out there unless there's multiple specific things I need to buy, because if I only need one thing, the cost of a rideshare both ways is inevitably far more than I'd pay in shipping to get the same thing delivered.

And as best I can tell, this situation is pretty common throughout the United States. Unless you're lucky enough to live in a place with good transit and/or a thriving commercial downtown area, where you can easily walk between different kinds of shops in a single outing instead of having to drive 15 minutes, park, shop, drive 20 minutes and park again, ordering online ends up being, not just quicker and simpler, but vastly cheaper and more efficient than the alternative. Which is where Amazon enters the chat, using its shitty working conditions and vast resources to further fuck up the brick-and-mortar ecosystem, not because a majority of people inherently prefer buying shit online, but because a staggering proportion of America is expressly designed to require you to drive as much as fucking possible, even when that's the worst possible way to do things.

Whereas when I lived in Scotland, even though I had access to Amazon and would use it periodically - it was easier for Australian relatives to buy me Amazon gift cards than to either post a physical gift or buy me gift cards to UK stores, because many companies are Weird about people in one country trying to buy something online from them in a different country - for everyday needs, I could just... walk up to the local high street, from my house, on my human legs, and (if I so desired) hit up a homewares store, a hardware store, a bookshop, a pharmacy, a supermarket, a bric-a-brac place, an antique store, a cafe, the cinema, and a half-dozen other places. And this wasn't while living in a thriving metropolis: I was in St Andrews, a small university town! And if I really wanted a big day out, I could get one of the many regular buses over the water into Dundee and hit up the city center there, to exactly the same ends. Similarly, when I later lived in Aberdeen away from the city center, there wasn't much in walking distance of my house, unless I felt like trekking 40 minutes over to the nearest shopping complex - which I sometimes did, stroller and all, with my then-toddler in tow, because even if I got all tired out, I knew there'd be a bus to take me back home again. But I could also hop a different bus from the stop in my street and go straight to the city center, where - again - I could walk around hundreds of different shops with ease. Ditto every part of Australia I've ever lived in: even without a car, restricted to public transport or walking while toting around a small child, I was never reliant on internet shopping to get basic goods, because there was enough infrastructure that I could manage. And I'm not saying that's true of every part of Australia or the UK - rural areas in both countries are frequently very isolated and underserved by their local governments. But the difference now that I live in the US is stark.

Because here, the roads dominate. Freeways break up everything, and while there's a few nice commercial areas near me - streets with interesting shops and things to see - you cannot just hop a bus or train to access them, and even then, they don't flow naturally into the same sort of area the next suburb over: there's always a massive fucking multi-lane roadway in between, and the distance, even if walkable in theory, can be difficult to navigate on foot, because it's not designed with foot traffic in mind. You have to drive, and if you can't do that, then those places may as well not exist - and overwhelmingly, what you're left with access to instead are strip malls: clusters of random chain stores linked by a massive carpark and frequently situated in places with nothing else nearby; or at least, nothing else you can easily access without having to drive and park again.

And I genuinely think that this is a big part of why America has become so dependent on Amazon, as well as big box, everything-under-the-sun stores like Target and Wallmart: because without an abundance of accessible, walkable, local commercial centers, with all the greater variety they provide, they're the easiest, most efficient way for a car-dependent commuter populace - especially one so frequently time-poor, overworked, and underpaid - to buy shit.

Which suggests to me, very strongly, that one of the best ways to combat the dominance of not just Amazon, but big box chain stores, is to build functional public transport and walkable communities with decent commercial zoning - because the more people can easily access a variety of goods local to them, the less they'll need to be reliant on a few megacorps. So in the event that you needed another reason to support walkable communities and public transit: this is it. Fuck Amazon.

there is no ethical consumption under capitalism

Years ago now, I remember seeing the rape prevention advice so frequently given to young women - things like dressing sensibly, not going out late, never being alone, always watching your drink - reframed as meaning, essentially, "make sure he rapes the other girl." This struck a powerful chord with me, because it cuts right to the heart of the matter: that telling someone how to lower their own chances of victimhood doesn't stop perpetrators from existing. Instead, it treats the existence of perpetrators as a foregone conclusion, such that the only thing anyone can do is try, by their own actions, to be a less appealing or more difficult victim.

And the thing is, ever since the assassination of United Healthcare CEO Brian Thompson, I've kept on thinking about how, in this day and age, CEOs of big companies often have an equal or greater impact on the day to day lives of regular people than our elected officials, and yet we have almost no legal way to redress any grievances against them - even when their actions, as in the case of Thompson's stewardship of UHC, arguably see them perpetrating manslaughter at scale through tactics like claims denial. That this is a real, recurring thing that happens makes the American healthcare insurance industry a particularly pernicious example, but it's far from being the only one. Because the original premise of the free market - the idea that we effectively "vote" for or against businesses with our dollars, thereby causing them to sink or swim on their individual merits - is utterly broken, and has been for decades, assuming it was ever true at all. In this age of megacorporations and global supply chains, the vast majority of people are dependent on corporations for necessities such as gas, electricity, internet access, water, food, housing and medical care, which means the consumer base is, to all intents and purposes, a captive market. We might not have to buy a specific brand, but we have to buy a brand, and as businesses are constantly competing with one another to bring in profits, not just for the company and its workers, but for C-suites and shareholders - profits that increasingly come at the expense of workers and consumers alike - the greediest, most inhumane corporations set the financial yardstick against which all others are then, of necessity, measured. Which means that, while businesses are not obliged to be greedy and inhumane in order to exist, overwhelmingly, they become greedy and humane in order to compete, because capitalism encourages it, and because there are precious few legal restrictions to stop them from doing so. At the same time, a handful of megacorporations own so many market-dominating brands that, without both significant personal wealth and the time and resources to find viable alternatives, it's all but impossible to avoid them, while the ubiquity of the global supply chain means that, even if you can keep track of which company owns which brand, it's much, much harder to establish which suppliers provide the components that are used in the products bearing their labels. Consider, for instance, how many mainstream American brands are functionally run on sweatshop labour in other parts of the world: places where these big corporations have outsourced their workforce to skirt the already minimal labour and wage protections they'd be obliged to adhere to in the US, all to produce (say) electronics whose elevated sticker price passes a profit on to the company, but without resulting in higher wages for either the sweatshop workers overseas or the American employees selling the products in branded US stores.

When basically every major electronics corporation is engaged in similar business practices, there is no "vote" our money can bring that causes the industry itself to be better regulated - and as wealthy, powerful lobbyists from these industries continue to pay exorbitant sums of money to politicians to keep government regulation at a minimum, even our actual votes can do little to effect any sort of change. But even in those rare instances where new regulations are passed, for multinational corporations, laws passed in one country overwhelmingly don't prevent them from acting abusively overseas, exploiting more desperate populations and cash-poor governments to the same greedy, inhumane ends. And where the ultimate legal penalty for proven transgressions is, more often than not, a fine - which is to say, a fee; which is to say, an amount which, while astronomical by the standards of regular people, still frequently costs the company less than the profits earned through their unethical practices, and which is paid from corporate coffers rather than the bank accounts of the CEOs who made the decisions - big corporations are, in essence, free to act as badly as they can afford to; which is to say, very. Contrary to the promise of the free market, therefore, we as consumers cannot meaningfully "vote" with our dollars in a way that causes "good" businesses to rise to the top, because everything is too interconnected. Our choices under global capitalism are meaningless, because there is no other system we can financially support that stands in opposition to it, and while there are still small businesses and companies who try to operate ethically, both their comparative smallness and their interdependent reliance on the global supply chain means that, even if we feel better about our choices, we're not exerting any meaningful pressure on the system we're trying to change. Which means that, under the free market, trying to be an ethical consumer is functionally equivalent to a young woman dressing modestly, not going out alone and minding her drink at parties in order to avoid being raped. We're not preventing corporate predation or sending a message to corporate predators: we're just making sure they screw other worker, the other consumer, the other guy.

All of which is to say: while I'd prefer not to live in a world where shooting someone dead in the street is considered a valid means of redressing grievances, what the murder of Brian Thompson has shown is that, if you provide no meaningful recourse for justice against abusive, exploitative members of the 1%, then violence done to those people will have the feel of justice, because it fills the void left by the lack of consequences for their actions. It's the same reason why people had little sympathy for the jackass OceanGate CEO who killed himself in his imploding sub, or anyone whose yacht has been attacked by orcas - it's just intensified here, because where the OceanGate CEO was felled by hubris and the yachts were random casualties, whoever killed Thomspon did so deliberately, because of what he did. It was direct action against a man whose policies very arguably constituted manslaughter at scale; a crime which ought to be a crime, but which has, to date, been permitted under the law. And if the law wouldn't stop him, can anyone be surprised that someone might act outside the law in retaliation - or that regular people would cheer for them when they did?

[wandering-pirate]

Mouthwashing Characters Headcanon

Christmas Day with You

Captain Curly

You and him baking sugar cookies in matching aprons? Peak domestic fluff His apron said "Sugar Daddy," and yours? "Daddy’s Sugary Snacc"

Yeah, that was all his idea. He couldn’t stop showing them off, grinning ear to ear, parading them around Walmart like it was a fashion show.

Meanwhile, you were just trying to hunt down all the ingredients in peace, but nope, he had to follow you around, flaunting those aprons.

After a war of flours, you successfully conjured up a decent batch

You had to use actual physical restraint to stop him from adding Vegemite to the cookies. The audacity. And when he ate one, took a full spoonful of it, and moaned?? Yeah, a monster

He’s obsessed with ski or any snow sport video game and always teases you for being a noob. But it’s all in good fun—he’s learned his lesson after the Mario Kart Incident that shall never be mentioned again

"Sweetheart, you’re gonna twist your joint with that posture—"

"Hush! You just wanna win gold again. Stop tempting me, you tall, handsome, bulky-ass demon"

Naturally, your competitive streak kicked in and, somehow, you ended up twisting your ankle

He played the role of nurse, cold compress in hand, sneaking kisses to your ankle because “it speeds up healing” (and also because he’s a shameless flirt who’ll use any excuse to be touchy)

You both gave up on the active stuff and just settled in for a holiday romcom. Of course, you both passed out halfway through

Nurse Anya

You made sure the fireplace was stacked to the brim with firewood because Anya + cozy fire = Christmas must

Your tradition? Her reading a book with her legs propped up on your thighs while you either watch your favorite YouTube videos or game

She’d be all serious about the book, but every now and then, she’d peek over at your screen, giggling at your reactions, but pretending like she was still super into the book

"What did he even trip on? Hell no, he deserved more than just getting skinned alive"

“Y/N, sweetie, natural selection. The weak always get eliminated”

"Mmm, makes sense"

When the clock hit a certain hour, it was handwritten letter time. Instead of gifts, you both wrote love letters to each other. This started when she told you how she re-read your first love letter whenever she got stuck on months long of hauls as a crew nurse

"Yeah, sorry, Anya. No letter this year"

"What? Bu—"

"Because you’re not getting back on that claustrophobic flying submarine this time"

Knowing how much she wanted to enter med school, you gave her the ultimate gift: fully paid tuition for a six-month medicine review center. You’d worked all year for it, and seeing her reaction made every second of it worth it

It was the first time you saw her cry. Anya, who’s always calm and composed, was sobbing in your arms, and it just wrecked you with love. You hugged her tighter, not sure who was more emotional at that point

"Y/N, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me"

Intern Daisuke

He planned the perfect Christmas adventure, complete with bullet points, timestamps, and color-coded charts. You had to give him credit for actually being organized for once—he really took his Christmas plans seriously

But, of course, the Christmas spirit was clearly not on his side this time. Everything that could go wrong, did go wrong:

Alarm didn’t go off

There was a traffic jam due to a fender bender

Your favorite thrift store? Closed for maintenance

Even the skating rink shut down after some bizarre oil spill caused a dogpile (like, how does that even happen?)

By the end of the day, you weren’t mad at all, just hungry. And somehow, Daisuke turned every misfortune into something you both would be giggling about

You both bought GIGANTIC mugs at Walmart that read, “The Grinch pales at my naughtiness.” They were immediately used to create the world’s sickest hot chocolate, piled with as equally large marshmallows and a diabetes-inducing amount of whipped cream.

Meanwhile, Daisuke was relentless in roasting the Grinch—he couldn’t stop hating on that movie.

“Who even hates Christmas? It’s the grand finale of the year! Absolute loser behavior.”

Mechanic Swansea

Christmas in the garage, for short, his sanctuary. The man thought of everything: fully insulated it, brought in a heater, all just to make sure you were warm and comfy while you both worked

Both of you had this wordless agreement to work on woodcrafts for Christmas. He taught you the basics of woodworking and you proved yourself to be a modern abstract Picasso. You improved throughout the years, tho. Your pieces? From abstract Picasso to expressionism Picasso

He loves carving because it gives him the perfect excuse to sit right behind you, guiding your hands with his. His big teddy bear frame is all around you, and something about that just hits him deeply. Like when he knows you’re safe and protected in his arms. And your eagerness to learn and follow his moves. He melts.

Naturally, you got a splinter, triggering his fierce Tsundere side

“What did I tell you about not rubbing fresh-cut wood? Keep this up, and I’ll just have you sit on my lap while I do your work for you.”

But underneath all that scolding, you could see his silent panic. He just hides behind transparent glass

"Stop smiling at me like that, you clumsy goof"

After crafting a spoon with a thirty-degree angled handle and an awkward head (he still called it perfect, of course), he whipped up his signature paella

Somehow, despite having eaten a thousand spoonfuls of it over the years, you still weren’t tired of it

Co-pilot Jimmy

Jimmy’s not really one for celebrating Christmas. Not bitter about it or anything, but he just treated it like any normal day. That all changed, though, when he realized that Christmas was your thing.

“Babe, why Christmas?”

“Honestly? I’m not really sure. But you know how, when we were kids, there’s that feeling of excitement, like when Christmas is coming and you can’t stop smiling? It just brings all that back, and suddenly, you feel like a kid again. So I guess, it’s just nostalgia, huh?”

He never really thought about it that way before. After all, his goal as a kid was always to grow up faster than everyone else.

So, you took it upon yourself to share all your favorite Christmas traditions with him, hoping to bring a little of that magic into his world:

Decorating your tree? He suggested replacing the star with an angel figurine... with your printed face glued on it. (Naturally, he followed through after you both went to bed, sneaking up to do it.)

Making a gingerbread house? He blocked the chimney, and when you asked why… well, he said it best:

“I don’t want some fat bastard breaking in, he’d eat the entire damn house”

By Christmas Eve, looking around his once-bare apartment, now filled with colors he didn’t even know existed, he couldn’t stop that tugging in his heart. He didn’t even realize how much of his childhood was missing until now.

You were patching up his unhealed wounds with your bandaids, and he didn’t even notice until it was too late. He's down bad

a/n: I know it's late T.T, but here's the crew having some holiday break... future angst coming up with curly and you (sorry)

also p.s. english ain't my first language, so i kinda felt like my whole headcanon writing abilities were crap... but these somehow are the top liked posts soooo... future HCs comin' down your way

[karuuhnia]

TF2 Chapter 7 - Karuuhnia's analysis

Christmas came early for the TF2 fandom this year, didn't it? (Well, it really came 7 years LATE if we're completely honest lol)

It was an emotional rollercoaster and had a happy, wholesome ending and conclusion for both the mercs and for us. Several mysteries from the past comics were resolved.

And you know me: I love to overthink and overanalyze every bit of lore and story that I can get my fingers on lmao

So here's my essay:

A) Solved mysteries

1. What the Administrator was planning

It turns out: There WAS no evil plan of world domination or whatever. Just pure hatred for a man who ruined her life - apparently. It's been so long she doesn't even remember the reason. But the thought of revenge was enough to fuel her every life choice.

And to think, it all could have ended in the 1850s already - if it weren't for smart-ass Gray Mann and his narcissistic tendencies to brag about his knowledge and plans. (How he himself figured this out is never explained.)

He was the one who introduced the Administrator to Australium in the first place, around 1850ish. If he hadn't told her that it could bring people back from the dead and prolong life, the senseless Gravel War would have ended with Blutarch's and Redmond's natural deaths.

Well, on the other hand we must be glad that the conflict didn't go on even longer.

Since Dell stated that none of his family members ever went into the room where Zepheniah was kept, the Administrator must have build all of that herself, right? That would certainly explain why it looks so crude and consumes so much Australium. I mean, look at this construction and then compare it to the one Dell built:

The Mark 5 machine gave her ~6 months of life for just a tiny flask of Australium. Imagine what would have happened if one of the Conaghers had improved Zeph's machine as well! She could have kept the zombiefied corpse in a living nightmare for many centuries more instead of burning through tons and tons of Australium so quickly. Good thing it didn't come to that.

2. Who helped the Administrator

Well, we didn't get a clear answer, but I think it's safe to conclude now that it was the Administrator's elite merc teams A-E that obtained all the Australium during the 6 months Miss Pauling and the TF2 team went off the grid. Which only further proves that the Administrator did not really care for Pauling at all and only came to her and her "team of rejects" as a last resort, after everything else had failed.

It's really heartbreaking how much Pauling admired her and wanted to be her trusted second-in-command while the Admin apparently never even invited her to the secret HQ. Nobody there even KNEW of Team Fortress after all. It was such a relief to see Pauling let go in the end and choose a free life instead.

3. Scout's second chance

Well, not really a mystery here, but I really like how Scout had an epiphany that there were other girls out there that would like him as he was and moved on from Miss Pauling. There was no heartbreak, no animosity, no rejection. They are still friends and support each other! I love it!

And then Scout even saved all of humanity by having sex with several women so that God wouldn't have to destroy the world! What a great, selfless guy he is!

I really love Spy and Scout after the time skip. No more bickering, no more annoyance, no more mean comments, just kindness. Spy is also so sweet to his grandchildren! ADSGFSDAF

I hope they all remain in contact and on good terms. Because let's not forget: Scout's health isn't good and he even has a confirmed death date. Which is only 8 years into the future of 1979.

All of his orphaned children would still be minors at that point. When it comes to that I hope Spy and Scout's Ma can take care of their grandchildren.

4. What Charles Darling and Maggie were planning

Darling stated he wanted to obtain Australium in order to make his rare animals immortal and in return he would get Saxton's company back.

The way Maggie always reacted to Saxton led me to believe she knew Darling was planning something ELSE and she felt bad for not telling Saxton and having to betray him in the end:

But turns out, I probably just misinterpreted Maggie's facial expressions. She looked so sad because she loved going on adventures with Saxton again and just hated the thought that he'd go back to Mann Co. afterwards.

I'm very happy that in the end Saxton let go of the company and spent the rest of his days punching wild animals with his true love! (Although he might have started a war again, now between Reddy and Bidwell lol)

B) Unsolved and new mysteries

However, as much as I loved the last chapter, I feel there are still a lot of things that were never cleared up or adequately explained.

So after re-reading every single comic and update page these are some other things I still find inconclusive:

1. Olivia Mann's mother

Not really that important to be fair, but still: Is she really the biological daughter of the 150 old mummy Gray Mann? If so, who is the poor woman who… mated with him and where is she now?

Or was Olivia adopted, abducted or grown in a lab? Well, at least she gets to live a happy and free life now and is provided for by the dad who stepped up. Good on you, Saxton!

2. Darling's knowledge

Back to Darling real quick: Why DID Maggie start working for her nemesis?

HOW did Charles Darling learn about Australium's properties and the Administrator's history?

There is also the fact that the Mann triplets' mother was a Darling!

These things were never brought up again! Whyyyyyyyy?????

3. What was all the set-up with the TFC mercs about?

The TFC mercs made several ominous remarks that made us believe there was more to them:

Both Virgil and Greg were trying to say something interesting, but then got cut off before the revelation. And especially TFC Heavy talked about dying as if it was an immediate danger to all of them. Sure, they were old, but they were still going strong, being able to kill all of the Admin's elite teams after all.

4. Fred's destiny (and identity?)

In Chapter 6 Spy disguised as Fred, trying to trick Virgil. After being found out, the two had this conversation:

Spy managed to impersonate Fred really well apparently. That means he must have studied Fred's personality, mannerisms and way of speaking before he went to Virgil. That also means he must have spent quite a while talking to and studying Fred. Did he and Sniper capture and interrogate him? But more importantly: What happened afterwards? Tbh, they probably just killed him off-screen after learning what they needed.

Because I no longer believe that Fred was Dell's father, as much as that sucks. It would have made for a great plot point and possible conflict within the team.

But Fred obviously had no idea about anything related to Australium or the immortality machines.

Since later on in Chapter 7 Dell says that neither his grandfather, his father nor he himself ever set foot in that basement, we can conclude that they all knew that the Administrator was hiding something nefarious down there. Which also means they WORKED for her and thus must have also worked on her immortality machine. So it makes no sense that Fred would not know anything about that if he really were Dell's father.

That still leaves us with the question: Why was young Fred in the photo with child Dell? Or WAS this guy even Fred?

I mean, a lot can happen in 40ish years between those two pictures:

But my new headcanon now is: These two are not the same person. TFC Medic had to replaced by our beloved Dr. Herbert Ludwig (still not over that name btw lmao), so who says the original TFC Engie wasn't replaced too at one point? TFC Heavy was very obviously worried about his friends dying one after the other.

Virgil said he knew Fred since before the war. So maybe after Dell's father died/left the team, Virgil told TFC Heavy about his old comrade Fred who also happened to be an Engineer. And only then Fred became part of TFC.

But as I said, that's just my headcanon. In reality it's probably just an inconsistency over the many years of convoluted lore. lol

5. Soldier's cave, covered in Australium

In A Cold Day in Hell Soldier and Zhanna have the following conversation:

First it's a stink-barn, then he claims to be homeless. But in Chapter 7 Heavy suddenly says that Soldier lives in a cave.

And it turns out there is tons of Australium in that cave! Now of course I wonder: When did Soldier move into that cave and where is it located? We were always told that Australium only exists in Australia. But I highly doubt this American patriot owns a cave in Australia. Also, how is it possible that the Admin and the elite mercs never managed to find this cave? Did they just not bother to look in America because all known Australium is in Australia?

So in return, does that mean that Australium is NOT exclusive to Australia after all? If so, there could still be hidden caches of the stuff anywhere on Earth. At least the Admin and Gray Mann are no longer around to collect it and Miss Pauling does not look for it anymore either. The only one who still has an interest in it is Charles Darling. Him again...

6. Soldier with the photo of the Mann family

Quick reminder: This is the only version of the family photo we'd seen up until this point:

But when Soldier and Merasmus are held by the mafia and the wizard asks him why he needed so much money, Soldier pulls out an intact, unteared photograph of the Mann family!!!

His thumb conveniently covers up the still unknown person standing in the middle. How did Soldier obtain this photo? How does he even know who everyone is, considering he's, well, Soldier?

Could he have any relations to the unknown person in the middle? And why DOES he need so much money (granted, it was only like 20 $ in the end, but still lol)?

Am I just overthinking this? Has anyone an explanation??? Is he and if yes, HOW is Soldier connected to the frigging Mann family??????

*cough* Anyway. This concludes my analysis of the TF2 lore. For now. If I come up with more things or if Valve ever decides to continue the story (That was a joke, haha, fat chance), I will come back to this. In the meantime, thank you for reading this and please feel free to share your own ideas and opinions! I'd love to read all of it! ❤️

[zepskies]

Yeessss we love a refill. 😂

(LOLL girl no worries. You strike me as a fun drunk. Plus, the other night I had one strong glass of wine and that somehow did me in for the night. I guess that's what I get for trying a "Super Tuscan" red. 😂😂)

Aww you're amazing. Thank you so much, my friend!! 🥹 And best believe, I saw you released two parts of a new Russell story and they're already bookmarked in my TBR. 💖💖

Now, on to the rest of your lovely comments on the ESC finale!

Loved that little moment of jealousy there. How do you like tasting your own medicine, Russ? 😂

Right?! Lmao all that Reenie teasing coming to bite him in the ass.

I absolutely loved their pizza and movie date at home. And they already shared so much with each other 🥹 The fact he felt secure enough to open up to her after this short amount of time says a lot, considering Dory hasn't even told her the story yet. I love them 😭🤍

Aw I'm so glad you loved it! I felt like they needed something low-key that allowed them to reconnect and be there for each other after all the chaos. I debated if having Russ open up like this was too soon, but since she was so honest with him about her past trauma, I thought he would feel that kindred spirit connection, enough to be honest himself.

I haven't forgotten about the "oh, my brother thought I killed our dad" part of the story though. 😂😂 When I eventually write another story for this series, I want to incorporate that reveal somehow when we finally dive into Ashton Shaw in the show. (Maybe I'll read ahead in the books. 👀)

Honestly, in this day and age, it's always best to wait for renewed consent (even though I'm pretty sure she wouldn't have minded in the least lol). Loved that he recognized that and hesitated!

Right? 🙃 Exactly what I was thinking in having him hesitate, even though you're right, she would NOT have minded. 😂 I still thought that little moment of her pulling him down to join her was needed. 💜

Poor girl 😂💕 The morning after is always a tad awkward – especially if everything is still in the balance of will they/won't they and nothing *sexual* has happened yet 😅

LOL exactly. It's a bit of an odd situation all around, even though they've already shared some romantic moments. 😅💜

Absolutely adored this exchange! ❤️ Oooof, and that smut may have been my undoing for tonight! Holy hell!!! 😮‍💨🔥🌶️

Ahaha I had to research bullet sizes and everything. 😏❤️‍🔥

Honestly I'm really flattered you enjoyed the steamy parts, because I feel like smut writing is my weakest link, though I do my best. 😅😂 You write it so well, so that's an extra special compliment coming from you!

Again, she's so cute 😆🤍 I do hope they work something out. I don't think Russell would've necessarily taken the "big" step, knowing her feelings on this, if he hadn't planned to try and make it work somehow ❤️

Lolll she's trying her best to be slick! 😂 Yeah, I think Russell already knew his connection with her was different, and worth pursuing, he just wasn't sure about the reality of how it was going to work until this moment. 💜

Perfect ending, friend 🥹💚 (You know I love a bit of drama and angst in an ending lol) I loved this series so goddamn much! It fit so well with every character and gave so much that the show didn't (like that awesome family reunion of the three Shaws). Can't wait to get into the one-shots over the holidays 😍

Aww thank you! I wanted to be realistic with his lifestyle potentially posing a problem, but at the same time, both of them being willing to figure it out and try to make this work. 💕

I so appreciate you for saying that ESC felt authentic within the Tracker world, because that's something I always try to do, but it was challenging with this new show/world and how much we still don't know about the Shaw family. (But I HAD to include that reunion. 🥹)

I so hope you enjoy the little bonus one-shots whenever you get to them!!

Merry Christmas, my friend!!! I hope you and your family are having so much fun. ❤️❤️

Every Second Counts - Part 5

Pairing: Russell Shaw x F. Reader

Summary: One date with your best friend’s brother leaves you wanting more, even though his questionable job and vagabond lifestyle make you want to guard your heart. When your brother falls into trouble, however, Russell is the one you trust to help you find him. 

AN: I thought about breaking up this chapter into two parts, but for some reason it didn’t feel right. I hope you enjoy the finale! I think this is the moment we’ve all been waiting for…

Word Count: 7K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Fluff, angst and hurt/comfort, ‘90s movie reference, mutual pining and tension, and a strong dose of smut.

💜 Series Masterlist

Part 5: “Damn Worth It”

You borrowed Russell’s cell to call Dory from the hospital. You let her know that Charlie was stable and resting, and that Russell was bringing you home.

You should’ve known that when you two got there, you wouldn’t have the kind of privacy you craved. Colter and Dory were waiting in his car, parked in your driveway. They met you in front of your house, where Dory pulled you into a big, swaying hug. She cried, you cried, and her brothers hung back to watch the warm scene.

Dory pulled back to get a better look at you. She hesitated to touch the bandage above your brow.

“God. Are you okay?” she asked.

“Yeah, I’m…I’m fine,” you sniffed, wiping at your face. “Come on, let’s go inside.”

Dory actually had your keys. After she handed them to you, you took in a steadying breath, and you unlocked your front door without incident this time. You invited everyone in.

Even though you told her not to, Dory began straightening up a bit for you. She had Russell take out the trash while she washed the dishes.

Meanwhile, you pulled Colter aside in the living room. You led him to sit with you on the couch.

“Can I at least give you $1,000?” you asked. It was all you had left in your savings, but the man had literally saved your brother's life, and yours as well. “I know it’s not much, compared to what your jobs usually get you—”

“Please,” Colter said. He touched your arm. “Don’t worry about it. I’m just glad you and Charlie are safe.”

You teared up all over again, but you gave him a smile and held his hand with both of yours.

“Thank you,” you said.

Russell happened to spot the cozy little scene from the doorway. He couldn’t help staring, and trying not to frown.

When Colter caught sight of his brother loitering (and that look on his face), Colter tried to hide most of his smile. He let go of your hand, patted your shoulder and stood. You followed him to the kitchen, where he went to check on Dory. Russell filtered in behind you both.

“Hey, wanna grab some lunch?” Colter asked his sister.

She gave him a raised brow. “Wow, my brother actually wants to hang out with me instead of rushing off to the next job?”

He gave her an amused look. “I’ve got some time.”

Dory was happy to hear that, but her expression dimmed when she turned to you.

“Would you want to go? Or do you need to rest?” she asked.

“Oh, I need to get cleaned up, and then sleep for about ten years,” you said. “But you go, D. Have fun.”

She frowned. “I don’t want to leave you here by yourself.”

“Well, she won’t be,” Russell chimed in. “I’m gonna hang out here for a bit, clean up and take little power nap myself.”

At that, Dory slowly smiled, both amused and suspicious. Her gaze slid back to you.

“Are you sure?” she asked. You read the double meaning laced in her tone.

“Yeah, definitely,” you said with a smile, and the beginnings of a warm blush. “You guys go ahead.”

There was a knowing gleam to her own smile, but Dory shrugged and gave you one last hug. She and Colter said their goodbyes to their older brother before they headed out. It left you alone in the house with Russell for the first time since this all began.

“Um, you can use the guest bathroom if you want to shower,” you told him. “Towels are under the sink, and feel free to borrow any of Charlie’s clothes if you need.”

“It’s okay, I’ve got a bag in the car with some stuff,” Russell said, tossing a thumb over his shoulder. “I take one wherever I go.”

“Smart,” you nodded. “Very prepared.”

A strange silence stretched between you two, until you couldn’t take it anymore.

“I’m just…gonna go clean up,” you said. “We can order some food after?”

“Yeah, sounds good,” he said. He was amused as he watched you scurry off, after giving him another smile over your shoulder.

Though he’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel a small trill of nerves himself. It brought him a little bounce in his step as he headed out to his car to grab his stuff.

By the time you were done showering and drying your hair, Russell had ordered a pizza (and a side of fries). You padded out into the living room in an old college shirt and pajama shorts. He tried not to linger his gaze on your smooth, bare legs. 

“Sorry, forgot to ask if you’d want something else to eat,” he said. 

“Pizza is perfect,” you said. At this point, after almost a full day without food, you’d eat sliced bread out of the bag. You gave him a teasing look. “I’d ask you if you wanted a beer, but I’m afraid it’s not up to your standard.”

“Well, that’s okay. I happen to have brought a sample for you, just like I promised,” he said, with that grin of his you’d come to expect.

He retrieved a case of homebrew from his car, but you had to add some ice cubes into a tall glass before you joined him back on the couch. You poured the contents of a bottle into the glass.

“Sorry, I know this is sacrilege, but I can’t drink warm beer,” you said.

“I can’t fault you, though I didn’t really peg you for a pizza and beer kind of girl,” he said. He tipped a swig of beer into his mouth, right from a lukewarm bottle. He was a purist.

You quirked a brow at him and took another bite of your pizza slice. 

“Why not?” you asked, after swallowing a mouthful of pepperoni and mushroom.

Russell shrugged. “Never mind. Forget I said anything.”

“No, no. I want to hear this,” you said. “What, because I teach college students?”

Russell looked over at you and leaned on his elbow, resting above his knee. 

“You’re a college professor with a handful of degrees,” he said. “I’ve got a GED and a give ‘em hell outlook on life.”

You shook your head at that. 

“We’re different. That’s not a bad thing,” you said. “And like my brother, you’ve fought for this country. You’ve saved lives, including mine. I’d say that’s pretty damn special.”

His head tilted at that. He didn’t want to remind you that, just like you saw today, he’d taken lives too. Perhaps just as many as he’d saved. You could debate the quality of those lives, but in the grand scheme of things, he knew what he was. A trained killer.

He rolled his shoulders, feeling a familiar weight.

You didn’t like the pensive look on his face, so you aimed to distract him.

“Want to watch a movie?” you suggested.

Russell inclined his head. “Sure. What you got?”

That was how the two of you ended up finishing the box of pizza and a case of beer while laughing at Tommy Boy, of all things—one of the best '90s buddy road trip comedies of all time. Apparently Russell had never seen it before, but you enjoyed watching him experience it for the first time. He had a deep, infectious laugh that made you laugh just by proximity. 

Later in the movie, the reluctant, unlikely duo of Tommy and Richard hit a deer, and tried to transport it in the car. Russell both laughed and cringed when the animal woke up and thoroughly wrecked the car from the inside. You noticed his reaction and nudged him in the arm. 

Russell held in a grunt of pain when you unintentionally hit his injured shoulder, bandaged underneath his gray henley. 

“What if that was the Chevelle,” you teased. 

He cast you a playfully chiding look. “Woman, don’t even joke.”

You laughed and squeezed his forearm in a friendly gesture. But he thought there was more than just friendliness when you shot him that little smile. He decided to take a chance. 

“Come ‘ere,” he said. He slid a hand around your waist and guided you closer until you came to lay against his side. You allowed yourself to rest against him, splaying your hand flat against the firm wall of his chest. Your heart tripped up faster, but you also relaxed more fully for the first time since you got home. You let out a long breath, and you used the remote to lower the volume on the movie a little.

“Do you think Charlie will be able to get past this?” you asked quietly. “Think he’ll be okay?”

Russell hummed as he thought back to his conversation with your brother in the hospital. Charlie was still young, but he seemed to realize what he’d done, and what he needed to change. He wouldn’t have volunteered himself for rehab if he hadn’t.

Russell brushed your arm with his thumb. “Well, I think he knows what he needs to do. If he’s anything like you, then he’ll be all right.”

Your mouth tugged upward, though you considered his words with a sigh.

“He hasn’t had it easy,” you said. “He was barely eighteen when our parents died. Suddenly he had to be an adult. In fact, he almost didn’t finish high school. Had to take care of the funeral, had to get a job, had to take care of me…and I didn’t always make it easy on him.”

Russell’s lips curved in light of your faint smile. Then, your expression dimmed.

“He pulled me out of the car,” you admitted. Russell looked down at you.

“You all were there?” he asked. 

“My dad was driving. We’d just gone out to dinner as a family,” you said.

You hesitated as the scenes once again filtered through your mind. Some things were hazy. Others, you could see with perfect clarity. You remembered how your parents argued about the best way to get home while the pouring rain beat down overhead, half-drowning out their voices.

You remembered what the flash of a red stoplight looked like through the car window, with streams of water coming down, and a dead leaf stuck to the glass.

You remembered the sound of horns blaring in your ears, the crunch of metal on metal. Your mother’s scream. The feeling of being suspended, and then ricocheted painfully through time and space.

Then the smell of exhaust, and the metallic tang of blood.

“We were heading through a terrible storm,” you said, after letting out a long breath through your nose. “By the end of the night, it was just me and Charlie in the hospital.”

He’d broken his arm, but thanks to him, the only thing you really walked away with were a few cuts and bruises, and the memories of that day. They were like old scars, painful and tender at the touch.

Russell shook his head, his brows knitting together. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah,” you breathed. “And I’m sorry too. I know you understand what it’s like to lose a parent.”

The movie played on as that new weight settled between you. Russell fell into his own thoughts as he continued to rub your arm in comfort. His own past wasn’t like yours, but he did understand some of your pain.

“How much did Dory tell you about how we grew up?” he asked.

You shifted a bit, so you could see his face too.

“I know your dad took you all to a cabin in some sort of compound in the woods, when you all were still pretty young.”

“He taught us to live off the land. Drilled us, really,” Russell explained, noting your raised brows. “Yeah, he was…well, a paranoid bastard, to be frank. We still don’t know all of why, and what drove him to move us out there.”

“Dory said he was…eccentric,” you said. Russell snorted.

“He was a piece of fucking work,” he said. “Half the time I hated him, if I’m honest.”

That part was hard to admit, even if it was true. Your hand soothed across his chest, more comforting as you listened. Russell’s lips quirked. He liked that about you, that you were willing to listen without judging him, or his family. Maybe that was another reason Dory seemed to love you so much.

“But one night, it was like he snapped,” he said.

For a moment, he was lost in the memory. His father’s anger, and the damn crazy look in his eyes. 

“What happened?” you asked quietly.

Russell glanced at you again. “I don’t think you wanna hear this right now.”

You shook your head. “No, I do.”

He hesitated, but that earnest look in your eyes got him. Still, he surprised himself when he actually told you. He explained it the best he could, the way he saw it in his mind’s eye.

Their mom had been missing, hadn’t come home yet. Then his dad had torn around the house like a man possessed, until he told them it was time to leave for their own safety. Dory had been scared, especially when he grabbed her, yelled at her.

That was the one thing Russell couldn’t tolerate. So he snapped, yanking the older man back and shoving him away. It was one of the first times Russell had ever defied his father.

Ashton Shaw left them then, heading out into the night and the rain. Maybe he’d realized what he was doing to his own kids, his own family.

Colter wanted to follow after him, but Russell stopped him. Being the eldest, he took on the responsibility, even if he’d been reluctant. We’re better off without him…

He was barely sixteen at the time, but Russell knew he’d seen his father arguing with someone—a man he’d seen before, talking with his mother. And then…

“I watched him die that night,” Russell said.

Your hand clenched in his shirt, reminding him that you were still in his arms, still listening. He remembered that scene, looking over the cliff to find his father’s broken body down below. 

“He fell, and I couldn’t stop it,” he said. “And to this day, I still don’t know what all that was about.”

He’d been reluctant to tell even Colter that it still haunted him sometimes; that night, and the not knowing.

You pulled yourself up further so you could meet Russell’s gaze.

“I’m so sorry,” you said.

The movie had long faded into the background, but at least it gave some white noise for the next heavy beat that passed between you two. His eyes eventually fell away from yours.

“It’s old history,” Russell said at last.

“It’s not just history,” you denied softly. “It’s your life.”

He didn’t know what to say to that, so he just hummed in agreement. He encouraged you to relax against him again, with a warm hand on your back. You settled and released another contented sigh. Even though Russell’s story weighed on your heart, you did feel closer to him. It made you feel like you understood Dory better too, and even Colter.

Russell rubbed your arm. “You doin’ okay? You’ve had a long day.”

“Day and night,” you agreed. Your eyes closed against your will. “But, yeah…I think I’m okay now.”

At that, he smiled. He laid a kiss on your forehead.

“Good,” he said.

A few minutes later, Russell heard your soft, deeper breaths in sleep. He chanced grabbing a throw blanket laid over the back of the couch. He managed to toss it over your body, but he made sure it covered you. You shifted in your sleep and curled up more comfortably against him. 

Russell smiled down on you fondly. He’d learned a hell of a lot more about you in just the past couple of days, but ever since he met you, he’d been picking up on the important things. The things that made you the woman you were.

And he wanted more, he realized. He wanted more time with you.

That turned out to be the last real thought he had before his eyes closed on him too. 

Russell didn’t wake again until the credits on the movie were rolling near the end. You were still knocked out. So he carried you, blanket and all, over to your bedroom.

He smelled the remnants of your floral shampoo and body wash in the air, likely coming from the bathroom. It was an intoxicating mix, one that had infiltrated his nose ever since you came out of the shower today. 

It was only 6:00 p.m., but it might as well have been midnight. He laid you down toward the middle of the bed. There was still space on the other side. Very tempting.

She did offer, he thought, remembering what you’d said at the hospital. And yet, he hesitated.

Before he could make a decision, you made it for him. Your hand reached out to hook in his shirt. 

Russell looked down at your sleepy smile. 

“Get over here,” you said, tugging him downward. He chuckled and wrapped his hand around yours. He allowed you to guide him over, and he somehow managed to roll onto the other side of the bed without crushing you. 

“Reflexes like a cat, I tell ya,” he quipped.

You giggled softly. He took off his first layer of defense (his pants), leaving him in his henley and boxer briefs. He settled into bed behind you and slipped an arm around your waist. He fit in snug against your back.

“Mmm,” he sighed. His lips pressed behind your ear, smiling there. “Feels nice.” 

“Mhmm,” you agreed.

He couldn’t see your smile, but you held his arm in place. For the first time in a while, you weren’t alone.

In the early morning, you woke up to warmth and closeness. The man in your bed snored lightly, mouth parted in sleep while he faced you. You smiled.

How could a man who felt dangerous, in more ways than one, also make you feel safe? It was a wonder. Though when an idea hit you, you carefully slid out of bed.

Russell eventually roused in his own time. He blinked awake, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He stretched out his limbs in your very comfortable bed. This sure beat rusty motel springs.

He realized that he was alone in the room, but he heard you puttering around the house. He allowed himself to doze some more.

A few minutes later, you returned to greet him with a couple of mugs, drawing him back into the waking world with the rich smell of coffee.

“Aww yeah, that’s the stuff,” he said. He groaned as he slowly sat up.

You laughed and sat beside him on the edge of the bed. “Good morning.”

“Morning,” he said. His voice was deeper and rougher with sleep, washing down your spine pleasantly.

He accepted the mug you offered him. He took a sip and hummed in pleasure at its bold flavor. It wasn’t as sweet as he usually liked it, but it was exactly what he needed right now.

“I just did a little sugar and creamer. That okay?” you asked. 

“It’s good,” he nodded. And you looked good, he noticed, with your bed-tousled hair and an open robe over your tank top and little shorts.  

“Do you want to meet Dory and Colter for breakfast?” you asked. “Dory texted me this morning.”

Russell’s brows shot up. 

“Colt stuck around?” he asked.

“Yeah, Dory asked him to stay at her place last night,” you said. Russell hummed in response. 

A bit of an awkward lull fell between you. You’d felt bolder yesterday in the hospital, but now, you weren’t entirely sure what you were doing with a man who just slept somewhat-but-not-altogether platonically in your bed.

“Um, I’ll just…get ready then,” you said, pointing to the bathroom. “You…take your time.”

He cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah.”

He peeled back the covers and climbed out of your bed, away from the sheets that smelled like you. 

You watched him go when he headed across the hall back to Charlie’s room. You sighed and beat your hand against your own forehead in frustration. What the hell am I doing?

You’d literally invited him into your bed last night, but he hadn’t done anything more than hold you while you slept. It was incredibly kind, and it said a lot about him, despite his rough-around-the-edges exterior. You were just a little disappointed that he’d been a perfect gentleman about it all. 

You rolled your eyes at yourself. What did that say about you?

You shook your head and resolved to freshen up. There was still a cut that the ER nurse covered with a butterfly bandage above your brow. You cleaned it up and applied a new bandage. Then you put on some makeup to cover the ugly bruise on your cheek and the dark circles that lingered under your eyes.

God, look at me. You actually wouldn’t blame Russell for not being into you enough to make a move. 

A bit disheartened, you changed out of your pajamas to slip on a nice, but comfortable dress over your bra and underwear. Afterward, you paused to stare at yourself in the mirror for a moment. What exactly do you want here?

“Hey, uh—” Russell’s voice startled you, making you flinch. Maybe you were still jumpy.

He raised an apologetic hand. “Sorry. Just thought I’d ask if you want some toast or something. I don’t think my stomach can wait ‘til we meet up with Dory.”

You smiled faintly. “Sure, go ahead. Whatever’s there, you’re welcome to.”

Russell paused, tilting his head. There was something off with you. He saw it, and felt it. 

“Hey, you okay?” he asked. 

“Yeah,” you said, glancing away. 

Russell’s spidey senses began to tingle. He approached you and laid a hand on the counter, inches from yours. 

“You sure?” he said. He took in your hesitant face, then the pretty dress you had on. The color matched your eyes. Soulful eyes.

He smiled when you let him see them again.

“Can you see the bruises? I think I covered them up well enough,” you said. You turned to look at yourself in the mirror again, touching your jaw carefully. 

Russell’s hand raised to find your cheek, earning your attention with wider eyes. His thumb swept across your skin as you started to blush.

“You’re beautiful,” he said with a smile. “Don’t you worry about that.”

Your face warmed further, despite your smile. 

“Yeah, the makeup helps,” you quipped. 

“I didn’t say anything about makeup,” he replied. Though he grinned and made a show of looking closer at your face. “Although, have your lashes always been that damn long?”

You laughed, but he didn’t let go of you. Instead, his hand drifted down to your neck, cradling your jaw. His thumb brushed over your lower lip this time, smudging your lipstick a little. Your eyes met his, but they’d already lowered, to the path of his hand. You were tempted to nip at his thumb, or better yet, suck it into your mouth.

Perhaps he read the thought crossing your face. Because when those darkened eyes flicked up to yours, he finally bowed his head to kiss you.

You took in a deep breath, and you melted into his mouth with a moan of wanting. A craving from the depths of your heart, finally being fulfilled.

You didn’t let yourself think anymore. You gripped the front of his shirt and pulled him closer. He cupped the back of your head, tangling his fingers into your hair as he deepened the kiss. His tongue invaded your mouth, and you let him in. You met his every kiss with the same fervor, claiming him right back, demanding just as much.

Your hands slid up his chest and helped him shrug off the green jacket first, then his shirt (Led Zeppelin this time). He hooked an arm around your waist and brought you flush against him, so he could turn you around and walk you back to the bed. 

You clung to his bare shoulders and savored the feeling of his warm, calloused hands burning up your thighs and ass, bunching the skirt of your dress. You helped him get it over your head and toss it onto the floor along with his clothes. 

As he held you by the waist, his gaze dipped for a moment to take you in, from bare thighs and hips and lacy panties, all the way up to your breasts cupped in your bra. Through panting breaths, you smiled and blushed at the heated depths of his green eyes. You felt like your heart was beating in and out of rhythm.  

But you managed to get a hold of your nerves long enough to drag your hands down his chest, down to his belt. You unclipped it for him and took your time in sliding the entire belt out of its loops. Then you let the brown leather fall to the floor. 

Russell raised a brow at you, smiling. Taking your challenge for what it was, he unbuttoned his jeans himself and aimed to step out of them, but he had some trouble when one of the pant legs got caught around his ankle and sock-covered foot.

“Shit,” he muttered as he stumbled a little. “Hold on.”

Unable to help a small giggle, you grabbed his left arm to help steady him. He hissed in pain, but he cleared his throat to cover it. You gasped as you realized what you’d done. You noticed then that he had a bandage tightly wrapped above his elbow, right below one of his tattoos.

“What’s this?” you asked in concern. You held his arm with both hands. “Did you get shot? Did you get this looked at when we were at the hospital?”

Russell staved off your questions with a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“It’s okay. This is old, just still healing up,” he said. 

You frowned up at him. “You got stabbed, shot, what? When did this happen? I thought you worked in private security.”

“A couple months ago. I got, uh, grazed. Don’t worry about it,” he said. “Sometimes the job gets a bit dicey.”

He could tell though, that you weren’t going to let it go easily. 

“Let me see,” you said, trying to peek under the bandage. Russell laughed and gathered you into his arms to stop your attempts. Your concern warmed him, but it wasn’t necessary. 

“I’m fine, sweetheart. I promise. Can we focus on the fun part, here?” he said.

Your brows furrowed. You opened your mouth to reply, but Russell saw the testiness in your eyes. He dipped down to kiss you, swallowing whatever snippy remark you were about to make.

You weren’t the only one giving into a craving here. Russell’s was bone-deep, molten in his blood, and getting to see you, to feel your soft body under his hands was already so much better than he’d imagined. His hold tightened on your waist, his fingers pressing into your skin.

A shudder ran up your spine at his touch. You circled your arms around his neck and let him continue ravishing you, then laying you down onto the bed. 

While you were careful about avoiding the bandage, your hand did drift down his arm, and further still, to palm at the straining bulge pressing against you. And Jesus Christ, did it feel generous. He grunted at your touch and paused with his lips against your jaw. 

“Well hey there, cowboy,” you said, adopting a more sensuous tone. “I had a feeling you’d be packing. What’s that, a .45, or a 38 Special?”

Russell’s eyes blinked wide. Then he erupted with deep laughter that made his shoulders shake. Aside from throwing a punch, your brother must’ve taught you something about guns too. 

“Well thank you, kindly,” Russell said, putting on a bit of a southern drawl, just to tease you. “But you’re about to find out, naughty girl.”

You giggled as he began to kiss your neck, languid and sloppy. He blazed a wet trail down the column of your throat and between your breasts. His beard rasping against your skin made you shudder a little, but it wasn’t unpleasant. In fact, you quite liked that a lot.

He slipped a hand underneath you to unclip the black lace. You arched into him so he had easier access. 

He slid the bra from your body and tossed it somewhere behind him. Just as he’d imagined, you had beautiful tits. His lips explored each of them in turn, squeezing supple flesh and rolling your sensitive, hardened nipples with his tongue and fingers. 

It was a prequel, you thought, for what talents that mouth might have further down. You had to moan just at the idea, your fingers clenching in his hair, but also at the sensations he was drawing from your body wherever he touched. The man clearly knew what he was doing.

He traveled lower still and laid slow, occasionally nipping kisses across your stomach, hips and thighs. His fingers hooked around your panties and lowered them down your legs. You felt his warm breath panting against your thigh. You glanced down at him and tensed in anticipation. 

“Still good?” he checked, squeezing your hip. You smiled and reached for his hand. Russell gave it to you, brushing his thumb over the back of your hand in affection. 

“I think I’m about to be,” you said cheekily.

He smirked. His other hand smoothed up the inside of your thigh and slipped past your folds, finding wetness that already coated his digits.

“Goddamn. You’re soaked,” he said, just a hint teasing. “Bet if I put my mouth on you, you’d fuckin’ drown me.”

Again, he stopped whatever smart quip you were about to levy at him next when his fingers found your clit. You let out a gasping moan instead.

He decided that he already loved that sound. He endeavored to pull it from you, again and again when he began working you open with his fingers and pumping them inside you. He enjoyed seeing you writhe and arch against his hand. Your hands squeezed his arms, his shoulders, trying to anchor yourself.  

His thumb circled and strummed your clit in a rhythm only he could hear in his head, until you couldn’t help biting your nails into his shoulders when you came. You shuddered your release as your core throbbed with warmth and slick around his fingers. 

“Fuck, that’s my girl,” he said. His voice rasped deep with arousal. “Wouldn’t even mind if you did drown me.” 

You huffed in response, unable to form speech just now.

Next time, Russell thought. He slipped his fingers out of you and licked them clean, making your eyes widen. He smirked and stroked your thigh as you came down, a shuddering mess.

After taking a second to regain your breath, you pulled him down for a kiss, both grateful and fueled by a passion you couldn’t put into words. What you felt for this man was instinctual, from the moment you saw him. And yet, it was also so much more. It was raw, and real, and maybe even beautiful.

The thought spurred you on as your hands moved with purpose down his body. Your nails caught at the waistband of his boxer briefs as you tried to roll them down. You got it halfway down his thighs, enough to let his hardened length spring free. You bit your lip at the mere sight of him. Goddamn.

Your hand slid around his cock, near its weeping head. You used the beads of wetness there to work your way smoothly down to its base. Russell’s body tensed above you, just before he groaned low in pleasure.    

You pushed at his chest to have him let you up. 

“Your turn, baby,” you said. It would be one hell of a challenge to get your mouth down that beautiful 44 Magnum, but you were more than willing to try.

To your surprise, Russell shook his head and guided you back down.

“Let’s pin that one for next time too. Wanna be inside you already,” he said.

You blinked, but then you nodded in breathless agreement. He kissed you deeply, devouring you with his teeth grazing your bottom lip. His tongue soon slipped out to soothe it.   

“Condom?” he panted, between kisses. 

“Oh, yeah. Um…bathroom, bottom drawer,” you whispered, though you weren’t sure why you were whispering. 

“Okay, two seconds,” he said.

He left you in the bed, quite literally hot and bothered, and very naked. You crossed your arms over your breasts on reflex while you tried to recover. Your core was still tingling, and your heart was beating fast, though you couldn’t stamp out the smile forming on your face. 

You heard the sound of foil unwrapping and clothed rustling. When he came back to the bedroom, you finally got a full picture of what you were in for. You unconsciously licked your lips as your gaze dipped down his body, and the indeed impressive package at full mast, and full display. 

A grin curved his lips when he caught you staring. He climbed back onto the bed with just a bit of struggle with all the blankets coiled about. He pushed a heavy blanket out of his way, accidentally shoving it to the floor.

“Back to business,” he said.

“Oh, yeah,” you agreed, and you welcomed him back, sliding your hands up his arms and shoulders. You hooked your thigh around his hip as he found his way back between your legs. Holding his bearded face in your hands, you pulled him in for another kiss that reignited you both. 

He sunk his hand into your hair and treated you to another slow, deep kiss. Until your thigh tightening around his hip urged him to satisfy what you both had been wanting and waiting for.

He grabbed your thighs and angled you higher. Then he lined himself up at your entrance. Looking into your eyes, your breaths mingling together, he sheathed himself a little at a time. A keening moan fell from your lips.

He started with shallow thrusts, giving you time to adjust. But that in itself was a torturous tease. It made the coil in your lower belly start to tighten again. Pleasure began to thrum inside you, ever slowly. Your head tipped back into the pillows with a gasp.  

“God, Russell, please,” you uttered. You squeezed his arms on reflex, your heels digging into his ass. 

“I know, baby. Gonna fucking wreck you, I promise,” he said with a grin. 

You huffed in amusement. That was a hefty promise.

Though a moan tore from your throat when he finally bottomed out, stretching your inner walls. He groaned along with you. His lips fastened to your neck as he gave you deeper thrusts.

“You feel so good,” you said raggedly in his ear, raking your fingers through his hair. You felt every damn inch of him.

“You too, baby. So damn good,” he gritted out. “Tell me what you want.”

He raised your thigh a bit higher, his fingers pressing into flesh.

“Ugh, fuck,” you gasped, as he hit a particularly delicious angle. “Whatever you want to give me.”

“You sure about that?” Russell asked, panting against your neck. Your nails dragged down his back between the muscles in his shoulders, hard enough to earn a halting groan from him.

You nodded emphatically. “Yes!”

His lips hinted at a smile. “Okay, hold on."

Before you could even respond, he pulled out of you all the way, just so he could guide you over onto your stomach. He pulled you up onto your hands and knees. As he ran a hand down the gentle slope of your back and around the curve of your ass, you breathed harder in anticipation.

“So damn beautiful,” he muttered.

You glanced at him over your shoulder. You unconsciously bit your lip as your heart couldn’t help but swell at his words. Russell met you with a look that betrayed his desire, making your lower belly tremble as well.

He parted your cheeks and slotted himself between your thighs from behind. You once again felt the head of his cock nudging at your entrance, and then pushing back in with one deep plunge. Both of you let out moans of relief at the feeling.  

Pretty soon, he was pounding into you deeper and faster than before. Oh, fuck yes…

You clawed at the headboard, trying to find something to keep you stable. Russell’s arm slid around you for a solid support. You held onto him right back with one hand while he continued to drive into you, earning each and every sound coming out of your mouth. He’d finally angled you just right, so he could hit that special spot inside you with every thrust. Your pussy clenched on him in response, making him grunt in pleasure. 

“Fuck, you’re close. I can fuckin’ feel it,” he said, panting. He laid a biting kiss where your neck met your shoulder. You cried out in both pain and pleasure, your inner walls once again squeezing on him. 

“Yeah,” you nodded, breathless. “This time, you’re gonna come with me.”

You reached back and tangled your fingers into his hair. He held you to his chest and squeezed your breast a bit roughly. You uttered a wanton sound. You dragged his hand down your body to part your folds. You used his fingers to press against your clit. 

He picked up your hint, and then took control, massaging you with his fingers. There you began to tremble from the inside out. Warmth emanated from your core and spread outward, down to your toes as you came even harder on his cock. 

Russell wasn’t far behind. His voice joined yours as his body locked up, and he spilled hot into the condom. You almost wished he’d come freely inside you, so you could really feel him. Regardless, your body was boneless when he lowered you down onto the bed afterward.

“Holy shit,” you breathed.

He chuckled and kissed your shoulder, before he fully pulled out. Panting for breath though you both were, you managed to twist onto your side and reach a hand for his cheek. Your fingers slipped higher from there, cupping the back of his neck. Your thumb swept tenderly across his cheek, and you guided him down for a proper kiss.

Russell obliged you, his lips meeting yours plush and wet. He brushed strands of your sweaty hair away from your forehead with affection.

Somehow, that last kiss was softer than all the rest.

One thing was for sure though. There was no way you two were making it to breakfast. 

“I kind of feel bad now,” you later confessed. 

You and Russell were taking a few minutes just to recover under the messy sheets. He held you while sitting up against your headboard. He almost craved a smoke. You’d given him a damn workout. 

He smirked at the thought. Admittedly, his mind was more on focused on the scenes replaying in his head than on what you were saying. 

“Dory doesn’t get to see you guys that often,” you continued, “and who knows how long Colter will seriously wait for us to get out of bed.”

Russell’s attention drifted back to you at that.

“Come on, it’s not like they know why we’re running late,” he said. You gave him a knowing look. 

“Are you kidding? They were already suspicious when you brought me home yesterday,” you replied with a laugh. 

Russell grinned and rubbed your arm. He knew you were probably right, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. 

“Yeah, well. That was damn worth it,” he said.

You smiled. You rolled your head over on his shoulder, so you could see his face, but you became contemplative as uncertainty crept in. You let in a breath to gather your courage, and you decided to take a chance. 

“You know, drug dealers aside, Laramie isn’t such a bad place to live,” you pointed out. “We’ve got a movie theater, a couple good outlet malls, a new Tex-Mex restaurant that just opened down the street. I’m gonna have to find a new bar though.”

Russell smiled at you. He knew what you were suggesting.

He sighed as his amusement faded. 

“Look, even if I stay…” he hesitated.

He looked into your eyes and saw the vulnerability there. You were being honest with him, putting your heart into his hands. The least he could do was be honest. He covered your hand where it rested on his chest.

“If I’m on a job, I could be gone weeks at a time. I won’t be able to tell you where I am or what I’m doing. That’s gonna be hard on you,” he said. 

He knew his friend Doug made it work with his wife, but their relationship wasn’t without friction because of the job he and Russell shared.

“I can handle it,” you said firmly. 

“You just had a little freak out over a scratch earlier,” Russell pointed out, with a gesturing hand at his bandaged arm. 

“Okay, that’s different,” you said.

You wouldn’t say it now, but there were things that still concerned you about his job. You had a strong feeling that "private security" wasn’t all it entailed. However, after what he’d done for you, after what he’d done for Charlie, you knew that Russell Shaw was a good man.

There was something good here, and you didn’t want to lose it this time. You shifted in his arms, so you could face him.

“Look, we can sit down and figure all that out,” you said. “But do you want to at least try? Or…am I reading this wrong?”

Russell stared back at you ruefully. He raised a hand to touch your cheek, grazing your soft skin with his fingers. 

“No, you’re not,” he said. 

In fact, what he felt already ran deeper with you than he’d like to admit. He let out a long breath through his nose. 

“Okay,” he said at last. “If we’re gonna do this, let’s do it right, I guess. I’ll book a motel here in town for now. If things go well, I can…I don’t know, find an apartment.”

Your answering smile broke him down further, even as it warmed him inside. You turned over to circle your arms around his neck, and as an added bonus, pressing your bare breasts against his chest. You kissed his cheek with a happy hum. He laughed at your enthusiasm. He also accepted your sweet path of kisses that led to his lips. 

He groaned when it became not so sweet, with your tongue slipping hotly against his. His hold on your hips tightened.

“Uh oh. Baby, we can’t do this now,” he chuckled, even though your hand was already wandering down his body and under the sheets. You both were supposed to be getting ready to meet his brother and sister for lunch. 

“Five minutes,” you said against his lips. All the while, you were pushing him back onto the bed. You began to kiss down his chest, and lower still.   

Russell snorted. Right. 

But he wasn’t about to argue with you. He had a gut feeling…one that made him almost certain.

He’d found where he wanted to be. 

AN: Well, then! I hope you enjoyed the "happy ending." 😘 I always get a bit sad at the end of a series, but thank you to everyone who's followed the ride on Every Second Counts. Let me know what you thought of how it all shook out here at the end between her and Russell! 💜

Read the Sequel:

Want more ESC? Read the next one-shot, Lost Time (18+):

Summary: When Russell takes longer than usual on a job out of town, you realize how hard it is to live half a life with him.

▶️ Keep Reading: Lost Time

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[misshunterskye]

when you finally remember your past with your dragon, because i really just needed MC to remember. i needed the pay off. so here we are.

content: pure fluff

buy me a ko-fi 🫶🏻

You didn’t know what to expect. The protocore floating in front of you glistens red and you realize all at once that it is an aether core. Just like the one in your heart and in Sylus’ eye. You don’t know what possesses you, but you reach out, almost to grab it—

And then you feel it. A whole lifetime of tragedy and loss and also love… ramming into you at full speed. A kiss in a meadow of beautiful red flowers. A hand gently touching your face. The dragon you met while angry and lost. How you became each other’s worlds…

A gasp crashes out of your lips. A million memories, a million stories. Footsteps are heard from behind you. You realize you’re still in battlefield, you should be more careful -- but how could you? How could you when you just remembered everything. You raise your gun only to realize it’s Sylus who's entered the area.

“It’s only me, kitten.” His voice comes almost as a purr. He doesn’t seem to notice you’ve had an epiphany. You dropped your gun down to your lap, your breathing hard. Everything... came flooding back.

Because your dragon. He’s here. He’s always been here. You’d always felt that he was something more to you. That you’d known each other. Your gun clatters to the floor as you stare at him. Completely shell-shocked. He seems to be concerned now, although he only lets it slip by a slight furrowing of his brow.

“Sweetie?”

And just like that, you’re bolting to him. You catch air, landing into his arms. Your own arms go around his neck, hugging him tightly. He catches you like it’s nothing, holding on to you.

“What is this?” He says, his voice tinged with amusement and confusion.

“I remember. I remember you, my dragon.”

He pauses, and unlike Sylus’, his voice is shaky as he responds next. It sounds unsure, like he doesn’t know whether to believe it.

“You do?”

And then the song. The harmony he’d played you weeks ago. You remember the ending now. The end you never got to play because you’d end up in his arms, distracted. You remember that so clearly...

In that past life, you sit with him in his cave. He'd acquired an organ through a raid he'd performed on an abandoned city. Most times, Sylus found, humans would destroy each other, and he only had to pick up the pieces.

But Sylus didn't know that you knew how to play. His little sorceress. You took the seat at keys, staring at it with a gentle smile. He felt almost like he was intruding. Like this was a personal moment between you and the organ.

But to his amazement, you turn to look at him -- before patting the seat next to you. He didn't know what to think, but he sat next to you. You're so beautiful to him, as you start to play. Halfway through the song, right after the melody, your hair falls in your face.

While pushing it out of your face, your hands pause on the keys. You're both stuck in this moment. His hand on your cheek, your gentle eyes boring into his. How they could make him, a dragon, feel so vulnerable, he'll never understand. But one look from you is enough to level him.

And then you're both kissing in earnest. The keys play an ugly note of dissonance as they slip away and into his hair. His mouth explores yours, all while telling you how beautiful the music was. How he was going to covet it while he coveted you.

Later the next day, you heard him humming it as he polishes his gold. You make a note to play it more often. However... you never finished. You always got distracted by him.

So you hum it to him now. Proving to him that you remember. Realization crashes over his face. His red hues widening ever so slightly. That’s all he needs to hear before he’s lifting you up in his arms. His hands are firm, stern, but not harsh. Never harsh with you, his everything.

Both of your legs straddle his hip, and he’s looking at you, his eyes burning with passion. “I’ve waited so long,” he rasps, his eyes boring into yours. His forehead falls against your own. “I was starting to think I’d have to be content, making new memories, but here you are. My little sorceress.”

You don’t even realize tears are falling down your face. Your hands desperately touch whatever they can, mapping out his face. He doesn’t stop you, soaking up your affections.

“You’ve always loved me. Through anger, kindness— oh my dragon. My Sylus.”

There is a hint of a growl at that, and he kisses you deeply. He’s surging forward, using the fact you are in his arms to press you against a tree. The battle is long since over now, and he's focused on you.

“Say it again,” he demands, even as he continues to steal and roam your mouth in between words. It's like he's a man starved. He needs to hear it. He's waited so long.

He gave up everything for just the hope of you remembering again, and here you were. Sylus needed to hear these words as sure as he needed to breathe.

“Mine. My dragon!” You say in-between giggles and his incessant lips. You aren’t complaining though. He peppers against your skin, every inch that he can find. All while you're crying happy tears. "Don't leave. Never again." You say, over and over.

"A dragon never leaves its treasure," he says, his forehead finally pressing against yours. His eyes closed, as if he's breathing you in, feeling this moment. "And you're the most valuable treasure a creature could ever have."

[curseofhecate]

MERRY CHRISTMAS, PLEASE DON'T CALL |LN4

an: This is obviously based on merry Christmas, palase don't call by the bleachers, which I have on repeat ever since it came out. Ik this is a bit depressing, but in a suckered for angst so you can't blame me. This is from the readers point for view.

w.c.: 1.3k

December 25th, Christmas.

Outside, the snow was falling softly, the glow of the streetlights casting a yellow glow over it. Her apartment was cold and dark and awfully quiet. Up until a few hours ago, the living room, the very room she was sitting in now, had been so warm, so full of life. 

This year it had been her turn to host the annual family Christmas gathering.The chaos of it had done a good job keeping her distracted. But her family had left hours ago. Normally, said gathering would drag on well into the evening, but this year her parents had left earlier, having flown over to London on Christmas Eve and with the excuse of needing to catch up with jet lag, while her sister and husband had left as soon as Nicole, her niece had started getting sleepy. 

That left her alone, in a messy apartment that suddenly seemed too warm, too bright, suffocating. It took another hour or so to clean up everything. And when everything was back to normal, she sat down on her couch in the living room, watching the snow fall outside with the lights off except for the lights on the christmas tree.

It is weird how fast time moves.

This time last year they were on their way back to his apartment from his parents house. He had taken her to meet this family, insisting that they would love her when she was nervously telling him they might think its too soon on the car ride there. And he was right. His family ended up loving her.

This time last year they were driving home, and when they’d get there, they would change into more comfortable clothes, her in hoodie that belonged to him which had a big 4 printed on the back which made Lando go crazy, and they'd settle down on the couch, covered in blankets and holding a steaming mug of hot chocolate each, while christmas movies played on the tv.

Two years ago today, she hadn’t even known he existed. Well, technically she did, since he was a famous formula 1 driver and all of that, but she’d never met him and she didn’t really care to do so. Two years ago right now, she would have been getting ready for that party her friends insisted she went to. 

That’s where she met him. A Christmas party, hosted by a friend of a friend. She wasn’t big on parties, she never had been. Normally she would sit back, maybe have a drink or two but never more and wait for the time to pass until it was acceptable to leave or until one of her friends decided to ditch. 

Lando was there with a girl, one he had been hooking up with at that fraction in time. And even though it wasn’t serious enough to turn into a relationship, they were friends above all and his plans had been cancelled last minute so he had decided to tag along. 

Now, Lando wasn’t really a loner, quite the contrary actually but he liked to befriend the people who were a bit more closed off. Besides, he had had a lot of practice getting to know his new teammate for next year and so, as soon as he was left alone, he walked up to the first person he judged as socially awkward. That was her.

And the rest was history. 

Two years later, whatever had started that night in December in a quiet corner of a party that neither of them should have really been there in the first place was long gone. Dead and buried under the pain that came with the conclusion that they couldn’t possibly work.

That’s the price that comes with being an F1 driver. And as much as they both would like to think that their relationship was full of happiness and love, the bad moments were nearly as much as the good ones. With him constantly gone and away for races and her too focused on her degree to be with him even when he wasn’t at the other side of the world made up for sure distraction. 

But maybe it was because he wasn’t ready for a relationship and the commitment that came with him or maybe it was because she was new at this and didn’t know how to let him know how she really felt. But most probably it was the fact that they couldn’t communicate their feelings with each other, mainly because they weren’t used to having to do so.

Whatever it was, the outcome was the same. Her sitting alone in a quiet apartment while he was away on a winter vacation, a ski trip somewhere in the french alps with a lot of his friends that had grown to be her friends too while they were still dating. 

She sighed, turning off her phone, not bearing to look at another of their friends' instagram story in which he was featured in. Lately she’d catch herself wondering how it would have been if they were still together. If they had fought for what they had instead of giving up once it all got too much.

She shouldn’t but on the nights she missed him a lot, she goes back and rereads their messages from when they were still dating. Sometimes she typed out paragraphs, asking him to talk or admitting that she never lost feelings and that she wants to try again, but she never sends them, because what would that do either way. 

They weren’t good for each other. They both knew that. He was struggling with his own problems and he couldn’t find a way to let her in, really let her in. And then it was the distance too. He wasn’t present enough, and even though that wasn’t his choice, it worked against them. They weren’t what the other needed, at least not at that moment in time.

Besides, he had moved on. It hadn’t even been a full month after their breakup before he was seen out with a well known model. And even though she knew better than to believe whatever the gossip pages claimed, the idea of him moving on so quickly still hurt.

Her phone dinged with a notification. She immediately reached for it, momentarily hoping that maybe he had reached out, but frowning as soon as she saw it was just a text from one of her friends who were spending the holidays away from London. 

For some reason a part of her wished that he would send her a message, saying merry christmas, maybe even asking her how’d she been. She knew it was wrong, and that it would only reopen old wounds but she couldn’t help but want a sign that he still thought about her from time to time, that he hadn’t forgotten him completely and that he still cared.

But even if he called, she didn’t know if she would be able to answer. He had put her through so much, not that he intended to, but it only proved that they weren’t right for each other.

It had been a hard decision to end things with lando. Because she loved him, she really did and she knew that he did too. But they weren’t what the other needed. In another timeline, under other circumstances they would have been perfect.

The more she thought about it, the more she wanted to cry. She shook her head, getting up and making herself a cup of chamomile tea, before settling back down on the couch, this time wrapped in a blanket, and turned on the tv ad pressing play on Love Actually, laughing a bit as she thought about lando had called it a dumb movie when she forced him to watch it with her around this time last year.

 Eventually, she fell asleep right there on the couch, empty tea mug on the coffee table and with the movie playing in the background. She could almost feel the ghost of his arms around her, rubbing her back and murmuring sweet nothings into her ear as she fell asleep.

And just as the ending credits started to roll on the tv, her phone screen lit up with a notification of an unread message.

[suugarbabe]

Ok bet

Can I request a fic where Matteo comes home at the end of the day kind of exhausted and done with the world but finds his sweets like humming in the kitchen as she makes dinner? Just softness personified and he’s just 🫠

mmmmm yes yes yes yes yes my lovely darling girl; personally i would love to be that softness personified for matty boy but we all know i'm a lil rough around the edges

matty x gn!reader ; not proof read, sozz. but i still think its cute...

December was always busy. And honestly, it was always a little bit hard for Mattheo. With both Christmas and his birthday within a week or so of each other, not to mention the fact that he was basically estranged from his family, this time of year he always felt just a little bit...heavy.

Waking up most mornings led to him yearning for the moment he was able to lay back down and move on to the next. Getting day after day over with was always his goal until his keys hit the lock and he opened his door to you.

Today was no different. That same heavy feeling making him feel sluggish, making the day drag on until finally he was able to go home once more.

Hearing keys turn in the door did nothing to deter you from your current task. You bounced around the kitchen checking on different variants for the dinner you were preparing for the two of you.

To Mattheo you seemed to float around the kitchen with minimal effort, checking the oven and stirring things on the stovetop before moving to the counter to finish chopping things for what looked like a salad.

You were humming to yourself, a tune that's been stuck in your head the last two days if Mattheo's recognizing it correctly. Even with a knife in your hand you look gentle to him and he can't help the grin the graces his features as he hangs up his jacket.

He toes off his trainers before walking over to you, making gentle steps on the tile to not disturb the soft bubble that seemed to surround you.

At his approach to the island you peek a glance from your chopping and smile, "Hi, handsome. How was your day?" He can't help the blush that dusts his cheeks at the affectionate nickname, no matter that you use it on him every day.

"Was long, exhausting really. Happy to be home."

You nod, indicating you received what he said as you lightly hum again while placing all the vegetables you just chopped in the salad, adding dressing and tossing.

You turn slightly, now facing your favorite boy who's rounding the island to stand beside you, "I'm happy you're home to. I think you'll like what I'm making."

Matty wraps his hands around your waist, yours finding solace around his neck. His grin is infectious and you fall victim so easily, "I always like what you make for us, sweets." His kiss on your lips is soft, just as he sees you. Nothing too deep or passionate, just a show of pure love and adoration for his favorite person.

His compliment settles in your brain and you're smiling as he pulls away. The kitchen timer rings, pulling you from him slightly; but not without a pout from Mattheo. "Set the cooling racks out for me, will you lovie?"

Matty pretends to grumble, but does as asked nonetheless. No sooner is he finished are you placing a tray of his favorite meal atop them.

"You made pasties?" The grin on his face was that of childlike excitement and the sight made your heart soar. Gnawing your lip slightly you gave a shy nod, "Wanted to try out a recipe I saw to see if you liked it. Then I could make it for your birthday when we had everyone over."

He reaches to grab one, earning a quick slap on the top of his hand, "Is there hot air under those pretty curls, boy? You just saw me pull those from the oven." Mattheo pulls his hand back, holding it to his chest, "But I wanna try one."

Rolling your eyes you hook your fingers in his front belt loops, pulling him closer to you, "You can try as many as you want, pretty boy...in fifteen minutes." He smiles at your mini-dominance display, settling his hands on either side behind you on the counter, "Guess you'll have to distract me for a moment then."

[clairedaring]

Ahead of the Spare Me Your Mercy Finale premieres, here's an interview with screenwriter Lux on the portrayal of Euthanasia in the series

(source: mgronline; machine translated with minimal edits, my apologies for any inaccuracies)

The series "Spare Me Your Mercy" (Thai title: การุณยฆาต), airing on Channel One31, is approaching its conclusion. Starring Tor Thanapob Leeratanakajorn and JJ Krisanapoom Pibulsonggram, the series is based on a novel by Dr. Sam Isaree Siriwannakulkorn under the pen name Sammon. Known for works such as Manner of Death, Triage, Bite Me, and the recent 4MINUTES, Sammon's novels often intertwine themes of BL (Boys' Love) with medical narratives.

However, in this Channel One adaptation, the producers emphasized that the focus is not on the BL aspect but primarily on the medical themes. Lux Sirilux Srisukon, the creator and scriptwriter of Spare Me Your Mercy and a skilled member of the production house, explained the reasons behind adapting this story and delved into the nuances of the plot. Even though euthanasia is not yet legal in Thailand, the story explores how patients may make end-of-life decisions without violating medical ethics.

“Sammon's novels are mostly BL novels and include numerous love scenes. However, we deliberately chose not to present it as a BL story. While the characters are two men in love, we approached it with a dark drama style. The characters are gay, but we don’t offer [fan]service in every episode or include NC (explicit) scenes. This was our intention from the beginning when we started making this series.

We did this not because of censorship, airtime or actors. But because what we are trying to tell was heavy and serious. Having NC would steal the attention of the story because what we were going to talk about was dark drama and euthanasia. Some fans of the novel might be disappointed, but we think we have other fun things to offer, even if there’s no NC scenes. Our way of thinking is that this is not like a series that serves [the audience] (t/n: I understand Lux is trying to say that this isn't a feel-good, healing vibes serving drama).

For instance, in traditional male-female dramas, if the protagonists fall in love, they simply do. Similarly, this story is like any typical drama—it’s not about portraying same-sex or opposite-sex love, but it is just two people who love each other. We depict love scenes the same way we would in any regular drama. Viewers will see that these two characters love each other because we don’t see gay love as different from heterosexual love. It’s just two people finding each other, forming a bond, and falling in love.

When we spoke with the original author, she was also very supportive of this shift because she also wants to highlight the theme of euthanasia. Sammon's focus is also in line with the adaptation but since she is also a Sao Y and a BL novel writer, she understood her audience and enjoyed writing in that style.”

Lux says that she wants to clear up the misconceptions that many people may have that euthanasia must be caused by illness/ medical conditions, not because of life dissatisfaction or laziness and want to inject death.

“We wanted to portray what euthanasia really is because there are many misconceptions. People often misunderstand it in two extreme ways. First, they see it as equivalent to suicide. Second, they see it as an escape for those dissatisfied with life. For instance, some on X (re: Twitter) think, ‘I don’t need to think about the future; I’ll just live my life and then get an injection to die.’ That’s not possible anywhere in the world. That's a misconception.

Euthanasia doesn’t mean you can request an injection to die simply because you’re tired of life. Even in Europe, where euthanasia is legal, there are strict requirements. You must have a certified medical condition specified in the law, endorsed by at least two medical specialists, and the illness must be truly incurable and that you are waiting for death. The purpose of this law is to prevent these individuals from suffering. Instead of suffering for another year, they can die. It's not about being bored with life or lazy to live or not liking yourself when you're old, so you let them inject you with a lethal dose. They don't do that. Many people misunderstand that if you don't want to live, you can go for euthanasia.

But on the other side, some people say they wish the law would pass so they wouldn't have to take care of themselves when they're old. I'm bored, so I'll just go and get an injection. That's not how it works. Even in countries where it's legal, they won't do it. Or if a father has an illness that is still treatable, they won't allow it either. It’s only available for those truly nearing death, as certified by medical professionals. In cases where it is allowed, in countries where this law has been passed, as I explained earlier, and they only provide euthanasia to the relieve suffering of patients who are waiting for death.

And there are some countries that have already passed the law on euthanasia, and they have changed their minds and gone back to using the old law. The term 'euthanasia' itself is not beautiful. There can be many legal loopholes.

For example, a patient is very sick and old, but they don't want to die, but their relatives don't want to take care of them. They go and arrange for euthanasia. But if there aren't laws for it, there will be legal loopholes to allow murder. Some people may not be able to move or walk, but they still want to live. They don't want to die. The most important thing about euthanasia that doctors must discuss, which we will demonstrate in this case, is the patient's wishes. You must do it with awareness and a genuine desire to do it yourself, not pressured by relatives.

It's not like, "Mom, I can't take care of you. You're such a burden. Let's take you to get an injection." We understand that this is a sensitive issue. We don't want to cause arguments, but we want you to understand what we're trying to convey. Think seriously. Because if the day comes when the law needs to be changed and you don't understand it, when you ask yourself if you really want the law to be changed, we won't be able to answer because we don't really understand it.

Euthanasia in Thailand — Is It Suitable?

“Euthanasia is a thought-provoking topic. We interviewed doctors, and they said that euthanasia isn't suitable for wealthy people. If you ask a doctor in an expensive hospital, he will say that euthanasia is not suitable for Thailand because [the hospitals] already have everything that patients need to get through their final days well. But the condition is that you need money.

However, for poor people, just getting painkillers once a month is difficult. They have to endure the suffering. The doctor who wrote this article is the one who visits patients' homes. In small hospitals, when they encounter such cases, they think, 'Maybe there really needs to be something. Isn't euthanasia a necessity?'. Poor people with terminal cancer, in excruciating pain, but there is no one to take care of him, bring him medicine, or take them to see a doctor. Do they have to lie down and suffer like that? How are they supposed to live?' The accessibility to and public health welfare of our people are not equal. This is what we really wanted to convey.

I understand that BL fans might be disappointed, but if we focus on NC scenes to make people swoon, the core of the story will change. The weight of the story will go more towards that than the presentation of euthanasia.

The series will also feature other things to consider, one of them being a ‘living will,’ which has been legally recognized for decades. You can write a letter of intent stating that you are seriously ill, unresponsive, a vegetable, and do not need to be resuscitated. It is similar to a will, a 'patient's will', however, if you become unconscious and don't have full mental capacity, you won't be able to do this. And the doctor cannot not save our life because it is unethical. If doctors do not help, it will become a criminal offense, which is the same as letting us die.

This is legal and there's laws for it, but no one knows about it. It can be done without a lawyer, just with witnesses. We make one copy for ourselves and another for the hospital where we receive treatment. If we have the symptoms listed in the document, the doctor can let us go without providing treatment. We have to do it ourselves, relatives can't do it for us. This is not a legal loophole, there is a law for it, it's just not promoted. This is legal tool that can be used instead of euthanasia because it comes from the patient themselves. Everyone can become terminally ill. Cancer can happen to anyone. And when you're in those situations, how would you deal with it if euthanasia is not legal? You have to think ahead about what you will do."

tagging @recentadultburnout who can help vet for me if there are any inaccuracies from these machine translations

[girl4music]

Those last 2 episodes. Appropriately titled ‘Heart Part 1’ and ‘Heart Part 2’ because my heart is so full. I have so much to say and have no idea where to start with it.

So much happened. Every lead character’s individual arc was thoroughly concluded in a very satisfying way. Even some of the recurring ones got an endgame so there’s a lot to cover in this recap of a fantastic finale and I feel so fulfilled on great storytelling and great representation packed into a neatly tied up ending.

MAJOR SPOILERS: do not read this if you have not seen the finale of ‘She-Ra and the Princesses of Power’.

I guess I’ll start with Shadow Weaver because she had an endgame that I had predicted. Well, sort of. I said that Shadow Weaver’s arc can only go in 1 of 2 ways. I said it was either personal attainment (villainy) or personal sacrifice (heroism). So I wasn’t surprised when it was the latter. But I wasn’t able to trust in her going that way sincerely until she started attacking that monster, told Catra that she was proud of her, took off her mask and then told them both ‘you’re welcome’. I couldn’t trust that she was sincerely helping them to achieve releasing and channelling the Heart of Etheria’s magic… which by the way, is what almost brought them to the brink of destruction the first time they tried to do it. However, I understood that because She-Ra was the conduit for that, that it could have a different outcome. Still destructive but destructive only to the opposition. I think anyway. I might have to rewatch that part again because I don’t think I fully understood what was going on there. But yes, Shadow Weaver went out in a heroes death rather than was the cause of her own demise out of hunger for power and a desire to attain the magic of the Heart Of Etheria for selfish aim. I was happy with it.

Glimmer and Bow: I decided to talk about these 2 lead characters together since part of their arc involves each other. It was no surprise to me that they would declare their love for each other. I mean Glimmer has always had a crush on Bow and they’ve been the very best of friends since they were children. I wasn’t sure about Bow at first but I knew intense romantic feelings would develop and I’m glad it was Glimmer who said it first. I am a bit disappointed that there wasn’t a kiss on the lips but I think I understand why that was. I’ll get there. Be patient. There’s way too much to talk about first and I really want to save Catradora until the very last section because I’ll have the most to say about them as a lot of their arc informs well… pretty much the whole TV show.

Glimmer individually had more of an arc in the TV show than Bow did so a significant amount of my meta goes to her. It was mainly how she was fairing as Queen but also how useful she could be to the team because of it. Then of course there was Micah. Reuniting with him but having to battle with him because he was an unwilling agent of Horde Prime. I laughed with pure joy when the influence on him ended and he said “Hi, I’m your dad.” I really felt for Glimmer when she was desperately trying to heal him and she said “I won’t lose another parent!” So it was so satisfying for me to realize she healed him and that she poured all the love she could into that heal and when she succeeded, the proud smile that he wore must have made her feel like Queen of the world, never mind just her little town of Brightmoon. She deserves it.

Likewise it was wonderful to see how proud Bow’s dads were of him when he gave that rousing battle speech to the reawakened masses of Etherians, telling them to be their own warriors and fight for their home. It was right that it was Bow to do that rather than Adora or Glimmer because that is what he had trained himself to do from the beginning. He wants to be an archer battling on the side of the greater good and not a historian. So to see his dads holding each other, proudly watching him… it brought a tear to my eye, I have to admit. So beautiful!

Hordak and Entrapta: I had no idea that I would get a closure for Entrapta, let alone Hordak. I did and I’m so happy about it because even though she was only a recurring character, Entrapta buried her way into my science, tech and engineering loving heart (with a spanner and a blowtorch? You will never know 🤣) but I am glad that she got over her obsession enough to focus on what really mattered. Saving her friends.

The fact that what stopped Horde Prime wasn’t Adora or Glimmer or who you would expect, but Hordak and Entrapta? That hit so hard with me. To give THEM the hero moment of defeating the villain. I was like “Oh my god! That’s brilliant!” Because it is. Think about it. Who do you think Horde Prime tortured the most? His Little Brother! I still don’t know if that was literally or not. 🤷‍♀️ Was he actually related or was he just another clone because he did call Catra his “Little Sister” too? That’s still so creepy to me. But yeah, for Hordak to get that moment of retribution was absolutely delicious for me and then for Entrapta to reach him when Horde Prime tried to take over through the Hive Mind? So, so, good! That made total sense and it was brilliantly executed!

Scorpia and Mermista: The only reason to lump these 2 characters together is because they were chipped and controlled the longest that they caused significant damage to Etherians. There’s not really much to say about them other than that they’re going to have huge headaches now that this is all over due to how far gone they were. I mean I’m glad that they were able to save them but I just don’t know what the aftermath will be for them or whether they will be the same ever again.

From the way I watched and interpreted the TV show, I understood that one of the main narrative themes of it was psychological conditioning and I’ve been in awe that this children’s show was brave enough to tell that very dark story,… let alone see it right through until the end because it’s an ambitious, elaborate and difficult narrative undertaking. Especially to do it properly,… which they definitely did. To tell the darkness of… well… basically radicalization and genocide but to do so in such a way that it could teach and motivate kids to develop on their innate judgement and discernment so if - god forbid - they ever end up in that situation, they’ll know exactly what to do about it. With team She-Ra being their idols, they’ll be able to fight conditioning. I can imagine that’s what the creators intended with this and I cannot acknowledge and commend them on it high enough. I think that ND Stevenson and the entire creative team are incredibly courageous and amazing to make this a main thematic narrative all throughout this TV show and handle it with skill and compassion that it does not once come across as too much for PG.

Catradora: (Yes, I’m using the ship name because the way they tie up their individual character storyline arcs seamlessly also ties in with their romantic arc and you do not know how hard it is to find this with WLW ships.)

First off, I want to point out something that may or may not have been pointed out before with Catradora but this is just how it came across to me in the narrative given I interpret psychological conditioning as a main theme within it. To me, a lot of the reason why Catra is the way she is as a villainous character when it comes to receiving love and affection has do with this factor. She’s so closed off and repressed to the point that she cannot even see that she’s corrupting and sabotaging herself. She is a lot like Xena in this way. But a major striking difference for Catra is that she physically loses the one person in the world that stops her from doing this, whereas Xena physically gains that one person. Trust issues, abandonment issues, parental issues all tie in together - but that was all tolerable when Adora was around her. As soon as Adora leaves her behind in the Fright Zone and, furthermore, begins to oppose her as the hero of Etheria, she spirals so hard and so fast that all of those issues - which were always issues caused by the abusive treatment from Lord Hordak and Shadow Weaver - come crashing down one by one on top of her because she no longer has the person who makes those issues just inconveniences for her. Not only that but … it feels like personal betrayal for her that Adora fights her. She genuinely does think that Adora hates her. I mean who wouldn’t if they were in her shoes (paws?) and had the “upbringing” and “nurturing” backstory she’s had? So Catra has this preconceived notion that Adora never cared about her and left her because she thought she was better than her and was chasing after heroic glory and believes that she was too weak to go with her. In a way it’s a personal vendetta out of misunderstandings Catra has against Adora and those feelings are intense not just because the Horde brainwashing is that deep and severe but also because her love is that deep too and she can’t differentiate which feelings are which. So she becomes She-Ra’s mortal enemy because in her mind, She-Ra is what has taken Adora away from her.

But obviously, from Adora’s side, She-Ra was sprung on her, Etheria was sprung on her. In fact her entire world upended once she recognized her life for what it was. A lie. That she was the villain brutalizing innocent people. She couldn’t go back to them even if she had wanted to because everything she had ever knew was fraudulent and she had been coerced and deceived into being a weapon. And what I really like about Adora’s individual arc is that eventually this was revealed to be true on both sides of the war. She was a weapon for evil and for the greater good. But all she wanted - as all heroes do - was just to protect and defend her loved ones. That’s it. Catra could never see it that way though and it makes sense that she couldn’t given her conditioning was even worse as it involved one-on-one attacks from Shadow Weaver as well as whatever the treatment was with the entire group. Catra’s psychological conditioning was much more personal, intimate and isolated so what was ingrained into her had much deeper and stronger layers added on to it. Hers was a solid brick wall built trauma complex. Those are always much harder to recognize and escape from but with the right therapy,… it can be done. Given her issues weren’t so bad when Adora was around her but got much worse when Adora left her… it is clear that Adora represented a sort of therapy for her. Adora helped her keep all the crippling thoughts of self-doubt and self-contempt at bay. But they were on full volume when Adora left and kept attempting to kill her.

Okay, so let’s finally get on to their romantic arc and how the finale not only concluded their individual character representation and development arcs but also ended their ship slow burn. It wasn’t until the fantastic episode of ‘Save The Cat’ did I realize they were going there. See,… to start with, I knew that they were going to become a canon WLW couple at some point otherwise I would have never started watching it. That was the draw for me. That they were both lead characters in a canon WLW ship in a children’s TV show. That floored me. But I was not prepared at all for what I got to see in the finale. It was groundbreaking. It was phenomenal. In fact I’m sure it was life changing for many queer kids to see that kiss happen the way it did. Or… just happen on-screen at all. Look, I am so used to the “implied” and “assumed” and “disguised” when it comes to WLW physical intimacy that I just do not ever expect blatant leaves-absolutely-no-doubt-whatsoever kisses. I certainly don’t expect WLW kisses written and portrayed as “the power of love” kind. It’s extremely rare. To see it in a children’s show nailed me to the floor. But furthermore - added on to that astonishing feat - is that both lead characters overcome all their issues and obstacles through that very act like… a fairytale story. It’s like… when the Princess kisses the Princess, all is well… there’s no stopping either from that point on. It seems corny but it all just depends on how it’s done. But the fact is you don’t see it done between WLW at all. So to see it done WELL alongside seeing it done at all… I mean Indy knew that he had an assignment with this but the phrase “he understood the assignment” doesn’t cover or justify what was accomplished with this and I can’t believe it’s took me this long to see it.

Every TV art/entertainment creator should watch this TV show and regard this finale as the perfect example of what queer representation can and should provide in TV because this was just the epitome of what true love is. But the fact it was between 2 female lead characters.

I can’t even begin to explain how much it meant to me but I will spend the rest of my life trying to express it because this really was a groundbreaking achievement and I will be adding this WLW ship to my very short list of WLW ships that shape and satisfy every piece of me.

I have had the best fucking time watching this TV show and I will be doing reruns of it for god knows how long because I am sure there is so much more there for me just like there is with Xena, Buffy, Charmed, Dragon Ball Z, Wynonna Earp and Arcane. All these beloved shows are timeless to me for a reason and She-Ra is the same.

I hope you all enjoyed reading my recaps of my very first watch of ‘She-Ra and the Princesses of Power’.

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to you all. 🎄

[galactichoneybee92]

Helluva Boss Season 3 Predictions

So now that I've spent the past week or so recovering from Sinsmas, I'd like to take some time to think about what's coming in the next season. Strap in: This post got WAY longer than anticipated. Spoiler warning for absolutely everything.

We are going to have ample time to concoct theories since Vivzie already confirmed that there will be a considerable wait for the new season. However, she did also confirm that we will be getting more shorts to hold us over and also that the extended wait time is in order to facilitate a more regular update schedule once season 3 premiers. We haven't gotten any further information on what that schedule might look like but I'm hoping for weekly releases instead of monthly so, you know, fingers crossed.

While season 2 was incredibly heavy on the Stolitz arc, Vivzie has stated that season 3 will be more focused on exploring some of the other characters. I'm sure Stolitz isn't going to disappear and that some of the episodes will still be focused on the progression of their relationship (I've seen some people saying that the Stolitz arc is over and like...respectfully...no? They're not even officially together? They have so much ground left to cover) but it would be nice to flesh out the rest of the characters in this universe.

One of the big plot points will of course be Millie's pregnancy. Now let me just say now, I'm already so incredibly sick of the "Millie cheated" theory. As if that's the only reason that a woman could be nervous about an unplanned pregnancy. Be so fucking for real. As for how I think they'll handle it, I think there could be some interesting juxtaposition happening between Stolas losing his child and the M&Ms gaining theirs. Millie is clearly very anxious about the pregnancy and I would personally love if there was an episode devoted to her trying to find ways to talk to Moxxie or Blitz about it but never quite finding the words, and in the end it winds up being Stolas who is able to help her. Out of all of IMP, he's the only one who has not only raised a baby, but did so while he was very young and probably very apprehensive about it. For all that he loves his daughter, Octavia was very much conceived out of obligation rather than either he or Stella feeling ready to bring a child into the world and I just think that it could be a good bonding moment for the two of them.

Right now IMP very much feels like the gang + Stolas, and I desperately need there to be more time devoted to Stolas getting to know the rest of IMP better. I think bonding with Millie could be an excellent first step (Step 2: Him and Moxxie bond over musical theater. Millie and Blitz are always trying to pawn Moxxie off on each other when it comes to watching musicals with him and I think it would be really great if he could have a musical theater bestie who actually enjoys them. And lets be real- There's no way you can watch Stolas's entire little musical production in Mastermind and come out thinking that that dramatic little fuck wouldn't love a good musical)

Speaking of Octavia, I would love to explore her character more. I have a lot of thoughts and opinions on her that I will probably explore in another post but while she does frustrate me, I do love her. Additionally, I'm very interested in what Stella and Andrealphus have planned now. They succeeded in getting Stolas out of the picture, his titles have passed to Andrealphus until Octavia is of age, but that has to be soon, right? Octavia was 17 in season 1 and while I'm not sure how much time has passed she has to be coming up on 18. 18 was the age that Loona was going to age out of the foster system so it's apparently the age of majority in Hell, the same as on Earth, so that would be the age that she would inherit her father's titles and estate. What are their plans for her then?

I think it's very possible that they will continue with their plan to have Stolas killed now that they no longer need him. Would they go as far as to try and kill Octavia too? What would happen if they did? What is the line of succession? Octavia clearly doesn't have any children so would Andrealphus get to keep everything?

Stolas and Stella were engaged as children, but so far we haven't seen anything about an arranged marriage for Octavia. If Stolas had to marry in order to secure a "precautionary heir", wouldn't Octavia need to do the same now that she has inherited everything? I wonder if we will get either a birthday episode (Octavia dealing with having her 18th birthday without her father- Stolas dealing with missing his daughter's 18th birthday) or an arranged marriage plotline (Maybe Stella announces her daughter's engagement on her 18th birthday?)

This next theory is really out there but bear with me here and remember that they're strongly based on European royalty: What if Andrealphus tries to marry Octavia to secure the title for him and his sister.

Overall, I think an arranged marriage arc could really do a lot for Octavia's character in regard to her perspective on Stolas. Right now she only really views Stolas as her father, not as person in his own right, independent of his relationship to her. She only sees the ways in which he's failed her and not any of his own personal struggles. Furthermore, she had the quote from Sinsmas, 'You don't love mother and you don't love me- You love him." Which seems to imply that she thought her parents loved each other??? Stolas has mentioned on several occasions that he did his best to give her a normal life and I wonder if that included hiding the fact that he and Stella hated each other. It leads me to believe that maybe she thinks that they were happily in love until he met Blitz and then that was the catalyst for their marriage falling apart instead of their marriage having always been rotten at the core.

But what does that have to do with Octavia having an arranged marriage? Well I could see Octavia being very against it and Stella saying something like "Oh please, I had an arranged marriage when I was your age" and Octavia discovering the truth of the matter. She expressed surprise that her parents didn't marry for love and then Stella is like "Me? Love Stolas? Don't be ridiculous."

I mean naturally the wedding never happens- Stolas and IMP are able to interfere and save her from going through with it and maybe in the process repair her relationship with Stolas. Maybe they could steal her away and if she's staying with them she might be able to see all of the ways in which Blitz isn't some evil father-stealer like she's imagined him being. It sets it up for her to see them being soft with each other and maybe compare it to her memories of her parents and how they were never affectionate like that. Maybe Stolas will do something dorky that Stella would usually mock him for but instead Blitz will just roll his eyes and think it's cute and they might laugh about it together. And then Blitz would definitely make her smiley face pancakes in the morning (because he's nothing if not a girl-dad) and I could definitely see him remembering that one time in Sinsmas that Stolas mentioned that rats were Octavia's favorite snack and being sure to hunt some down for her.

Other unrelated small things I would like to see:

Blitz gets Stolas a little plant for the apartment.

Blitz gets some glow in the dark stars for the ceiling.

I'd love to explore Loona's character some more. How old was she when she went into foster care? Why was she there? Was she surrendered as a baby? Was she taken by whatever passes as CPS in Hell? Did she have any other foster families before Blitz? Why didn't they work out? Was she returned for behavioral issues or something? What's the story there? We got a little bit in Seeing Stars but not nearly enough and I would love to flesh out her backstory.

What about Loona's love life? She clearly had a crush on Vortex in season 1 and was disappointed to find out that not only did he already have a girlfriend but that that girlfriend was Bee- one of the seven deadly sins. Not someone she could compete with. Now me personally? I think that Bee has 2 hands and is the god of gluttony- she could definitely handle a 3-way polyamorous relationship. But that's just me. I don't actually have any sort of canon evidence to back that theory up, it's just more like a fun head canon: Let Loona Have a Boyfriend AND a Girlfriend 2025. (But if they introduce a new love interest for her? That's fine too. I just want my girl to be happy)

Finally, there has to be more about Barbie in season 3. Now I'm not super in love with her character like some of y'all are (This fandom has the unique ability to see a character with 30 seconds of screen time and LATCH ON like no one's business. See: Vasago) but she's an important part of Blitz's past. I think that a Barbie episode could be a good opportunity for Stolas (And Millie? And Moxxie? And Loona even? How much does IMP even know about Blitz's past???) to learn more about Blitz's past and trauma while also fleshing Barbie out as a character.

I feel that there are 3 major relationships that Blitz has to resolve in one way or another before he can properly heal from the events of the fire: Fizz, Barbie, and Cash. Him and Fizz have worked through their issues and are back on good terms and I feel like Barbie is next since we have actually met her in present day. Alternatively, we have no clue what Cash has been up to since the fire or even where he is now which leads me to believe that Blitz will probably be confronting him last, if at all.

That's all I've got so far but please, if you've read this far, drop a comment or a reblog with you own thoughts and opinions. Tell me what you think of my theories and share your own in return! We've got a long wait until the next season so we might as well scream about it together :)