#this had 22.2k likes.

[apricusapollo]

imma let god fix it. because if I fix it, I'm going to jail.

[mcrdvcks]

i love you, in every time ࿐‧₊ 1854 - could it be love?

chapter summary: You meet Logan, a young man who is briefly stopping by in New York City. Despite both of your better judgments, you quickly realize that perhaps there's nothing wrong with falling in love.

word count: 22.2k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: ahh!! welcome to this new series! i'm very excited to start this journey with all of y'all! just a note, when i say 'character death(s)' in the warnings it means that reader is going to die at the end of every chapter. that's the entire premise of this series, which was inspired by the 11th doctor and clara (iykyk). but first, we have a lot of time to cover before we even reach the first x-men movie so strap in!

i also didn't mean for this to be as long as it is, oops

warnings/tags: fluff, angst, outdated mindsets on women, slow burn, illness, character deaths

series masterlist → chapter 2

You didn’t necessarily love your job, but it was better than other options available for you. You grumbled to yourself as you walked down the sidewalk of New York City, horses neighing and wheels rattling on the brick street.

The bonnet on your head protected you from the sun beating down, keeping you from further heat in your dress. You had many things to do while you were out, get the children some new clothes and toys, buy some groceries, and buy some extra cloth for when you eventually had to sew their clothing.

As you passed by a small shop, you paused, peering in through the window. A few wooden toys sat on the shelf inside, simple and sturdy. Perfect for the boys. You pushed the door open, a little bell jingling as you entered, and you made your way toward the display.

"Can I help you, miss?" The shopkeeper’s voice startled you, but you smiled politely.

"Just looking for some toys," you replied, eyes scanning the shelves.

As you picked up a carved wooden horse, the door opened again behind you, letting in a bit of fresh air and a man’s heavy footsteps. You didn’t pay it much mind until you felt a presence nearby, a little too close for comfort. You turned slightly, catching sight of a tall man with dark hair and an unshaven face, dressed in a rough shirt and worn pants, a bit out of place among the polished streets of the city.

He glanced your way, his sharp eyes catching yours for a brief moment before he looked back to the shelves.

Something about him felt different—dangerous, but not in the way that made you want to run. More like it pulled you in, made you curious.

You turned back to the toys, but your mind kept wandering back to the stranger standing nearby. You couldn’t help but glance his way again.

"Those are good for little ones," the man said, his voice rough but casual. He nodded at the toy horse in your hand. "They hold up well. Tougher than they look."

You raised an eyebrow, surprised by his sudden comment. "You have experience with them?"

His lips twitched, almost a smile. "A bit. Used to make ‘em myself."

You looked him over more closely now, intrigued. "You don’t seem like the toy-making type."

His eyes flicked to yours, something amused in the way he looked at you. "Not anymore," he said, then turned his attention back to the shelves.

There was a silence between you for a moment, but it didn’t feel awkward. If anything, it felt like he didn’t mind you being there, like he was used to people drifting in and out of his space.

You finally spoke again. "I suppose these are sturdy enough for two boys, then."

"Yeah. They’ll survive a beating."

You laughed, the sound surprising you. He gave you another look, a bit more interested this time. There was something about him that made you feel seen in a way that was different from how most men looked at you.

You gathered a few more toys, careful not to spend too much, but you couldn’t resist getting something extra for the little girl you looked after. She was sweet, and it wasn’t her fault she was stuck in such a strict household.

The stranger watched you with those sharp eyes, like he could see more than what was right in front of him. You wondered what his story was, but you weren’t about to ask.

As you headed to the counter, he followed, though he didn’t buy anything. The shopkeeper took your coins, and you gathered your parcels, still feeling the man’s presence behind you.

"Thanks for the advice," you said over your shoulder, more as a courtesy than anything else.

He nodded, a slight smirk playing on his lips. "Anytime."

With that, you left the shop, stepping back into the sunlight, the weight of your errands still on your shoulders. But as you walked away, you couldn’t help but feel like something had shifted. Like maybe that wasn’t the last time you’d see him.

---

Edwin and Phillip seemed to enjoy the toy you got them, already fighting over who gets to play with it first. They were the eldest, Edwin was 9, Phillip was 7, and Ada was 6. You handed her the toy you got for her, one she got to keep all to herself.

Ada's face lit up when you handed her the small, carved doll. She held it in her hands gently, like it was the most precious thing in the world.

"For me?" she asked, her voice soft with disbelief.

You smiled and nodded. "Just for you, Ada."

Her eyes sparkled, and she hugged the doll to her chest. "Thank you!"

Edwin and Phillip were already in the middle of their tug-of-war with the wooden horse, the two boys shouting over whose turn it was.

"I had it first!" Edwin argued, pulling the toy toward him.

"You always get it first!" Phillip shot back, his voice growing louder.

You sighed and stepped in, placing a hand on each of their shoulders. "Why don't you take turns? If you can't share, I'll have to take it away, and no one gets to play with it."

They both groaned but reluctantly agreed, setting the horse on the floor. Edwin was a bit of a handful, but he could be sweet when he wanted to be. Phillip, the quieter one, usually followed his brother’s lead. At least Ada wasn’t much trouble.

After helping Ada settle in with her new toy, you turned to check on the boys, making sure they hadn’t already forgotten your words. But as you did, your thoughts drifted back to the man in the shop. There was something about him—something that lingered in your mind even now. He didn’t fit in with the usual crowd you saw around here, but he didn’t seem bothered by that.

It was odd, though, that someone like him would be in a toy shop of all places. You tried to shake the thought away, but it kept creeping back, a sense that your brief encounter meant more than it appeared.

Later, after the children had settled down, you found yourself with a rare quiet moment. You sat by the window, staring out at the street below, watching the people passing by. The day was winding down, the sky fading into hues of orange and pink, and yet, the man’s sharp eyes lingered in your mind.

You shook your head, scolding yourself for thinking too much about a stranger. It was just a passing moment—nothing more. You had far more important things to focus on, like taking care of the children and making sure everything ran smoothly for the household. That man, whoever he was, wasn’t part of your world.

But still, something in the back of your mind whispered that you’d see him again. And the thought of it didn’t exactly bother you.

---

The next few days were a blur of your usual routine. The children kept you busy, and you barely had a moment to yourself. But even as you went through the motions of your daily life, you couldn't help but feel that sense of something—or someone—waiting.

It was on a brisk afternoon, a few days after your encounter at the shop, when you found yourself running errands again. The streets were busier than usual, with carriages clattering over the cobblestones and people bustling past in a hurry. You had a long list of things to pick up, and the thought of weaving through the crowded market already had you dreading the trip.

As you made your way through the streets, you spotted a familiar figure standing at the corner near a fruit stand. The man from the shop. He hadn’t seen you yet, but something about the way he stood, slightly apart from the rest of the crowd, watching the passersby with a quiet intensity, made you pause.

You debated for a moment. Should you approach him? Or would it seem too forward?

Before you could decide, his gaze lifted, and he spotted you. His eyes narrowed, a flicker of recognition passing over his features, but he didn’t move. He just stood there, watching you.

You took a deep breath and made your way over, your curiosity getting the better of you.

"Fancy seeing you here again," you said, trying to sound casual as you approached.

"Didn’t expect to run into you either," he replied, his voice still rough, but there was a hint of something in his tone. Amusement? Interest? You couldn’t quite place it.

"I was just running errands," you said, gesturing to the market behind you. "You know how it is."

He nodded, his eyes flicking over you for a moment before landing back on the crowd. "Yeah, I get it."

There was a beat of silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. In fact, it almost felt... familiar. Like talking to him wasn’t so strange after all.

"Are you from around here?" you asked, breaking the silence.

He shook his head. "Not really. Just passing through."

"Do you always pass through toy shops when you're in town?"

His lips quirked into that almost-smile again. "Only when I feel like it."

You couldn’t help but chuckle. "Mysterious, aren’t you?"

He shrugged, not giving much away. "Maybe."

You were about to ask him something else when a shout came from behind you. You turned to see one of the street vendors, an older man, calling out angrily at a young boy who had clearly tried to swipe an apple from his cart.

Before you could even react, the man next to you stepped forward. His movements were quick and fluid, like he was used to handling situations like this. He reached the boy before the vendor could get too close, gripping the kid by the collar.

"Hey," the man said, his voice low but firm. "That’s not how you do things."

The boy froze, wide-eyed, clearly not expecting to be caught so quickly.

"Put it back," the man ordered.

The boy, trembling slightly, dropped the apple back onto the cart. "I’m sorry!" he blurted out before scurrying off into the crowd.

You watched as the man exchanged a few words with the vendor, calming him down before he turned back to you, his expression unreadable.

"You didn’t have to do that," you said, surprised by how quickly he had handled the situation.

He shrugged again. "The kid’ll learn his lesson. Better this way than the other options."

You looked at him, a little more curious now. He wasn’t just some rough-around-the-edges stranger. There was something deeper to him, something that made you want to know more.

“I don’t think I caught your name the other day,” you settled on, meeting his eyes as the energy of the crowd buzzed around you both.

He gave a small nod, like he was considering whether to answer or not. "Logan," he said simply.

"Logan," you repeated, trying the name on your tongue. It suited him, rough around the edges but solid. "I’m Y/N."

His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he gave another slight nod, acknowledging it. The silence between you wasn’t heavy, but it felt like something unspoken passed through the space. Something that told you he wasn’t just another passerby in your life.

"Thanks for helping that kid back there," you said, breaking the quiet. "Not everyone would step in like that."

Logan shrugged like it was nothing, his eyes scanning the crowd again. "Not a big deal."

You tilted your head slightly, studying him. "You do that a lot? Play the hero?"

A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, barely there, but it was enough. "No. Just don't like seeing people get hurt when I can do something about it."

There was a gruffness to his words, but it didn’t feel forced. It felt real. And it was clear that he wasn’t the type to go around explaining himself to anyone. You liked that.

"Well, either way, it was good of you." You glanced down at the parcels in your arms, suddenly remembering the rest of your errands. "I should probably get going, before I’m late getting back."

Logan gave you a small nod, his eyes flicking down to your parcels. "You take care."

You hesitated, a part of you not wanting to walk away just yet. But what could you say? You didn’t know this man, not really, and yet you felt drawn to him in a way that was hard to explain. Maybe it was the way he carried himself, like he had been through more than he let on. Or maybe it was the quiet strength in him that made you feel oddly safe.

"Maybe I’ll see you around?" you offered, not wanting to make the goodbye feel so final.

Logan’s eyes met yours again, and for a moment, there was something softer in his gaze. "Yeah. Maybe."

With that, you gave him a small smile and turned to leave, weaving your way through the bustling street. As you walked, you couldn’t help but glance back once, just to see if he was still there. He was, standing where you left him, watching you go.

---

The following days fell back into your usual routine—taking care of the children, running errands, keeping the household in order. Yet, no matter how busy you were, your thoughts kept drifting back to Logan. Something about him lingered in your mind, and it wasn’t just because he had helped out that kid. There was something deeper, something you couldn’t quite shake.

You found yourself wondering if he really was just passing through, or if there was more to his story than he was letting on. You didn’t know why it mattered so much, but it did.

One afternoon, as you were helping Ada tie the ribbon on her new dress, she looked up at you with her big, curious eyes.

"Y/N, are you thinking about something?" she asked innocently.

You blinked, surprised. "Why do you ask?"

"Because you’re smiling," she said, her voice soft and sweet.

You hadn’t even realized. "Oh," you said, chuckling softly. "I guess I was just lost in thought."

Ada giggled, her small hands playing with the ribbon you had just tied. "You think about a lot of things."

"That’s because I have to keep track of all you rascals," you teased, tickling her side gently.

She squealed in delight, wriggling away from you, and you couldn’t help but laugh. But as you settled back into the moment, that same thought returned, uninvited. Logan. Would you see him again?

---

It wasn’t long before the answer came.

You were out in the market again, picking up some fresh bread for dinner. The smell of the bakery wafted through the air, warm and comforting. You had just handed over your coins to the baker when you felt that familiar presence—something just outside the edge of your awareness, like a shadow that suddenly moved.

Turning slightly, your eyes caught sight of Logan standing near a fruit cart, his hands in his pockets, watching you. It wasn’t a surprise this time, but your heart still gave a little flutter at the sight of him. You made your way over, the crowd parting as you walked.

"Logan," you greeted, a smile pulling at your lips before you could stop it.

"Y/N," he replied, nodding in acknowledgment. His expression didn’t change much, but there was something almost... pleased in his eyes. Like he had expected you to come over.

"Still passing through?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

He glanced around the busy street before answering. "Seems like I’ve been here longer than I planned."

"Any reason for that?" you asked, half-joking but also genuinely curious.

Logan looked at you for a long moment, like he was debating how much to say. Finally, he shrugged. "No reason."

You didn’t believe him for a second, but you let it go. Instead, you gestured to the bread in your basket. "If you’re still around tomorrow, you should come by the park. I take the children there sometimes in the afternoons. It’s quieter than here."

Logan’s eyes flicked to yours, considering. "Maybe I will."

You nodded, feeling a strange sense of satisfaction from his answer. It was small, but it was something.

"Well," you said, shifting the basket on your arm. "I should get back before the boys tear the house down."

Logan smirked at that, and you felt a warmth spread through you at the sight of it. He wasn’t a man who smiled easily, but when he did, it felt like a reward.

"Take care," he said, his voice low and steady, and you couldn’t help but notice how those words made you feel safe in a way you hadn’t expected.

As you walked away, the warmth of his gaze stayed with you, lingering long after you’d turned the corner.

---

The next day, you found yourself at the park, just as you had promised. Edwin and Phillip were racing around, laughing as they chased each other, while Ada sat quietly by your side, her doll clutched in her hands.

You tried not to look around for Logan, but you couldn’t help it. Every time someone passed by, your heart gave a little jump, only to settle back down when you realized it wasn’t him.

Just as you were beginning to think he wouldn’t show, you heard the sound of heavy footsteps approaching. You didn’t need to look up to know who it was.

"Mind if I join you?" Logan’s voice was calm, but there was something in it that made you smile.

You glanced up, meeting his eyes. "Not at all."

Logan gave a nod, lowering himself onto the bench beside you. He stretched his long legs out, looking completely at ease. The sounds of the children’s laughter filled the air, and for a moment, you just sat in companionable silence.

“Boys giving you trouble?” he asked, his voice low and gravelly.

“They always do,” you replied, watching as Edwin tackled Phillip to the ground. “But I think they’d explode if they didn’t.”

Logan’s lips twitched at that—almost a smile. “Kids’ll do that. Got too much energy.”

You tilted your head, studying him out of the corner of your eye. “You got siblings?”

Logan paused for a second, like the question had caught him off guard. “Yeah. A brother.”

You didn’t press, sensing there was more to the story but knowing better than to pry. Instead, you turned your attention back to the children.

“Do you have any?” Logan asked, nodding toward the boys.

“No,” you said, shaking your head. “I look after them for the family I work for. They keep me busy, though. Might as well be mine.”

He gave a soft grunt of acknowledgment, resting his elbows on his knees.

“And her?” Logan nodded toward Ada, who sat a little apart from the boys, her doll tucked protectively in her arms.

“That’s Ada,” you said, smiling softly. “She’s the quiet one. A little sweet thing, really.”

“She’s got good taste,” Logan remarked, glancing at the doll in her hands.

You chuckled. “That was the least I could do for her. Life’s not exactly fun in that house.”

Logan’s gaze flicked toward you, something unreadable in his expression. “It never is.”

You frowned, catching the weight behind his words, but before you could ask what he meant, Ada wandered over to you. She gave Logan a curious glance but stayed close by your side.

“Who’s he?” Ada whispered, gripping your sleeve.

You smiled. “This is Logan. He’s a friend.”

Logan gave her a small nod, and Ada, ever cautious, just stared at him with wide eyes. After a beat, she leaned in close to you and whispered, “He looks like a bear.”

You tried—really tried—not to laugh, but it slipped out anyway. Logan gave a low chuckle of his own, shaking his head slightly.

“Smart kid,” he murmured.

Ada, encouraged by your laughter, gave a shy smile. Then she wandered back toward the boys, apparently satisfied with Logan’s presence.

“She’s got you figured out,” you teased, grinning.

Logan’s expression softened just a bit, and he gave a small shrug. “Kids see things plain.”

You leaned back on the bench, letting yourself relax. It was strange, how easy it felt to be around him. You didn’t know much about him—hardly anything, really—but something about Logan made you feel like you didn’t need to fill the silence with useless conversation.

“Do you ever stop moving?” you asked suddenly, curious. “You said you were just passing through, but it seems like you’ve stayed a bit longer.”

Logan didn’t answer right away. He stared out at the park, his expression thoughtful.

“Sometimes,” he said finally. “Not often, though.”

“That sounds lonely.”

His jaw twitched slightly, and he turned his head to look at you. “You get used to it.”

You held his gaze for a moment, sensing that there was more beneath the surface than he was letting on. But instead of prying, you just nodded, accepting his words for what they were.

“Well, if you ever feel like staying in one place for a bit, you know where to find me,” you said lightly.

Logan’s eyes flickered with something—something you couldn’t quite name—but he gave a small nod, like he was filing that thought away.

“Appreciate it,” he murmured.

Before you could say more, Edwin and Phillip came barreling toward you, out of breath and covered in dirt.

“Y/N! Y/N!” Edwin shouted. “Phillip said he could run faster than me, but I totally won!”

Phillip scowled, wiping mud off his cheek. “Only because you pushed me.”

“You pushed him?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at Edwin.

Edwin squirmed. “Not that hard.”

Logan snorted quietly, drawing both boys’ attention. They looked at him with wide, curious eyes.

“Who’s that?” Edwin whispered loudly, leaning closer to you.

“That’s Logan,” you said. “He’s a friend.”

Edwin tilted his head, squinting up at Logan. “You look tough.”

Logan’s lips twitched. “I get that a lot.”

“Can you fight?” Edwin asked eagerly, his eyes lighting up. “Like—like really fight?”

“Edwin!” you scolded, but Logan just gave a small chuckle.

“Yeah,” Logan said. “A bit.”

“Whoa!” Edwin’s jaw dropped, clearly impressed. Phillip, more cautious, stayed quiet but kept his eyes on Logan like he was trying to figure him out.

“Alright, enough of that,” you said, gently ushering the boys away. “Go play before I make you help with dinner.”

Edwin groaned but dragged Phillip along, the two of them running back toward the trees.

You glanced at Logan, shaking your head. “You’ve got yourself some new fans, it seems.”

Logan huffed softly. “Kids are alright.”

There was a pause, and then you asked quietly, “You really do keep moving, don’t you?”

Logan looked at you, his expression serious. “Yeah.”

You bit your lip, unsure of what to say. There was something in his eyes that told you he’d seen more than most—more than you could probably imagine.

“Well,” you said softly, “if you ever get tired of running, you know where to find me.”

Logan held your gaze for a long moment, his eyes searching yours. Then, with the barest hint of a smile, he nodded.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

---

You saw Logan more often than not. Truth be told, you enjoyed his presence. He was different than the other men you had met, not as harsh, didn’t look down on you, or see you as an object.

One day, while walking around the market with a small basket, filled with a few apples and some bread, you looked at a carriage, rolling along the brick road with a horse in front.

“I never learned how to ride a horse,” you said, glancing at the carriage as it rolled along the cobblestone street. The words came out before you even knew why you said them, maybe just filling the space between you and Logan.

Logan, walking beside you, gave you a sidelong glance. The faintest trace of a smirk played at the corner of his mouth. “That right?”

You shrugged, shifting the basket in your hand. “Never had a reason to, I suppose. And it’s not exactly something you pick up living in the city.”

He made a low noise in his throat that could have been agreement. For a moment, the two of you walked in companionable silence, the sounds of the market buzzing around you—vendors calling out, the clip-clop of hooves, the soft rustle of autumn leaves underfoot.

“Wouldn’t take much to learn,” Logan said finally, his voice easy. “Reckon you’d be good at it.”

You shot him a skeptical glance. “How would you know?”

Logan gave a lazy shrug. “Just a guess.”

There was something in his tone, though—something soft and amused that made your cheeks warm. You glanced away, pretending to be very interested in a stall selling ribbons, though your attention kept drifting back to Logan.

“You know how to ride, then?” you asked after a moment, keeping your tone casual.

He nodded. “Yeah. Picked it up when I was a kid.”

You raised an eyebrow, curious despite yourself. “Where’d you grow up?���

“Here and there,” he answered vaguely, though not unkindly. You got the sense that there was a lot more to the story—things he wasn’t ready to share. And maybe things you weren’t quite ready to ask about. Not yet, anyway.

“Would you teach me?” you asked on impulse, surprising even yourself.

Logan glanced over, one brow raised, and for a moment, you thought he might laugh. But he didn’t. Instead, he gave a small nod, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Sure,” he said simply.

A smile tugged at your lips before you could stop it.

“When?” you pressed, feeling strangely excited by the idea.

Logan thought for a moment, his gaze drifting toward the road ahead. “Next Sunday,” he decided. “There’s a place just outside the city. I know a guy who’s got a couple of good horses.”

You felt a flicker of doubt—after all, you had responsibilities, and it wasn’t as though you could just abandon the children for the day. But Logan must have noticed your hesitation because he gave you a reassuring look.

“Bring the kids,” he offered. “They can run wild while you learn.”

That made you laugh softly. “You really think I can keep up with them and learn to ride a horse?”

Logan’s lips twitched. “I’ll handle the boys if they get out of hand.”

You gave him a skeptical look. “You don’t know what you’re offering.”

“I’ve handled worse,” Logan said with a grin that made your stomach do an odd little flip.

You opened your mouth to respond, but just then, a vendor called out, advertising fresh apples, and you were drawn toward the stall. Logan followed at a leisurely pace, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his coat.

You picked a couple of apples, inspecting them before adding them to your basket. As you handed a coin to the vendor, you glanced at Logan again.

“Next Sunday, then?” you asked, as if you still needed confirmation.

Logan gave a small nod. “Next Sunday.”

Something about the way he said it—calm and certain—made you believe it would actually happen. And for the first time in a long while, you found yourself looking forward to something.

---

The boys were already running rampant in the large field, their shouts of laughter echoing across the open space. You could see Edwin trying to race Phillip again, their legs kicking up dirt as they charged back and forth. Ada, ever the quiet one, sat nearby on a stack of hay, her doll in her lap, watching them with a little smile on her face.

You stood near the horses, feeling a flutter of nervous energy in your stomach. Logan was beside you, calm as always, holding the reins of a chestnut mare with an ease that made it all look far simpler than you knew it was. He glanced over at you, his dark eyes catching yours, and you could see the trace of a smirk tugging at his lips.

“You sure about this?” Logan asked, nodding toward the horse.

You swallowed, staring up at the mare. “Sure. How hard can it be?”

Logan gave a quiet laugh, clearly not convinced. “We’ll see.”

He held the reins steady, motioning for you to come closer. You did, taking a deep breath as you placed your hand on the saddle. The horse shifted slightly, and you jumped back a little, making Logan chuckle again.

“She’s not gonna bite,” he said, his voice low and amused.

“I know that,” you muttered, embarrassed but trying not to show it. “I just wasn’t ready.”

Logan gave a small shrug, stepping around to stand beside you. “C’mon. Foot in the stirrup. I’ll help you up.”

You hesitated for only a second before nodding. Grabbing hold of the saddle, you placed your foot in the stirrup just like he’d told you, and then you felt Logan’s hand on your waist, firm and steady. With one swift movement, he lifted you up onto the horse, and suddenly you were sitting much higher than you’d expected.

You gripped the reins tightly, your heart racing a little.

“There,” Logan said, standing back with his arms crossed. He looked up at you, giving a small nod of approval. “Not bad.”

You glanced down at him, a bit breathless. “I’m on the horse, but that doesn’t mean I can ride it.”

Logan smirked. “One step at a time, darlin’.”

He moved around to grab the reins, keeping his voice low and calm as he spoke to the mare, guiding her gently in a slow circle around the field. You held on, trying to keep yourself steady in the saddle. It wasn’t as hard as you thought it would be, but every time the horse took a step, you felt your stomach flip a little.

Logan kept walking beside you, close enough that you could hear him, though his voice was quiet. “You’re doin’ fine.”

“I feel ridiculous,” you muttered, glancing over at the boys to make sure they weren’t watching. Of course, they were, but they seemed more interested in their own games than in you wobbling around on a horse.

“You look fine,” Logan said, and there was something in his tone that made you glance at him sharply.

His eyes flickered up toward yours for just a moment, and you felt that familiar warmth in your cheeks again. You looked away quickly, trying to focus on staying upright.

“You’re just sayin’ that,” you said, trying to sound casual.

Logan chuckled. “No. If you looked ridiculous, I’d tell you.”

The confidence in his voice made you smile despite yourself. You loosened your grip on the reins just a little, letting yourself relax. The horse moved steadily beneath you, her pace slow and even, and after a few moments, you realized it wasn’t so bad after all.

“You ready to try it on your own?” Logan asked, his voice easy.

You blinked. “You think I’m ready?”

“Yeah.” He handed the reins over to you, stepping back a little. “Just keep her steady. She’s not gonna take off on you.”

You nodded, taking a deep breath and gripping the reins tightly as you urged the horse forward. She responded, moving into a gentle walk, and you felt a little thrill of pride. Logan walked beside you for a few more steps, watching, but then he stopped, folding his arms across his chest as he watched you guide the horse around the field on your own.

“You’re a natural,” he called out, a grin tugging at his lips.

You laughed softly, feeling a bit more confident now. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

As you circled back around toward him, you slowed the horse, bringing her to a stop in front of Logan. He looked up at you, his eyes warm and approving.

“Told ya,” he said. “Not so hard, is it?”

You shook your head, smiling. “Not as hard as I thought.”

Logan reached up, taking the reins from your hands. “C’mon. Let’s get you down.”

This part felt a little trickier, but Logan was there, steadying you as you swung your leg over the saddle and slid down. His hands were firm on your waist again, and for just a moment, you were standing close enough to catch the scent of leather and something else—something distinctly Logan.

“Thanks,” you said softly, looking up at him.

Logan’s eyes held yours for a long moment, something unreadable flickering in his gaze. Then he gave a small nod, stepping back.

“Anytime,” he said, his voice low.

Before you could say anything else, the boys came running over, breathless and wild from their playing. Edwin looked up at the horse, his eyes wide with excitement.

“Can I ride next?” he asked, practically bouncing on his toes.

You glanced at Logan, raising an eyebrow. “You said you’d handle them if they got out of hand, remember?”

Logan sighed, giving you a wry smile. “Yeah, I remember.”

He looked at Edwin, then nodded toward the horse. “Alright, kid. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

As Logan helped Edwin onto the horse, you stepped back, watching with a small smile. The sun was starting to dip lower in the sky, casting a golden glow over the field, and for a moment, everything felt peaceful. You glanced at Ada, who was still sitting on the haystack, her doll in her arms, watching the scene with quiet interest.

Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea to let yourself enjoy moments like this.

As Logan guided Edwin around the field, you found yourself watching him more than the horse. There was something about the way he moved—strong, sure, like he belonged here, like he was more comfortable in this quiet, open space than anywhere else.

And as he turned, catching your eye for just a moment, you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, he’d found something here worth staying for.

---

“You ever think about gettin’ outta the city?” Logan asked, his voice low. “Findin’ somewhere quieter?”

You glanced at him, a little surprised by the question. “I’ve thought about it. But… I’ve got responsibilities.”

Logan nodded slowly, his eyes distant as he stared out at the horizon. “Yeah. Responsibilities.”

The way he said it made you wonder if he was thinking about something—or someone—far away. You’d learned quickly that Logan wasn’t one to talk much about his past, and though you were curious, you didn’t push.

You turned a jar of honey over in your hand, Mr. Thomas had asked you to buy them another jar while you were out. “If I didn’t have responsibilities, I’d like to live out in a cabin, away from everything else. Sometimes things here are noisy. I’d just like to… I don’t know, exist without worryin’ about anything.”

Logan, standing beside you, his hands shoved in his pockets, gave a small grunt of agreement. "Sounds nice."

You glanced at him, curious. "You ever think about it? Leaving the city behind, finding a quiet spot somewhere?"

Logan paused for a moment, his gaze distant. "Yeah. Sometimes."

The simplicity of his answer hung in the air between you, and for a second, you wondered if he'd actually let himself think about settling down. It seemed unlikely, given how much he kept moving, but there was something in the way he said it, something almost wistful.

"You don't seem like the kind of guy who stays in one place for too long," you teased, shifting the basket in your hand as you handed the vendor a coin for the honey.

Logan shrugged, a small smirk playing at his lips. "Guess not."

You both fell into a comfortable silence as you continued walking through the market. The streets bustled with people, but somehow, with Logan by your side, it all felt a little less overwhelming. You didn't have to fill the quiet with pointless chatter. He wasn’t like the others in the city—constantly rushing, looking for something to gain. He just… existed, like you wanted to.

As you passed by a small stall selling flowers, you slowed down, your eyes catching on a bouquet of wildflowers that reminded you of something you'd see out in the countryside. Logan noticed, his eyes following your gaze.

"You like those?" he asked, nodding toward the flowers.

You smiled softly. "Yeah. They remind me of… I don’t know, freedom, I guess."

Logan gave a small chuckle. "Freedom, huh?"

You shrugged, suddenly feeling a little silly. "I know it sounds strange. It’s just… being stuck in the city all the time, I don’t get to see much of the world outside these streets."

He didn’t laugh or brush it off like most people would have. Instead, Logan looked at you for a moment, his expression serious.

"Maybe one day," he said quietly, "you’ll get that cabin. Find some peace."

There was something about the way he said it that made your heart skip a beat, but before you could respond, a commotion erupted a few stalls down. Edwin and Phillip came barreling toward you, laughing and out of breath, their hands full of something they clearly weren’t supposed to have.

"Y/N!" Edwin shouted, holding up a small sack of apples. "Look what we got!"

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. "And how exactly did you 'get' those?"

Phillip, ever the quieter one, shifted nervously on his feet. "We didn’t steal them! Mr. Turner gave them to us after we helped him with his cart."

You glanced over to where Mr. Turner, a kind old man who often sold apples at the market, was smiling and waving in your direction.

"Alright," you said, sighing with relief. "But you’d better not be causing any trouble."

Logan chuckled under his breath, watching the boys with amusement. "They’re just having fun."

"Yeah, until someone gets hurt," you muttered, though you couldn’t help but smile at their excitement.

Edwin, noticing Logan for the first time, grinned. "Hey, Logan! You ever been in a real fight?"

Logan smirked, glancing at you before turning back to the boys. "A couple."

Edwin’s eyes lit up. "Tell us about one!"

"Edwin," you warned, shaking your head. "Logan doesn’t have time to tell you all his stories."

But Logan didn’t seem to mind. He crouched down to the boys’ level, his expression serious as he spoke in that low, gravelly voice of his.

"Alright, but just one. There was this guy… big, tough-looking fella, thought he could take me down. We were out in the middle of nowhere, no one around for miles. He comes at me with this huge stick, thinking that’ll be enough."

Edwin and Phillip leaned in, wide-eyed, hanging on every word.

"So, what happened?" Edwin asked, barely able to contain himself.

Logan’s smirk deepened. "Let’s just say, he learned real quick not to mess with me."

The boys erupted into laughter, completely captivated by the idea of Logan taking down some big, burly guy.

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help the smile creeping onto your face. "You’re gonna give them ideas, you know."

Logan stood, shrugging casually. "Kids need a little excitement."

"Not too much," you muttered, though you were grateful for the way he interacted with them. Most men in the city didn’t have the patience for children, especially not boys as wild as Edwin and Phillip.

As the boys ran off again, Logan glanced over at you, his expression softening just a bit.

"They look up to you," he said quietly.

You looked down, shrugging. "They’re good kids. Just need someone to look after them."

Logan was quiet for a moment, watching the boys as they disappeared into the crowd. Then, almost as if the thought had just occurred to him, he turned back to you.

"You ever think about having your own?" he asked, his tone surprisingly gentle.

The question caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. You hadn’t really thought about it—not seriously, anyway. Your life was too full of other people’s children, other people’s problems.

"I don’t know," you said slowly, glancing up at him. "Maybe someday. If I ever get that cabin, I might think about it."

Logan nodded, but didn’t say anything more. He just walked beside you, the two of you falling back into that easy, comfortable silence.

It wasn’t until later, as you lay in bed that night, that you found yourself thinking about his question again. The idea of a quiet life, away from the noise and chaos of the city, didn’t seem so impossible anymore—not when you imagined Logan there with you.

---

One night, after you had put the boys to sleep and were in Ada’s room to read a story to her, she asked you a question. “Why aren’t you like mama and papa?”

You raised your head from the book you were reading to her, “what do you mean?”

Her lips formed a small pout, “mama has papa, but you don’t have anyone.”

You blinked, caught off guard by Ada’s question. Her innocent curiosity made your heart ache, but you kept your voice steady.

“Well, sweetie,” you started, trying to find the right words, “sometimes, people are just on their own for a little while. It doesn’t mean they won’t find someone. Maybe they just haven’t yet.”

Ada considered this, her small brow furrowed in thought. “But you’re so nice. Why doesn’t anyone love you?”

The simplicity of the question stung more than it should have. You chuckled softly, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “It’s not that simple, Ada. But thank you for saying that.”

She didn’t seem satisfied with your answer, her tiny face still scrunched up in confusion. “Don’t you get lonely?”

You hesitated, glancing out the window at the darkening sky. The truth was, sometimes you did. Even though you were surrounded by people—taking care of the children, managing the house—you couldn’t deny that feeling creeping in every now and then.

“I have you, don’t I?” you finally said, smiling down at her. “And Edwin and Phillip. You three keep me pretty busy.”

Ada giggled softly at that, settling into her blankets. “I guess. But I think you should find someone, like mama did.”

You gave her a light kiss on the forehead, smoothing down her hair. “Maybe one day, kiddo.”

Ada yawned, her eyes drooping as sleep crept up on her. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Ada,” you whispered, watching her drift off. You stayed there for a moment longer, thinking about her words, before quietly slipping out of the room.

The house was silent as you made your way down the hall, but your mind was anything but. Her innocent question stirred something inside of you, a longing that you hadn’t let yourself fully acknowledge. It wasn’t like you to dwell on what you didn’t have, but maybe… maybe Ada was right. Maybe there was something missing.

But it wasn’t something you could focus on right now. You had responsibilities. This family depended on you, and that was enough for now. At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself.

As you reached your room and closed the door behind you, you caught sight of the bouquet of wildflowers Logan had quietly bought earlier in the day. You hadn’t noticed him purchase them at the market, but when you returned to the house, they were there on the doorstep, a small note attached that simply read, Thought you’d like these.

You smiled to yourself, gently picking up the flowers and placing them in a vase by the window. You hadn’t thought much about having someone of your own, but as you looked at the flowers, you couldn’t help but wonder what it might be like.

And, for the first time in a long while, the idea didn’t seem so far away.

---

The next few days passed quietly, with Logan visiting you at the market more frequently, though neither of you mentioned the wildflowers. There was an unspoken understanding between you—neither of you rushed things, but the connection was undeniably growing.

One afternoon, as you sat outside with Ada on your lap, reading her a story, Logan appeared at the gate. The children spotted him first, of course, and Edwin ran over, grinning ear to ear.

“Logan! You’re back!” he shouted, tugging at Logan’s coat. “Did you bring us any stories?”

Logan gave a soft grunt, glancing over at you with a smirk. “I might have one or two left.”

You shook your head, amused. “They’ll never leave you alone if you keep telling them stories, you know.”

Logan crouched down, ruffling Edwin’s hair. “I don’t mind,” he said, his gaze softening as he glanced at Ada in your lap. “How’re you doin’, kid?”

Ada looked up from the book and smiled shyly, giving him a small wave. “Hi, Logan.”

He smiled, the sight of the children always easing something in him, though he didn’t let it show too much.

As the kids ran off to play, Logan took a seat beside you on the bench. The two of you sat in silence for a while, watching the children chase each other across the yard.

“They’re good kids,” Logan said finally, breaking the quiet.

“They are,” you agreed. “They’ve got a lot of love to give, and not always enough people around to give it to.”

Logan turned his head slightly, his eyes studying you. “That include you?”

You looked down, fidgeting with your skirt. “Maybe. I spend so much time looking after everyone else, sometimes I forget there’s more to life than just… this.”

Logan didn’t say anything at first, just watched you quietly. Then, his voice low, he asked, “You ever think about finding something more?”

You turned to him, surprised by the question. “I don’t know if I’ve let myself think that far ahead,” you admitted, your heart beating a little faster under his gaze.

Logan looked away, his jaw tightening slightly as if he was holding something back. “Maybe you should.”

The weight of his words lingered in the air between you, and for the first time, you felt a pull—a possibility of something beyond the life you’d built here. Something you hadn’t allowed yourself to dream about until now.

But before either of you could say more, the children’s laughter echoed through the yard, and the moment passed. Still, the feeling stayed with you long after Logan left that evening.

---

The sky had taken on that soft orange hue of evening, the kind that made the whole world feel suspended between day and night. You and Logan walked side by side along the Hudson River, the sound of water gently lapping against the shore mixing with the distant hum of the city. It had become your routine over the past few weeks, these evening walks—quiet, almost intimate, even though neither of you said much.

Today, though, something felt different. Logan had been quieter than usual, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his usual gruff demeanor softened by the fading sunlight. Every now and then, you’d catch him glancing at you from the corner of his eye, as if there was something he wanted to say but couldn’t find the words.

“You alright?” you asked, your voice cutting through the comfortable silence.

Logan nodded, though his expression didn’t quite match the motion. “Yeah, just… thinkin’.”

“About?”

He stopped walking, turning to face the river. You followed his gaze, watching the way the sun’s reflection danced on the surface of the water. After a long moment, he spoke.

“I’ve never really… had this before,” he said, his voice low, almost hesitant. “Y’know, just… bein’ with someone like this. Feels kinda strange.”

You smiled softly, stepping closer to him, close enough that your arm brushed against his. “Strange in a good way?”

Logan let out a short, almost nervous chuckle. “Yeah. In a good way.”

The two of you stood there, side by side, watching the sun dip lower in the sky. You could feel the warmth of his presence, his arm just barely touching yours, and it sent a small thrill through you. You hadn’t been sure at first if what you felt for Logan was mutual—he was quiet, reserved, hard to read—but moments like this, when the world seemed to narrow down to just the two of you, made it clear. There was something unspoken between you, something neither of you had dared to put into words.

After a while, you turned to face him, studying the way his brow was furrowed, like he was deep in thought.

“Logan,” you said softly.

He looked at you then, really looked at you, his hazel eyes meeting yours with a kind of intensity that made your heart skip a beat. For a moment, neither of you moved, the air thick with something unsaid.

Before you could second-guess yourself, you reached out and took his hand, your fingers slipping into his. Logan stiffened at the touch, his eyes flicking down to where your hands were joined, but he didn’t pull away. If anything, he stepped closer, his fingers curling around yours, holding on a little tighter.

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way before either,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Logan’s gaze softened, his usual guarded expression cracking just enough to let something more vulnerable show through. He hesitated, like he was trying to find the right words, but then decided words weren’t necessary.

Instead, he took a small step forward, his free hand coming up to gently cup the side of your face. His touch was warm, rough, but there was a surprising tenderness in the way his thumb brushed lightly against your cheek. You held your breath, your heart pounding in your chest as he leaned in, his eyes flicking between yours as if asking for permission.

When you didn’t pull away, he closed the distance.

The kiss was soft, almost tentative at first, like he was testing the waters. But the second your lips met his, something inside you seemed to melt, and you leaned into him, deepening the kiss. Logan responded in kind, his grip on your hand tightening as he pulled you closer, the space between you disappearing entirely.

For a moment, it was just the two of you—the sound of the river fading away, the world narrowing down to the warmth of Logan’s lips against yours, the feel of his hand cradling your face like you were something precious.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathing a little heavier, your foreheads resting against each other as you stood there, wrapped in the soft glow of the setting sun.

Logan’s eyes fluttered open, and he gave you a small, almost sheepish smile. “Didn’t think I’d be kissin’ you tonight.”

You laughed softly, still a little breathless. “Neither did I.”

He pulled you closer, resting his chin on top of your head as he held you against him. The two of you stood there in the fading light, wrapped up in each other, the world beyond the river momentarily forgotten.

---

Logan thought back to your conversation about living in a cabin more than he cared to admit. The thought of it seemed nice, peaceful, and dare he say it perfect.

After a few weeks of being together, Logan had made a decision and scrounged up any money he could before buying a modest ring from a jeweler. He wasn’t going to propose yet but carrying the ring in his pocket felt right.

He had been coming over to the Thomases’ sprawling estate more often, whether it was walking with you from the market to the large house or even just stopping by of his own will. At first, it had been an occasional thing—a quiet visit here, a quick walk there—but lately, Logan found himself looking for excuses just to be around. You didn’t seem to mind. In fact, the way your eyes lit up when you saw him made him feel something unfamiliar, something good.

One late afternoon, Logan leaned against the garden gate, watching as you knelt by a row of flowers, tending to them with your usual care. He couldn’t help but admire the sight—your sleeves rolled up, hair slightly tousled from the breeze, a small smile on your lips as you worked. It made something in his chest tighten. He fingered the ring in his pocket, feeling its weight. He had no plan to use it anytime soon, but carrying it felt right, like a promise to himself.

You glanced up, catching his eye, and smiled, wiping your hands on your apron as you stood. "Back again, Logan?"

"Guess so," he replied, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Thought you might need a hand."

"Well, I could always use one," you teased, stepping closer to him. "But you don’t strike me as the gardening type."

Logan chuckled, reaching out to take your hand, pulling you a little closer. "Not much of a gardener, no. But I can stand here and look good while you do all the work."

You rolled your eyes playfully but didn’t let go of his hand. The easy banter between you had become natural, and the affection between you had grown, unspoken but undeniable. After a moment, you tugged him toward a bench under a nearby tree.

“Sit with me for a minute,” you said softly. “I’ve been out here all day.”

He followed, sitting beside you as the evening breeze rustled the leaves above. The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a while, watching the shadows lengthen as the sun began to set. Logan glanced at you from the corner of his eye, the warm light catching the curve of your face.

“You ever think this is enough?” he asked suddenly, his voice quiet but clear.

You looked over at him, eyebrows raised. “What do you mean?”

Logan hesitated, his fingers still laced with yours. “Just… this. Bein’ together. Doesn’t need to be more complicated than that.”

You smiled softly, leaning your head against his shoulder. “I think it is enough,” you said after a moment. “I like this, Logan. I like us.”

His heart beat a little faster at your words, and without thinking, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. It wasn’t a big gesture, but it felt natural, like something he’d been wanting to do for a while. You tilted your head up, meeting his eyes, your lips curving into a gentle smile.

“You keep that up, and I’m never gonna let you go,” you teased, though there was something softer, almost serious, in your tone.

Logan smirked, pulling you closer until your legs brushed against his. “Don’t see a reason to.”

Your fingers traced absent patterns on the back of his hand, your touch light and thoughtful. “You know, I used to wonder if I’d ever feel this way about someone,” you admitted softly, your eyes focused on your hands. “If I’d ever meet someone who made me feel… like this.”

Logan was quiet for a moment, watching you, feeling the warmth of your words settle deep inside him. He’d never thought he’d find someone who made him feel like this either—like he didn’t have to keep moving, like maybe he’d found something worth staying for. He wanted to tell you that, to say what he was feeling, but the words stuck in his throat. So instead, he squeezed your hand, hoping you’d understand what he couldn’t say yet.

You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his. The connection between you, the pull, was undeniable. Logan leaned in, his hand slipping to the back of your neck as he pressed his lips to yours. The kiss was slow, tender, like both of you were taking your time, savoring the moment. When you pulled back, your forehead rested against his, and for a second, the world outside the garden didn’t exist.

“I could stay like this forever,” you whispered, your breath warm against his lips.

Logan’s hand tightened on yours. “Maybe we will,” he murmured back, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

You smiled, your eyes soft as you leaned in and kissed him again, slow and sweet. When you pulled back this time, you didn’t say anything, just settled into his side, your head resting against his chest as the two of you watched the sky shift into shades of pink and orange.

The world outside may have been complicated, full of responsibilities and noise, but here, with Logan beside you, it felt simple. Peaceful. Like this was all that mattered.

---

One late afternoon, you were sitting on the porch with Ada and the boys, telling them stories while they played at your feet. Logan leaned against the fence, watching you from a distance, his heart swelling at the sight of you surrounded by the children, laughing and carefree.

“You look like you’re thinkin’ about somethin’ serious,” your voice cut through his thoughts, pulling him back to the present. You stood up, walking over to him, a teasing smile on your face.

Logan shrugged, trying to play it off. “Just thinkin’ about how you handle those kids like it’s nothin’.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes. “Trust me, it’s something. They’re a handful.”

Logan smiled, reaching out to take your hand. “You’re good at it. I like watchin’ you with them.”

Your cheeks flushed slightly at his compliment, and you glanced down, trying to hide the small smile playing at your lips. “Well, you’re not so bad with them yourself. Edwin won’t stop talking about that story you told him.”

Logan chuckled, shaking his head. “Kid’s got a wild imagination.”

You leaned in closer, your fingers playing with the hem of his sleeve. “Maybe he gets that from you.”

He smirked, slipping his arm around your waist and pulling you into him. “Think so?”

“I know so,” you whispered, your breath brushing against his neck.

For a moment, the world around you seemed to fade away, and it was just the two of you, standing in the soft glow of the afternoon sun. Logan’s hand slid up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin before he leaned down and kissed you, slow and deliberate, like he was memorizing the feel of your lips against his.

When he pulled back, your eyes were half-closed, your expression soft and content. “Logan,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “What are we doing?”

He looked at you, his thumb still tracing soft circles on your cheek. “Doin’ what feels right.”

You smiled, resting your forehead against his. “Yeah. It does feel right.”

The sound of the children’s laughter broke the quiet moment between you, and you both turned to see Ada running toward you, her little legs carrying her as fast as they could. “Y/N! Y/N!” she shouted, her face flushed with excitement. “Come play with us!”

You laughed, pulling away from Logan just enough to crouch down and catch Ada in your arms. “Alright, alright! I’m coming.”

As you stood, you glanced back at Logan, your eyes lingering on him for a moment longer. He gave you a small nod, his lips quirking into a smile, and you turned back to the children, running off with them into the yard.

Logan watched you for a while longer, his hand slipping into his pocket where the small ring rested. It wasn’t time yet, but someday, maybe he’d ask. Someday, when the moment was right.

For now, this was enough.

And for the first time in his life, that was all Logan wanted.

---

“Mrs. Thomas is sick. She wanted me to pick up some things for her before the doctor comes to check her out,” you explained, adding a sprig of thyme to your basket and handing the vendor a coin.

Logan stood beside you, hands stuffed in his pockets, watching you with a casual ease that had become second nature to him. “What’s wrong with her?” he asked, though his tone wasn’t heavy—just curious.

You shrugged, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Probably just a cold. She’s been coughing a bit, but Mr. Thomas thinks she’ll be fine.”

Logan’s jaw ticked slightly, his eyes following the movement of your hand as it tucked the hair behind your ear. “You sure you should be around her if she’s sick?”

You smiled at his concern, nudging him lightly with your elbow. “It’s part of the job, Logan. Besides, I’ve been with her every day. If I was going to get sick, it would’ve happened by now.”

He frowned, not entirely convinced, but let it drop. You were stubborn like that—always brushing things off when they concerned you.

As you moved from stall to stall, picking out fresh herbs, bread, and tea, Logan trailed beside you, a silent presence at your side. It was comfortable—natural, even. You could feel him close, his arm brushing yours now and then, and though neither of you said much, it was the kind of quiet that felt good.

When you handed the grocer a coin for a small loaf of bread, Logan’s voice broke the easy silence. “You want me to walk you back?”

You glanced up at him, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Trying to sneak more time with me?”

Logan grinned, his hands still tucked in his coat pockets. “Maybe.”

Your laugh was soft and warm, and Logan swore it was one of his favorite sounds.

“You don’t have to, but I won’t say no if you want to,” you teased, shifting the basket on your hip. “The Thomases live all the way across town, though.”

Logan rolled his shoulders in a lazy shrug. “Don’t mind.”

With that settled, the two of you set off toward the Thomases’ estate, falling into step beside each other. The streets bustled with the usual afternoon crowds—vendors hawking their goods, carts rattling down cobbled roads, children darting through the streets. Yet somehow, it felt like the two of you existed in your own little world, insulated from the noise of the city.

“You been working much?” you asked after a moment, glancing sideways at him.

Logan nodded. “Yeah. Couple of odd jobs here and there.”

“Same ones?”

“Mostly.” He paused, as if debating whether to say more. Then, with a smirk, he added, “Not much call for a guy like me who’s no good with flowers.”

You laughed, the sound light and easy. “Well, I’m sure someone will take pity on you eventually.”

He bumped his shoulder against yours gently. “You already did.”

You rolled your eyes, but the smile stayed on your face. “Lucky you.”

The walk was long, but neither of you minded. You pointed out things along the way—shops you liked, shortcuts you’d found, little bits of the city you’d come to know well in your time working for the Thomases. Logan listened, his attention fixed on you, and though he didn’t say much, you could tell he was soaking up every word.

When the two of you reached the tall iron gates of the Thomases' estate, you hesitated, lingering just a bit longer with Logan at the edge of the garden.

“Thanks for walking me,” you said softly, your fingers brushing over his for the briefest second.

“Anytime,” he murmured, catching your hand before you could pull it away. He gave it a squeeze, his eyes lingering on yours. “You alright?”

You nodded. “I’m fine, Logan. Just worried about Mrs. Thomas, I guess.”

He studied you for a beat longer, his thumb absentmindedly brushing the back of your hand. “You’ll let me know if you need anything, yeah?”

You gave him a small smile, squeezing his hand in return. “Yeah. I will.”

Neither of you moved at first, as if caught in a moment you weren’t quite ready to let go of. Logan’s gaze flickered to your lips, and for a second, you thought he might kiss you—right there at the gate, with the late afternoon sun warming your skin and the scent of lavender drifting from the garden.

But instead, he leaned in and pressed a slow kiss to your temple, his lips lingering just long enough to leave you breathless.

“See you soon,” he murmured against your skin.

You swallowed, your heart thudding in your chest. “See you soon,” you whispered back.

Logan stepped away, his hands reluctantly slipping from yours, and you watched as he made his way back down the path. He didn’t look back, but somehow, you knew that he felt the same pull you did—the one that always seemed to draw you closer, no matter how far apart you were.

With a soft sigh, you turned and pushed open the gate, your basket swinging gently at your side as you made your way toward the house. The sun was beginning to dip lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the neatly trimmed lawn.

You didn’t know it yet, but the weight of that moment—of Logan’s hand in yours, of the way his kiss had felt against your skin—would stay with you. It would become one of those memories you’d carry in the quiet hours, long after everything had changed.

But for now, it was just another afternoon. And that was enough.

You slipped inside the Thomases’ estate, greeted by the familiar smell of baked bread and lavender from the garden. The children’s laughter echoed faintly from upstairs, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the unease you felt about Mrs. Thomas.

As you moved through the grand hallway, the weight of Logan’s lingering kiss on your temple stayed with you, soft and comforting. His presence, though absent now, always seemed to cling to the air around you like the warmth of a hearth after a long day.

“Y/N!” Edwin’s voice called from the top of the stairs. You looked up to find him peering down at you, his unruly curls falling into his eyes. “Can we go to the park after tea? Phillip says he can run faster than me, but I bet I’ll beat him this time.”

You smiled up at him, though your thoughts were still on Mrs. Thomas. “We’ll see about that, Edwin. But let’s check in on your mother first, alright?”

He nodded, though his face fell a little, understanding the importance of that moment.

Making your way to Mrs. Thomas’s room, you found the air heavier, a staleness clinging to it that made you pause at the door. You knocked softly before entering, the creak of the door barely disturbing the quiet. Mrs. Thomas lay in bed, propped up by pillows, her face pale and drawn. Her once vibrant eyes were duller now, and the small cough you had heard earlier seemed more persistent, rattling in her chest.

“Mrs. Thomas,” you said gently, approaching her bedside with the basket of fresh supplies. “I’ve brought some thyme and tea. The doctor will be here later this week.”

Mrs. Thomas offered a faint smile, though it barely touched her lips. “Thank you, dear. You’re always so thoughtful,” she said, her voice raspy. She shifted slightly, wincing at the effort it took. “I’m sure it’s just a little cold.”

You forced a smile, though something inside you tugged with worry. “Of course. Just a little cold.”

After a few more moments, you excused yourself, promising to return later. The house felt stifling, the sense of something being wrong making your chest tighten. Logan had been right to be concerned. But you brushed it aside, focusing on the children.

A few hours later, after Edwin had indeed beaten Phillip in a race through the park, and Ada had insisted on collecting wildflowers for her mother, the three children were settled with tea. You were cleaning up the kitchen when a familiar knock came at the back door.

Opening it, you found Logan leaning against the frame, that easy smile already softening the tension in your shoulders.

“Thought you might like some company,” he said, stepping inside and pulling you into a gentle embrace. The warmth of his arms around you instantly melted away the weight of the afternoon, and for a moment, you simply leaned into him, breathing him in.

“Good timing,” you murmured into his chest. “The kids are winding down for the night. Edwin’s convinced he’s going to be the fastest man in the world.”

Logan chuckled, his chest vibrating against your cheek. “Is that so? Guess I’ll have to challenge him one day.”

You smiled, pulling back slightly to look up at him. “He’d love that.”

There was a beat of quiet as Logan’s hand came up to brush a stray hair from your face, his thumb lingering just under your jaw. His gaze softened, searching yours for something. It was moments like this—small, tender—that reminded you just how much you’d come to care for him in these past few weeks.

“You alright?” he asked, voice low.

You hesitated, then nodded. “Just… worried about Mrs. Thomas. I don’t know, Logan, she seems worse than she’s letting on.”

Logan’s brow furrowed, his hands slipping down to rest on your waist. “She’s tough, right? She’ll pull through.”

You nodded again, though the doubt lingered. “I hope so.”

Logan leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours, the weight of his presence anchoring you. “You’ll let me know if you need anything?”

“I will,” you whispered, your hands resting on his chest.

He pulled back just enough to catch your lips in a slow, gentle kiss. It was familiar, the way his mouth moved against yours—steady, comforting, with that undercurrent of longing that always seemed to simmer just beneath the surface between you two. When you finally parted, his thumb brushed your cheek, his gaze still locked on yours.

“I hate leaving you here,” he murmured, the frustration clear in his voice. “Especially with her sick.”

You smiled softly, shaking your head. “I’ll be fine, Logan. Go home, get some rest.”

He gave a small grunt, clearly not thrilled with the idea of leaving, but he knew better than to argue when you got like this—determined and stubborn.

With a sigh, he leaned in once more, pressing a final kiss to your forehead before stepping back. “Alright. But I’m checking in tomorrow, whether you like it or not.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” you teased, though the warmth in your chest grew at his protectiveness.

Logan gave you one last smile before turning to head back out into the night, his coat swaying as he disappeared into the shadows. You watched him go, the familiar tug in your chest pulling at you again, but this time it wasn’t just affection. It was worry—a gnawing sense of unease that had been creeping in since that afternoon in the market.

You stood there at the back door for a moment longer, staring into the empty street, wondering if Logan could feel it too—the quiet, unspoken fear that something was about to change.

---

The next few days passed quietly, the routine of the Thomases’ household carrying on as usual—though the coughs from Mrs. Thomas’s room seemed to grow more frequent, more strained. You tried not to think too much of it, telling yourself it was only a cold, that the doctor would sort it out when he came to visit. But there was a part of you, small but insistent, that couldn’t shake the unease gnawing at your thoughts.

The children kept you busy, of course. Edwin was endlessly energetic, challenging Phillip to races and daring Ada to climb the low trees in the garden, much to your chagrin. Ada, sweet and delicate, clung to your side like a shadow, her small hand often finding yours as she babbled on about her imaginary tea parties and grand adventures. In their presence, it was easy to forget the worry in the back of your mind—at least for a little while.

But then, in the quiet moments—like when you helped Mrs. Thomas to her bed after one of her coughing fits, or when the house seemed far too still after the children had fallen asleep—your thoughts would drift back to Logan. To the way he had kissed your forehead that day at the back door, how his hand had lingered in yours just a second longer than usual, as if he’d sensed it too. That something was wrong.

You found yourself waiting for him. Every evening, as the sun dipped low over the city and the shadows lengthened in the streets, you listened for that familiar knock at the back door. And every evening, without fail, he would come—never too late, never too early, always arriving when you needed him most.

Tonight was no different.

You were sitting at the small table in the kitchen, a pot of tea cooling beside you, when the soft knock came. A smile tugged at your lips before you could stop it, your heart lifting in that familiar way as you crossed the room and opened the door.

Logan stood there, his dark hair slightly tousled from the evening breeze, his expression soft but watchful. He gave you that crooked smile that always seemed to make everything feel lighter, as if the world wasn’t such a heavy place when he was around.

“Thought I might find you here,” he said, stepping inside and closing the door behind him.

You shrugged, the smile still playing on your lips. “Where else would I be?”

He chuckled, moving to lean against the counter, his eyes flicking briefly to the teapot on the table. “You drinking alone?”

“For now,” you teased, pouring him a cup. “But I suppose I can share.”

Logan took the cup from you, his fingers brushing yours in that familiar way, sending a small, warm spark through your skin. He didn’t move to sit, though. Instead, he stayed close, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than usual, as if trying to read something in your face.

“What?” you asked softly, the weight of his stare making your heart flutter.

“Just checking in,” he said, his voice lower, more serious than before. “You look tired.”

You gave a small, weary laugh, shaking your head. “I’m fine, Logan. Just a lot on my mind.”

“Mrs. Thomas?” he guessed, sipping his tea.

You nodded, glancing at the floor. “She’s getting worse. I’m trying not to worry, but… I don’t know, something doesn’t feel right.”

Logan’s brow furrowed, and he set his cup down, moving to stand beside you. His hand came up to rest on your shoulder, his thumb brushing lightly against the fabric of your sleeve. “If you need me to do anything—get more medicine, fetch the doctor sooner—you just say the word.”

You met his gaze, your chest tightening at the concern etched into his face. He always made you feel safe, even when you didn’t want to admit how scared you were. You reached up, covering his hand with yours, squeezing it gently.

“I know,” you murmured. “Thank you.”

For a moment, the room was quiet again, the sounds of the city muted by the walls of the house. You could hear the faint crackle of the fire in the hearth, the distant hum of life outside, but here, in this small space, it felt like it was just the two of you. Just the two of you, and the warmth of his hand on your shoulder.

Logan shifted slightly, turning to face you more fully, his other hand coming to rest at your waist. He tugged you closer, his expression softening as he leaned in, his lips brushing your forehead in that tender way that always made your heart skip. But this time, he didn’t stop there. He tilted your chin up gently, his gaze flicking briefly to your lips before meeting your eyes again.

“C’mere,” he whispered, and you didn’t need any more coaxing.

Your arms slid up around his neck, pulling him in as his lips met yours in a slow, deliberate kiss. It was soft at first, tender, but there was a quiet intensity behind it, a sense of urgency you hadn’t felt before. Maybe it was the weight of the unspoken worry hanging between you, or maybe it was just that every time you kissed him, it felt like it could be the last. Either way, you melted into him, savoring the warmth of his mouth against yours, the way his hands tightened around your waist as if he didn’t want to let you go.

When you finally pulled back, your breath mingling with his, Logan rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed as he let out a long, slow sigh.

“Stay with me tonight,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. You hadn’t meant to say it, but the words tumbled out before you could stop them. The thought of being alone with your worries, of facing the uncertainty of Mrs. Thomas’s illness by yourself, suddenly felt unbearable.

Logan’s eyes opened, his gaze soft but searching as he studied your face. “You sure?”

You nodded, your hands still resting at the nape of his neck. “I just… I don’t want to be alone.”

He didn’t hesitate after that. With a soft, reassuring smile, he nodded and pressed another kiss to your temple. “Alright. I’m here.”

---

The doctor had come by some days later bringing by news, Mrs. Thomas had tuberculosis. He gave her at least another month to live.

Mr. Thomas had instructed you to not let the kids near her as often, to make sure they don’t get sick. He didn’t seem to care much about Logan spending the night with you, or letting the kids be around him.

Logan had been spending more nights with you, by your request. It wasn’t something you talked about, just a quiet understanding between the two of you. The nights felt warmer with him beside you, the weight of the world a little lighter when you could lean against him. He never made a big deal out of it either. It was just...natural.

Tonight was no different. You sat by the fire in the small parlor, the children long since asleep upstairs. The flicker of the flames cast shadows across the room, and you caught yourself glancing toward the door, waiting for that familiar knock.

When it came, it was soft, almost hesitant. But you smiled, already rising to your feet to let him in. Logan stepped inside, brushing off the chill of the night as he shook the snow from his coat.

“Snow’s picking up out there,” he muttered, shrugging off the heavy coat and hanging it by the door. “Thought I’d get here before it got too bad.”

You nodded, wrapping your arms around yourself as you watched him. “I’m glad you did.”

He crossed the room, and without another word, his arms wrapped around you. You melted into his chest, resting your head against him as the fire crackled in the hearth. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his hand running down your back.

“You alright?” he asked quietly, his voice low. “You’ve been quiet lately.”

You sighed, pulling back just enough to look up at him. “I’m fine. Just tired. It’s… everything with Mrs. Thomas, the kids… I’m trying to keep it together.”

Logan frowned, his hands tightening slightly on your waist. “You don’t have to do it all yourself. You know that, right?”

“I know,” you said softly. “But I feel like I have to.”

“You don’t,” he repeated, his eyes searching yours. “I’m here.”

That simple statement hit you harder than you expected. You leaned up, pressing your lips to his in a soft, lingering kiss. He responded instantly, his hand coming up to cup your cheek, deepening the kiss as if he needed it as much as you did. It was slow and tender, and you found yourself pulling him closer, trying to forget the weight of everything else, if only for a moment.

When you finally pulled back, Logan rested his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your lips.

“You should sleep,” he whispered. “You’re exhausted.”

“Will you stay?” you asked, your voice small.

“Always,” he said without hesitation.

---

The nights blurred together. Logan was there more often than not, sometimes waiting for you when you finished putting the children to bed, other times arriving late after a day spent working. You hadn’t asked where he went during the day, and he hadn’t volunteered the information. It didn’t matter. When he was with you, everything else seemed to fade into the background.

The children, especially Ada, had continued asking why she couldn’t see her mother as often. It had broke your heart to tell her and the boys that their mom was sick, not going any further than that.

“They’ll understand one day,” Logan had said, trying to comfort you as you sat by the fire one evening. His arm was around your shoulders, his fingers brushing lightly against your arm.

You nodded, but the heaviness in your chest wouldn’t lift.

“I just want to help,” you murmured. “But I can’t.”

Logan was silent for a moment before he spoke again, his voice low. “You’re doing more than you think, Y/N. Just being here for the kids, for her... it matters.”

You looked up at him, your eyes searching his. There was something in the way he looked at you, something deeper than the usual concern. It was a look that made your heart skip, that made you realize just how much he had become a part of your life in such a short time.

He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before brushing his lips against yours in a slow, gentle kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, needing that connection, needing him.

When you finally pulled back, you rested your head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Logan’s hand slid up to cradle the back of your head, his touch soothing.

“I’m here,” he whispered again, as if the words alone could make everything right.

And for a moment, they did.

---

You could tell that after a month and a half, Mrs. Thomas didn’t have much time left. Maybe a week at the most. She was so young, barely 30 years old, and already having to face the inevitable. Her coughing had become more violent, her body thinner with each passing day, and the sparkle in her eyes was gone. She was fading right before your eyes.

It had been a long day. The kids were more restless than usual, likely sensing the shift in the household. You’d spent most of the afternoon calming Edwin and Ada while trying to keep Phillip out of trouble. Ada, in particular, had been clingy, holding onto your skirt as you moved about the house, asking you why her mother wasn’t coming out of her room anymore.

You gave her the same answer as always. “Your mama’s just resting, sweetheart.”

But even she seemed to sense something was off.

By the time the sun had started to set, you felt the exhaustion in your bones. You barely touched your dinner, pushing food around your plate before giving up entirely. It wasn’t just the physical tiredness, though. It was something deeper. A strange ache in your chest, one you couldn’t quite explain. Maybe it was the weight of everything—Mrs. Thomas’s worsening condition, the children, Logan...

You hadn’t seen him tonight, and that small part of you that had grown used to his presence felt the void acutely. He had a way of grounding you, of making everything seem less overwhelming, if only for a little while. You didn’t want to admit it, but you were beginning to rely on him more and more.

As you climbed the stairs to check on the children, your steps felt heavier than usual. Fatigue, you told yourself. Just fatigue.

When you entered Mrs. Thomas’s room to help her settle for the night, she gave you a weak smile. “Thank you, Y/N... for everything.”

You smiled back, brushing her hair away from her face as you helped her lie down. “Don’t mention it. You just rest.”

Her breathing was shallow, the sound rattling in her chest. You tried not to let it show on your face, but inside, that gnawing worry had grown into a full-fledged fear. You knew the end was coming soon. You just hoped the children wouldn’t have to watch her fade.

---

Later that night, after the house had fallen quiet and the children were asleep, you sat by the small fire in the kitchen. You stared at the flickering flames, trying to let the warmth chase away the chill in your bones, but it wasn’t working.

You weren’t surprised when you heard the soft knock at the back door. Logan’s timing had always been impeccable, showing up when you needed him most, even if you hadn’t called for him. You rose from your seat and opened the door, letting him in with a small, tired smile.

“Cold out there,” he muttered, brushing the snow from his shoulders before stepping inside. He took one look at your face, and his brows furrowed. “You look exhausted, Y/N.”

You waved him off, shutting the door behind him. “It’s been a long day. Mrs. Thomas is...”

He didn’t need you to finish. He’d been coming by enough to know how bad things had gotten.

Logan crossed the small space between you and placed a hand on your arm. “You should be resting too. When’s the last time you got a full night’s sleep?”

You let out a tired laugh, shaking your head. “What is that again?”

“Y/N,” he said, his tone a mix of teasing and concern. “You can’t keep running yourself ragged. You’re no good to the kids if you get sick.”

His words hit a little too close to home. That lingering ache in your chest hadn’t gone away, and now, with him standing so close, it seemed to press harder, making it difficult to breathe. You ignored it, trying to focus on his warm hand still resting on your arm, grounding you.

“I’ll be fine,” you said quietly, leaning against him just slightly. “I just... I need you here. That’s all.”

Logan’s expression softened, and he slipped his arms around you, pulling you close. You rested your head against his chest, closing your eyes as his warmth enveloped you. It felt like everything else faded away when you were in his arms—like the weight of the world wasn’t quite so heavy.

“I’m here,” he murmured into your hair, his voice low. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You stayed like that for a moment, just holding onto him, letting his presence soothe the anxiety that had been gnawing at you all day. His hands ran up and down your back in slow, soothing motions, and you found yourself relaxing, your shoulders sagging as the tension melted away.

But that ache in your chest didn’t fade. If anything, it seemed to settle deeper, a dull, persistent throb that you couldn’t quite shake.

“I don’t know how much longer she has,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Maybe a week. And the kids... I don’t know how to explain it to them.”

Logan sighed, his breath warm against your hair. “You’ll find the right words when the time comes. You always do.”

You weren’t sure about that, but you didn’t argue. Instead, you pulled back just enough to look up at him, your hands still resting against his chest. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, you could see the same worry you felt reflected in his gaze. But there was something else too—something softer, something that made your heart skip a beat.

Before you could say anything, Logan leaned down, pressing his lips to yours in a slow, tender kiss. It wasn’t rushed or urgent—just gentle, like he was trying to tell you without words that he was there, that you didn’t have to carry everything alone.

You kissed him back, your fingers curling into his shirt as you pulled him closer. For a few seconds, it was just the two of you, the world outside forgotten. But when you finally pulled back, the ache in your chest flared again, sharper this time, making you wince slightly.

Logan’s eyes narrowed, concern flashing across his face. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” you said quickly, brushing it off. “Just... tired, I guess.”

He didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t push it either. Instead, he kissed your forehead softly, his hands still holding you close. “You need to sleep. I’ll stay with you, okay?”

You nodded, letting him lead you to your small bedroom. As you lay down, Logan settled beside you, his arm draped around your waist as he pulled you close. You nestled against him, the warmth of his body soothing, but even as you drifted off to sleep, that strange ache lingered, a quiet reminder that something wasn’t right.

---

Over the next few days, you tried to ignore the fatigue that seemed to cling to you like a heavy blanket. You told yourself it was just the stress, the worry about Mrs. Thomas and the kids. But the truth was, deep down, you knew it was more than that.

Mr. Thomas had been around the house more often, spending almost every moment with his wife before she passed. It would only be a matter of days now. Her condition had deteriorated to the point where she was barely conscious most of the time, her labored breathing a constant reminder of the inevitable.

You moved quietly through the house, keeping the children occupied as best you could. Edwin and Phillip were rambunctious as always, but Ada had grown more subdued. She didn’t ask about her mother as often, as if sensing the unspoken truth everyone was trying to shield her from. You noticed how she clung to your side even more than usual, her small hands gripping your skirts, her wide eyes watching you with a kind of quiet understanding that broke your heart.

It was late afternoon, and the house was eerily quiet. The children were playing in the parlor, their laughter muffled behind the closed doors. You had just finished cleaning up the kitchen when a wave of exhaustion hit you. Your legs felt heavy, your chest tight. You hadn’t been sleeping well, the stress of Mrs. Thomas’s condition weighing on you, but this was different. Your appetite had been lacking for days, though you’d convinced yourself it was just nerves.

You leaned against the counter, taking a slow, deep breath to steady yourself. It would pass. You just needed rest.

Logan wasn’t due to visit tonight. He had mentioned something about work keeping him late, and you didn’t want to ask him to come by, though the ache in your chest—the one you tried to ignore—longed for his presence.

Shaking off the lingering fatigue, you made your way upstairs to check on Mrs. Thomas. As you reached the top of the stairs, you heard her soft, raspy breathing. You hesitated outside the door, your hand resting on the doorknob for a moment, before slowly opening it and stepping inside.

Mr. Thomas sat at his wife’s bedside, holding her hand gently. He glanced up at you, his face pale and drawn, the exhaustion of weeks of worry evident in his eyes. You gave him a small, comforting smile, though you weren’t sure how much comfort you could offer.

"Thank you, Y/N," he said quietly, his voice hoarse from lack of sleep and emotion. "For everything."

You nodded, moving to the other side of the bed to check on Mrs. Thomas. Her eyes were closed, her breathing shallow and uneven. She didn’t stir when you adjusted the blankets around her. The room was stifling, the air heavy with the scent of sickness, and you fought the urge to cough, your throat suddenly dry.

“She’s peaceful,” you murmured softly, glancing at Mr. Thomas.

He nodded but didn’t say anything. His gaze was fixed on his wife, his hand never leaving hers.

You stayed for a moment longer, but the fatigue creeping up your spine forced you to excuse yourself. As you descended the stairs, your legs felt weaker than before, and a dull ache had settled in your chest. You rubbed absently at your throat, trying to shake off the discomfort. It was nothing, you told yourself. Just tired.

The evening stretched on, the children finally quieting down for bed. You tucked them in, lingering for a moment by Ada’s bedside. She reached for your hand, her tiny fingers curling around yours.

“Will Mama be better soon?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, brushing a lock of hair from her forehead. “She’s resting, sweetheart,” you said softly. “Just keep being brave, alright?”

Ada nodded, her eyes already heavy with sleep, though the worry didn’t leave her small face.

Once they were all asleep, you returned downstairs, your body feeling heavier with each step. The fire in the hearth had burned low, casting long shadows across the room. You sat by the fireplace, staring into the dying flames, and let the silence of the house settle over you.

And then there was a soft knock at the back door.

Your heart lifted despite the exhaustion weighing you down. You rose slowly and crossed the room, opening the door to find Logan standing there, snowflakes dusting his hair and coat. He gave you a crooked smile, his eyes scanning your face with concern.

“You look tired,” he said softly, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. “Really tired.”

“I’m fine,” you murmured, though the weariness in your voice betrayed you. “I wasn’t expecting you tonight.”

“I finished earlier than I thought,” he said, shrugging off his coat and hanging it by the door. “Thought I’d check on you.”

Without another word, he closed the distance between you, his arms wrapping around you in a gentle embrace. You melted into him, resting your head against his chest as the warmth of his body seeped into yours. For a moment, the ache in your chest seemed to ease, the fatigue lifting just a little.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Logan pulled back slightly, his hand coming up to cup your cheek as he studied your face. “You don’t have to thank me,” he said softly, his thumb brushing against your skin. “I’m here.”

His lips met yours in a slow, tender kiss, and you felt the tension in your body begin to unravel. The warmth of his mouth, the familiar strength of his hands holding you close—it was all you needed in that moment. When the kiss ended, he rested his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours.

“You need to rest,” he murmured. “You look like you’re about to fall over.”

“I will,” you promised, though you didn’t want to leave his arms just yet. You leaned into him, letting his presence chase away the exhaustion for a little longer.

---

The funeral was only 6 days later, 4 days after Mrs. Thomas’ passing. She was buried at the Prospect Cemetery at a small affair with rich people you had only heard of in passing.

The funeral was a somber affair. Mrs. Thomas was laid to rest under a sky that threatened snow, and you stood a little ways back, holding Ada’s hand tightly. She had been unusually quiet since her mother’s passing, and even Edwin and Phillip had sensed the weight of the occasion, their usual energy tempered by the somber mood.

You glanced around at the crowd gathered—a sea of dark, expensive fabrics, murmured condolences, and familiar faces. Most of the people you recognized only by name or through brief encounters at the Thomas house. They didn’t seem to belong to the world you inhabited, their whispered conversations and distant gazes a reminder of the divide between their lives and yours.

Mr. Thomas stood near the front, his face a mask of stoicism as he accepted words of sympathy. His children had not left your side, and you knew why. They found more comfort in you than in the strangers who seemed to only appear during tragedies. You didn’t blame them.

As the ceremony came to a close, Ada tugged at your hand. "Can we go home now?" she asked quietly, her voice barely audible over the sound of rustling leaves and shifting boots in the cold.

You nodded, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. “We can, sweetheart. Just a few more minutes.”

You caught Mr. Thomas’s eye as he stepped away from the others. He gave you a weary nod, and you knew it was time to leave. You guided the children back to the carriage, helping them inside before following. The ride home was silent, save for the occasional sniffle from Ada and the creaking of the carriage wheels on the cobbled streets.

---

Back at the house, the quiet felt heavier than before. You could feel the weight of grief settling over everything, and it seemed to seep into your bones, making the fatigue that had been gnawing at you for days feel unbearable. Once the children were settled, you retreated to the kitchen, needing a moment to yourself.

But the moment you sat down, the ache in your chest flared up again, sharper this time. You tried to breathe through it, but the tightness only seemed to get worse. A cold sweat broke out on your forehead, and you pressed a hand to your throat, willing it to pass. It felt like something more than just exhaustion now. Something was wrong, but you didn’t have time to worry about it.

The back door creaked open, and you startled, your hand flying to your chest as Logan stepped in. His eyes immediately found yours, narrowing in concern.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice low but urgent as he crossed the room. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you muttered, forcing a weak smile as you tried to stand. “I’m just tired. Long day.”

But Logan wasn’t buying it. His hand caught yours, and he gently pulled you to him, his other hand resting on your waist. “You’ve been tired for days,” he said quietly, his eyes searching yours. “And you look worse now than you did a week ago.”

“I’m fine,” you insisted, leaning into his warmth without thinking. “Just... everything with Mrs. Thomas. I haven’t been sleeping well, that’s all.”

Logan didn’t say anything for a moment, just held you there, his thumb brushing slow circles against your hip. “You’re not fine,” he said softly. “You need to rest. You’re running yourself into the ground, and I don’t want—”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you cut him off, shaking your head as you buried your face in his chest. “I just... I just want to stay like this for a while. Can we do that?”

Logan’s arms tightened around you, and he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “We can stay like this as long as you need,” he whispered.

The warmth of his embrace, the steady rise and fall of his chest, calmed the rapid beating of your heart. It didn’t make the ache in your chest go away, but it dulled the edges for a little while. You stayed like that, your bodies swaying slightly, as if rocking back and forth would somehow soothe the turmoil inside you both.

After a long stretch of silence, Logan pulled back just enough to meet your eyes. His fingers brushed a loose strand of hair from your face, his gaze soft but serious. “You’ve gotta start taking care of yourself,” he murmured. “I mean it, Y/N.”

“I will,” you promised, though you weren’t sure how much of it was for him and how much was for yourself. You could see the worry etched in his features, and it made your heart ache in a different way. “I just... I don’t want to leave the kids right now. They need me.”

Logan sighed, shaking his head slightly. “They need you alive and healthy, not running yourself ragged.”

You knew he was right, but the thought of stepping away—of not being there for them when they needed you most—made your stomach turn.

“I know,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “But I’m all they have right now.”

Logan’s expression softened, and he leaned in to kiss you gently, his lips lingering against yours in a way that felt both comforting and urgent, as if he was trying to convey everything he couldn’t put into words.

When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “You’re not alone in this, Y/N,” he murmured. “I’m here. Always.”

You closed your eyes, letting the weight of his words settle over you. It was moments like this, in the quiet after the storm, that made everything feel bearable, even when the exhaustion seemed impossible to shake. You didn’t want to think about what came next—the inevitable questions from the children, the grief that would continue to hang over the house like a dark cloud.

For now, you just wanted to be here, with Logan, in this fleeting moment of peace.

---

Over the next few days, that small cough persisted, annoying but easy to brush off at first. You told yourself it was just the cold weather, or maybe the exhaustion still clinging to you. But it stuck around, and soon it wasn’t just a cough. Your chest felt heavier, and there were moments where you had to stop to catch your breath.

You didn’t say anything to Logan the first few nights he visited, not wanting to worry him. It wasn’t like you were coughing up blood or anything, and you figured it would pass, just like the fatigue had started to. But when he saw you rubbing your chest again, his eyes narrowed with concern.

“You’ve been coughing a lot,” Logan said one evening, his arm draped casually over your shoulder as you leaned into him by the fire. The warmth of the flames helped ease the tightness in your chest, but even then, it felt harder to breathe than it had before.

“I’m fine,” you mumbled, tucking your legs under you and snuggling closer to him, hoping to avoid the conversation. “It’s just the cold. Everyone’s getting sick this time of year.”

Logan tilted his head, clearly unconvinced. “Y/N, don’t pull that. I know you, and you’re coughing more than you should be. This isn’t just a cold.”

You sighed, not wanting to argue, but the exhaustion weighed on you, and fighting him off seemed too tiring. “Okay, maybe it’s not just a cold,” you admitted, glancing at him. “But it’s nothing serious. I’m just run down.”

Logan’s fingers gently traced up your arm, his touch familiar and grounding. He looked at you with that steady gaze of his, the one that made you feel safe. “You need to rest. Real rest, not just five minutes of sleep here and there between looking after the kids.”

You gave him a half-hearted smile, reaching up to touch his face. “I know. But they need me right now, especially Ada. She’s not taking this well, and I can’t just leave her.”

Logan leaned in and pressed his forehead to yours, his breath warm against your skin. “You’re no good to them if you collapse from exhaustion.”

The way he said it—so serious, so protective—it made your chest ache in a different way. You knew he was right, but the thought of taking a step back when the kids were still hurting felt impossible.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered, but your voice wavered just enough that Logan picked up on it.

He kissed you softly, slow and gentle, like he was trying to pour all of his concern into that one kiss. When he pulled back, his hand lingered on the side of your face. “You don’t have to carry this by yourself, Y/N,” he said softly. “I’m here.”

You looked at him, feeling the weight of his words, and for a moment, you let yourself believe it—that you didn’t have to do everything on your own.

But the next morning, as you moved through the house and got the kids ready for the day, the cough came back with a vengeance. It left you winded, gripping the counter to steady yourself as your breath caught in your throat. Ada was tugging at your skirt, asking for something, but the ringing in your ears made it hard to focus.

“Y/N?” her small voice called, but everything sounded distant.

You forced yourself to smile, pushing through the wave of dizziness. “I’m okay, sweetheart,” you said, though it was more for you than her. The ache in your chest was sharper now, and for the first time, a flicker of real fear crossed your mind.

That evening, when Logan came by, you didn’t have the energy to hide how bad you felt. The second he walked through the door, he saw it in your face.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice urgent as he rushed to your side. “What the hell happened? You look worse.”

You tried to brush it off, but the cough came again, harsher this time, and Logan’s eyes darkened with worry. His hands were on you, steadying you as you leaned into him, the warmth of his body grounding you again.

“You’re not fine,” he said, his tone more serious now. “I should’ve done something sooner.”

“Logan, don’t—”

“I’m taking you to a doctor,” he interrupted, his jaw set. “No arguing.”

You wanted to protest, but the truth was, you didn’t have the strength to fight him. You were too tired, too worn down, and part of you was scared. So you nodded, letting him pull you into his arms as if holding you close would make everything better.

“I’m here,” Logan whispered against your hair, his voice soft and filled with a tenderness that made your heart ache. “I’ll take care of you, okay? You’re not going through this alone.”

---

The next morning, Logan arrived earlier than usual. He wasn’t taking any chances, especially after the night before. You’d barely slept, your coughing keeping you awake for most of it, and when you did manage to drift off, it was only in short, restless intervals.

Logan helped you into the carriage he’d hired, his hands lingering on your arms longer than necessary, his brow furrowed with worry. He hadn’t said much since arriving, just a quiet “Mornin’” before ushering you outside. His concern was written all over his face, even though he tried to hide it behind a mask of calm.

You leaned back against the seat, closing your eyes as the carriage bumped along the cobbled streets. Each breath felt heavier, the tightness in your chest worsening by the day. You didn’t want to admit it, but you knew this was more than just a cold. The cough had settled deep, rattling in your lungs, and even though you tried to convince yourself it was nothing serious, the thought that it could be something more was gnawing at you.

Logan sat beside you, his knee pressed against yours as he kept a protective hand on your leg. Every so often, you’d feel his gaze on you, watching, as if checking to make sure you were still holding on. The warmth of his presence was a comfort, even if you didn’t say it out loud.

When the carriage finally stopped, you opened your eyes and saw the modest sign hanging above the doctor's office. Logan didn’t waste any time helping you down, his arm tight around your waist as you made your way inside.

The waiting room was quiet, the air thick with the scent of medicinal herbs. Logan barely let go of you the entire time, his arm never leaving your waist, and when the doctor finally called you in, Logan made it clear he wasn’t going anywhere.

Inside the small exam room, the doctor—a middle-aged man with silver hair and a kind face—greeted you both with a nod. His expression shifted when he looked at you, though, his eyes softening in a way that made your stomach churn with nerves.

“How long have you had the cough, miss?” the doctor asked as you sat down, Logan standing right behind you.

“A few days,” you said, your voice raspy and weak. “Maybe a little longer.”

The doctor frowned slightly, moving closer to examine you. “And the fatigue? Any weight loss?”

You nodded. “Yes... I’ve been really tired, and I haven’t had much of an appetite.”

Logan’s hand rested on your shoulder, a silent reassurance that he was there. The doctor continued his examination, listening to your chest with a stethoscope, his brow furrowing as he moved from side to side.

After what felt like an eternity, the doctor stepped back, letting out a slow breath. He met your eyes, and you knew immediately that it wasn’t good.

“I don’t want to alarm you,” he began, his voice gentle. “But given your symptoms and the sound of your lungs, I believe you may have contracted tuberculosis.”

The words hung in the air like a heavy weight. You felt Logan tense behind you, his grip on your shoulder tightening ever so slightly.

Tuberculosis.

The sickness that had taken Mrs. Thomas. The same one that had been lingering in the house for weeks.

Your heart pounded in your chest, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe. You’d heard the stories—the way it ravaged families, the way it spread so easily. You’d seen it firsthand with Mrs. Thomas, watching her waste away before your eyes.

“How... how bad is it?” Logan’s voice was rough, strained, like he was barely holding himself together.

The doctor glanced at him, his expression serious. “It’s hard to say right now. Tuberculosis can vary greatly in severity. We’ll need to monitor her closely. Rest, proper care, and keeping her away from others as much as possible will be essential.”

You tried to swallow, but your throat felt tight. “What... what do we do now?”

The doctor sighed. “We’ll start with treatment to help ease the symptoms—medicinal herbs, rest, and a strict diet. It’s crucial that you avoid any further exertion. You’ll need to isolate yourself to prevent it from spreading.”

You nodded, but your mind was spinning. The thought of being confined, of having to stay away from the children—it made your chest tighten even more. How were you supposed to care for them when you couldn’t even take care of yourself?

Logan crouched down in front of you, his eyes searching yours as he held your hands in his. “We’ll figure this out, okay?” he said softly. “You’ll rest, and I’ll help with the kids. You’re not doing this alone.”

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away. You didn’t want to cry, didn’t want Logan to see how scared you really were.

“I don’t want to leave them,” you whispered, your voice shaking. “They need me.”

“I know,” Logan murmured, his thumb rubbing soothing circles against your hand. “But they need you healthy, Y/N. And I need you healthy.”

You looked at him, your heart aching at the sight of his worry. He was trying so hard to be strong for you, to keep it together, but you could see the fear in his eyes—the same fear you felt deep in your bones.

“We’ll get through this,” he said firmly. “You’re not going anywhere, okay? Not without a fight.”

You nodded, squeezing his hands as tightly as you could. Logan stayed close, his presence a steady, comforting force as the weight of the diagnosis settled over you both.

---

Weeks passed, and the house became quieter. The children were kept at a distance, the once lively home now feeling more like a tomb as you spent your days in bed, trying to gather what little strength you had left. Logan had taken over your duties, ensuring the children were cared for while also staying close to you.

Your body grew weaker with each passing day, the illness creeping deeper into your lungs. The once mild cough had turned into something far more painful, leaving you breathless and exhausted after every fit. You knew, deep down, that the end was approaching. You could feel it in the way your energy dwindled, the way even opening your eyes took effort.

Logan, on the other hand, refused to give up. He never spoke of what was coming, never let on that he saw the same inevitable truth. Instead, he clung to hope, pushing you to eat, to drink, to rest. His presence was a constant, grounding you even in your weakest moments.

Sometimes you even talked about the future, the one you knew you would never have, and the one Logan hoped you would, with him.

Your coughing fit had died down for now, leaving you in bed with your head resting against Logan’s shoulder. His arm was wrapped protectively around you, and the warmth of his body gave you a sense of comfort, even when the pain in your chest didn’t. You took in a shaky breath and spoke softly.

“I’ve always wanted a dog,” you murmured, your voice still weak. “Maybe two.”

Logan shifted slightly, his chin resting on top of your head. “Yeah? What kind?”

You shrugged, smiling a little. “Doesn’t really matter. I just like the idea of having something waiting for me at home, you know? Something happy to see me, no matter what kind of day I’ve had.”

He chuckled quietly, the sound vibrating through his chest. “You’d be a good dog mom.”

You looked up at him, a playful glint in your tired eyes. “You think?”

“Definitely. You’ve already got all the practice with the kids.” He paused, his thumb gently brushing the back of your hand. “Except maybe the dog would be less trouble.”

You laughed, but it turned into a cough, and you quickly brought a hand to your mouth. Logan tensed beside you, waiting until the coughing subsided before speaking again.

“You’re gonna get better, Y/N,” he said softly, his voice firm, but the edge of worry was clear. “We’ll get you that dog. Or two.”

You didn’t respond right away. You wanted to believe him—really, you did—but each day you felt weaker, and it was getting harder to ignore the reality of your situation. But you also didn’t want to drag him down with your fears, so you leaned into him instead, letting the moment linger.

You put your chin on his shoulder, looking up at him, “how many kids would you want?”

Logan looked at you, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Kids, huh?” His voice was warm, teasing, but there was something tender in the way he looked at you, like he was imagining it for real.

“Yeah,” you said, resting your chin on his shoulder, eyes searching his face. “I know it’s kind of silly to think about right now, but... I like the idea. You?”

He took a breath, his fingers tracing absent patterns on your arm. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Never really thought much about it until you.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Until me?”

Logan chuckled softly. “Yeah. Before you, I wasn’t really thinkin’ about things like... a future, you know? I didn’t even know if I’d stay in the city long. But now... now I think about things I never used to.” He paused, glancing down at your hand, his fingers interlacing with yours. “Like kids, and... us.”

Your heart fluttered at that, the weight of his words settling in. He’d never said anything like that before—nothing about the future beyond today or tomorrow. It wasn’t like either of you knew what was coming, especially now, but hearing him say that he thought about you in that way made everything feel more real. More possible.

You grinned, nudging him playfully. “So, how many then? Two? Three?”

Logan laughed quietly. “Two sounds good. Just enough to keep us on our toes, but not so many we lose our minds.”

You giggled, a sound that quickly turned into a cough, and Logan’s smile faded a little, worry creeping back into his eyes. But he didn’t say anything. Instead, he just held you closer, his arms wrapping around you like he could shield you from everything bad in the world.

Once the cough subsided, you leaned your head back against his chest. “I think you’d be a good dad, Logan.”

His hand stilled against your arm. “You think?”

“Yeah,” you said softly. “You’re good with the kids now, even if you don’t realize it. They like you, trust you. You’d protect them... care for them.”

Logan was quiet for a moment, and you could feel the weight of his thoughts. “I’d try,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

The warmth of his body, the steadiness of his presence—it was enough to make you forget, for just a little while, how weak you felt. You closed your eyes, letting yourself sink into the comfort of him, of this moment, even though you knew it wouldn’t last.

“Do you ever wonder what it’d be like?” you asked quietly. “If we didn’t have to worry about... this.” You gestured vaguely, meaning the illness, the uncertainty, all of it.

“All the time,” Logan murmured. “But we’ve still got time, Y/N. I’m not giving up on you.”

You opened your eyes, looking up at him. “You really think we’ll make it through this?”

Logan’s gaze was unwavering. “I know we will.”

His confidence, his belief in you, in this, made your heart ache in the best way. You wanted to believe him, wanted to hold onto that hope, even though the fear lingered in the back of your mind.

“You don’t have to be so tough all the time,” Logan said gently, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face. “It’s okay to lean on me.”

You looked at him, your chest tight for a different reason now. “I know.”

And you did. Logan was always there, steady and unshakable, even when you felt like you were falling apart. You didn’t have to do this alone, even if part of you still felt like you should.

Logan leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment longer than usual. “I’m with you, Y/N,” he whispered. “No matter what.”

You closed your eyes again, savoring the warmth of his kiss, the feeling of his arms around you. For now, that was enough.

But even as you rested against him, part of you couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that your time was running out.

---

Logan hated the fact that everything you said was in past tense. How you would’ve liked to learn how to bake bread in that cabin you wanted.

How you would’ve liked to learn how to crochet.

Logan sat on the edge of the bed, watching you with a quiet intensity. You had been talking again, your voice soft and tired, about all the things you wished you had more time to do. It was starting to drive him crazy—the way you spoke in past tense, like you were already halfway gone.

“Would’ve liked to learn how to crochet,” he repeated softly, his eyes never leaving your face.

You smiled, but it didn’t reach your eyes. “Yeah. I always thought it’d be nice to make something with my hands. You know, like a blanket or something... for the cabin.”

Logan’s chest tightened. He hated this—hated that you were talking about all these little dreams like they were out of reach. He leaned forward, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “You’re gonna be fine, Y/N,” he said, trying to sound more certain than he felt. “You’ll still have time for all that.”

You met his gaze, your eyes soft but filled with something else—something that made his heart ache. “Logan...”

“No,” he interrupted, shaking his head. “You don’t get to talk like that. We’re gonna get you through this.”

You let out a soft sigh, your hand coming up to touch his cheek. “You don’t always have to be strong, you know. It’s okay to be scared.”

“I’m not scared,” Logan said quickly, though the way he gripped your hand a little tighter gave him away. He wasn’t ready to admit it—to you, to himself—that the thought of losing you scared him more than anything he’d ever faced.

You smiled faintly, shifting on the bed so you could lean into him. “I know you, Logan. You don’t have to pretend for me.”

Logan felt his throat tighten as you pressed closer to him. He wrapped his arm around you, pulling you into his chest, trying to hold on to the moment for as long as he could. Your body felt so fragile against his, like you could break if he held you too tight. But he needed to feel you, to remind himself that you were still here.

“Don’t,” Logan said, his voice thick with emotion. “Don’t talk like that.” He looked away for a second, trying to regain control of the storm raging inside him. He didn’t want to hear the finality in your voice, didn’t want to acknowledge the possibility that you might slip away from him.

You reached out, your hand trembling slightly as you touched his cheek. “Logan, you know as well as I do...”

“No,” he repeated, cutting you off again, his voice gruff but shaky. His hand covered yours, pressing it gently against his face. “I’m not losing you. I don’t care what the doctor says. We’ll fight this. We’ll get through it.”

There was a long silence between you, the air heavy with the unspoken truth. You didn’t have the heart to argue with him, but you knew. You could feel it in your bones, in the way your body was failing you little by little every day. But Logan’s refusal to accept that reality made you love him even more, even if it hurt.

You gave him a sad smile, your eyes locking with his. “I love you, Logan.”

His breath caught, and for a moment, he couldn’t speak. The weight of those words—words you’d both danced around but never truly said—hit him like a punch to the gut. He leaned in close, his forehead resting against yours, his voice barely a whisper.

“I love you too, Y/N,” he finally said, his voice breaking just a little.

You closed your eyes, letting the warmth of his words wash over you. It wasn’t fair, any of this. You’d only just begun to imagine a life with him, and now that future was slipping through your fingers.

Logan held you tighter, his arms wrapped around you as if he could protect you from everything, even death. He kissed your forehead, then your cheek, before pressing a final, lingering kiss to your lips. It wasn’t passionate or desperate—just soft, filled with all the love he hadn’t yet had the chance to show you.

“I’m here,” he whispered again, his lips brushing against your skin. “Always.”

And for a moment, despite the pain, despite everything, you believed him. Because even if the future was uncertain, even if you didn’t have much time left, you had this. You had him. And for now, that was enough.

---

Nothing had worked, and nothing was working.

You had already accepted your fate, but Logan couldn’t—no matter how many times you tried to explain. He kept his focus on you, his stubborn hope unwavering, even though you both knew time was running out.

“You’re gonna be fine, Y/N. You’ll see,” he said softly, sitting beside you on the bed. He brushed a hand through your hair, his touch gentle, but the worry in his eyes was impossible to miss.

You looked up at him, your chest tight—not from the sickness, but from the overwhelming love you felt for him in that moment. “Logan... we need to talk about this.”

He shook his head immediately, his jaw clenched. “No, we don’t. We don’t have to talk about anything like that. You’re gonna get better, and we’ll figure everything out.” His voice cracked just a little at the end, betraying the fear he was trying to hide.

You reached for his hand, your fingers trembling as they closed around his. “I don’t want to pretend anymore. I don’t want to spend what little time we have left lying to ourselves.”

Logan looked down at your intertwined hands, his thumb tracing slow circles on your skin. “But I can’t... I can’t think about losing you.”

“You don’t have to think about it,” you whispered, leaning your head against his shoulder. “But we need to be honest with each other. I’m not getting better, Logan. We both know that.”

His whole body tensed beside you, and he turned his head away as if looking anywhere but at you would somehow make your words less real. “I can’t... I can’t lose you, Y/N.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat and leaned closer, pressing your lips softly to his jaw. “I love you, Logan. That’s all that matters to me right now.”

His breath hitched, and for a long moment, he didn’t say anything. He just sat there, holding you as if he could protect you from the inevitable, his arms tightening around you.

After a while, he finally spoke, his voice barely a whisper. “I love you too. More than anything. That’s why I’m not giving up.”

You pulled back slightly, looking up at him, your heart breaking for him. “I know you’re trying to protect me... but I don’t want you to carry this alone. I need you to be here with me, in this moment, not fighting something we can’t change.”

Logan’s eyes met yours, and for a second, the wall he’d built around himself seemed to crack. “I don’t know how to do that,” he admitted. “I don’t know how to just... be.”

“You don’t have to be strong all the time,” you whispered, your hand reaching up to cup his cheek. “You can let go.”

His eyes softened, and before you could say anything else, Logan leaned in and kissed you—soft, but with an intensity that made your heart ache. It was a kiss that said everything he couldn’t put into words: the fear, the love, the desperation to hold onto whatever time you had left.

When he finally pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, his breath shaky. “I don’t know how to say goodbye,” he whispered.

You closed your eyes, your hand still resting on his cheek. “We don’t have to say goodbye yet. Just stay with me. That’s all I want.”

Logan didn’t respond with words. Instead, he held you tighter, his arms wrapping around you as if he could keep you with him through sheer willpower alone. You could feel the tremble in his hands, the way his breath hitched every now and then like he was fighting back tears.

For a while, you both stayed like that, wrapped up in each other, the world outside fading into nothingness. There was no cough, no sickness, no uncertainty—just the warmth of Logan’s body against yours and the steady beat of his heart beneath your hand.

Eventually, you spoke, your voice barely audible. “I wish we had more time.”

Logan’s grip tightened slightly. “Me too.”

You felt a lump in your throat, but you forced a small smile. “You know... if things were different, I think we’d have had a pretty good life together.”

Logan’s voice was thick with emotion as he replied, “We still will. Somehow... someday.”

You leaned your head against his chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat. “Maybe in another life.”

Logan didn’t say anything, but you could feel the way his body stiffened, like he couldn’t stand the thought of losing you again—even in another life.

“You don’t have to be alone, Logan,” you whispered, your voice soft but filled with all the love you had left. “Promise me you won’t shut yourself off.”

He was silent for a long moment, and when he finally spoke, his voice was rough and raw. “I can’t promise that.”

You smiled faintly, knowing that was the best you were going to get from him. “Just... don’t forget me.”

Logan leaned down and pressed another kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a long time. “I could never forget you.”

The room was quiet after that, the only sound the soft rustling of the blankets as Logan adjusted you in his arms, pulling you closer.

You closed your eyes, feeling the exhaustion creeping in again, but this time it didn’t feel so overwhelming. With Logan’s warmth surrounding you, with his quiet strength holding you up, you felt at peace.

---

You had passed away in your sleep that night, in Logan’s arms. He had stayed up, something in his subconscious telling him to keep his eye on you.

And he did, he felt you take your last breath; one that didn’t seem as painful as when you were awake.

Logan held you close, his arms tightening around you instinctively as he realized what had just happened. His mind refused to process it, refused to accept that this was it. He stared at you, his chest rising and falling in rhythm with breaths that felt foreign in his own body. You weren’t moving anymore, not even the faintest stir.

For a long time, he didn’t let go. He couldn’t. His arms stayed wrapped around you, his face buried in your hair, willing his warmth into your body as if that could somehow bring you back.

"Y/N..." he whispered, his voice broken. He lifted his head slightly, his thumb brushing your cold cheek. "Please... wake up."

There was no answer.

Logan swallowed hard, his throat burning, his chest tightening. His hand trembled as it caressed your face, fingers gently tucking your hair behind your ear like he’d done a hundred times before. But this time, there was no playful smile in return. No teasing comment about how messy your hair always was.

It was quiet. Too quiet.

He let out a shaky breath, his other hand clutching the bedsheet, the weight of what had happened finally starting to crush him. He knew this moment was coming—he’d known it for weeks, maybe even months—but now that it was here, it didn’t feel real. He couldn’t understand how it had come to this, how someone as full of life as you could just... stop.

“Y/N... don’t do this... please,” he whispered again, his voice barely audible as if saying it any louder would make it more true. His hand lingered on your cheek, hoping for even the smallest sign that you’d take another breath.

But nothing came.

He stayed like that for a long time, just holding you, feeling the weight of your stillness.

Logan had never felt so powerless in his life. For all the things he could do, for all the strength in his bones, none of it could save you. His healing couldn’t save you. The realization cut him deeper than any wound ever had.

At some point, he felt his chest tremble, felt the tears start to burn at the corners of his eyes. He hadn’t cried in years, maybe ever—not like this—but he couldn’t stop it now. Not when he’d lost you.

“I... I love you,” he choked out, the words falling from his lips like a confession, like an apology for not saying it enough while you were still here to hear it. He pressed his forehead to yours, his voice breaking again. “I love you so much...”

The room was silent, except for the sound of Logan’s ragged breathing and the ticking of the old clock in the corner, each second passing with an agonizing slowness. He wished he could turn it back, go back to when you were still here—laughing, talking, smiling. Anything but this.

But he couldn’t.

And the weight of that realization shattered him.

For the first time in his life, Logan had no fight left in him. Not for this. Not without you.

i'm not gonna lie, i definitely started crying while writing those last few scenes, even though i knew how it was gonna end

just a little note for everyone (i'll probably add this at the end of every chapter just cause it helped me when writing) in this chapter, logan is 22 years old and reader is around the same age.

tags: @seasonofthenerd @golden-ebony @planetxella @tighrenicotine @wittyjasontodd @cherrypieyourface @tumharisakhi @person-005 @zaggprincess2

[saintobio]

TITANIC.

deep in the heart of the Atlantic, an unexpected love defies the lines drawn by social class and destiny.

𝇈𓈒 genre. tragedy, angst, forbidden love, titanic au

𝇈𓈒 pairings. rafayel, fem!reader

𝇈𓈒 tags. first class!rafayel, artist!rafayel, third class!reader, singer!reader, social class differences, classism, might be ooc (esp thomas), not set in l&ds universe, mentions of arranged marriage, cheating, suicide attempt, allusions to sex trafficking and prostitution, violence (not from raf), explicit smut, nudity, cunnilingus, fellatio, unprotected sex, drowning, hypothermia, deaths, sinking of the ship, major character death.

𝇈𓈒 notes. 22.2k wc. dividers by drinkthesky and mikeykuns. events are exactly the same as the film, except for some small alterations. this was so fun to write albeit being really tedious and time-consuming 🤧 please enjoy, and reblogs are highly appreciated !

The RMS Titanic was known as the largest and most luxurious liner in the world. When the White Star Line first announced the ship’s launch, various headlines were even made across the globe, dubbing it ‘The Unsinkable Ship’ or ‘The Ship That Even God Himself Couldn’t Sink’. A bit ambitious, of course, but the hubris that came along with it was mostly from the upper echelon of the society who had the means to experience the ship’s impressive size and unparalleled luxury. It was all they ever talked about for months and months, waiting in full excitement to board the ship on its maiden voyage, scrambling to secure tickets to its first-class accommodations as if their money were merely falling from the skies. 

Indeed, the Titanic was a grand ship, but for you and the other third-class passengers, it was anything but. 

Your passage was paid for, not by a stroke of luck or generational wealth, but by a woman who recruited female entertainers to join the ship’s voyage. Just a month ago, your contract as a singer had ended when the pub you worked at shuttered its doors, leaving you without income and desperate to find a way to support your mother and sister. It was during one of those aimless nights, jobless and searching for a way to survive, that the proprietress noticed you. And it was exactly while she was posting a job vacancy outside her establishment when she claimed how your background and experience in singing and performing made you a perfect candidate for her offer.

You envied the wealthy. Truly. Because they had the privilege to turn down job offers, with countless others waiting in the wings or an inheritance ready to secure their future. Some of them didn’t even have to work at all. But for those on the other side of society—people like you who were struggling to make ends meet—certainly, the proposition was a windfall.

‘It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to board the Titanic,’ they’d say. ‘You wouldn’t have been able to set foot on it, even if you traded everything you owned,’ they’d say. ‘Only a fool would turn down such a chance.’ So, who were you to refuse? Beggars can’t be choosers, after all. Besides, who would deny the American dream? You considered that America held the promise of something greater, with the country being called the Land of Opportunities—a chance that might finally bring the stroke of luck you needed to lift your mother and sister out of the squalor of the slums back home. 

A new beginning, a better life, and a future far from the harsh reality you were leaving behind.

And so, with the White Star Line boarding ticket on your hand, you turned back for one final glance at the place you had always known as home. 

You soon made your way toward the deck of the ship, and your eyes searched the crowd to find your mother and sister standing among the sea of people, waving to you with hopeful, bittersweet smiles. You swallowed the lump in your throat and forced a smile of your own, holding back the tears that threatened to spill as you waved back, trying to etch their faces into your memory for the days to come.

“Farewell!” you heard one of your colleagues, Eliza, shout to her family by the dock. Like you, she too fought hard to keep her tears from spilling, feeling that familiar tightness in her chest as she waved goodbye.  

“Won’t you come back?” you asked softly, your eyes drifting back to your own family.  

Eliza turned to you with lachrymose eyes. “There’s no certainty how this journey will end for people like us. We’re often the last to know and the first to lose.” She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself as the ship’s horn blared, signaling the imminent departure. “But maybe… maybe this time will be different.”

You nodded, her deep words eventually sinking into you. The scent of the salty sea air, the cool breeze brushing against your cheeks, the creaking of the ship—all became imprinted in your mind as you both stood there, knowing that this might be the last time you’d see your families again. For a long time. 

And as the ship’s engines roared to life, pushing the mighty vessel away from the dock, you clung to the belief that, somehow, this journey could still hold something brighter for you. The only way to live through life’s uncertainties and vicissitudes was to keep an optimistic mind. 

~~

Rafayel was once a celebrated artist across the continent. And today, he was among the elite who was surrounded by wealth and privilege, the same people who loved to talk about money and politics. He spent his first few days in the ship sketching its grandiose interiors and its ostentatious passengers, capturing the essence of their extravagant lives in his art. But despite his success and the admiration he received in his precedent years, there was a quiet loneliness within him now. A yearning for something more than the gilded cage he inhabited. The life of the wealthy—the first class people—just became too distasteful for him to paint on his canvas. 

He couldn’t quite pinpoint when his disdain for high society began, but it had been long enough for him to realize that the lives of the wealthy and powerful were far from the glamorous façade they presented. In truth, they were dull and repetitive, filled with people who indulged in their riches and flaunted their possessions to your face. It was a never-ending competition of who had more, a relentless display of entitlement over who could command others at the whim of their fortune.

That was why when Rafayel stood on the deck of the Titanic that afternoon, despite his extremely comfortable and luxurious surroundings, he couldn’t help but lament over the idea that he was a prisoner in a ship, journeying to a place he never even once dreamed of going to. But being a painter who no longer flourished in the world of art, he somehow had to find a way to keep up with the lifestyle he had been living. And boarding this colossal ship together with a woman he didn’t love was his ticket to regain the success he had lost. 

“You know,” Thomas, his agent, remarked as he leaned casually against the railings, “If not for Arielle, you’d never make it big anywhere else. Your time’s running out. Your paintings aren’t selling anymore. Soon, you won’t even be able to afford yourself. And knowing you, you can’t even live on tinned fish and cheap garments.”

Rafayel sighed inwardly, too weary to explain that the decline in his work’s quality over the past two years wasn’t due to a loss of skill, but rather a lack of inspiration. Being surrounded by the vain and self-absorbed had drained his creative spirit. Yet, the harsh truth was that with his paintings gathering dust and his exhibitions drawing fewer attendees, his rent payments had inevitably turned into mounting debts. It came to a point where he no longer had many choices for himself, financially speaking. 

“You seem to hold Arielle in such a high regard,” he retorted, “Why don’t you marry her yourself?”

Thomas met his glare, unimpressed by his tone. “You brat. I’m doing this for you, Rafayel. I had to arrange this marriage between you two,” he repeated the same tired justification. “Didn’t you hear her? She’s the heiress to a wealthy family in New York, and she has all the connections you need to make a name for yourself there again. She’s willing to do it if you marry her. How can you speak ill of a beautiful woman who only wants your love?”

“Love isn’t something you can demand.” 

He decided to ignore Thomas’s presence for a minute, tired of hearing his inane excuse of why he had to set up Rafayel with Arielle. Instead, he focused on his easel that was set up beside the rail, capturing the shimmering ocean under the twilight sky as he tried to find inspiration from the aureate horizon ahead of him. The soft brush strokes of his latest painting were interrupted by the occasional laugh or clink of fine china from the nearby dining room, but his mind wandered to a world he rarely saw—the lower decks.

Rafayel often wandered the first-class decks as he sought inspiration for his next masterpiece. Yet, today was the first time he noticed the decks below, and most importantly, you. You were a young woman from third-class, conversing with another female friend in your humble clothings, and seemingly longing for something beyond your reach. There was something about your warm, dreamy eyes that captivated him. And perhaps it was the stark contrast to the steely, formal interactions he was accustomed to in first-class.

You caught his eye once, which turned into a fleeting moment where your worlds collided, but his intense gaze seemed to have made your heart skip a beat. You were quick to look away as expected, and he felt awful knowing he might have made you uncomfortable. 

“Oh, forget it.” Thomas waved a hand to his face, cutting him out of trance. “You’re aiming too low with those third-class women. You should be focused on a higher destination.”

Rafayel sighed in response. “Just leave me alone for a while. I need some space to paint in peace.”

~~

Tonight, like every other night since you boarded, you had been told to sing. That your voice should fill the room with melodies, entrancing the well-dressed crowd of first-class passengers who watched you with a delicate balance of interest and indifference. Thankfully, the grand halls of the ship were already filled with laughter and music long before you were tasked to perform. Now, you were walking through the corridor, your heels clicking against the polished wood floor, while the elegant dress you wore swished around your ankles. 

Frankly, it was mostly the men who were interested in your performances, and their women often indifferent.

You had performed in worse places than this, so you couldn’t complain. Besides, most of the guests, with their sparkling jewels and tailored suits, still applauded politely after every song, and some would even smile as you made eye contact with them. Admittingly, you did feel a little thrill at the attention, at being seen. 

Because that was what you had always dreamed of as a child: to perform for the wealthy, to have your voice fill the room, and draw attention to your every move.

“Funny, isn’t it?” Eliza mused one night as you both settled into your cramped cabins in the steerage. It had been a tiring evening of performances for the first-class passengers. “Others dream of being wealthy, but you seem to dream of serving the wealthy.”

You adjusted the covers, keeping yourself warm. “I just feel like there are consequences to having so much money in your hands. I’m content with having just enough to get by.”

As the days passed and as the Titanic made its last final stop at a port in Ireland, that was when you began to notice things. Little things. The way some of the men in the audience looked at you, their eyes lingering far too long, with a hunger that made your skin prickle. The way your manager, Mrs. Hawthorne, hovered by the bar while speaking in low, hushed tones to the richest men in the room. You noticed how she always had a keen eye on you, watching as you moved from the stage to the back, and back again. It felt as if she was gauging something, calculating a certain transaction in her head.

After another night of singing, you found yourself backstage, wiping a sheen of sweat from your brow. Your voice was raspy, and your throat dry from hours of performance, but you felt a little bit of joy knowing you had done well. You were reaching for a glass of water when Mrs. Hawthorne appeared beside you—her smile a little too wide, but her eyes a little too sharp. A look that undoubtedly reminded you of a predator to its prey. 

“Lovely performance tonight, my dear,” she said smoothly, placing a heavy hand on your shoulder. “But our clients… they might want a little more than just a pretty song. You understand what I’m saying, right?”

Your stomach twisted at the suggestion in her words. “What do you mean, Mrs. Hawthorne?”

She leaned in, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Some of these gentlemen… Well, they’ve paid a lot for your company. They expect a bit more than just a few songs. A bit of private entertainment, if you will.”

You blinked twice in the same second. “P-Private entertainment? You didn’t say anything about that when you hired me.”

Her grip tightened on your shoulder. “It’s all part of the package, dear. You want to keep your place on this ship, don’t you? Want to make those dreams come true?” Her eyes flickered darkly, and her aura became more and more austere as you refused. “Just be accommodating. Smile, laugh, let them buy you a drink or two... and if they ask for more, well... oblige. Surely, you aren’t a virgin to be acting like you’re new to this.”

The stubborn side of you pulled away from her touch. Everything that was coming out of her mouth brought you profound disgust. “I’m not a whore, Mrs. Hawthorne,” you hissed, getting straight to the point. “I’ve never done those things.” 

She only chuckled softly. A cold, cruel chuckle that made your skin crawl. “Not yet, you haven’t. But this is a long voyage, and there are a lot of men here with deep pockets and lonely nights. You’re either useful to them or you’re not useful to me. However, I must remind you that your place in this ship is paid for by me. So, if I were you, sweetie, I’d make my choice correctly.”

“You…” Trapped and horrified at the situation you had thrown yourself into, you stared back at her in resistance. “You can’t do this! This is illegal—”

“Oh, sue me,” Mrs. Hawthorne replied in sarcasm before stepping back, her smile fading into the crowd. “Do what I say or you will be thrown off this ship. I have contacts back home that can surely check on your mother and sister, too.”

Your fingers tightened around the empty glass as she walked away, leaving you snapped into the dark and twisted reality of your current situation. All this damn time, the job you thought would bring you closer to your dreams was nothing but a front. A trap, with no escape in sight.

And somewhere in the back of your mind, you wondered just how much you were willing to endure to survive this journey. The faces of your mother and sister appeared before your eyes, their once hopeful gazes turning into a look of despair. Afraid for their lives. Hurt. Perished. 

No, you couldn’t let that happen. You thought as you swallowed your pride. 

~~

Alongside Eliza and your other colleagues, you were forced to endure the advances of the wealthy men who frequented the gambling rooms below deck. The stench of cigars and alcohol, the rough hands, and the leering eyes became your nightmare-turned-reality while being in a prison that was supposedly dubbed as the ship of dreams.

You had never felt so degraded. You were overcome with a sense of filth and self-loathing, feeling as though you were utterly sullied. You felt so low, so disgusted with your own skin that your femininity was not respected.

How could Mrs. Hawthorne do this? That was all you ever thought about as you sat perched on a wealthy man’s lap, his rough hands roaming over your body as he laughed, more at the cards in his hand than at the joke one of the other old men had told him. The other men at the table barely noticed you, their eyes glazed with the haze of a high-stakes game as they bet all their money and fortune on a mere deck of cards. You had seen this look before, the detachment, the sense that you were nothing more than an accessory, a toy to be played with.

Your colleagues, fellow entertainers, were scattered around the room, their eyes hollow as they performed their duties, doing what they could to survive. But tonight, it was too much. 

The disgusting old man’s grip tightened on your thigh, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered something vile. “Why don’t you let me have a taste later when I win this game, beautiful?” 

“I-I need some air,” you muttered, trying to stand, but he pulled you back down with his iron grip.

“Not yet, darling. Wait until I have you naked on my bed,” he slurred, his voice thick with alcohol. You couldn’t imagine letting an old man touch you like that, and the mere thought of it made you sick to your stomach. “You will please me when I tell you so.”

“Let me go!” 

“Pipe it down, will you?!” 

You felt panic clawing at your insides as you bit down the screams that were trying to rise from your throat. It was as though the room was closing in on you, the walls narrowing until you couldn’t breathe. Until you suffocated. Without thinking, you wrenched yourself free and kicked the old man on the shin, stumbling out of the chair and into the corridor with your pulse racing as you broke into a run.

I’m sorry. You repeated your apologies to your mother and sister in your mind, over and over, as you sprinted across the deck. The click-clack of your heels ricocheted into the distance as you sobbed. I’m sorry I can’t make it. I’m sorry… 

This wasn’t the life you had dreamed of, and you couldn’t bear the thought of being treated like an object, sold off to the wealthy and losing your dignity in the process. Night after night. Tears streamed down your face as you thought about letting down your family back home, about this being the last time you would ever see them, and about your own foolishness in embracing such cruelty.

You didn’t stop running and crying until you reached the stern of the ship, the cold night air nipping at your skin as you desperately tried to catch your breath. Breathe, you told yourself. But wouldn’t it be better if you didn’t? You leaned over the railing, the dark, icy waters below calling to you and offering a way out. And for a moment, you considered it. You considered it an escape. Anything was better than the life you were trapped in. 

You knew you wouldn’t last another day in this ship without having your dignity stripped off you, especially not when it was the last thing you had for yourself. You may not have the money, the power, and the influence that these wealthy people had, but one priceless thing you owned for yourself was your dignity. And that wasn’t something they could take away from you. 

Perhaps it was the adrenaline. The rush. The heavy emotions. Whatever it was, the overwhelming thoughts led you to climb over the railings, afraid and ready at the same time, to throw yourself into the gelid waters of the North Atlantic. Your trembling body and unstable breath didn’t stop you from looking down, waiting for the perfect timing… 

“I’m sorry.” A sob escaped your lips as you closed your eyes, uttering a prayer in hitched whispers. 

But before you could make the fatal leap, a strong hand suddenly grabbed your arm, making you gasp in horror at the unexpected intruder. You felt yourself being pulled back, and turned to see a man with amaranthine hair and kaleidoscopic eyes. “Miss, what are you doing?” 

“I—” you choked on your words now that the shameful reality of what you had almost done was crashing over you. “You know what I-I’m doing. Mind your own business!”

“I can’t do that now,” he spoke with urgency, eyes softening as he looked at you with an earnest gaze. “Whatever you do to yourself, I’ll be held responsible. Think about it.”

What is wrong with this guy? You swallowed, confused by his insistence in pulling you back. Judging by the way he dressed, he was obviously another first-class passenger. So, why did he care about saving a mere third-class woman? Weren’t they all the same? You held your breath and glared at him, distrustful of his approach. “L-Let me go! You’re distracting me.”

The guy used his thumb to wipe the faint tears on your wet cheeks. “Let’s talk about this,” he said, “Jumping from here would be the most excruciating way to die, trust me.” 

“How would you know?” you snapped, antagonism misdirected towards a man who was only trying to help. “You don’t get it. I don’t wanna go back there… with those old men…” 

For a moment, his eyes flickered with recognition. “You’re the singer, right? I’ve heard you perform. You have a siren’s voice.”

“I’m no longer performing for people like you,” you bit back, trying to wipe away your tears. But in that instant, in that span of a second, you lost your footing and slipped from the railings. “Aaah!” Your scream pierced the evening air as you felt a cold rush of fear slapping your face. “Aah! Help! Help me! Please!” 

“Hold on! I got you!” He gritted his teeth as he struggled to pull you back up, but determined with all his might to do so. “I… told you… you wouldn’t jump,” he panted, the muscles on his neck straining with the effort to pull you with your weight. You could see it in his eyes—the panic, the fear. Someone a stranger shouldn’t have for a person he didn’t know. And it brought you a thick sense of shame and guilt knowing you had him involved. 

With your help, you extended another hand toward the railings and fought to climb back in. It was a struggle, but he eventually pulled you back onto the deck where both of you collapsed against the floor, gasping for breath like a freshly caught fish. You looked up at him, taking in his relieved yet gentle expression, and feeling nothing but shame for the terrible situation you had put him through.

“T-Thank you,” you stammered, your chest heaving as you tried to steady your breathing. “Thank you, and I-I’m sorry.” 

“It’s alright. You’re alright now.”

“W-What’s your name?”

He exhaled, a faint smile touching his lips as he shook his head. It was the first time through that near-death experience where you began to feel relaxed. “I’m offended you don’t know.”

“I…” 

“I’m kidding. It’s Rafayel,” he said with a polite handshake, helping you to your feet. “Please remember your savior’s name.”

Before you could say more, the sound of footsteps approached, and you heard the old man’s voice, slurred and angry, as him and the Master-at-Arms headed towards you like you were a culprit they had been trying to catch. “There she is! That little whore! She thinks she can run away?!”

Panic seized you again, but the man beside you—Rafayel—stepped forward, placing himself between you and the approaching figures as if he was protecting you. “She’s with me,” he strictly said upon realizing the situation quickly enough. His voice was also firm, leaving no room for argument. “Leave her alone. It won’t end well if you insist on taking this innocent lady.” 

The Master-at-Arms and security personnel hesitated, exchanging uneasy glances between Rafayel and the old man, who was clearly bristling with indignation. Yet, Rafayel’s gaze remained firm and unyielding, and it was evident that his social standing intimidated the crew. Unlike you, they seemed to recognize who he was and decided to back off.

So after a tense silence, the security personnel, clearly wary of challenging someone of Rafayel's stature, nodded reluctantly. They led the inebriated old man away, assuring him that they would find another woman who would be more willing to accommodate him for the night. 

When they were gone, Rafayel turned back to you with his already softened eyes. “Are you alright?” he asked, his voice filled with a kindness you hadn’t expected. It was clear that through his gaze, he seemed to have picked up the puzzle pieces for the reason of your near-suicide. And he sympathized with you for it, as if he had once tried to go through that route, too. “Don’t worry about that old man. I’ll see to it that he won’t bother you again. Any of them.” 

You nodded, though your legs felt like they might give out beneath you. The events that night were far too much for you to process. “Thank you,” you whispered. “You saved me twice today.” 

He smiled, a small, sad smile, and offered you his hand. “Come with me. You shouldn’t be out here alone.”

For the first time in a long while, you felt something other than fear. You felt safe. And it strangely came from a stranger you knew little about except his name. However, he immediately noticed your hesitation, knowing that it was rooting from your mistrust and fear for the men in first-class who wanted to bed you, so he was quick to clear out his intentions. 

“I’m not like those people,” he said, clearing his throat. His words were accompanied by a reassuring smile, and the earnestness in his eyes provided some comfort to the uncertainty in your heart. “I’m not a businessman, not a politician, definitely not royalty. I don’t gamble, I have no vices. I’m just an artist. You can trust me. I won’t do anything bad to you.”

Yet again, you weren’t given a chance to fully express your gratitude, only because a slightly older man with brown hair approached, shooting a disapproving look at Rafayel. 

“I’m sure she knows her way back into steerage,” the other guy said curtly, his tone carrying a sharp reprimand as though engaging in a silent argument with Rafayel. “Don’t risk your image by accompanying her down there or offering her a place in first-class.”

Rafayel, visibly frustrated, shot back with the temper of a child. “Thomas, treat her like a human being—”

“I’m okay,” you interjected with a shaky voice, trying to ease the tension because you truly didn’t want to cause any more trouble on the man who had just saved you. You simply glanced at ‘Thomas’ before sending Rafayel a smile of gratitude. “He’s right, Rafayel. Your help means more to me than I can ever express, but it’s best that I return to my cabin on my own.”

Rafayel’s eyes searched yours, and for a moment, it seemed like he might argue further. But then he chose to relent when his shoulders slumped slightly in defeat. He clearly didn’t want to force anything on you. “Alright,” he said quietly, though his gaze remained passionately concerned. “But please, if you need anything, don’t hesitate to find me. I’m not far.”

You gave him a reassuring smile, the gratitude in your eyes more profound than words could express. But Thomas was there to humble you from the fantasy of being the damsel in distress. From his watchful gaze alone, you knew he was telling you that you weren’t and would never be welcome into their part of the ship after tonight. “Thank you, Rafayel. I’ll be alright. I promise.”

All Rafayel could do was nod as he reluctantly stepped back. Thomas could only give a brusque nod as well, signaling the end of the conversation. And as they turned to leave, you watched Rafayel go and felt a strange pang of sadness at parting with a person you just met. It was odd, definitely, but the momentary relief Rafayel’s intervention gave you was briefly replaced by the gruesome reality of your life at the steerage. 

Turning back towards the staircase leading to steerage, you took a deep breath and started down the steps. The ship’s luxurious surroundings became more and more minimalistic as you descended, with the opulence of first-class fading away into the more sterile accommodations of steerage.

~~

When you woke up the next morning, you thought everything that had happened was both a dream and a nightmare. 

Eliza was staring at you from the opposite bunk bed, seemingly envious yet happy for you at the same time. For what reason? You weren’t sure yet. And neither did she say why she carried that look on her face as you got up from bed, wiping your eyes and realizing it was another dreadful day of being imprisoned in the Titanic. 

“What’s wrong, Eliza?” you asked. 

She offered you a small smile. “Nothing, just…” 

It horrified you to see the marks on Eliza’s neck. And the pained expressions on her face, a reflection of someone who had been stripped of her dignity—someone who could have been you if not for Rafayel’s intervention. You couldn’t escape the grim reality that, despite his heroic act, your fate might soon mirror hers. Mrs. Hawthorne still held the chains around your neck after all, compelling you to do things against your will in exchange for your life, your family's safety, and your livelihood.

But to your surprise, Mrs. Hawthorne was a different person when she knocked on your cabin door that morning. You had braced yourself for the punishment of failing to fulfill your ‘duties’ to the old man the previous night, but her demeanor was unusually pleasant. Her smile seemed almost too pleased, leaving you wary and confused about her true intentions.

Has she gone mad?

“Good morning,” she spoke in the same merry voice that you hated, displaying a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Y/N, from now on, your services as an entertainer are no longer required.”

Your heartbeat took a pause. “What do you mean? I-Is it because of last night?”

She placed the papers on the small table beside you and sat down. “Your contract has been terminated. You’re free from your duties as of now.”

So suddenly… You stared at her, trying to process the sudden change in her demeanor. “But why? I don’t understand. Not even long ago, you were asking me to—”

“A gentleman from first-class, someone with rather striking purple hair, has paid a considerable sum to terminate your contract.” The cruel woman sighed, rolling her eyes. “He covered the cost of your ticket and added extra, more than enough to ensure you were released from your obligations.”

Your mind instantly connected the dots. “Rafayel? H-He did that? But why?”

Mrs. Hawthorne’s expression turned cold. “He made it very clear that he wanted you to stop entertaining people against your will. He even went so far as to threaten me with legal consequences if I didn’t comply. Said something about ensuring I’d face charges once the ship docks in New York if I didn’t let you go. What a boastful young man! If not for his money, I’d have cursed him out in the face. I don’t know what you did to woo that guy, but consider yourself lucky.”

What? You couldn’t believe it. You couldn’t ever believe Rafayel went out of his way to save you. Again. 

“Go and enjoy the ship like any other passenger,” Mrs. Hawthorne continued, her words dripping with a false sense of privilege. As if living in peace on this ship was a luxury for you. “I’ll inform the crew that you’re no longer required in the entertainment department.”

As Mrs. Hawthorne exited your cabin, you sat in silence and finally understood the reason behind Eliza’s gaze. But you didn’t expect this, either. You could only glance out the porthole in guilt, seeing the vast expanse of the ocean stretching out before you. This new freedom felt both exhilarating and daunting if you were being honest to yourself. For the first time since you boarded, you now had a chance to explore the ship on your own terms, but the uncertainty of what lies ahead lingered in the back of your mind.

Because, then… What about your family? What about your income? What about your dream of performing on Broadway? 

Only an ungrateful person would think selfishly about herself first before the person that generously saved her from this predicament. So, even if you swore to never bother him again, you had to take the risk. You had to seize your newfound freedom, at least, to thank him properly. 

With that in mind, you made your way near the staircases leading to the upper decks. You had ‘borrowed’ a costume from the entertainers’ closet, the only suitable and elegant clothing you could find to pass as a first-class passenger. But as you walked through the luxurious parts of the ship, the sound of a piano drifted through the air, and its melody guided your next steps like a sailor entranced by a siren’s voice. The rhythm. The melody. It was drawing you closer and closer. 

Before you knew it, you followed the enchanting tune, only to find yourself stumbling upon Rafayel in a room adjacent to the music room. There he was, deeply engrossed in his painting, the soft glow of the sun warmly illuminated his focused expression and the canvas before him.

Rafayel looked up, surprised. “Y/N? ” he said, his gentle smile lighting up his face as he noticed you. “I didn’t expect anyone to be here.”

You flushed, feeling out of place. The irony of stumbling into the wrong room seemed to have brought you to the right person. “I’m sorry. I-I didn’t mean to intrude. I followed the music, but it led me here.”

His curiosity was piqued. “And what brings you to this part of the ship? The music room is across the hall, miss.”

“I was just exploring,” you replied, smiling and feigning innocence. “Trying to see a bit more of this grand vessel.”

His response was a soft chuckle. “Well, you’ve found quite the place. May I offer you a seat?”

To your surprise, you found yourself seated next to him, eyes wide as you were immediately captivated by his artwork. The painting before you was breathtaking, truly mesmerizing. It was a picturesque depiction of the ocean and sunset, and every intricate color blended beautifully on the canvas. “Rafayel, did you paint this? It’s incredible! It’s so beautiful!”

“You flatter me too much, but I’ll take the compliment. It’s a work-in-progress, though.” He chuckled, wiping his paint-splattered hand with a towel. Despite the barriers of social class, a connection naturally seemed to spark between you both. “If you’re interested, I might even give you a discount on it.”

You knew he was joking, but if you had the means, you would have bought his masterpiece without hesitation. “You must be famous all over Europe. It makes sense why…”

“Actually, you’re mistaken,” he corrected, his smile dimming just a bit. “No one buys my paintings anymore. My art exhibits have become quite empty. I’ve been living off my savings and selling off my most prized possessions just to keep up with my lifestyle. Money and fame are fleeting, after all.”

“But why?” you asked, genuinely curious. “With paintings like these, I’m sure people would want to buy them.”

“It’s been a while since I painted something like this,” he replied, eyes locking into yours. “My recent works have been more somber. People tend to shy away from dull, lifeless art.”

You hesitated. “Is it because of a lack of inspiration?”

He stood up, smiling softly as if you were the first person to understand. “You could say that.”

Driven by curiosity, you glanced around the room and noticed several paintings concealed beneath dust covers. You looked at him for permission, and he gave it through a simple nod. However, when you pulled the covers back, you were taken aback to find that the paintings depicted intimate, nude portraits of women—women who appeared to belong to high society. To say you were surprised was understatement. You were rather stunned, astounded.  

Rafayel, leaning casually against the wall, seemed to sense your astonishment. “Didn’t expect it, huh?” he asked with a hint of amusement. “Before you get the wrong idea, these are merely commissioned paintings. I didn’t paint them because I’m particularly intrigued with female anatomy or anything.” 

“But they’re live paintings, you say?” you asked, truly amazed by the thought. “I… Wow.” 

He hummed in agreement. “These kinds of paintings were what made me popular. Royals and high society people have a penchant for risqué art. It’s often erotic to them. They love commissioning nude portraits to gift to their husbands. My most significant client was the First Lady of France. I spent three months there, painting her repeatedly until an entire room in the palace was filled with her nude portraits. I even felt like I’m more familiar with every inch of her body than her husband, you know?” he jested just a little before continuing, “Anyway, so word spread about my paintings of the First Lady, and soon enough, French women flocked to have their own portraits done, too.”

You stared at the paintings, the elegant yet provocative depictions of high-society women capturing your attention in a way that you didn’t expect. And you supposed the perfect definition to your emotion right now would be fascination, because it wasn’t anything you had seen before. 

Rafayel’s voice, on the other hand, broke through your thoughts. “It’s strange, isn’t it? How something so intimate and personal can become a symbol of status and power.”

You turned to him with no judgement in your eyes. “It’s admirable, really. You’re very talented.”

Rafayel pushed himself off the wall and walked over to the covered canvases, his fingers lightly grazing the edges of the dust covers. “Most people see me as just another artist, another name on a list of commissioned painters. But this,” he gestured to the paintings, “was what set me apart. It wasn’t just about the art itself but about the allure and the mystique. It drew people in, gave them something to talk about.”

You nodded slowly, absorbing his words. “And now? Does it still hold the same appeal for you?”

His expression may have softened, but a hint of melancholy blanketed his gaze. “Not as much. The thrill has faded. The commissions came, and the fame followed, but it wasn’t as fulfilling as I’d hoped. It’s easy to get lost in the glamor and forget why you started painting in the first place.”

You took a step closer as the air between you silenced into a quiet understanding. “What did you want to achieve? What was it you hoped to find in your art?”

He looked at you with his deep vulnerable eyes. “I wanted to capture the essence of beauty and emotion. I wanted my art to connect with people on a deeper level, to make them feel something genuine. But over time, it became less about that and more about what would sell.”

There was a brief silence as you considered his words. “Then, to me it sounds like you’re looking for something more meaningful.”

“Perhaps.” Rafayel nodded, his gaze turning back to the portraits. “I want to paint again, but not just for the sake of profit or reputation. I want to create something that speaks to who I am, something that brings back that initial spark of passion.”

“Maybe you’ll find that inspiration again.” You plastered an encouraging smile on your face. “Sometimes, the most unexpected encounters can reignite a lost passion.”

“I suppose so. And maybe, finding the right subject or the right moment will make all the difference.”

There was a brief, comfortable silence that settled between you. The intimacy of the moment, coupled with the way Rafayel glanced at your lips, created a sense of attraction that—like a magnet—pulled you closer to him. What was it about this man that drew you in like a moth to a flame?

But you had to think straight, of course. You woke yourself up to the reason why you were even here in the first place. Though, as you finally broke the silence, a small smile played on his lips. “Thank you… Rafayel. I heard about what you did for me. You didn’t need to do that.”

He put a handsome smile on display. “It’s the right thing to do. You don’t deserve to live like that.”

You didn’t want to go into details and ask him about how he found out how Mrs. Hawthorne’s illicit business operated, but you trusted that Rafayel was smart enough to figure it all out. Everything that had led you here; from your attempt to jump off the ship, to him freeing you from the chains of being an ‘entertainer’. It was an unspoken understanding between the savior and the saved.

You stepped closer to him. “I feel terrible, though. You said you sold off some of your belongings to save money, but you ended up spending them for me.”

Rafayel was amused at that, on the other hand. “Hey, I never said I’m completely broke. It’d take at least five more years for that to happen.” 

“Lucky you, then.” You glanced around the room one last time, the paintings now seeming less like mere objects of scandal and more like symbols of Rafayel’s journey as an artist. You respected the nature of his paintings just as he respected you. 

“Wanna get out of here?” he asked, playfully wiggling his eyebrows. 

“To where?”

“To your accommodations down in third-class,” he suggested with a strange glint of excitement in his eyes, taking your hand in his, “I’ve always been curious. Can you show me?” 

~~

There were many things you learned about Rafayel. Firstly, he was an easy-going man who preferred rowdy pubs over formal cotillions. He didn’t care about social classes, something he had proven when you first met him, but watching him effortlessly bond with the other people from the steerage made your heart soften into mush. He began to feel almost unreal to you, like a dream, because you never imagined a man from such a high status could be so genuine, so down-to-earth. Yet, there he was, laughing and enjoying a pint of cheap beer with your fellow third-class passengers, without a scintilla of judgment or hesitation.

Secondly, he could certainly dance. You never saw it coming until he grabbed your hand and pulled you into the makeshift dance floor, inviting you to join him in a playful tap dance together with the other passengers. The lively, upbeat music of the steerage seemed to fuel his spirit far more than the refined, classical tunes often heard in the first-class dining halls. 

“How’d you learn to dance?” you shouted over the music, spinning as Rafayel twirled you with an effortless grace.

He grinned, shrugging casually. “I’d call it au naturel.”

And lastly, he was far more charming than you ever anticipated. Despite his tipsiness, Rafayel remained by your side the entire evening, his presence around you gave way to subtle protectiveness that never wavered throughout the night. What amused you, though, was the reversal of roles—you felt like you were the one guarding him, a vulnerable first-class man surrounded by a roomful of third-class passengers, where he could easily become a target for discomfort or even theft. Yet, much to your relief, nothing of the sort occurred. Instead, his natural charm seemed to win everyone over, defusing any tension that might have arisen.

“Rafayel, please be careful on your way back,” you said, concern evident in your voice as you watched his half-lidded eyes and his unsteady sway from the alcohol. He stood outside your cabin, clearly tipsy. “Do you want me to help you get back up there? I don’t think I can enter past the gates, though.”

He swayed for a moment before leaning in, resting his forehead against yours. His eyes, clouded with intoxication, locked onto yours. “No need. That wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of me.”

You decided to tease him, hoping to break the sexual tension. “Well, getting this close to me isn’t exactly gentlemanly, either, Mr. Rafayel.”

“Touché.” His cool breath fanned across your face as he chuckled. “I guess I’m not much of a gentleman after all.” 

For a moment, you forgot about the crowded halls of the third-class cabins, the distant hum of the ship’s engines, and the people bustling around you. It felt like it was just the two of you, suspended in time. Your heart couldn’t stop racing at an unreasonable pace. 

Rafayel’s smile widened, his lips only a couple inches away from yours. “But if I were, would I have had the pleasure of meeting you?” 

Your heart fluttered in your chest. “Maybe not. But I’m glad you’re here now, gentleman or not.” 

He lingered there for a minute longer, his forehead still resting against yours, before he finally pulled away with a reluctant sigh. “Alright, I should head back… before I lose any more of my honor.” His grin eventually faded into a soft smile as he caressed your cheek with his gentle hand. “I can’t remember the last time I had this much fun, Y/N. Thank you.” 

As romantic and noble as he seemed, you knew your boundaries. You knew your place in society was no way near his. “You’re always welcome here,” you said, gently holding his hand—the one that had touched your cheek. “But you don’t belong down here, so up you go.”

“I’d rather be wherever you are,” he whispered, planting a kiss on your hand and making your heart pound wildly against your chest. 

Though you cherished the moment, you knew it wasn’t the right time. He was under the influence of alcohol, and you worried he might regret his actions and words later. After all, you were a mere woman from the steerage, not someone he could proudly show off and be with. You had nothing to offer, nothing to match his way of living. You only had yourself, but you didn’t know if that was enough. 

With that in mind, you had to keep your composure. Being too ambitious might one day bite you back the hard way.  

“Good night, Rafayel,” you said, taking a step back, watching as he turned and stumbled a little before catching his balance. “Be careful, okay?”

“Always, sweetheart. Always.” He glanced back, flashing you one last grin. Then, with a mischievous wink, he started to make his way back to the upper decks, leaving you with a warmth in your chest that lingered long after he was gone.

If only you two weren’t divided by social classes. 

~~

Slap! 

“What on Earth was that stupid act you pulled down there?!” Arielle’s voice resounded across the room with a harshness Rafayel hadn’t heard from her before. But honestly, the sting of her slap wasn’t what shocked him, it was the way she had shown her true nature from being a sweet, passionate lady into a manipulative, entitled woman who seemed to think she had a claim over him. “I can’t believe you were mingling with those filthy third-class people while I was waiting for you in my suite last night!”

Keeping his head turned in the direction she’d struck, Rafayel clenched his jaw. “You don’t know those people. They’re better than most of the ones up here on this ship.”

“And what?” she snapped, her ocean-blue eyes blazing with fury that almost matched the deep crimson of her hair. “You went down there for some whore? Don’t push me, Rafayel. You are not to see that lowly woman ever again.”

Rafayel’s patience wore thin at the mention of you, and he finally looked up to glare at her. “Stop trying to control me, Arielle.”

“You are my husband-to-be.” Her reminder was more so a warning to him. “It is a privilege for you to be married to me. So start acting the part. You will live by my rules, spend my money, and enjoy the privileges I grant you. Don’t think you’re above your place now, especially with your boring paintings not selling anymore.”

Frankly, Rafayel had never imagined himself marrying this woman. The engagement ring on her finger wasn’t even something he had chosen—it was bought and meticulously picked out by Thomas because Rafayel couldn’t be bothered to find one himself. If he already felt this way about the engagement, how much more about the impending marriage? Her relentless need to control everything was already a nightmare he could clearly see unfolding. And he knew he would never have the freedom to be the man of his own house, always trailing behind her like a shadow, always listening to her commands like a broken man. He would have to obey her every whim like a pathetic servant, living solely for her pleasures and demands. 

The wedding hadn’t even happened yet, but he already wanted to put a pistol to his mouth and end everything. 

“Don’t you dare ruin our reputation by mingling down there again,” she sneered, her voice dripping with disdain as if she were speaking of animals rather than people. “I mean it, Rafayel. You know exactly what I’m capable of doing to that whore.” 

That threat was enough to force him into a tense, angry silence. “...Don’t you dare touch her.” 

Arielle scoffed. Despite the jewelry and makeup that made her quite the face of a luxurious woman, Rafayel could only see how rotten she was on the inside. “I will do what I want if you do not behave yourself.” 

He didn’t even try to console or win her back after she stormed out of the room and slammed the door shut with a loud bang. Why should he? He held no affection for her, and he certainly didn’t care about winning her over. He was even contemplating telling Arielle directly to her face that he wanted to call off the wedding, to let her know he didn’t need her to survive on his own, but things were easier said than done. And more importantly, there were various factors that held him back.

One of them, being his longtime friend and agent, Thomas, who soon entered his private suite. The guy’s lips were already tightened into a thin line as he eyed the red mark on Rafayel’s cheek. “I told you not to get involved with that third-class woman. You’re already engaged to Arielle. Why can’t you just appreciate what you have?” 

Rafayel remained silent, leaning against the table and rubbing his temples in frustration. He couldn’t believe that the person closest to him would be the first to side with someone else.

“And can we talk about why you paid that shady woman, Hawthorne, to release the third-class girl from being a hostess?” Thomas continued. “Her problems are none of your business. You’re just involving yourself in all these rumors.”

Rafayel’s eyes hardened. “You know Y/N didn’t consent to that situation. She was clearly deceived into it—didn’t you see her nearly jumping off the ship trying to escape those men? Helping her was the right thing to do. She has a mother and sister waiting for her.”

“This is not about what’s right or wrong. It’s about maintaining appearances. And if you start ignoring the rules for everyone you meet, you’ll find yourself in quite a predicament.” His agent stared at him blankly, sighing. “It’s not just about you, Raf. Your aunt Talia—she’s counting on you. She’s the only family you have left. She invested everything she had to support your career, hoping that you would make something of yourself. But things didn’t turn out the way we all had hoped for, did it? Besides, this marriage isn’t just a contract. It’s a way to secure your future and her well-being.”

He could feel his jaw tightening at the clear attempt to draw guilt from him. “I’m aware of what my aunt did for me, but this isn’t what she envisioned for me. She wanted me to be happy, to succeed on my own terms, not to be trapped in a marriage I didn’t ask for.”

“You’re being short-sighted,” pointed out Thomas, “By marrying Arielle, you secure not only your future but also Talia’s. You know she’s been struggling with her health. She needs to know that you’re stable, that you’re not making reckless decisions that could jeopardize her security. If you back out now, it could destroy her.”

Rafayel’s gaze dropped to the floor as his mind grappled into a whirlwind of conflicting emotions—frustration, guilt, and helplessness. 

“Is this really about me,” Rafayel said quietly, “or is it about what will happen if I defy you?”

“I know Arielle isn’t the kindest person,” Thomas continued, ignoring his question. “But sometimes, we have to make sacrifices for the greater good. And this marriage might not be perfect, but it’s a step towards securing everything you’ve worked for. It’s what will keep Talia safe and secure, not some fleeting romance on a ship or a misguided impulse.”

Rafayel’s silence became pregnant with contemplation. He was ultimately speechless, not because he agreed with his agent, but because the tables had turned in a way where the guilt and pressure was now placed on his shoulders squarely. 

Sensing his deep thoughts, Thomas stepped closer and placed a hand on Rafayel’s shoulder with a reassuring grip. “Think about it carefully. The right decision isn’t always the easiest one, but it’s often the one that will ensure a future worth living.”

~~

Another day had passed since that fateful night when Rafayel had pulled you from the brink of ending your life. 

You had already settled back into the confines of the steerage, trying to adjust to the routine of your life as best as you could while Mrs. Hawthorne stuck to her word of leaving you alone. But as each supposedly normal day went by, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing. The brief moments you had shared with Rafayel suddenly felt like a distant dream, and you wondered if it was all just a fleeting impulse on his part. 

Did he actually regret spending time with you that night? Getting to know you? Opening his heart to you? Despite the joy he seemed to express, you wondered if he felt disgusted with his actions the moment he woke up sober. Because as kind and down-to-Earth as Rafayel appeared, he was still part of the wealthy elite, like the rest of them. He was born into a rich household, accustomed to the life of high society, and it wouldn’t be all too surprising for him to view the unsophisticated passengers of the third-class as pitiful. 

But a small part of you believed Rafayel was better than that. No, he was more genuine than that. 

It was early in the morning when you found yourself drawn to the upper decks from your humble area in the third-class decks. You watched the first-class passengers from the starboard side, trying to catch a glimpse of the man who had saved your life and made you feel special. He should be there somewhere. Some place where the sun had risen. After all, didn’t he say you could come find him anytime? Your eyes searched aimlessly through the crowd, hoping for a sign, a familiar face. 

Until he appeared.

Rafayel stopped by the railing, engaged in a conversation with the captain of the ship. Next to him was a graceful woman clinging on his arm, a girl with luscious red hair, pearlescent skin, and crystal blue eyes. The dress she wore was bedight with intricate patterns, sewn carefully through hours of labor to highlight the detailed gold threads on the satin dress. She was about the same age as you, it seemed, but her aura was the epitome of elegance and wealth, someone you could never be. Though, despite the distance, you could see the tension in Rafayel’s posture and the way he didn’t appear to be present in the conversation at all.

Then, he happened to have looked in your direction. 

Contrary to the expectations in your head, he didn’t greet you with a familiar smile or a friendly wave. No, he avoided your eyes not even two seconds after he met your gaze. It was as if he was intentionally keeping his distance, and the sight left you feeling inexplicably hollow.

“Hang on,” you could hear one of your cabin roommates say, “Isn’t that the gentleman from first-class who danced with us?” 

“Who’s that woman next to him?” 

“Oh, first-class people. They’re all the same.” 

“Did he just ignore you, Y/N?”

He did. And it hurt in a way you didn’t expect. You couldn’t quite understand your feelings or why they were so intense when you should have anticipated this, should have expected it. Or did you really believe he could be some sort of prince charming who would fall for a poor woman after meeting her for a few days? This was no fairytale. 

God, but it was unbearable—the silence, the misunderstandings, the thought. As foolish as it might sound, you needed to hear it from him directly. Growing fond of Rafayel was already an abyss you had thrown yourself into, and you were willing to walk that path just to speak to him again.

You weren’t sure how you did it so well, but by using the same old trick, you were able to sneak into the first-class deck smoothly. The transition from steerage to first-class was blunt, and you already knew you had to yet again play the role of a wealthy woman, or at least a nouveau riche, just to blend in. But that wasn’t what you were focusing on this journey, you weren’t there to dillydally with the elite. You were there to see a certain amaranthine-haired man who had saved your life countless times in this ship. 

When you spotted Rafayel slipping into a private room—the same room where he painted, you followed him like a spy, hoping not to be seen or caught by other onlookers in the area. You still had the decency to knock softly at first, but when there was no answer, you decided to let yourself in. The room was dimly lit, with rich, velvet drapes decorating the walls. And the smell of paint and canvas was an unmistakable association to him. Of Rafayel, who was there standing by a large window, his back to you.

“Rafayel,” you said softly, taking a tentative step forward but inexplicably drawn to his beautiful, radiant face. “Hi.”

He turned to look at you in an unwelcome surprise, however. “What are you doing here? You can’t be here.”

You closed the door behind you, the soft click signaling your privacy. “I just… I don’t know why I’m here. Frankly, I just wanted to see you. I wanted to understand if I did something wrong.”

There was guilt in his eyes, you saw that. But he was quick to cloud it with a look of resistance. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” he said in a neutral tone, his eyes avoiding yours. “It’s just... it’s complicated.”

“Complicated?” you repeated. “It’s because I’m from steerage, isn’t it…”

“No,” Rafayel interrupted firmly, as if the thought was absurd. “It’s not about where you come from. That doesn’t matter to me.”

You felt the distance he was placing between you two as you stood in front of him, not wanting to wear your heart on your sleeve. But it did sting. The way he was struggling to meet your eyes, the way he was looking at anywhere but you. 

“I have a fiancé,” he dropped the hard cold truth, “I’m engaged, and it’d be disrespectful for me to spend time with another woman behind her back.”

The revelation struck you like lightning, probably worse than the impact it would have on you if you had jumped off the ship that other night. “...I see.” 

“I apologize,” he quickly added, still averting the direction of his gaze. “I didn’t mean to lead you on.”

There must be a logical reason why he had never mentioned his fiancé the moment he had met you. But whatever it was, the pieces of the puzzle were falling into place, and yet, the complete picture remained frustratingly out of reach. The pain in your chest was undeniable, truly, but you tried to mask it with a smile. You knew when and how to feign a calm composure in the most critical situations. 

“If that’s how it is,” you said quietly, “then I understand. I just needed to know.”

Rafayel’s eyes were an amalgam of shame and despair. “I’m sorry. You should leave before anyone sees you here.”

You didn’t wish to carry any grudge or bitterness towards a man who saved your life. If anything, you were still grateful for everything he did for you up to this point. You were happy that while you were drowning in a sea of despair, he became the buoy that you could hold onto. Even for a short, fleeting moment. So, despite the ache in your heart, you brought it upon yourself to show appreciation for one last time. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll leave you alone now,” you spoke softly and faintly, “But before I go, I just want to say, Rafayel, that you are the most talented artist I have ever met. I admire your eye for art… I do, and also your passion for what you love. I hope that when this ship docks, you’ll find all the inspiration you need to create wonderful paintings again. I hope you never lose faith in yourself, because I know you’ll make it big out there. Even bigger than you already are, I can see it happening. You are an amazing person and a blessing to everyone around you, Raf. I wish you and your fiancé all the best.”

You didn’t wait for his response, neither did you look at his eyes and hope for him to stop you. He didn’t need to. You knew your place, and it wasn’t anywhere near him or any part of the first-class rooms and amenities. It was at the bottom of this ship, in a small cabin with two bunk beds and your limited garments. Their world was not meant for you. 

It never was.

~~

“So, when’s the big day?”

As usual, the grand dining hall was abuzz with the chatter and clinking of expensive cutlery. The long table was set with exquisite silverware, and the servants moved about with practiced grace, ensuring every need was met with precision that defined the excellent service of the White Star Line crew. Yet, despite the utmost grandeur of the setting, Rafayel felt strangely detached.

He sat at the head of the table, surrounded by the elite passengers of the Titanic, staring blankly at the plate in front of him. Little did everyone know, his thoughts kept drifting back to the conversation he had had with you yesterday. The way you had looked at him with those searching eyes, the way you had quietly accepted the painful truth he had laid bare. The image of your hurt expression haunted him, so much so that he disregarded the polished and pretentious world that now surrounded him.

Arielle was there seated beside him, and was occupied in an animated conversation with a group of socialites. Her laughter was light, her gestures demure and sophisticated, but to Rafayel, it all seemed pretentious. He knew she was only trying to look happy on the surface, trying to keep up with the appearances. She often glanced his way, her eyes carrying annoyance whenever he didn’t respond to her attempts to include him in the conversation. It was clear she was treating him as nothing more than a decorative accessory to her social standing, rather than—as she called it—a future husband. The more he observed her, the more he felt like a mere piece of furniture, simply existing for her to use.

The disparity between this world and the brief moments of freedom he had experienced with you in the steerage was jarring. The laughter, the warmth, the raw honesty of those times were replaced by the superficial chatter and insincere pleasantries of the elite. The perfect lives they spoke of in high society wasn’t where he wanted his art to thrive. They were of no raw and unfiltered essence as the dreams you spoke of and the hardships you had endured. Your ability to find beauty in even the smallest things was where visions of empowerment bloom. 

And in realizing that, he knew, all along, that you were the inspiration he had long been searching for.

“Darling?” Arielle’s hand rested lightly on his arm, a gesture meant to convey affection but to Rafayel felt like a shackle. She leaned in close, her voice a sultry whisper that he barely registered. “Rafayel, are you even listening? Everyone’s talking about our wedding. Aren’t you excited?”

“Of course, Arielle,” he said, forcing a smile before his gaze wandered to the window, where the sun was beginning to set over the horizon. He wondered where you were or how you were doing. Were you singing your heart out somewhere? Dancing with your friends down at the steerage? Drinking happily with fellow passengers who didn’t care about money or status or anything of the sort?

Truth be told, things began to strike him with a painful clarity. He knew long ago that the inspiration he had once sought was never meant to be found among the pomp and pretense of high society. But only now did he open his eyes to the times that had breathed life into his art, that had given him a glimpse of something real and meaningful. And they were moments with you.

But how could he have that inspiration now when the vibrant muse that had sparked his creativity was out of reach? 

Rafayel’s gaze fell to his plate, the food before him growing cold and unappetizing. “Excuse me.”

~~

Come Josephine… in my flying machine 

Going up she goes, up she goes 

The cold wind nipped at your cheeks as you stood at the bow of the ship, singing under your breath, and gazing out at the endless expanse of ocean stretching before you. The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of pink and gold, as if the universe itself was offering an evanescent moment of beauty in a world that often felt so cruel. 

Balance yourself like a bird on a beam

In the air she goes, there she goes

You gripped the railing tightly, feeling the ship’s gentle sway beneath your feet, wondering how easily Rafayel would have captured the landscape forever in his canvas. You closed your eyes, letting the wind wash over you, trying to gather your thoughts, trying to push away the feeling of longing that had settled deep in your chest.

But then you heard it—the soft crunch of footsteps approaching from behind. You knew, even before turning, who it was. Your heart instantly tightened in your chest, holding your breath as you felt his presence come nearer. Slowly, you turned around, finding Rafayel standing there, his purple hair catching the light of the setting sun, his eyes apologetic and full of yearning.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled his words, taking a deep breath. “I lied to you.”

You felt a pang in your chest, both relief and hurt swelling inside you. “Why… are you saying this?” you asked softly, your eyes never leaving his. “Didn’t you regret everything?”

“No,” was his swift answer, shaking his head slowly and stepping closer. “No, I didn’t regret getting closer to you. Not for a second.” He then paused, only for his voice to break just a little. “But I was bound by obligations. Bound by things that I thought would help me and the people I care about. It’s all materialistic and I’m ashamed to admit it to you.”

You turned back toward the ocean, gripping the railing as the wind whipped through your hair. In that moment, truthfully, staring at the endless sea felt like you were flying. “Because I’m from third-class? Because I won’t understand your world?”

“No, it was never about that,” Rafayel replied urgently, stepping closer until he was beside you. Until he was holding you by the waist, both hands securing you from behind. “I’ve been living a life that was never mine. About to marry a woman I don’t love, painting for people I despise, pretending to fit into a place that feels like a prison. And then I met you.”

“Raf…” You could feel the changing rhythm of your heart as you turned to face him, searching his face, trying to understand. “She’ll give you a better life. You deserve to have a woman of the same class as you.” 

“I don’t understand why we’re kept apart by such rigid lines. There’s so much more to life than these divisions,” he spoke in a troubled expression, his hand lifting to brush a strand of hair from your face. “The truth is, I can’t stop thinking about you. About how you made me feel alive again, how you gave me the inspiration I’d been longing to find.”

The sincerity in his voice made your heart melt, allowing your walls to break. “This sounds ridiculous, but I’ve missed you,” you admitted softly, your hand still under his, feeling the warmth of his touch despite the cold wind around you. “I wanted to forget you, but I couldn’t…”

“I don’t want you to forget me,” he whispered, leaning closer as a pained smile tugged at his lips. “I want to be the one you remember. I want… I want to be the reason you smile, the reason you feel alive.”

You felt a tear escape your eye, and he gently brushed it away with his thumb. “Rafayel, I—”

“I’m done pretending,” declared he, “I just want to be with you, for however long we have. I don’t care what it costs me.”

Was this real? Your heart felt like it was about to burst, and you were scared that this might just be a dream, an illusion that you would soon wake up from. But then he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your face. “May I?” he asked, his eyes flickering to your lips.

And you nodded, you allowed it. A soft gasp escaped your mouth as his lips captured yours in a deep, searching kiss. The world seemed to fade away as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer as you kissed him back with all the pent-up emotions you’d been holding onto for days. His lips were warm and soft, encasing yours in a passionate lock, while his tongue was sweet and tender, exploring your mouth in a loving, burning kiss.

For a moment, there was only the sensation of his lips on yours, the taste of the sea in the air, the feel of his heart beating against yours. The world, the ship, everything around you seemed to disappear, leaving just the two of you on the edge of the world.

~~

“We’re going to get caught—!” There was an obvious hint of nervous laughter in your voice as both of you giggled while racing through the corridors of the first-class halls.

“Shh,” he hushed you with a grin, placing a finger to his lips. “We’re almost there.”

All the while, Rafayel held your hand tightly as he guided you toward his private room. The thrill of sneaking around, hidden from prying eyes, seemed to fill him with a rush of adrenaline. But you couldn’t blame him, for you certainly shared the same thrill. There was a certain excitement in having you there, in his world, in his arms, like you belonged to him.

And he was right about being near. Because just a few more steps down the corridor, he finally stopped in front of one of the larger doors and pulled you into a lavish suite that seemed like an entirely different dimension. And good lord, you could hardly believe your eyes. Even though you had heard countless descriptions of the luxury on this ship, seeing it with your own eyes felt undeniably surreal. Left and right, no matter where you looked, the room was adorned with rich furnishings, a plush king-sized bed piled high with soft pillows, and even a private fireplace to keep the cold at bay during the night. His private suite alone was the size of ten basic cabins in the steerage. You didn’t bother asking the cost of his boarding ticket, knowing full well that it was more than what you could ever afford in your lifetime. 

To be able to throw so much money away for a mere couple nights on a ship, though, you couldn’t imagine yourself doing that. 

“Wow,” you marveled nonetheless, spinning around in awe while Rafayel watched your delight with a warm smile, leaning in to kiss your temple. “Your room is enormous.” 

“Can you stay right here for a second?” he asked, violet eyes meeting yours. “And close your eyes while you’re at it.” 

“Okay…” Curious but trusting, you smiled and shut your eyes, wondering what he was up to or what he was planning. It wasn’t long until you heard the faint sounds of rustling, drawers being opened and closed, the click of a safe, and then his footsteps as he returned behind you. “Are you done?” 

“There’s something I want to give you.” His raspy voice nearly tickled your ear. When you opened your eyes, you realized you were in front of a mirror, and you could see him from behind as he opened a velvet box and fished out a stunning, glistening heart-shaped blue diamond. Best believe your mouth was on the floor right at the next second. You were simply awestricken, and anyone who would look at it with a straight face was absurd. The jewel sparkled with an otherworldly brilliance, reflecting the tiny specks of light from the chandelier, yet maintaining its regal, deep blue color.

“The Heart of the Ocean,” you gasped, recognizing it instantly. It was a gem of legend, one you had only ever heard about in whispered tales when you were a little girl. “How… how did you get this?”

“The First Lady of France gave it to me,” he patiently explained while bearing a wistful smile. “It’s her token of gratitude for the time I spent painting her. Thomas insists it to be my gift—a dowry, actually—for Arielle.” He paused, his kaleidoscopic eyes staring at you through the mirror. “But now I realize it belongs to someone else entirely.”

Disbelief coursed through you. “Wait, I-I don’t understand. You can’t be serious…?”

“I am,” was his confirmation, stepping closer with a sincere gaze. With a delicate touch, he lifted the necklace and draped the cool, weighty chain around your neck. His fingers brushed softly against your skin as he fastened the clasp, then he leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of your neck. “You’re the one who deserves this and everything I have to give.” 

You stared at the gem resting just above your heart, its blue depths shimmering like the ocean beyond the ship. It felt like a treasure meant for someone else, someone more deserving. For an ordinary girl, you felt undeserving of such a rare, exquisite gem. “It’s… stunning,” you breathed, your fingers grazing its cool surface. “But why give it to me?”

“Because you’re the one who holds my heart,” Rafayel whispered, his voice low and filled with emotion. “I want you to have it… to know that you’re more precious to me than any jewel.”

“Rafayel!” Your heart swelled, and you turned to face him, feeling a rush of emotions you couldn’t quite put into words. You could feel tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, wondering what you did in your past life to be blessed with such a man. “I don’t deserve this—I don’t deserve you.”

“You deserve everything and more, my sweet.” His words held all the sincerity and genuineness you had to hear. “I want to capture the way I see you right now. Will you let me paint you?”

Heat permeated your cheeks at his request, but you were willing. More than willing to be his muse. “I’d be honored,” you said, your voice steady despite the flutter of nerves in your chest. An intimate idea suddenly formed in your head. “But if I’m to wear something so special… I want to do it right. I want you to paint me like one of your French girls, Rafayel. Wearing only this.”

~~

Being in the middle of the Atlantic exposed you to the cold, freezing temperatures. 

Yet, how come Rafayel’s room felt quite… hot? 

Perhaps it was the crackling fireplace offering the heated atmosphere. But you weren’t sure if it was really just that. Your heart pounded at an erratic pace, racing with every beat as you watched Rafayel arrange the couch in the middle. Meanwhile, you stood on the side, a thin robe on, as he padded the pillow before settling into his seat. It’s now or never, you thought as you released a breath you didn’t know you were holding. I shouldn’t be nervous around him. 

“Monsieur,” you teased, taking in slow, measured steps in front of him. “Your muse is ready.” 

The artist himself was blushing. His cheeks were limned with a deep rosy red, clearing his throat and trying to avoid looking at places he shouldn’t be. He gestured to the cushioned couch, his voice a bit shaky as he fought to keep his focus on the task at hand. “Uh, you can… you can sit there.” 

You wondered whether this was considered you betraying your principles by willingly exposing yourself to him. Had you become a hypocrite, denying advances from wealthy men as an entertainer, but now willingly revealing yourself to someone of the same class? Not long ago, you were just running away from said first-class men, despising every inch of your skin that they desired to touch. So, why were you here? Why didn’t you feel the same way?

Firstly, Rafayel was different. He was respectful, kind, and everything the others were not. You could feel the sincerity in his gaze, the way he looked at you as though you were something precious. He saw you like you were the art, not his paintings, nor the landscapes. You. And so, you began to slowly undress, letting your robe fall to the floor, and immediately feeling the cool air hugging your bare skin. Rafayel’s gaze remained fixed on you, full of reverence and awe, as though he were witnessing something profoundly sacred.

When all that was left was the blue diamond nestled against your naked figure, you moved to the couch he had arranged and lay on your side on the cushions. Rafayel took a deep breath, as if steadying himself, and then moved to his easel with his brushes in hand. “Stay still, sweetheart. Move your left hand a little closer to your face.”

You did as told, shifting awkwardly on the couch to place yourself in the exact position he had envisioned for his art. Dear God, the tension was surely eating at you. You knew he could feel it, too. Especially when his eyes fell to the intimate places of your body—admiring, studying. Your best move was to clear your throat and break the ice. “Not so professional now, are we, Monsieur Rafayel?” 

He was mixing his paint as you teased him, the corner of his lips being pulled into an upward slope. “I am very professional, just so you know.” You were glad to hear him returning the small banter. “Now, don’t be moving your mouth too much, sweetheart. Save it for later.”

“Hey!”

“Just kidding.”  

The hours eventually passed in a delicate silence. You didn’t catch when exactly the awkwardness had begun to fade, but now, the only sound in this quiet room was the soft, rhythmic strokes of his brush against the canvas. You felt his eyes on you, studying every line and curve, every shadow and light, capturing not just your likeness but something deeper—something more human. It was as if he was painting not just your body but your soul, the very essence of who you were.

You remained still for him like a doll, and throughout it, all you could think about was this moment. Him. This encounter. Despite the initial horrors your job as entertainer presented, everything still led you to this—to Rafayel. To the man who saw you as the true art, not the colors he was blending in his canvas. 

Were things too good to be true? 

It took some time, probably a good hour or two when he finally pulled away from his canvas, his breath coming in soft, quiet exhales. You could see the emotion in his eyes as he gazed at the finished piece. “This is how I’ll always remember you,” Rafayel said, dreamy eyes staring right back at you. “As the one who wore my heart.”

Overwhelmed by the tenderness in his gaze, by the raw, unguarded love that radiated from his every word, you stood, crossing the room to him where he met you halfway and pulled you into his arms. You felt his heartbeat against yours, his breath warm against your ear.

“You are amazing,” you whispered against his shoulder, holding him tightly. “Thank you for seeing me.”

And for that moment, there was nothing else in the world but the two of you, entwined in each other’s embrace, lost in the profound connection that had brought you both together on the edge of this endless ocean. To forget about everything and everyone seemed to be the lingering thought in your heads, and it manifested in the way his hands trailed down your curves, pulling you closer to him. Your lips were inches away, a proximity so near that you could feel his minty breath fanning your face. 

“Beautiful,” he spoke in a hushed voice, face mesmerized by the sight of you. “I want to kiss you.” 

“Then, kiss me,” you replied, your fingers reaching up to his collar, gently pulling him down. Nothing stopped you when you pressed your lips to his in a passionate, fervent kiss. Nothing prevented you when your fingers began to work on the buttons of his shirt with slow and deliberate movements. The fabric of his shirt soon fell away, revealing the lean, muscular contours of his torso. You trailed kisses along his chest, savoring the feel of his warm skin beneath your lips. “I’m yours, Rafayel,” you breathed back into his mouth as the kiss deepened, catching your breath between each shared moment. “Touch me, feel me, do whatever you want with me. I want you just the same.”

“You drive me crazy,” he grunted under his breath, hands roaming over your body. His touch confirmed to you that the desire was mutual, driven by an urgent need to connect on a level beyond words. His hands moved with a gentle yet insistent hunger, caressing the curve of your waist, exploring the delicate arch of your back. And in your ardent lip-locking exchange, you could feel the slopes of your breasts being pressed against his chest. Rafayel then bit your lower lip, fully submitting to his carnal desires, before reaching down to give your bum a tight squeeze. 

“R-Raf.” 

“Tell me if you want to stop—”

“Don’t stop. Don’t.” 

With your consent, he guided you to sit up on the couch, not knowing how his touch ignited an inextinguishable fire within you. While on his lap, you moved your body against his and traced your fingers along his collarbone, down to the ridges of his abdomen, feeling the heat of his body beneath your fingertips. He returned the favor by cupping your mounds, massaging the plump flesh as if he was desperate to feel how soft they were. 

One thing led to another. And before you knew it, you were already crawling out of his lap, only to kneel on the carpeted floor in between his knees, undoing the buttons of his trousers. Your eyes widened as soon as you released his aching member from the confines of his undergarment, revealing a handsome size that was proportionate to his height. 

“Don’t stare at it like that,” he whined, cheeks flushed red as he leaned back on the couch, wrapping a hand around his shaft. Who knew Rafayel can get quite shy, too?

You found it adorable, if anything. But the equal lust you shared in your gazes remained on each other, even as you joined his hands at doing the job. Up and down did you stroke his length, watching him hold back a moan, only to crumble as soon as you decided to replace your hand with your mouth. It’s warm, you heard him say. It feels good, sweetheart. His cute little groans were in fact a pleasure for you to hear, encouraging you to do better at bobbing your head and sucking his entire length. You didn’t care about the string of saliva that appeared when you released his member with a pop, now using your tongue and dragging it from the base to the tip, where it swirled itself around until his cock began to twitch. 

“How’d you learn these things?” Rafayel’s quiet groan was more so a jealous complaint. But he couldn’t take it anymore, he had to have you. He had to have a taste of you, too. 

So to your surprise, he suddenly carried you in his arms, moving in a rush as you shifted from the couch to the bed. His movements were clearly driven by a primal need to leave his mark on you, to feel each other in the most intimate way. Because you didn’t expect him to lay you gently on his bed, climbing on top of you like a hungry shark who was ready to devour a small fish. 

He started with your neck of course, feathering soft, tender kisses around the skin before moving to your breasts, alternating between squeezing and sucking the flesh, nipping and biting at your nipple. It didn’t surprise you to see him hungrily trapping your breast in a tight suction, revealing a red mark that would later be the same color as his hair. 

“R-Rafayel.” By now, you were arching your back, legs spread open as he began to descend further and further until he met the perfect spot. Him staring at your womanhood almost made you wish to close the distance between your thighs, but he didn’t allow it. In fact, he was quick to dive head-on into your sopping cunt, lapping the entrance with his tongue—teasing and exploring your walls, your insides, until you were screaming his name. “R-Raf—! Mhm…!” 

“You taste so sweet,” he spoke under his breath, encircling his thumb on your sensitive bud before looking back at your slit, slightly spreading them apart to look at the exact hole he was about to enter. And he did. He didn’t hesitate one bit at positioning his fully erect manhood on your entrance, its tip soaked by the wetness of your core before he eventually slid himself right in. A series of curses were released by him, while as for you, the dulcet melody of your moans were just what he needed to hear. “Damn it, Y/N… You feel really good.” 

“Ngh—! Y-You—aaah!” You could feel your body being dragged back and forth, your hips being jostled as he continued to sink himself into you. His pace started slow and sensual at first, relishing the way your bodies intertwined, moving together with a fluid grace. At the same time, his kisses were soft and sweet, exploring every inch of your collarbone, while your own nails clawed at his back in the same passion. You felt it—him, the tip of his member hitting your sensitive spot and sending you into a euphoric trance. Every time his cock kissed your cervix, you were a moaning mess, your legs shaking violently at the electrifying pleasure spreading all over your body. He was inside you, all of him. “Haaah!” 

The act itself was a beautiful, raw expression of the desire that had been building between you. You moved together with a synchrony that transcended mere physicality knowing that it wasn’t just an act of sex, but an exchange of love. 

As you reached the peak of your intimacy, the world outside ceased to exist. There was only the two of you, lost in a moment of pure, unadulterated passion. And when the waves of pleasure finally subsided, you lay together, wrapped in each other’s arms. The residues of Rafayel’s love for you remained in between your thighs, a visual proof of the passion he harbored for you.

Rafayel’s breath was heavy, but his body relaxed against yours. He held you close, his touch gentle now, with the intensity of the earlier moments shifting to tender intimacy. “Once the ship docks in New York,” he said in a soft whisper. “Come with me. I want to leave everything behind and start new with you. Let’s both figure it out, together.”

You nestled closer to him, feeling the warmth of his body and the steady beat of his heart against yours. At that moment, it was as if everything had fallen into place. “Together.” 

~~

On the night of April 14th, everything on the ship took a daunting turn. 

Literally. But before you could get to that part, you were strolling the first-class decks at the time, hand-in-hand with Rafayel, as he escorted you to the exit.

“Must you really go back down there?” he asked softly, embracing you in his toned, protective arms. “Can’t you stay here with me? Just for a little while longer?”

You looked up at him, your heart aching at the thought of leaving him for a while. But you knew you had to honor the constraints of your position because the risk of discovery was too great to ignore. Especially for his part. “I wish I could stay,” you replied, pulling away to squeeze his hand. “But I can’t. I need to go back to steerage for now, and then we’ll find a way to meet again.”

“I’ll come to you, every day.” Rafayel acted like a stubborn kid as a frown played across his features. Yet, he still leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that lingered a little over a minute. 

What interrupted your romantic moment was the sudden sound of shouting and panicked voices that erupted from the bow of the ship. The noise was chaotic, and it immediately turned into a cacophony of warnings and vigilance as the watchmen, officers, and quartermasters ran about, speaking jargons you could barely interpret. You both pulled apart, the intensity of the moment breaking as the shouts grew louder, more frantic. Something was dangerously off. 

“What’s going on?” you asked, your voice laced with worry.

Rafayel, his expression now a mask of alarm, could only hold you closer. “I don’t know, but we need to find out.”

You didn’t need to be told. The shudder of the ship, the deafening screech against the starboard side, and the massive iceberg passing slowly by were all the signs you needed to understand the gravity of the situation.

The Titanic struck an iceberg. 

“Aaah!” 

“Watch out!” 

“Rafayel.” You turned to your lover, the fear in your eyes mirrored by the shock and disbelief in his face. “I’m scared.” 

“It’s okay.” He pulled you gently but urgently, soothing your worries by rubbing your back in comfort. “I don’t think it’s serious. I’m sure this ship’s made to withstand that much impact—”

“You saw it with your own eyes, Raf!” It was the irrational fear consuming you, leading you to overthink everything as you saw how the crew members and officers alike were running in every direction, their faces pale with fear. “The iceberg… We’re not safe. You know we aren’t.” 

As you both stepped into the corridor, the commotion was unmistakable. And he himself knew he could not play the situation as something trivial. Because otherwise, the ship’s own crewmen wouldn’t have been as alarmed. It didn’t help that Rafayel also caught Mr. Andrews, the very man who designed the ship, clutching rolls of blueprints as he hurried to meet the captain.

“Mr. Andrews.” Rafayel stopped him before he could walk any further. “How serious is it? We saw the iceberg.” 

The respectable man looked between you two, his eyes clouded with an apologetic haze. Though, staying calm appeared natural to him, only giving Rafayel a gentle pat on the shoulder and urging him to make his way to safety. “Make sure to wear your life jackets and secure yourselves a spot on the lifeboats available. And also,” he paused, swallowing hard. “Try not to cause panic to other passengers for now. All rationality is lost the moment fear strikes.” 

While you and Rafayel hoped to hear a more reassuring answer, of words saying that the issue at hand wasn’t anything to be alarmed about, Mr. Andrews’ words were clear. 

The ship was about to sink.

~~

It was your decision to inform only the closest people you knew about the unsightly situation. But it was Rafayel who requested if you could both let Thomas know first, seeing as he simply couldn’t abandon his longtime friend. Despite their disagreements, he had been there for him in his artistic journey, and never not once gave up on supporting Rafayel’s dreams. He was family to him, one way or another, and that was why Rafayel insisted he had to know. 

So, you did. Rafayel and you, hearts racing and hands intertwined, made your way back to his first-class suite, both determined to find Thomas and inform him of the dire situation. In your short walk, the stewards were already scrambling about, opening doors, shouting and instructing everyone to put on their life jackets. 

“Everyone, please put your lifebelts on and come up to the deck!”

“Can you tell me what’s going on, please? I felt the ship shudder.” 

“Madam, there is no cause for alarm. This is just a precaution. Now put your lifebelts on, please.”

Meanwhile, as you reached the door to Rafayel’s suite, you were met with an unexpected and unsettling audience. The Master at Arms, his security personnel, and Thomas stood in the hallway, their faces grim and serious. But it was Arielle who stood out, with the reason being…

“You!” Arielle’s voice immediately cut through the hubbub like a blade as she stormed up to you, her vibrant blue eyes electrifying you with her anger. Without a moment’s hesitation, she grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked you toward her. The stretch on your scalp was sharp, but the shock of her attack was what shook you to the core. “You wretched little thief!” she spat, her voice dripping with venom as she threw you onto the floor, kicking you, smacking you, and pulling your hair. “You lowly whore! Trying to seduce my fiancé and worm your way into his life!”

You winced, trying to free yourself from her grasp. “I-It hurts!” 

“Arielle, stop! Stop hurting her!” Rafayel’s voice was fierce and desperate as he lunged to intervene, trying to wrench Arielle’s hand away from you, but to no avail. She was unstoppable. And his efforts were futile against her relentless aggression. “Enough! Let her go!”

“You slept with this whore?!” Arielle’s face twisted with rage as she sent a crisp slap to his face. The hurt. The betrayal. You could understand why she felt that way and you wanted to apologize, to beg on her knees not to pour her anger out on Rafayel, but she already turned to the officers and Thomas, her voice rising in a commanding tone. “Gentlemen, this woman has been sneaking into the first-class areas illegally! She’s been trying to lure in first-class men, including my fiancé. She should be sent down to steerage and locked up immediately. She’s a threat to the order of this ship!”

The officers, unsure of what to do, looked to Rafayel for guidance. He was just pulling you to him, protecting you in his arms, as he shot his fiancé a glare. “Arielle, enough, will you?! We have more pressing issues right now and we need to focus on that—”

“If you won’t do it, then I will cause a scene on this ship!” Arielle’s eyes narrowed as she watched him hold you close. “I’ll make a huge scandal out of this!” 

The officers, now caught between their duty and Arielle’s demands, began to move toward you with a forceful stance. They were already firm with the decision to take you away, in spite of your resistance, as you looked at Rafayel for any sort of help. 

“Come with us, miss!” 

“N-No… Rafayel,” you pleaded, your voice trembling. “Help me. Please.”

“Don’t touch her!” Rafayel’s fiery gaze didn’t intimidate the officers, even as he tried to retrieve you back from their grasps. But Thomas had intervened, pulling his friend back, and ensuring he wouldn’t meddle any further. “Thomas, let me go—they’re taking Y/N away! She did nothing wrong! It was all me!” 

The Master at Arms stepped in between, glancing at an enraged Arielle and a pitiful you. What did you expect? The rich were always favored, and the poor oppressed. You would never win against her in a tug of war. “We’ll send her back to where she belongs, Madam. You can rest easy now.” 

“Nooo!” 

The last thing you saw before being forced out of sight was Rafayel’s anguished face, pain and sorrow clinging into every line of his expression as he heard your screams, saw your tears, and felt your fear at being taken harshly away. 

You knew, right at that moment, that this was only the beginning of an impending maritime disaster.

~~

The cold, metal bars of the brig felt like a cage around your body and soul, confining you to the sterile environment below decks and reminding you exactly of just where you belonged—at the bottom. In your confinement, your breath came in shallow gasps as you heard the muffled commotion of the crew members outside, the frantic shouts, and the loud creaking of the ship. They had locked you in here, unjustly accused and abandoned, and now, trapped.

Your eyes darted toward the small porthole above, the glass fogging up with your breath. You could see the deep blue water sloshing against it, confirming your worst fears that the majestic Titanic was indeed sinking before your eyes.

“Help! Help me!” It would only be a matter of time until you’d drown in this confined space, and there was nothing you could do to stop it. There was no knight in shining armor like Rafayel ready to save you. Even if you screamed for help, your voice raw and desperate, there was still no response except the relentless sound of rushing water.

And speaking of, the icy water began to seep under the door, slowly flooding the room you were kept in like a prisoner. You could feel the coldness against your feet, then your legs, creeping higher with every passing minute. Or two. Or three. 

“Damn it, it’s so cold!” The fear clawed at you, and your heart pounded in your chest as you continued to scream, your voice hoarse and breaking in the process. You cried and let your screaming voice echo through the confined space. But the water continued to rise, and still, no one came. “Help! Please… someone… anyone!” 

In a couple minutes more, your body began to tremble, and a fusion of cold and fear overtook you as the water reached almost past your thighs. The panic only set in deeper, and your breathing became staggered as you struggled with an attack of anxiety. Anyone in your state would have passed out by now, surely. But you tried not to give up as you pounded on the door, hoping that someone would hear you. Or that God himself have mercy on you. 

“...Please!” Yet, nothing changed. No other presence outside your door came to your aid. Your shoulders slumped at the thought, and you leaned back against the cold metal wall, the water now up to your chest. All you could do at that moment was close your eyes, a tear slipping down your cheek as you slowly accepted the inevitable. You were going to die here, alone in the dark, in a place that no one would ever find. “Please… help me.” 

You took one last, shaky breath, feeling the coldness envelop your entire being. And while you had already given up on life, you thought about your mother and sister back home who were probably unaware of the tragedy that struck the ship you boarded. You wondered when they would hear news about the sinking of the ship. Perhaps in the morning? Perhaps another day more? You were haunted by the despair in their faces, the grief of losing a daughter and a sister, just when they thought that you would make it across the continent safe and sound. 

A thought of Rafayel also crossed your mind—a bittersweet memory of his touch, his kiss, and the way he looked at you. A man who was merely a stranger to you before you boarded this ship, but now became the lover you would keep in your heart as the promise of forever finally came to an end. You hoped that, even if he had already abandoned you, he would be sent somewhere warm and safe, away from the glacial waters of the Atlantic where you would soon sink into as another dead body in the deep seabed. 

~~

Up on the first-class decks, the passengers were scrambling toward the lifeboats, their voices adding into the pandemonium as things were becoming clearer that the Titanic was about to be submerged. The officers barked orders, and women and children were ushered toward the boats, the urgency growing as they prevented the men—no matter the social class—from getting into the lifeboats. 

Rafayel stood among the crowd, his eyes distant and unfocused, as if he were miles away. He didn’t even notice Arielle dragging his arm with a tight grip, her voice shrill with frustration as she argued with an officer. “Why can’t he come on the boat with me? He’s my fiancé!” she insisted, her face flushed with anger. “This is unacceptable! We are first-class passengers!” 

“Women and children only, ma’am!” the officer replied firmly, already turning to help another passenger, ignoring her selfish, hubristic demands. 

But the thing was, Rafayel hardly heard her nagging. His mind was elsewhere—back in the brig, where he knew you were locked up, alone and scared for your life. He could hear Thomas’s voice in his ear, the warning, the plea not to pursue you, to stay with his people, to secure his own safety. Selfish, all of them. It was all Rafayel ever thought about as he spaced out. 

Thomas, sensing his hesitation, leaned closer and whispered urgently, “Rafayel, don’t be foolish. We can arrange a seat for you on the next lifeboat. Think about your future, your life! Your aunt Talia is waiting for you!”

Rafayel’s heartbeat slowed as he glanced at Thomas, then at Arielle, who still gripped his arm tightly. His eyes moved over the frightened faces of the people around him—the elites he had grown to resent, their fear and desperation laid bare, yet their arrogance and selfishness still overpowering even in the middle of a crisis. 

“Are we going to be seated according to class?” 

“I don’t want to sit with those stinky steerage people!” 

He saw his own reflection in their panic-stricken eyes, and in that moment, he knew. He knew he couldn’t leave you to drown alone in the cold darkness. The thought of you trapped below, your face filled with fear, haunted him like a ghost who was seeking for justice. You didn’t deserve to be there. 

You, the one person who had shown him what it meant to truly live, was more important to him than anything else in this cruel world.

Thus, without another word, he pulled free from Arielle’s grasp as soon as the officers were guiding her into the lifeboat. It was the right timing, and Rafayel calculated that perfectly in his head, knowing that Arielle would be stopped if she even dared to get off the boat and endangered the passengers and officers who were already secured in it.  

“Rafayel!” Arielle shouted, her voice rising in disbelief as she tried to snatch his arm. “What are you doing?!”

“Madam, stay put!” 

“Get your hands off me—Rafayel, come back! You bastard!”

He didn’t answer. He simply didn’t give a damn about her anymore. And he only turned, his legs moving with purpose, his heart pounding in his chest as he pushed through the crowd, ignoring the protests of those around him. He could hear Thomas calling after him, Arielle bursting into frustrated tears at seeing him escape, but their voices soon faded amidst the furor. 

His mind was made up. Right at the beginning. He was going to find you, no matter what it took, no matter what happened to him. Rafayel knew he was running against time here, against the very odds of survival, but he didn’t care. No. His feet pounded against the deck, his breath coming in harsh bursts, as he made his way toward the lower decks. 

He was coming for you. And nothing, not the cold, the water, nor the imminent doom of the Titanic, would stop him now.

~~

The water was up to your waist now, freezing and relentless, biting into your skin with a cruel ferocity that made your entire body tremble. Your teeth chattered uncontrollably as you banged your fists against the locked door, your hands now raw and bruised because of it. Every breath felt like a knife in your lungs, and every exhale was a desperate sob. Pathetic. You felt weak, hopeless, with the cold sapping every bit of strength you had left. You were shaking, shivering, down to a point where you became numb.

I can’t think straight… 

The water climbed higher, reaching your lower abdomen, then your stomach, and you felt the sorrow settle in. It was about time you gave up. Resting your forehead against the cold metal, closing your eyes, you let the tears slip down your cheeks being the only warm thing you could feel on your face.

This is how I’ll die…. 

No, not yet. Because suddenly, there was a loud crash—the sound of wood splintering and metal bending. You blinked, too disoriented to understand what was happening beyond the door that was forced open. A rush of water followed, and there he was.

There he goddamn was. Rafayel, soaked and breathless, his face clouded with fret and remorse. 

“R… Rafayel?” you exhaled his name, eyes wide open, wondering if you had already died and this was nothing more than a hallucination. 

But he brought you back to reality as he surged forward, pulling you into a desperate, breathless kiss, with lips that were cold but full of life, of urgency, of love. “I’m so sorry," he whispered against your lips, the apology written on his face was more than any words could describe. “I love you… I couldn’t leave you. I couldn’t.”

Tears pooled your eyes the same way the gelid waters filled the room, and you cupped his face, feeling the warmth of his skin against your cold fingers. “Y-You c-came back,” you whispered, your voice breaking with emotion as you spoke through gritted teeth. “I thought you—”

“I did. I’m here now. I’m sorry, Y/N. I love you, I’m so sorry.” He pressed his forehead against yours, his hands trembling as he embraced your body. “We need to go,” he said urgently, pulling you with him. You didn’t exactly have the leisure of time to have an emotional exchange right now. “Come on. Can you swim?”

“I can… a little.” 

With that, you waded through the freezing water together, your legs numb and heavy as you fought against the strong currents. The corridors were eerily quiet, flooded with icy water that was quickly rising like it was filling up a tank. Had you been alone, without a man holding you in his arms, you would have been swept away by the harsh waves. Your body alone was already shaking from both the cold and the adrenaline coursing through your veins, but Rafayel held you tightly, guiding you through the flooded passages as he focused on looking for the way out. Honestly, you admired him. He was doing so much better at handling a situation like this than you, and that came from someone with a social standing like his. It was as though he had always navigated hardships, so used to dealing with different crises.

“Raf, I-I’m s-so cold!” 

“I know. I’ll get us out of here, okay?” 

Finally, you reached a ladder, and you forced yourself to keep moving, pushing your exhausted legs up the staircase despite the weight of your drenched clothes pulling you down. By the third-class gates, you were already panting, sore everywhere, when you saw a clatter between the crowd of people being held back by stewards. 

You spotted Eliza, her face pale and tear-streaked. It was the first time you had seen her again since this morning, and this horrific way of reuniting with her wasn’t anything you saw coming. “They won’t let us up.” She burst into a sob. “They said we can’t pass through, not until the first-class people have filled the boats!”

Her words made Rafayel’s eyes flash with anger towards the stewards guarding the gates. “This is absurd! You can’t keep them like animals. They have the right to live!” He turned to the other men with a commanding presence. “Gentlemen, come on! Help me break down this gate!”

The men nodded, understanding that a first-class man like him genuinely wanted to help, and together they grabbed a wooden bench nearby and slammed it against the metal gate. Once, twice, and finally, with a loud crack, the gate burst open. Despite the protests of the stewards, the crowd surged forward, feeling nothing but relief as they flooded through the open passage where the freezing waters had yet to reach.

“Go!” Rafayel urged, pulling you along as you ran through the hallways together. You pushed through the panicked crowd, dodging falling debris and slippery floors, until you finally reached the deck. He picked up one of the discarded life jackets on the floor and quickly wrapped it around your frail body, the click of the straps securing you underneath. Before you could even process everything that was happening, you could already feel his lips being pressed on your forehead. “You’re okay. I’m here.” 

“Rafayel.” You looked up at him, hands clutching into his shirt with your tearful, shiny eyes. “How are we going to make it?” 

The night air alone was frigid, and the deck was too crowded with people. Somehow, in the middle of all the ensuing chaos, a group of men—the ship’s orchestra—were playing a symphony of melodies in the background. They held their instruments with complete disregard to the horrors of their surroundings, and your heart broke at the sight. Until the very end, they stuck to their duty of maintaining calm and peace for the passengers. Of playing music, performing for the sake of others. 

Good luck to each of you, sirs.

Rafayel turned to you, tugging your hand. “You need to get on one of those boats,” was his firm insistence. “It’s your best chance.”

You scanned through the havoc, looking for a vacant lifeboat, but the crew was shouting ‘women and children only’. That was enough for you to immediately shake your head in response. “No, I’m not leaving you.”

“You have to,” he urged, his voice breaking. “I’ll be fine, I promise. Just go.”

“But—”

“Y/N, you need to listen to me, okay?” He was already pulling you towards one of the lifeboats, pushing through the crowd, to make way for you. “You need to get on that lifeboat. I’ll be okay. I… I have an arrangement with one of the other boats there. Really. I’ll come find you as soon as they rescue us.” 

“No, I—”

“Officer, I have a lady here!” Rafayel announced, his hand carefully guiding you upward. At this hour, the ship was already tilted at an angle of around 5 to 10 degrees while into the evacuation process, so they still had the time and space to get more women into the boat. And as soon as the officer saw you, you were quickly pulled up, but your hands refused to let go of Rafayel’s. “It’s going to be okay, Y/N. I’ll meet you later.”

“Come on, ma’am. Get in the boat!” 

As the pressuring eyes pierced through you, you reluctantly nodded and let go of his hand, swallowing back the tears as you climbed onto the lifeboat. But as you sat there, the arctic wind whipping against your face, you looked at the crying women and children around you. Their faces were draped by the anguish of seeing the men they were leaving behind—fathers, husbands, lovers, and sons. You looked back at Rafayel standing on the deck next to those men. And among them, his eyes were filled with love, of relief knowing that you were safe now like it was his only goal. You suddenly remembered the words you had told him not long ago, about figuring this life together.

You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t leave him.

With a burst of adrenaline, you leaped off the lifeboat and back onto the deck, nearly losing your footing and the railing hitting your stomach as you landed, but you didn’t mind it. You had to reunite with him. 

“No!” You could hear Rafayel shouting while you ran toward him. “Goddamn… Y/N! Are you crazy?!”

You ran and ran, pushing past the people, carrying your heavy feet across the slippery floors until you finally met with Rafayel by the upper decks, panting heavily and feeling your legs wobble from the strenuous effort. “I can’t—I’m staying with you!”

Rafayel’s eyes were lachrymose as he saw you, catching you in his arms, holding you tight as lips passionately crashed into yours. “You’re so stupid, Y/N,” he murmured against your lips, though his voice was filled with such raw emotion. “Why did you do that?! You’re so stupid.” 

“Maybe, I am,” you whispered back, hot tears falling from your eyes like waterfall. “But I’m not leaving you.”

You shared another kiss. A deeper kiss this time around, as you felt each other’s lips embracing the remaining warmth it could offer. It was at that time where you realized that you had never felt any kind of love that was nearly as pure as that.

And across the water, on another lifeboat that was already rowing away from the titled ship, Arielle watched the two of you with tears gushing down her face. Her maid tried to rub her back, seeing that your romantic interaction with her then-fiancé was a sight for sore eyes. Though the frustration igniting in Arielle’s veins was hidden under her curtain of clothes, her hands were trembling as she clung to the edge of the boat. She was cursing the two of you under her breath, and could feel her heart breaking apart as the distance between her and Rafayel grew wider, especially as the realization sank in that he would never be hers. Not now, not ever.

But you didn’t see her. She was completely out of the picture between the two lovers on the upper decks.

Because you only saw Rafayel, and he only saw you. 

~~

Contrary to the quiet of the sea, the screams around you were deafening. 

The ship had tilted sharply by now, the deck at a steep angle, and every step urged you to fight against gravity. It was heavy, it definitely was. But you fought through it knowing that Rafayel’s hand was tightly intertwined with yours, his eyes scanning the rapidly flooding deck for any sign of a lifeboat, any hope of escape.

But there was none. 

The lifeboats were all gone, already drifting far away into the dark waters of the Atlantic, leaving behind only the desperate and the doomed. A distress flare shot up into the sky, bursting into a bright, fleeting light before fading back into the cold, endless night. It illuminated the panic-stricken faces around you for a moment, then disappeared, swallowed by the darkness.

You could hear the officers yelling for the boats to come back, demanding that they weren’t even half-filled. You could hear passengers shrieking as some of them slipped through the tilted floors, their bodies hitting the obstructions with a loud bang. Prayers were sent out by the priest who was holding onto a railing, with the other believers clutching his hand as the ship continued its incline. Others had already given up on staying on the ship, jumping instead to the crisp waters of the ocean thinking that their life jackets would be enough to keep them alive and afloat for another hour. 

Rafayel looked at you with a determined face, unfazed by the growing number of lost souls around him. “We need to get to the stern,” he urgently told you. “It’s our only choice.”

You nodded, your heart thumping loud and fast, and together you began to climb, pushing with your all might against the sharp incline of the deck. Water rushed in from all sides, pouring over the railings, swallowing everything in its path. But you wrestled against the pull, your muscles burning as you climbed upwards, gripping onto anything you could find—the rails, the sides of doors, anything to keep yourself from sliding back into the icy depths below.

“I’m falling—!” 

“I got you.” Rafayel was right beside you, pulling you up when your strength faltered, guiding you through the path. 

The ship groaned beneath you, the metal screaming in protest as it began to break apart, the sound like a giant beast roaring into the night. It was scary. God, it was the most frightening sound you had ever heard. But you kept moving, kept climbing, until finally, you reached the stern, the very back of the ship that rose high into the air above the freezing water.

“Quick. Cimb over!” Rafayel urged, helping you over the railing. “Hold on tight. No matter what happens, do not let go.”

You did as he said, your fingers gripping the cold, wet metal of the railing. It was getting more and more difficult for you to think straight, to think rational, as the temperature of your body dropped low. The stern was now almost vertical, towering above the rest of the ship that was disappearing into the dark, unforgiving sea, but Rafayel’s voice kept you steady and awake. He climbed over beside you, his face close to yours and the fog of his breath visible in the cold air. 

“Th-This is where w-we first met,” you reminded him, your voice trembling from the subzero temperatures. “Right h-here… on the stern.”

He displayed a small forlorn smile. “And it’s the best thing that ever happened to me,” he replied softly, his voice carrying over the wind as he briefly pressed his lips onto yours. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Y/N. I couldn’t exchange this memory for the world.”

You felt tears sting your eyes, your chest tightening because of this heavily poignant scene. The ship shuddered violently, and you gripped the railing even tighter as Rafayel reached out, cupping your face with one hand, his thumb brushing away a tear that slipped down your cheek.

“I never thought I’d find someone like you,” he continued, mellow eyes staring straight into your soul, “You’ve shown me what it means to truly live, to feel, to love. I saw the most beautiful art in you.”

“I love you.” You swallowed hard, feeling the lump in your throat. You couldn’t even hear your voice anymore as the words trembled on your lips. “I love you so much.”

He leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead in return. “I love you, too. More than I ever thought possible. And I promise… after this night, you’ll be sleeping in a warm, comfortable bed. In my arms. Under a blanket. It doesn’t matter how, Y/N. As long as you’re safe. I won’t let go.”

“Raf—”

The ship groaned again, louder this time, and you felt it begin to shift beneath you, the stern rising even higher into the air. “Hold on tight!” Rafayel shouted over the roar, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you close to him. “Just hold on!”

“Aaah!” 

“Haaaaah!” 

The ship tilted further, and you clung to the railing with everything you had, your body pressed against his, locked between him and the metal railings. It was ironic, truly, how the cold Atlantic wind whipped around you, while the stars above flickered like distant, indifferent eyes as if the universe was seeing all of it unfold. The clear skies could only watch the disaster like a silent audience. While deep below, the ocean was a dark, churning mass, ready to swallow everything whole.

“I’ll never let go.” You held your breath and leaned your face close to your lover’s chest. “No matter what.”

“Together,” he promised. “Until the very end.”

And as the ship continued its descent into the icy abyss, you held on, holding each other close, refusing to let go. The ship was slowly dragging you and Rafayel down with it, and you could feel the brisk waters rush up around you, like a torrent of cold that bit into your skin and stole the breath from your lungs.

“Hold your breath in as long as you can!” Rafayel shouted, his voice muffled against the growling ocean. You tightened your grasp onto the railing, your hands numb and slipping, as the ship sank deeper and deeper into oblivion.

And then, with a sudden, violent pull, the ship disappeared beneath the surface, and you were plunged into the bone-chilling depths of the North Atlantic. You expected the cold to be immediate and shocking, like a thousand needles penetrating your skin and making you numb. Yet, in spite of the lack of sensation, you kicked and fought against the water, your lungs burning as you struggled to find the surface.

Need… to stay… alive, you thought. For him. 

As soon as your head broke through the icy water, you gasped and choked on the cold air like a fish on the surface. Around you was a sight of horror—people flailing, gasping, some disappearing beneath the waves. Screams and cries filled the void, with their despair being the last horrifying things you had heard. You spun around, desperately searching for Rafayel, hoping that he was somewhere near. Safe. Alive. 

Then you saw him—his pallid pale bobbing up and down among the waves, his eyes looking for yours among the throng of flailing passengers. Without second thought, you swam desperately toward him and longed to be embraced by his arms again. “R-Rafayel!” 

“Y/N! A-Are you okay?” he asked, kissing your face over a million times that night. 

You two waded through the agonizing pressures of the polar water, and you tugged at his hand, suggesting you couldn’t move any more than you have. The exhaustion, the lack of oxygen, the subzero temperatures were beginning to overcome you. You were freezing to death. “I can’t… a-anymore!”  

“No, Y/N. You can do it. Come on, over there!” Rafayel shouted, pointing to a floating piece of debris—a wooden door bobbing nearby. He reached for your hand, guiding you toward it through the frigid water. “Climb up!”

With a tremendous effort, you managed to haul yourself onto the door even though your body was shaking uncontrollably from the cold. You reached out to Rafayel, pulling him toward the edge, but as he tried to climb up, the door tipped dangerously, threatening to submerge again. That was how he landed on a decision to leave it be. 

“It’s okay,” Rafayel murmured, his voice weak but accepting. “You stay. Stay up there.”

He remained floating beside you, ensuring no one would try and push you off the door, while his lips turned blue and his face became pale. You could hardly even recognize the color of his eyes, nor his hair, nor his once rosy cheeks. 

“Rafayel, p-please,” you begged in a raspy voice, desperately trying to pull your weak body up until he stopped you. “W-We’ll find another way.”

He shook his head, his eyes soft as he looked at you. His gaze was the only warm thing he could offer against the cold. “This… this is enough. Just stay there… please.”

Tears began to blur your vision, but they froze on your cheeks before they could even warm them. Still, you held his hand tightly, your fingers gripping his as if you could tether him to life itself. “All y-you did… since the d-day we met… was s-save my life.” 

“A-And I’ll s-save you again,” he struggled to speak as his body shook from the cold, his jaws clacking with every shiver. “I’ll save you again a m-milion times, okay? Y-You will live, Y/N. This isn’t where y-you’re supposed to b-be.” 

Holding his hand, you pressed a kiss on top of it. “I love you.” 

“I love you.” 

~~

The watch on your left wrist said it was already past 2:00 am, yet time passed by in an excruciating crawl. 

By this time, screams around you had long faded, replaced by the chilling silence of the dead and dying. You didn’t think there was anything more terrifying than the Titanic sinking, but this deadly silence was all and everything that would traumatize you for years to come. 

Your fingers were already benumbed, the cold penetrating deep into your bones, but you didn’t let go of Rafayel’s hand as you held onto him and prayed for a miracle. While staring into the clear, starry skies, you imagined how your life would become after this night. Perhaps, once the boats come back to rescue you both, you could truly start fresh with him. 

You could imagine Rafayel pursuing his passion for art by starting off as a small artist. You could imagine his paintings being celebrated again, and how you’d be by his side during his exhibits, proud of how far he had come without the help of anyone but himself. 

You could imagine your own bit of success too, having the chance to perform at Broadway, even as a mere extra, and being able to bring your mother and sister with you to live in the beautiful New York City. 

You could imagine all the beautiful kids you’d raise with Rafayel. Those mini carbon copies of his running around the house, playing around as carefree as their father. 

“Rafayel?” you whispered after a long silence, turning to him and shaking his hand lightly. “Where do we go after this?”

But his eyes were closed now, his face unnaturally still, his body half-submerged in the freezing water. His skin had turned a pallid blue, his lips white and cracked. No… You shook him harder, panic rising in your chest as his face was as solid as a block of ice. “Rafayel!” you called out, your voice trembling at the suggestion of his current state. “Wake up! Please… wake up!”

Silence. Nothing but heartbreaking silence. The lack of response made you sob, but you still managed to pull his hand closer to your chest, feeling your heart being torn asunder as you looked at him. “No, no, no… please, no…” You clutched him desperately, feeling the weight of his cold, unmoving body against the wood. “Rafayel, please. Please. Open your eyes. P-Please… You said you’d n-never let go.” 

Along with your quiet tears, the ocean around you had become lull as if a deathly silence fell over the waters. The shrieks and cries were no more, replaced by the soft lapping of the waves and the distant creaking of the lifeboats. 

And the Titanic, once called the unsinkable ship, was nothing more than a myth.

If not for the faint voice carried over the water, you would have passed out. But someone was calling out, a beam of light flashing your way, forcing you to stay awake. You turned your head, blinking away tears, and saw a lifeboat finally coming back. After what seemed like eons, the crew shone their lights around, searching for survivors, hoping to save anyone at all. 

But for the most part, they were too late. 

“Over here!” you screamed, waving your hand frantically as your voice wasn’t loud enough for anyone to hear. “Please, help us!”

The beam of light turned toward you, and you heard the oars slicing through the water as the lifeboat approached. Relief may have flooded through you, but then you looked back at Rafayel, his face still and peaceful, like he was sleeping.

“Miss, let him go,” one of the men in the lifeboat carefully said, reaching out to you. “He’s gone… you have to let go.”

“No!” you protested, holding onto Rafayel’s hand tighter, eyes filling up with tears again. “I can’t. I can’t let him go.”

“Please, miss,” the man urged, his voice softening into a pained tone. “You have to let go… or you’ll go down with him.”

Your chest tightened with agony, every fiber of your being screaming to hold on. To never let go. You promised him. You made a vow to him that you would figure everything out together. But as you looked at Rafayel’s face, so serene in death, you knew he was already gone. He had left long before you could say goodbye. 

Tears streamed down your face as you leaned down, pressing a final kiss to his cold, unresponsive lips. “I love you,” you whispered, voice breaking into a sob. “I’ll never forget about you.”

With trembling hands, you released your grip on his hand, watching as his body slowly slipped beneath the icy water, sinking into the heart of the ocean. Your heart shattered as you watched him disappear, Rafayel, the love of your life slipping away forever.

Strong hands soon pulled you up into the lifeboat, and you collapsed, your body numb and cold, but nothing compared to the emptiness in your chest. It was as though someone carved a massive hole in your chest, excavating your heart out, only to leave a hollow space. The men wrapped a blanket around you, their voices were barely registered in your mind as they asked if you were okay. 

But you weren’t. You would never be the same again. You stared out into the endless, dark sea, where Rafayel had disappeared, knowing a piece of you had gone with him, lost forever in the cold, unforgiving waters of the Atlantic.

~~

The room was quiet and still, filled with the soft light of the morning sun glowing through the windows. Meanwhile, you stood in front of the mirror, smoothing down your dress and your fingers trembling slightly as you adjusted the hem. The reflection staring back at you seemed almost foreign—older, wiser, yet with the same eyes that saw the tragic event that had happened in the years since that fateful night.

A soft knock on the door broke your reverie. Then, Zayne’s gentle and patient voice came from the other side. “Are you ready, love?” he asked, his tone careful, knowing this wasn’t easy for you. “We don’t have to do the interviews if you’re not feeling up to it. I’ll tell them you’ve changed your mind. No one can blame you.”

You turned around to meet his warm, olive eyes as he entered the room. His presence had always been a comforting, steady anchor in the storm that had been your life since the sinking. Beyond being your husband, he had been your rock, your safe harbor, ever since that day. He never pressured you, never pushed for more than you could give. He had simply been there, and over time, you had found solace in him.

“I’m okay,” you spoke almost inaudibly, though he could recognize the uncertainty in your voice, worried that you might not be able to go through an interview as a survivor of the most tragic maritime disaster in history. “I’m fine. I just… It’s surreal to me that it’s been ten years.”

Zayne nodded, coming closer and taking your hand in his, letting his thumb brush over your knuckles in a soothing motion. “I know,” he said softly. “But you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. If you do, I’ll be right by your side.”

You smiled faintly, the warmth of his hand reassuring you. But before you could respond, a younger voice suddenly cut through the room.

“Mom? Dad?” It was your son appearing in the doorway, his purple hair catching the light, and his eyes a striking kaleidoscope of indigo and magenta. “Can we go now?”

Your heart clenched as you looked at him—so young, so full of life, and yet a constant reminder of the man who had given him that life. The same man who had given you so much more than he ever realized.

“We’re coming, sweetheart,” you assured him, reaching out to smooth your son’s hair. He looked at you with a curious tilt of his head, and for a moment, you saw Rafayel’s mischievous grin, his playful personality shining through in the child you had brought into the world.

You exchanged a glance with Zayne, who offered a small, understanding smile. He had never asked about your traumatic past, about the love that you had lost to the cold depths of the Atlantic, because he knew that part of you would always belong to Rafayel. And he accepted that. He accepted you and loved you despite it.

Taking a deep breath, you stood up with a more determined mien. “Yes, we’re ready,” you said, more to yourself than to anyone else. 

The world deserves to know who he was, what he did… and his story.

As the three of you walked out of the room, your son chattered excitedly, blissfully unaware of the history you were about to share to the world. But as you looked at him, you saw Rafayel’s spirit through his eyes. Instead of it being a haunting image, you felt warmth spreading through your chest. 

Because Rafayel had given you so much more than a son—he had given you a story of a lifetime, one that was worth telling.

[pranabefall]

ノ��THE DEVIL'S ANESTHETIC ;; blade.

syn. [ 22.2K ] you were just a doctor, at the start of it all. then came the chaos, the knife, the bits and pieces of madness and coming horror. and in the center of it all, stood him ( a gentle cruelty ).

CONTENT WARNINGS. slight yandere + dark content ahead. reader is south asian coded, blade is a little fucked up and inevitably fucks the reader up a little too. murder, corruption arcs i suppose, medical terminologies i only half know spare me i'm studying in aslp not pediatrics, breaking of medical ethics, the reader is a wet cat and is absolutely pathetic, gang violence, death, kafka being a manipulative milf, angst, acts of murder and mentioned dismemberment, suicidal ideation, SMUT ISTG SMUT, dub-con, non consensual kissing, hatefucking, blade having violent thoughts bc mara, seriously the reader is not daijobu, blade getting off on being killed.

ENTRIES. HAPPY HALLOWEEN! this work has been marked mature for containing smut & dead dove content. readers below the age of 18 / ageless blogs and antis, do not interact. PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING. ( this is my THIRD fucking repost because tumblr KeePS EATING MY TAGS )

playlist ノ author's notes ノ masterlist.

"you can hold yourself back from the sufferings of the world, that is something you are free to do and it accords with your nature, but perhaps this very holding back is the one suffering you could avoid."

— FRANZ KAFKA.

I. NEWLY DECEASED

“We have another one.” The receptionist echoes out from the front desk.

Another one. The words still the twitch in your muscles, the incessant cleaning and arranging and scrubbing away blood from medical chairs and forceps that should not be here. There are thoughts in your head. They’re dangerous ones, lingering in places that are grimy and soaked in something tarred. They should not be there.

Another one and that’s enough to coat your stomach with ugly, stifling coldness. You don’t reply, keep your eyes down and let the man walk in.

There were never any faces to your clients. They had hands, ringed, tattooed, scarred. Some had suits. Some stank of iron. And they all had guns, or bats, or rusty crowbars and attitudes that were knife edged and brutally coarse. This one is much like the rest. He tells you he was shot in the waist and his voice is static and white noise and discord leaking out of your ears in droves till —

“— will you get moving?! It fucking hurts.”

“Yes.” you choke out. “Yes of course.”

It comes easily to you now, after months of repeating it over and over with varying degrees of perfection and prompt. Find the shrapnel, pull it free, clean the wound, suture it. Find the shrapnel, pull it free, clean the wound, suture it. Find the shrapnel, pull it free, clean the wound, suture it. Find the —

( Your thoughts unravel and they’re a mess in your hands like several bits of coloured petals. The scent has washed away. They almost seem to wither, bit by aching bit. )

You step away. “Done.” you tell the suited man and ask for no payments. Your receptionist does not either when he strides outside and it’s smart because patience was a whim when you reeked of viscera. That brazen naivete was drilled out of her a long time ago ( and you too ) and the rules were set forth, rules that must never be broken. You’d seen too many zipped up body bags scattered in the gutters to dare to. You do not want to be one of them.

( Coward, that spiteful half of you snarls and you know it’s right. )

Only he does reach in and throw some loose notes against the counter. You shuffle up to her, nails crusted with brown and red and count fifty kaas. It’s peanuts. It will do.

You were a doctor.

Or at least you’re certain you were. You’d spent the better part of your decade rooted within a small university where standard IPC dialect was taught as a secondary language and the fans hadn’t been replaced for the last thirty years. It was torture during the summer and the hospital adjacent had patients who spoke in tongues you didn’t quite understand. But you manage. You tried, you graduated.

You were a doctor. Your license reads you specialised in paediatrics. Children were all you needed to deal with, some too loud to listen to their parents' chides for silence. Some so young they were small enough to fit in your desk drawer. Some of them liked to talk too and ask questions during checkups and vaccine appointments ( nerves, you reason and you answer the questions ). It wasn’t much. It was peaceful. It was alright. This is your clinic, something you'd built from sleepless nights and mountains of referral literature.

Then you’d see less children and more of those suited men as the streets grow with a cacophony you can’t call safe after this. The carpet was worn down by blood and heavy footfalls, over the thread work and your mother’s faded name in the bottom.

You weren’t treating children anymore.

Still, you hold it together. This is yours, all of this. This is yours and it's a feeling locked away in your beating heart.

When the man returns — and you know it’s him because the birth mark on his hands were hauntingly similar — he brings company. The company in itself would have seemed unassuming, and they were, lingering by the doors speaking in words too fast to comprehend till the gunfire rang out and the windows shattered.

A part of you is thankful that it’s so late, where the streets are silent and the bustle is calm. The files you were rearranging fall to the floor. You duck beneath your desk and stay there, enclosed within tumult, within chaos, within something you wanted no part of ( and you grip your hands tight, quietly wondering if that persistent cat would be fed, if your father would care to know what happened to you ).

You hear glass break, fall, fall and hit the floor with a sadistic sort of tinkling.

You hear frantic footsteps thundering up by the door.

You hear the screaming.

( You hear your heartbeat. You want it to stop. )

Something crashes into the storeroom. It was large, heavy, clothed and it let out a strangled cry before iron clogs up your nose and heat and cold fizzles up and hammers into every crevice and pore and turns your chest inside out. The man tries to shift, to get up and out of the way, shoulders knocking against the shelves in panic that feels painfully palpable. He’s crying. You see that when you bundle into a corner, eyes burning.

His body jerks and is dragged to the door.

“Don’t,” he begs till the desperation chokes his reasoning and it meters into panicked threats. “You’ll be torn apart by this, I swear, you’ll be hunted down — ”

He’s pulled at again, his limp form slipping out of sight. You hear a sick sound — a squelch, the dripping of blood and viscera and the gamey crack of bones. Your teeth dig into your cold fingers. The stinging is numbed, dim and distant, while you press against the wall and try not to wail.

There is only a single set of footsteps now. It paces like a starved animal, like a caged beast. Leave, your thoughts scramble and correct themselves. Just leave. And it repeats, over and over like a maddening chant. Please leave, leave, leave. The footsteps stop at the door followed by a slow scrape against marble. A shadow falls over the doorway. That’s when you see him.

You think he could have been pretty. But there's terror beneath that veil of frozen numbness. You don’t think he’s pretty now, when he’s stalking into the room, bloodied sword in hand ( it’s mired and cracked and mended like kintsugi but twisted and terrible ). He walks like a man who’d been broken and sewn together and he reeks of death and a sickening sweetness.

His gaze meets yours for that fleeting moment.

( it felt like that throbbing helplessness. Of everything going wrong. )

One of the suited men had not died. Not yet, in some inane act of stubbornness. He’s tackled down immediately and you flinch back and finally scream, watching the writhing pile of bodies smack each other down with ease. The swordsman ends it. There’s a chilling disparity in strength with how his bare hands tear into flesh and rips his opponent’s arm off. He’s laughing, laughing like a madman and the insane hysteria sparks a primal instinct nestled in your mind.

You’re moving before you realise it, when you spot his fingers twitch for his fallen sword. Your hands close around metal. You’re surging forward, taut at the edges. That part of you screams into the void, stripping away morality, reason, the simpler parts of shame that could have stopped you then and there.

When your fractured mind pieces together and lets the spinning room rest into clinical stillness, you’re aware of the hysterical laughter that man trembles into. He slumps against your legs, weighted, boneless. He’s still laughing, like the world had whispered a funny joke into his ear and left him to rot.

The dislodged pole slips out of your hands. You watch him crumple down onto the floor, staining the tiles. A swing, a hit to the back of his head, a break to the vertebral artery, a medullary haemorrhage, a stroke, neuron death —

You spend the next hour tucked away in that storeroom, watching the man’s body convulse, then his breathing still and his body run cold.

II. DISTENSION

Once upon a time, you told yourself that you could get by. You could get by and let yourself think you were a good person despite the ugly cracks tucked away and the bated disappointment breathing down your neck. It’s the human experience, a conditioned way of convincing yourself, a way you wish to live in the quieter corners of you.

It’s a lie. A lie. A lie.

The body does not move, as dead bodies usually do. As a frame of reference, dead bodies don’t do much to begin with. You stand back up and feel nausea coat the back of your throat, then wordlessly stumble to the man. Your fingers press against his pulse. Nothing.

A part of you wants to laugh at yourself for hoping.

The police take it all away. They don’t know what you did. Or maybe they do and care so little they swat that detail aside. Death is so natural here, so common and where is the sympathy for the damned when the damned were everywhere and your kindness wears thin?

( You’re left to pick up the pieces. The cracked photo frames, the toys and magazines salvaged, the bowl of tamarind candy tipped over. Bits and pieces gathered together and sewn back together. There was a heart in these walls. The pain was always there, but a dogged part of you loves this place. )

You answer what questions were asked and let them walk away, knowing they’ll do nothing about the situation to begin with. They never do. Most policemen were tucked up in the pockets and played dogs to gang members. Some lost themselves to apathy. Money could buy loyalty in droves. It was an open secret.

You get back home and let the hot water run into your bucket. You feed the visiting cat. You wipe the counters down and unearth some food from the previous night. You turn the water off. You bathe. You eat.

( “I’m fine.” you lie to Aleena when she calls you, frantic, scared. More frantic and scared than you present yourself to be. You don't tell her you’re a murderer.

“I don’t think you should go back tomorrow. I’m not saying this to get off of work or anything but after all that?” she falls silent.

“Maybe. But I need to keep the income coming in somehow.” )

Walking into the bedroom feels harder than it should. Lead bleeds into muscle as you patter along and try to keep yourself steady against the walls. For a moment, you stop and lean your forehead against it and tell yourself not to cry ( because cowards cry, and idiots cry and it was a pointless endeavour anyway because nothing — nothing about this would change ). Your degree falls into your line of sight, framed up against the wall.

You are a doctor. You are a doctor. You are a doctor.

That guilt knocks you in the knees. The guilt, the disgusted guilt that comes from killing a man.

( It’s engulfing, like tar and cloth pressed up against your face. The breathlessness, the storm rattling against the window, the messiness of it all. You’re screaming at the pillow. You’re clawing at it. You swipe till your arm bleeds and the cacophony dies down. )

The veneer shatters and the frame is clenched and thrown to the floor. The casing cracks. You heave, look at the mess at your feet and think to yourself :

What were those eight years for?

You killed a man.

You killed a man.

You killed a man.

A gasp tears through. It's painful, heavy and it's glass and shrapnel. The voice in your head whispers. Nothing. It's all for nothing.

Another one crackles through the muffled distortion, straining and rattling. A clear “I told you so.” grating past the chaos, disappointed, smug, knowing.

You shut your eyes and dream of jasmine and marigolds.

( You listened to Aleena when you passed the register and took a day off in the end. It’s the one kindness you let yourself have.

You did not eat for most of the day. Your gut gnaws. Your limbs feel weak. But food, as delicious as the thought seemed, invoked a visceral response. Of corpses and blood and things that you thought yourself too far removed to disgust you. A caved in skull did all this. A caved in skull made you retch and empty your stomach out into the toilet.

You think you deserve it. )

Your watchman stops you when you head back out again a few days later for a grocery run. "Are you alright?" he asks, peering through sleep. The cat curls round his legs and he gives it a gentle pat. You can hear the content purr it lets out from where you stand, and you venture a little closer.

"A little." you reply, smiling a little. The watchman tilts his head in consideration. You'd lost count of how long he's been here. Some of the older tenants mention he'd settled in over a decade ago, when the building still had four floors instead of five and a little more space to park out back.

"You still seem scared is all." he glances over at you again. It's the worry in his furrowed brow that makes you give pause. He reminded you of your grandfather then, strong jawed, stern eyed before that softness pervades through when he'd let you scoot over next to him to sneak a look at the newspaper ( cricket scores and stock prices were all he looked at. And the Sudoku ) .

You shift in place, tugging at the hem of your jacket. "It was a little jarring. The sudden attack, that is." you admit. You don't tell him about the death, the way deceitful monsters do.

The watchman shakes his head. "Horrible thing to go through, I agree. Especially for one as young as you." The cat slinks pat his legs and under the bed. he leans forward, tire heaving at his bones and his joints. A decade. One would assume he'd retire at this point given his age. "Try not to let it wear down on you, is all."

"It's easier said then done." You mumble.

"It is." the watchman snorts. "I told my daughter about you though. She's taking medicine too…Oncology. I scraped together every Kaas I had to pay her tuition fee off." he flexes his arthritic hands. You keep listening, that sliver of curiosity winning out. "She hasn't met you…but she knows about your clinic. the children your helping…suited men aside. It gives her a bit of spark at least. So you keep going too."

You feel gutted, eyes stinging a bit. He puts too much faith in you, you realise. But there is a small touch of warmth against the rattling cold. "Thanks…" you nod. The watchman leans back.

Keep going. What a mess, really.

You return to your clinic, the day after. You decide it's the last time you'd let reckless hope bar the instinctive tearing in your gut.

There is a woman sitting on the waiting room chairs with a dangerous smile. She’s dressed well, like those elegant omen-bringers or dapper businessmen. She’s dressed like the coming consequences and it’s there, that sadistic delight, hidden behind that lazy tilt to her head.

“Good morning.” she greets, like she hadn't broken into your clinic. “Hope we’re not intruding.”

You look to her companion next to her.

The dead man ( and he was dead. He was supposed to be — you were certain ) stares right back.

“Do you have anything to drink?”

“There’s a coffee machine…”

“Hm, never mind. I was never too fond of the instant stuff. What do you think Bladie?”

'The man named ‘Bladie’ does not respond. You’d have laughed a little — if your nerves weren't frayed. You’d have laughed over a silly, inconsequential nickname slapped onto some scary looking man, then gone on your way. But the scary looking man was a murderer. And you were certain, so certain, that he was dead.

( His blood coated your hands days ago. You can’t have imagined it — not something so innately ingrained within your psyche like some sadistic firebrand.

How is he alive? How is he alive?! Why is he — )

“I could pick up some tea.” you suggest, because playing meek was the way of a coward and you were that in the end. You still had to open your clinic in another half hour. There are still parts of the storeroom that need cleaning and a window that needs replacing. The woman laughs. She looks at you like you were an adorable specimen. A pet…or perhaps a bug to be stepped on.

( It’s a cruel sort of beauty that edges her face. You’d hate to admit you were staring a little longer than you should be. )

“There’s no need for that.” she looks to the side for a moment. “Bladie was here a few days ago, you know.” you flinch, perhaps knowing the ugly scene to follow. “Got into a bit of a tussle. Of course, I wasn’t worried��he’s got a knack for seeing things through, you know…” She’s staring straight at you now. “And he’s good at not dying, one could say.”

“That’s nice.” you mumble, shifting uncomfortably. Your cheeks are cold. Don’t look at me, you try to tell the should-have-been-dead swordsman. Like that would have worked ( he keeps staring ).

The woman continues. “It's funny though. After that affair at your clinic, I had to pick Blade up at some hospital’s morgue of all places. Quite the detour if you ask me.”

You still.

She knows.

Fuck. She knows.

“I…I see.” you play into stupidity, wring your hands a bit and force a far away smile. “I wonder how that happened.”

“Yes.” she nods, solemnly flicking dust off of her velvet coat. The playful lilt to her tone is back, delicately poking and prodding away and you feel the walls close in bit by bit. You can see the man tilt his head. You want to disappear. “I’d think you know though…so how about you tell us?”

You don’t look at her. You can’t, with that horror filtering through and spotting your vision.

“Now….listen to me.” she stands, saunters up to you and you stay rooted. Your mind fogs over with cotton wool and the aftertaste of wine blooms through your mouth. There is consideration there, her pointedly dragging her eyes across your figure and taking a sick pleasure in the fear that trembles at your fingertips. A tiny part of you that still remains too torturously aware recoils. “Were you the one who killed Bladie?”

“Yes.” you reply and it isn’t you. You wouldn’t have said that. You wouldn’t have.

Her lips curl. “How did you kill him?”

“I hit him on the back of his neck.”

Her face glows. “Good girl.” she pats your cheek. “We have a favour to ask you. How about you hear us out?”

She gives your shoulders a squeeze and you’re gasping for air. “That wasn’t so hard.” she grins. The cotton wool strangles and is caught at the edges, whisping, grasping, stubbornly trying to stay. You still pull at it incessantly while you back away from her touch. It burns. What did she do to you? What did she fucking do to you —

You’re pulled closer. It’s just a tug, a simple coil of her fingers round your arm. “I’m sorry.” you blurt out. “I’m sorry. I never meant it.” There are cracks against the surface, a spiderweb and it keeps going and going and going the more you talk ( you need to shut up ).

“There there.” She coos. “How about we sit down, hm? Bladie, think you could make some space?”

You don’t want to sit down with them. You try to pull back, to run because that’s what you should have done in the first place; instead of entertaining a pair of strangers with that stupid, naive hope of safety. She pulls back. Bladie catches your wrist when you try to squirm free and you’re half dragged onto the seat between them. “Honestly. A drink would have been nice. Oh don’t worry. I could hardly blame you for that.”

The woman fixes her sleeve. “I take it you don’t know who we are?”

“No.” you admit.

“Ah. the IPC influence here isn't as deep, huh? I heard there was an overhaul a few decades ago. The revolt drove most of them out…I wouldn’t count on it staying that way.” She passes you a measured flash of her teeth. It’s all good manners and etiquette you can’t return. “But we’re not here to talk politics. I’d like you to babysit Blade for a while.”

Blade seems to be expecting it. He does not mirror your dismayed shock.

“Why — ”

“Can’t say. It’s all a part of some very important work.” She holds a finger to her lips. “Would you be a lamb and do it?”

You grip at the metal armrests hard. The room is a blurred scape, a watered down stain ( ink tracked against damp paper ). “I won’t.”

“Come now. After that stunt you pulled with him, it’s the least you could do.”

It settles hard. “I told you I didn’t mean it.” you snap. “I didn’t mean to kill him. I didn’t mean to kill you.” Your unravelling seeps into something dangerous. You try to step back. To keep it together. It tangles, knots, frays and snaps and tangles again and the foundations crumble. You cannot think despite the clarity slowly creeping and the fog metering out. You cannot think because the man you killed is alive and right next to you and dead men don’t just come back to life.

The woman forces you to turn her way. “You didn't mean it?” she repeats, inquisitive, amused. “Doctor please, any normal person would have gone for the head. You made a very calculated move there…and I'm sure that pretty little brain of yours knows the consequences that come with it.”

It’s a coveted part of you that dies there, withering, burning, clipped away and cast aside and you shake your head as you’re retrained. “Don’t touch me!” you scream. “Don’t touch me!”

Because humanity despises the naked truths in the world. They’ll deny, deny, deny what stares them in the face for those fleeting, selfish little comforts skewed in ignorance. Better the downy coverlet to the thin blanket, better the sweeter lie that bitter sincerity. You’re no different. Not really. You’re not different at all.

And that woman was not a liar.

III. RUPTURE

Aleena doesn’t take well to a strange man lurking within the backrooms. Her eyes always flit to the doors and her shoulders stay tense as she directs a few straggling patients to the waiting room and updates their details into the salvaged computers. “I don’t like the look in his eye.” she whispers hurriedly. “Doctor. Have you seen him?”

“Yes . I have.” you reply simply. “Could you pull up the files from a month ago? We have a follow up due today.”

She hums, and you nod to the messy clattering from the keyboard. “He’s not from here, is he? His clothes aren’t local.” her voice dips. “Is he an outworlder?”

“Yes.” You flit through a case history. The ink has run a bit, the edges flicked a dirty red. Bile and acid sears the edges of your mouth. You don’t think throwing up here and now would be professional. And your receptionist has a very nice shawl on. “Have the police called?” you add, helplessly rubbing away at the browned stains.

“You know they won’t.” she clicks her tongue, wrinkling her nose to the injustice of it all. You bite back your tired humour. She might descend into an angry little ramble then curse those men in three different tongues. You were guilty of listening in ( it’s amusing, and she had plenty of anger for the two of you, and then some more for the smaller things ). “They’re too busy sipping cha at the local angadi.”

She keeps tap tapping away. “Do you want me to send a soft copy? Or will you directly look into the logs?”

You cease flipping through the files. “Just send me a PDF.” you mutter. “You still have a few cases to input from yesterday right? I won’t hold you up.” Another report is pushed your way. Two more patients, two more medical histories to pore over. The throbbing in your forehead is incessant and stubbornly clinging on.

Gang activity in your neighbourhood has stifled from its initial raucous to a cautious thrum. There were still glimpses and the ignored nods, and that delicate rope-work still standing strong despite men from their brackets dying some terrible death. They don’t suspect you. It would be stupid to ( because you could hardly hold a gun in their eyes, or fight back. Your claws are chipped and your fangs blunted. It’s not a mystery ).

It does not stop the occasional loitering goon up front as parents grow a little braver and a little more desperate to bring their sick children in.

You settle with your work email, tapping your foot against the faint buzz from the streets outside and the waiting area. There is the occasional loud call. Kids being kids, shushed by mothers and fathers with warnings of naughty ones being fed the nastiest medicines for bad behaviour. You’re not cruel enough to do so maliciously, but it quiets them down amidst the worried ogling.

A ping pulls you from sinking further into your pit of thoughts. The document pops up in your inbox and Aleena slows her typing to two finger taps. “Can I take a week off?” She pipes up, nervously picking at her fingers. “Next month, that is.”

“For the agelu?” you guess, a new sort of weariness settling. “I suppose you can.”

Aleena stifles away a relieved smile followed by a : “You're not going?” She looks a little surprised, then lets her eyes sweep across the clinic. “I mean…yeah I guess you won't, given the state things are in right now…”

You wince. Your father had sent a text in. He asks for you, in his own, distant way. Maybe he misses you. Maybe you miss him beneath the hurt and the anger. But feelings were messy, scary things and it was better to look away and stick your head into papers and books and words that could be read. “I’m not sure.” is the soft admission. “It's a little early, I think, for me to make a proper decision.”

( Going home feels like a fever dream now. You’d almost come to loathe the smell of marigold and incense smoke. )

That and you can't be certain if Kafka would pick your guest up any time soon. She never gave you a timing, or any sense of clarity and control in this mad scramble. Blade was to lurk in his little window in the backrooms with all the year-old files for as long as he should.

“Besides.” You finish with a hint of good humour. “I'll take full responsibility for any ancestral hauntings after. Maybe my great grandmother could make a nice home on my couch.”

Aleena purses her lips. It’s says enough. A little more if you squint hard.

“Okay that wasn’t very funny.” you admit.

“No. It wasn’t.” She tilts her head sympathetically, pressing the pads of her fingertips to the edge of the desk, half pushing up against hardwood and paper. “I have plenty to say…but you’re my boss and that would be unprofessional.”

You bite back that twitch to your lips. “A wise choice. Take care of yourself now…and don’t forget about the rest of the reports.”

Primal fear rear its ugly head and scrapes at the bars when you meet Blade’s gaze.

“I have two patients due in the next hour.” you manage to pull out, turning your heel immediately after. Any inch for a quick escape, really. “So don’t come out. You’ll scare them.” you add for good measure, like he’s a child himself, or a feisty dog muzzled and chained up.

( The kind of dogs who bite at anything and everything. The kind who quietly bare their teeth at cruel hands and kind. You aren’t certain of Blade’s stance here and now, if he was pleased with his arrangements — stuck in a room too small for him, with someone who clearly didn't want him here.

Because you don’t. There’s something about you and your face and the way it’s a traitor. It gives away your thoughts, your heart, the things you want to keep tucked away at the back but seep under the doors and stain the carpets. And your displeasure seeing him is on full display.

His corpse comes to mind. Still, dead, cold took the touch with the beginnings of rigour mortis settling when he was hauled over the stretcher and wheeled away. )

He says nothing back, unsurprisingly. He didn’t even bother speaking out as much when Kafka came in and dropped him off with all the unceremonious sneaking and threatening. You think he’ll carry on with his silence, letting whatever this delicate little semblance of distant amiability stay within its stagnant state. An untouched web.

You turn. Keep walking. You really don't want him here, you think miserably. The paradoxical warmth in his body now, when for a moment there was none. His gaze, unsettlingly intense. You don’t want him here at all.

Still, you turn once more. You speak. “Is there anything else you need?” be polite. Be polite.

Blade considers it. He looks at you. You fool yourself into believing the hunger simmering beneath harsh vermilion does not exist.

“No…” he finally relents. His voice is coarse, heavy, the whisper of a growl.

( You leave faster than you should have. )

He follows you home after the day is done ( you wish he didn’t ).

Blade keeps you within his line of sight — just within reach and just close enough to feel that faint prickle of body heat against the back of his neck. It’s an uncomfortable itch. It’s unwelcome. So you turn your head back to his silent figure and test your fingers against your bicep.

“Could you walk in front of me?” you ask.

Blade seems to consider it. “No.” he finally decides with finality edging every word. “You might run.”

“I don’t think you’d let me get very far to begin with.” you mutter under your breath. His footsteps are heavy, kicking aside loose concrete you avoid. Blade still stays an unwanted spectre behind you, treading in a way that is too soft to be human.

“I won’t.” he agrees, sounding sure of himself. Bored even. There is a scuffing sound, cloth against cloth. You’re tense again, anticipatory ( and yet, you don't dare to look back, to look at him ). “It saves inconvenience. That is all.”

You decide you’d like to be an inconvenient annoyance. That should drive him back to wherever he came from.

“I still don't think you should walk behind me though.” You repeat. Your fingers curl. You wish you had a taser. Your last bottle of pepper spray was spent as is on a few other thugs the past couple months. “You look like a creep. And a stalker. You might mug me.”

“I won't.”

“How do I know that?” You keep rambling, hysteria trickling down. It's a leaky tap, that anxious mess in your chest.

Blade blinks. “Kafka told me not to.” ( like it was the most obvious thing. You might be imagining the heavy condescension oozing through ).

That does not make you feel better. Kafka seems as reliable as a tsunami, or a flood, or any natural hazard creeping into its first few stages of utter destruction. It shows on your face, that muted mix of disbelief and horror. Blade's gaze is sharp, not quite the disconnected distance it held before. Kafka was suffocating as is but blade feels like rubble bearing down, down, down. You hate it.

“And it would be pointless, trying.” He continues. “Killing you would change nothing.”

You wordlessly rub at your knuckles, at the pulled skin of your hand. You do not talk to him for the rest of the walk. You should be more polite, you tell yourself. Be more polite. You killed this man, watched him die as his brain slowly collapsed in on itself. The least you could do after those fifteen and a half dumpster fires is extend some basic human decency, right? Be polite.

A scream ringing out gives you another thing to focus on. They're normal to hear, even as it wrenches open your viscera and leaves something sick on your tongue. It continues, growing increasingly hysterical, then stops.

( You almost run for the source, You want to. You do not. )

By the time you slip into the parking lot of the apartment and head for the elevator, you’re half hurrying Blade along. There’s nothing glamorous about the place — a standard five storey tall building just like the other projects lining most lower middle class neighbourhoods. The watchman was found out back, half passed out from his shift and stinking of beedi smoke, leaving the dog that frequented the neighbour's doors to rip into any intruders.

You don't think Blade is wholly impressed as he nudges at him with his foot. The watchman jolts with a huff and a startled snore, then passes out, head lolling to the side a little. The dog does not bark, simply trotting up to accept a few pats on the head. And indignant annoyance flares up. You sharply tug at the hem of his sleeve.

Blade jolts. The vermilion of his stare burns you.

"Leave him alone." you warn, giving his sleeve another tug for good measure. Blade's lips purse, his displeasure a quiet shift on his face for the most part, burying away immediately into the corners and crevices where things were never brought up again. "I hope you like cats." you add. "I have one who visits sometimes. She's a terror and a half…"

He grunts, stepping to the side as you fiddle with your keys, pulling away the string from your key chain and getting your door open. It’s a welcome ritual, feeling the cool breeze from your apartment filter in after a while. The cat is passed out on the balcony floor, cracking open a single yellow eye in greeting when you shuffle forth to take a peek.

“Hello, pretty girl.” you coo, feeling that heavy warmth in your arms and the softness of her fur against your palms. It eases you just enough to face Blade again.

Be polite, you tell yourself because you killed him, because he could snap your neck in two, because you think that the last thing you need is pissing off a pair of seeming psychos. “You won’t mind tea, right?”

Blade leans against the wall, maybe trying to make himself as small as possible within the cloistered rooms. “It’s a waste.” he replies, ignoring everything else; the hum from the streets below, the occasional flicker from the lights, the cat settling on the couch and sleeping an arm’s length away.

“Okay.” you mumble and set down two cups anyway.

You do not like Blade’s silence. His silence means he’d rather think about something and him thinking could involve certain death. There is a disturbed sheen glossing over his gaze. He does not look wholly there, the less he talks. Most conversions your parents had with guests were about the weather, then delving headfirst into some obscure gossip about a family three kilometres away.

Another fleeting glance at Blade has you reason that he’s not one for gossip.

( You let this silence settle in. It’s still a suffocating thing, an unwanted presence and an unwelcome guest. You think of the suited men and the gangs amok in the dirty corners and you think the silence looks like them. )

“So…our first meeting wasn’t…wholly ideal.” You speak up after a while, handing him his tea. Blade looks vaguely surprised when he takes it. “I don’t think ‘ideal’ would be the right word for it…”

“You killed me.”

You swallow. “Yes.” your voice shakes. “I killed you.” Your legs are drawn a little closer to you before you talk and you lower your voice, all that shame and guilt subduing the last bits of that cocktail of fear and tumult and annoyance. “I’m sorry for killing you. Even if you’re still alive…somehow…it wasn’t the best course of action, to be fair — ”

Blade’s lips twitch. He takes a sip of his tea, letting you stew there with your fumbling, your shame. It still goes unspoken. That damning ‘how are you still alive’. You don’t bother asking it. He can’t stay dead — Kafka said so herself. The very notion feels like an existential terror moulded to the shape of a man and you want it to stay far away from it.

“Four days.” he finally utters out, inspecting the last bit of tea staining the bottom of his cup. “I was dead for four days.”

Oh. Oh that stung.

“I’m sorry.” your voice cracks and your eyelids start to prickle. Stupid. Stupid stupid, you curse at yourself, claw at the offending load inside.

Blade snaps his head towards you. There is a twitch in his hands, slow, dog-like in the way strays jolt in alarm. You do not comment on it, awkwardly pressing at the surface of your cup while the tears are quickly wiped away and smudged against your cheeks. There's no use crying over it, you scold yourself. Grow a spine.

“Spare yourself the pity. It is not an uncommon occurrence.” is his uncomfortable dismissal. The words are nonchalant and his forehead crinkles to match the perplexed hitch to his shoulders. He probably wants to say more, speak more, tear you apart. Or he was just too put off by how pathetic you are.

“You’ve been killed before?”

“Yes.”

Horror stirs deep in your gut and a small sliver of morbid fascination shunting beneath the murky waters and glimmering up in those seconds of resurfacing.

( Can he not die? He’s still here after dying from a stroke. Does he regenerate? How does he do that? Do his cells simply have a faster metabolism? That means his neurons can too despite their limited replication in most normal people. Does he — )

The tear tracks are drying. Your face feels stiff.

“I was trying to protect myself.” you even talk like a guilty person ( it does not help. It’s subdued, the way you speak. Beaten down, half hearted. You wonder if you even want to protect yourself at all ). You don’t want to look at him anymore.

“I don’t blame you.” he replies. It’s soft, missable, sympathetic and you know that can’t be the case. Blade blinks slowly, setting his cup aside. “Would you do it again?” he asks solemnly. His hands twitch again, out of its usual bent stiffness. Beneath the dim lighting, the paleness of his skin is a corpse like macabre; greyish, sallow. He seems starved. “Would you kill me?”

Your lips part. Bile and acid burn your throat. You shut it again and shake your head and the desperation, you assume, is enough. No, no never again. You don’t want that nausea. You don’t want any more of the griping aches in your stomach and the incessant pound of your capillaries.

Blade straightens up and gives you a long, thoughtful look. He steps back and returns to his stony silence without a word. The air is restive, poisonous in how it melts away the peace.

You really should pray to that nameless god, to soften that blow. You really should pray because nothing good ever comes out of this. There’s that brush of scale against your foot, the shrinking courage when faced with dour vermilion. It’s wolfish; its jaws bear down. The cat cracks open an eye again, letting out an annoyed mewl.

No, never mind that.

IV. EXUDATION OF BLOOD

You should have prayed. The questionable existence of a god or not, maybe you'd have given yourself that tiny bit of assurance.

Even your ancestors would have done well enough. What would your grandmother say?

( Her old spirit's possibly disowned you, if she hasn’t already. She must have burned your seat in the afterlife and spat on the ashes. Bringing a man into your home, no matter the circumstance would have incited all the wrong reactions. )

You learn quick enough that Blade never sleeps. The third night after spent between lurking within the stuffy storage space and wedged next to old folders, you’d spotted him sitting upon the couch in the middle of the night. “What are you doing—” you croak out after the initial scream. He scrutinised you with clinical indifference, sweeping over your bare legs to your face. You tamp down the urge to pull your shirt down, cheeks burning.

“Thinking.” he says. There is no further elaboration to it. Blade turns to peer outside your window and the dead streets below. There is a faint echo of the strays barking trailing behind the occasional hum of a passing car. Your little town was far sleepier than the cities, where the traffic continues on, long past the morning calls and the reedy music from 24-hour bars.

“You scared me for a moment.” you purse your lips, picking at your hands. Blade blinks. “I mean, you're just standing there.” You try to justify it, fumbling a bit and coming across as far more slow than anything else. Blade tugs at his sleeve and smoothens over the damp spots.

“I'm not trying to kill you.” he reasons.

You dig your thumb down into the thicker skinned parts of your palm. It reeks of iron. He always reeks of iron. “Startled me, then. I thought you were asleep.”

Blade considers it. “I do not need sleep. Not more than what is necessary.”

Uneasiness filters in. Your throat bobs with it, unsure. “Everyone needs sleep.” you stumble out. Blade shifts, tracing along his nape with a purposeful look. His regeneration. Yes, his regeneration. Tissue rest and repair would be unnecessary with that, wouldn't it? Sleep, food perhaps, the little necessities taken for granted — peeling that away and pulling back the blinds to peer down that gaping hole, it's strange.

The grislier parts of his curse seemed to strip away those human needs. It likes to gnaw out any sense of humanity from his bones, in fact, scavenging away the bare ligaments and swallowing it whole.

“So…you’re just going to stay there then...” .

“Yes.”

Blade’s shoulders are set into its perpetual hunch. There’s something unfettered about him, roiling within deeper confines with a sense of wildness and entropy. You take your cautious step back and steel the nerves you have left ( there aren’t many to begin with — you still try ). It’s far from the moodiness he usually holds himself with and the cyclical introspection. “Could you be less…disturbing, then…?” you ask.

Silence. “Disturbing.” he echoes, tasting every breadth of the word on his tongue. You feel metal coming to rest in your mouth and dig into the insides of your cheeks. There’s a flicker from the apartment across and sterilised white shines upon the side of his face. He looks worn down, worse for wear. The darkened spots on his clothes are dyed red round his torso and dried blood crests across the rim of his fingernails. Red. Red on his clothes. Red on the floor. Red on your couch. Red —

“Did you leave this room?” it’s not a question. You’re not asking questions.

“No.”

You don't quite realise it, the scrambling and the frantically locked doors till the cold nip from your room settles against your skin and your shaky hand holds up your phone. It takes a moment for the buzzing numbness to fade to a tumultuous undercurrent and for you to dial down that emergency contact, seconds away from calling —

— a notification.

It's an unlisted contact, and a single message.

Unknown. I wouldn't do that if I were you.

A moment of pause. You don't move, balking at the sight of it.

Unknown. There's a good girl. I hope Bladie isn't giving you any trouble. If he's made a mess, just help him get cleaned up, please.

You. Is this Kafka?

Unknown. Look at you playing detective! That's cute. It is, by the way.

You. How did you get my number..

Unknown. Oh I have my ways. And I wouldn’t call the police. I can’t say I’ll stay quiet and pin the blame on you. It would be easy, hiding a few bodies in your storeroom. I like Bladie, you know. Can’t have him getting arrested and all.

It feels like you’re grasping at ice, with the way it feels cold. Cold, so cold and uncomfortably harsh against your cheeks. You want to tear into something, into your pillow, into yourself. You want to throw your phone across the room and scream till your lungs are hoarse. You want to call the police anyway and shove that into Kafka’s face. You want to cast them out into some forgettable void and be done with this fear and this painful grip in your stomach and…

…you do none of that.

Some small defeated part of you whispers its comfort. You ignore it, cast it aside, call it a fool. You’re gutless, maybe a little brainless and honestly, you half consider going back to your hometown and — no. You will not think about that. Not now. Not ever. You broke that life apart, stepped over the fragments and let your bloodied footsteps lead you here. All that hurt is not worth the quiet defeat.

The door creaks open. You peer back out at Blade. “Sorry…” you mumble. He glances up at you. “I just…i was shocked…there’s blood all over you.” You think about what you should say next. You chose your words carefully. “Did you…”

You don’t get to finish. Blade leans back and shakes his head. “I did not kill anyone.” A wry little tug twitches at his lips. “Not now at least.”

It takes a tentative step, then another for you to exit the room completely. Blade doesn’t look bothered, content in his solitude where sits. You look down at the tiled floor trying to summon forth whatever blind insanity you had. It takes a special sort for this, for this specifically where the cracks fissure into the sides and down down down to the foundations. “What happened?”

“Nothing.” A lie. There’s blood on him for crying out loud.

Still, you do not pry. “Should I…” you stop. It takes some struggle, reaching down deep and wrenching the words out into something stringed and legible. “Do you want to clean up?” you offer softly, motioning to the bathroom. “Just…a shower, I guess. I can get those washed.. Blood’s really hard to get off after all and they’re nice clothes…from my personal experience at least…”

Blade watches you, tilting his head a bit. He does look a little like a dog now, one with a wrinkled muzzle and dark, serious eyes. “Fine.” he relents after some consideration, impassively getting to his feet. He follows you to the bath, delicately sidestepping your frame to enter. You let the water heat before letting it run into the bucket, offering him a pitcher and some soap.

“You’ll have to make do with the towel…I might have some spare blankets around.” you add, because you will not have a naked man walking around your house. There’s so much your ancestors might allow at this point. This would be toeing the line from possibly being dragged into the afterlife.

He spares a grunt in response while bandages come undone. You chew against the inside of your cheek, inhaling stale metal and collecting blotched brown linen from him. He’s hesitant, letting you close, but it takes a quick turn of his wrist for you to pick out the worst of his wounds. These ones do not heal away the rawness and the sick pink of flesh. These ones still bleed.

“Can you manage?” you peep out. Blade stares at his hand, at yours grasping his.

“Yes,” he says after a while. His fingers brush against the inside of your palm as you let him go, and you take that shaky step out of the bath, leaving behind a clean roll of bandages and antiseptic at the door.

V. PUTREFACTION

The woman beside you looks tired, worn away at the eyes and around the edges of her face. “Stay still.” she whispers hurriedly, stuffing her phone back into her purse as she gathers the skirts of her seere.

The boy on the bed does not stay still, tapping his fingers away at his lap as you shoot him a reassuring smile. There’s plenty of nervous energy stuffed away in the cracks and crevices of that tiny body of his, and it barely abates with the ticking second hand from your analog clock. “Are you nervous?” you offer, taking a knee beside him. The boy purses his lips, brown eyes focused wholly onto the floor below.

“No.” he decides to be brave and squares his shoulders up. You appreciate the effort as you press at the inside of his arm.

“That’s nice.” you nod. “But it’s okay to be scared sometimes. I know how scary needles can be.”

“I’m not scared.” he insists. He challenges you, looks at you dead in the eye with the most determination he could pluck away at his reserves and gather together. “Last week I chased a ghost away from my room. I turned the lights on and screamed at it.”

You crack a smile. “Is that so? Did it try to come inside?” you entertain the thought, poke away at his imagination till you find the faint blue of a vein. You see how his mother bows her head down, looking a little sick. The boy doesn’t seem to catch on in the way his eyes light up and he draws himself up. You don;t think she wants him to see. Sometimes there are instances where you see parents squirrelling away those bits of childish innocence like uncut diamonds; biting down at grimy hands that try to snatch it away.

You cannot fault her for wanting him to be happy. He was only four.

“Yeah. I was all GRAAAAAHHHH’!” you flinch at his spirited demonstration. He’s pleased with the audience and the invoked emotion as his mother winces and tries to pull at his ear to keep him quiet. It’s too late given his excitement, ducking down to continue his babbling. “And it went ‘AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH’! Then it left and I went to see if amma and appa were alright. They were and I hugged them to make them feel better.”

“That is brave.” you nod. “You be careful out there, okay? Don’t stop hugging your amma and appa. I’m sure they love your hugs.”

“After this, can I have the chocolate at the desk?” he asks, batting his lashes. He flashes you a cherubic grin, and you might have caught yourself smiling a little wider. It’s a rare instance of silly happiness after the mounting strain on your shoulders and the urge to rip your eyes out bloody and raw. “The one in the big bowl.” he adds for clarity; because adults, he might be thinking, needed plenty of that.

You look over your shoulder to the door with a thoughtful little hum. “It’s not chocolate. It’s tamarind candy. The sweet kind. But it’s sour too.” You admit. “Do you still want some?”

The boy draws his lips back. “I’d still like some. I like tammy-rind.”

“Well, listen to your amma and stay still, okay?” he does, his small hand reaching out to grasp at her seere’s pallu. She holds her hand out and he takes it, tugging at her fingers, then her thumb as the nervousness slowly trickles in and scrunches away at his brow and nose. “Don’t get all stiff. Deep breath in…deep breath out. You can tell me about things you like if it helps…what games do you like playing?”

“I like football.” he offers. “My cousins say I'm a baby so I can't play with them. But I'll grow big and tall one day and I will kick their legs and show them.”

“Don’t start there.” his mother warns. “You’re not kicking anyone.”

The boy makes a face just as you give him his shot, then yelps a moment at the pin prick. His eyes squeeze shut for a second, his grip white knuckled till you finally pull the needle out and pat his cheek. “Done. That’s his DTP vaccine done with. He’ll need to get his booster next year as well so keep a reminder on for that.” His mother nods, handing in the little booklet as you scribble away the recommendations and mark away at the sheet.

The boy grumbles, poking at his arm. “Do I get the tammy-rind now?”

“Of course. The brave kids always get an extra one too.” you appease, walking them out.

“Great.” he’s mollified at least, wiping away any residual tears with a discreet turn away. “And i think you’re brave too. I saw a ghost here. In the door at the back.”

You freeze up a bit. “Did you now?” you’re feeling your voice crack a bit at the end of that question. Even the mother glances over, unsettled. You shake your head and the reassurance returns. It’s nothing, nothing at all, you try to say.

“Yes. He looked super scary. But he just looked at me and told me to go back to amma.” the boy sighs.

“I’m sure that was just one of the boys who helps the doctor.” his mother reasons, her words taking a sterner edge. She’s bustling him out, putting away at his back as she straightens her pleats and fixes her pallu. “It’s not nice saying things like that now. You’d better apologise to that man if you said that to him.”

“I didn’t say anything.” the boy insists as you pause by the door and see them off after handing him his hard earned candy, ( “thank you, doctor. Say thank you to the doctor auntie.” the mother urges. The boy echoes it drolly then slips back into his stubborn insistence, pulling at her arm ). Their voices fade into the faint music playing at the lounge and the chatter in the waiting room. Aleena turns to call for the next person, peering down at the files.

A hush filters through. One of the men stands over the row of seated people. They draw some of their children closer, muted shock and fear splayed across and you feel flayed open. “Tell the clients to leave.” you mumble. She nods and sends the word out. Some of them seemed to catch on quick and pack away their folders and gather their companions. A line of men and women mill out, leaving that sole frame standing, arms crossed in wait.

You keep your eyes down as you motion to the doors. Aleena hides away as she usually does ( you’d torn into her when she’d gotten too mouthy, too brave the last time ).

“Is something wrong? I’m sure I paid off the fee two weeks ago.” you test out.

The suited man doesn’t reply yet, sinking into the backdrop of static and the panicked thudding in your ribs. You vaguely remember Blade hiding away within the archives and hope he doesn’t wander back out again. He takes his time, dragging out the seconds as he idles past your framed degree and a few photos from your childhood home.

“A few weeks ago there was an…altercation in your clinic, correct?” he states more than he asks it, rubbing at his chin.

Oh shit.

“Yes…” you nod when you sense his wait. Your nerves wither away and you lose your sense of touch.

“Some of the men on my side died here. I was sent in to get to the bottom of it all.” His narrowed gaze settles on you. “It’s funny. We know there’s a third party involved but his body went missing from the morgue before he could be ID’d. Any footage of him? Wiped clean, and aeons forbid the police trying anything when it comes to getting witnesses to speak a consistent story.” His footsteps are an echo in the back of your mind, too loud, too distracting. Blade, dear lord, his presence here is a mistake. “Now, I'm here to ask if you had a hand in it, doctor.”

“No.” you choke out. “I don’t.”

“Were you working with that man who killed them?”

“No — ”

“Did you see him?”

You're too slow to respond and it takes him grabbing a fistful of your hair to rattle it out faster. “No I did not!” you insist, squeezing your eyes shut. You recall what you tell the boy, and the empty words about bravery. You feel like a liar steeped in bitter hypocrisy. It makes you want to rip your insides out and claw at your viscera.

Nails dig into the softer parts of your cheeks as your face is slammed into the wall. It draws out a choked, gasping wheeze from your ribs and white hot pain screaming at your skull, your muscles. The small, scared animal in you is crying, crying, crying away into bleak emptiness. It tries to run, eyes blown out and mouth hung open. It tries to make you run before you’re gutted clean through. “Are you lying?” the man asks quietly.

“No. No I didn’t.” You stutter it out, pressing your fingertips into the chipped paint. “I was hiding…I-I was hiding till t-they took the bodies.” The pressure against your head builds, builds till you yelp and struggle, terrified of him digging down hard enough to cut away at your airflow and snap your neck in two. For a moment, you wonder if he’ll do just that when he finally, thankfully, lets you go…

( Your eyes flit up, desperate, moving things and you look at him, actually look at him and the cold death in his gaze. You never assumed someone could look like that — empty and scooped clean of any humanity lingering at the edges. He’s hollow, and angry*.*

You made your mistake. )

…You’re slammed back in. The scream in muffled into your wrist. “You saw nothing?” he repeats, guttural in how he addresses and enunciates every word. It’s like reasoning with a man eater. You nod, nod because it’s all you had. “Nothing at all? No faces?” another nod and the man slips back and lets you crumple to the floor with that warning.

“You better not be lying.” he tells you, slipping to the speedy notes of your local tongue. “There will be hell to pay for that.”

You’re lucky, you think, for getting off that easily. The buzz in your mind builds and smothers you against your spot and you shift a bit when Aleena presses a hand to your shoulder. Blade is right behind her and she’s flattening her lips.

“You’re a nuisance.” you tell him, annoyance and anger and all that frustration meandering and stubbornly oozing through the cracks. Blade fixes you with a glare, drawing his mouth back to a half sneer.

“Who did this?” he asks, voice dipping to trembling danger, entropy brewing underneath all that. “Who did this to you?”

“None of your business.” you snip in turn, wobbling to your feet. Your coat is blotched red around the collar and the shoulders. You didn’t realise you were bleeding till your fingertips came away sticky and wet ( you feel like you’re careening off of the edge of a cliff, in a car you have no control of ). “You’re more trouble than you’re worth.” you add, croaking through your words and the buzz and the annoyance. “So just leave. Leave, tell her I can't babysit you if this…this is what I have to deal with.”

Blade narrows his eyes. “I cannot.” he states and leaves no room for argument as his hand grabs you at the scruff and half tugs you alongside him. You’re not spared any more dignity around him, and he treats you like a wet cat nipping and scratching at his arm. “You.” he adds, turning to your receptionist. “She needs to be tended to.”

Aleena mumbles something under her breath but seeks out the first aid kit. She swats Blade’s hands away once she approaches you again. You appreciate it. You don’t want him touching you and the crawling chilliness of his body invites an ugly sort of desperation that blocks away your throat and nudges at all the parts of you you’re less than proud of.

Blade does not leave. He never does, on that bitter note, looming over the two of you by the wall, that beast twisting in his eyes like a snake.

He unsettles you with the way he stalks the emptiness of your apartment rooms, pressing his body to the wall with shaky breaths. You watch him from the crack of your door and wonder if this is what unravelling sanity looks like. If it is the face of a man ripping open his chest and screaming through the guts until that beating heart is carved clean from the cavity.

Blade is more animal than human in how he walks. The room smells strange too. You do not know what it is, in its pungent notes and the unpleasantness of it all. It’s not rot, you’ve smelled rot before, and tasted that stench of decay lain thickly on your tongue.

This is more rancid, like regurgitated food and butter. You spot a single leaf on the floor, fan shaped and dipped in sunlit gold. Then more at his feet.

His form flickers by, rustling past your door. He’s at the balcony, then he’s not. You pad out and scan the dark streets, spotting his hunched frame nestled within the alleyways tucked at the side. There is a glimpse of purple from Kafka’s hair as she presses her lips to his cheek, whispering something to his ear.

Blade seems to melt and you watch on, half transfixed from the scandal, cheeks warming when Kafka leans to the side and waves, a playful grin curling on her face. She whispers something again and has Blade turn too, and you think you’re almost drawn in, dizzyingly close to the edge of your balcony rails till reason snaps you back and you return to your apartment.

( “Bladie…” Kafka coos at him, her gloved fingers pressing up against the seam of his lips. Blade tries to hide away the dry hunger in his stomach and his mouth. “Do you like this one?” she asks.

He thinks about it. The release of death. The warmth of your hands. The tears. He thinks of the man sawed apart on the concrete, down to tendons and bones and muscle and flesh. He thinks of the scattered limbs and the bruise and your blood.

Her hands press to his cheeks. “Listen to me. Push the mara down…we don’t want to keep upsetting her now do we?” she asks, teasing in how her teeth flash. Kafka feels like a dream lost in the haze of it all. He leans into her touch and lets the flowering roots in his chest rupture and decay.

“No.” Blade admits, surreality dragging him under. He does not spare her a reply to that question. Kafka already knows. )

VI. DISCOLOURATION AND DESICCATION

“Tell me who did it.”

“No.”

Blade looks annoyed, scraping and haunting the walls of your apartment as he follows you through the kitchenette like a ghost. The brewing…whatever it was…from the past couple of days seemed to have cowed after that visit from Kafka, nothing more now than a placid beast ( as placid as a rabid mutt could be ). You clench fist into your knife’s handle a little harder than you should have.

She could have taken him back, her little lover boy guard dog and his strange balcony crawling ass —

Blade hovers close, so close. There’s an absence of heat beside you. He’s always cold, colder than a man, warmer than a corpse. That in-between he seemed to linger in. His limbo. “He hurt you. He will do it again. Tell me who it was.”

“Absolutely not.” You state, voice flattened against bemusement. “You'll just kill him.”

He stills, his eye letting out something of a neurotic twitch. He might just strangle you now, carve you open with that sword, eat your insides…maybe. “He suspects something. He must die.” He says it slowly, irritation budding through the dryness of his countenance. Your nose wrinkles at this.

“That's nice and all but you stink of death enough, and ‘enough’ is still far too much.” You angle your knife, pressing into the tender outer layers of the onion till you slice through it. The blade shudders against the impact and your hand strains into it. You bite back a curse.

( You're thinking about too many things.

You're thinking about Aleena turning in her resignation letter, and her apologies. A marriage, she'd said. And how could she turn down her parents’ demands after everything? They care. Despite the pain, you knew that too. It's that painful kind of love where you'd hurt and hurt and keep hurting them when the choices seemed so sparse. Better a bloodied knife, they'd try to say. Better a few cuts than being torn apart.

She only just found out, she admits. There was an uncomfortable shift in her body. She looked ready to crumple into herself and shatter into a million pieces. She's meant to meet him during the agelu. It's been arranged for.

How did you? you'd asked. You were afraid to ask. You shouldn't have asked. That meant looking ugly things in the eye through to the nauseating technicalities. Aleena swallows. She looks more distressed than she should. You let her weep a little and nurse those gaping cuts. Your bruises don’t smart anymore. You’d forgotten they were there.

She shows you a newspaper. And you stare on with an empty kind of apathy as you spot her details within the bridal adverts, down to her college degree and the colour of her eyes. )

( You were reminded that there's a kind of love fuelled by bitter hate. You were reminded of the sight of her shrinking back and fading into the walls of your clinic, like a collapsing black hole. It's how daughters and duties were here, a little better than the north but broken in a way where broken things couldn't be fixed.

You've seen it in a mirror once, hollow and void and dead in your eyes, and your mehendi stained hands tearing apart the the jasmine in your hair. )

Blade tilts his head and angles the knife just a bit before you could cleave a finger straight off. “I’m being reasonable. He won’t hurt you if you let me.” he tries to reason, playing clumsy diplomacy. But Blade still pauses between his words with that perplexed unsureness. He didn’t know what to tell you when you were sobbing on that couch. He doesn’t know what to say now, when your insides were burning away your peace.

You brush him away and viscerally visualise grinding him to a bloodied pulp with your grandmother’s mortar. The violence in your head helps a little.

Blade keeps watching you, turning his head away from the spattering chillies and the sour notes of tamarind staining your hands. The onions are still a bother. You think it can't quite get worse at this point, with stubborn tunicated bulbs and a dull blade. The over-stimulation you're half subjected to feels like claws on a chalkboard, gratingly demanding every bit of your attention.

“Give it to me.” It's not a request. He takes the knife before you could really mutter out sneering ‘no’. He slices through the onion, passes you a pointed look and keeps slicing ( why does he make it seem so easy? Why??? ).

“Give it back.” you try.

“No.”

“Please…?”

He nudges at your shoulder, towards the stove. Your shoulders sag and a frustrated lump gathers at your throat. At least he’s helping, you reason. You shouldn’t be so angry over this. A normal person wouldn’t want to throw a fuss over a stolen chore and a stubborn wraith. You light the stove and gather what you’d prepared. Blade was done with onions. It’s only been a minute.

…You decide to not question that.

( Please don’t kill me, you add in your mind for good measure. )

There’s something therapeutic in indulging with this familiarity. Your old home smells like this, like comfort and nostalgia in the idyllic sorts of memories. They’re the ones you lock away in a box, nestling that key deep inside your ribs. Even so, that horrible weight swells up like a tumour. It could burst any minute. It’s wearing you down and frying the ends of your nerves.

“Aleena is leaving.” you blurt out. Blade blinks. “My receptionist.”

“She told me.” Blade nods.

“She’s getting married.” you continue.

Blade considers this. “She is…young, yes?”

You nod. “Twenty four.” you swallow. Your throat is parched. “Some families do marry their children off at this age. Not all of them, of course…and not every arrangement is all that bad…I've seen some good ones.” He keeps listening, you know it in the way his head tilts ever so slightly to you. Your senses are clumped together, messy, messy, messy. “It’s none of my business.” you add feverishly. “I shouldn’t be getting upset.”

“...why aren’t you?” the question is sudden. You feel your confusion knock away reason. Blade tries again. “Married. Why aren’t you married?”

“That’s a very impolite thing to ask.” you reply quickly.

“I see.” he struggles, pondering over his next few words. “I will not push further.” You purse your lips, the conversation delicately fraying and fading out. You let the silence stagnate, hovering by the stove with your vessel-full of coconut milk.

Something inside you tugs.

“I was supposed to be.” you mumble. “He was a nice guy, was working for a stable job and had plans to buy a house close to the beach. The kid you’d see in movies, you know?” you laugh a little. “And maybe I was a little swept up. But then we talked and we both realised that…we had dreams of our own. Things we weren’t willing to let go of, a relationship he was serious about.”

The chicken goes next, as the gravy settles into a shade of brown-red. Blade is staring, something in his face set in an odd way. He looks off putting. Hungry, like those night spent pacing through your living room.

“We parted ways. There weren't any dramatic rejections…he seemed just as pleased with it, to be fair. I hear he’s settled nicely with his boyfriend…good for him.”

“So you came…here…” Blade works it out.

“Quite. Those choices weren’t wholly supported by my family. They kept trying to find someone and I kept pushing it away…I was scared I guess, and people got angrier and insistent and I started feeling less…human.” you take a deep breath in. “So I left one day. They never contacted me. My father only started again after my grandmother died. And I opened this clinic up…”

The room is blurred out. All you see are splotches of colour and a blemished, dark blue whee Blade stands, rimmed by the sunset.

You wipe the tears away.

“It’s all I have now.” you whisper, a painful crackle coating the peaks. “All of it. And it’s a nice place…I used my grandfather’s photo frames in the reception…my mother’s carpet too. It was a souvenir from the north. And…and some of the toys were my own. It took some digging and cleaning and repairing but they’re just as good as any other…” It’s flaking at the surface. You aren’t a strong person. It’s always been so easy to crumble with the weight ( like a paper doll ). “So please…please just leave before you make it worse.”

Blade regards you. He always is, watching, watching, watching, like there’s nothing else that could tug him away, take up his mind when he’s not snapping necks till they shatter.

“I cannot.” His brows are set, pulling together just a little.

“You can.” You insist, feeling stupid, childish. Its pointless trying to convince him otherwise anyway, Not without feeling hacked down and near helpless beneath his looming shadow. “You can leave. You and Kafka can, it's not that hard.”

“We have work to do and it must be done.” driven finality settles deep. He feels so far away, repeating words like a robot. It's hard to think of Blade as human in times like these, where he's either too robotic or too animalistic. It feels scripted, all wrong, all twisted up and chewed apart. “You wouldn't understand it. Leave it be.”

“I won't, if it's my business you're intruding on.” You set the coconut milk down, the steel vessel striking polished granite with a sharp ring. Your teeth grit together ( you hate feeling angry. You hate the cloudiness that comes with it ). “What if I run then?”

Blade's glare is cutting. “You will not run.” He asserts, scruffing you so easily, tugging you just a little closer. You fight back the urge to swat at him. At least you could think a little. At least you still had a tiny hand digging it's claws into your self control. “I'll drag you back. I will keep dragging you back till you cease this foolishness.”

( How were you being foolish? All you have are fragmented snapshots, the lingering sense of dread, the knowledge of something sinister brewing beneath the surface. You have a man in your house, a murderer. You have a man in your house you swore you killed. You have a man in this house who doesn't die.

How were you being foolish? You want to scream at him till your vocal chords fray and your arytenoids collapse. But Blade has probably never felt fear. You can't imagine his sympathy.

And you still killed him though. You stop. The guilt is back, and the anxious Turn of it, and the seething edge of your rage burning, burning, burning. )

“Did Kafka tell you to do that too?” poison burns holes into your words. You and Blade are sinking deeper and deeper beneath it, boring holes through your skin.

( You need to stop. You need to stop talking. )

“She wouldn't be as kind.” He asserts simply, rolling his eyes at the mention.

Defeat comes for you from the corners. You huff. “Let go of me.” your arm is shoved back, elbowing his ribs. Blade doesn't flinch, but his grip loosens and he dips his head down in acknowledgement. “Are you ever going to leave me alone?”

“When we collect what we need, yes.”

“...get it over with quickly then.” You mutter, stalking away from him. “Tell me when the chicken is cooked. Leave me alone till then.”

Blade takes a moment. “Alright.”

“Bladie, you're upset.”

Is he? Blade doesn't quite see it. But there is an ache where his heart should be. It's been there since you'd locked yourself away and he’s left to stare at the curry bubbling at the edges. Kafka laughs from the other end of the line, light, airy; she's probably wiping blood away from her swords.

“You are. Has the doctor been softening you up?” She's playful, prodding, poking, stringing along her words. “Cute. Is she why you’re calling?”

“She’s asking questions.” he steadies his phone. It’s so easy, how it slips between his fingers. It’s not the firm immovability of his sword hilt and it’s slippery, almost unusable with his twitching. Blade hears Kafka hum against his ear, kneading away at the issue before her voice picks up again.

“You know you can’t give too much away, right? We need to follow the script and if she meddles too much…”

“I know.” Blade cuts in, apathy sinking deeper. The script, yes, the script. There’s that flash of familiar awareness. The script is something to be followed, right down to the bare details. If pinstripes needed to be worn, then pinstripes must be worn and if Blade must cut a hand off, that hand must go. But even he knows of the variables being difficult, breaching at destiny’s thin skin.

“And she’ll only get hurt, Bladie.” Kafka coos it out gently, placating the tenseness building in his shoulders. “It’s unfortunate how scared little things tend to bite more. Listen to me, try appeasing her a little, yeah? I’m sure a treat or two should keep her from stepping too out of line.”

“How much longer do I have to stay here?”

“You want to leave so soon?”

Blade does not. He can feel the roots tugging at his feet, fixing him down here, leeching, leeching, leeching. The fluttering ache in his stomach has grown worse. Blade fears never slipping away and that won’t do. Wolves aren’t to be leashed. That fractured memory, the writhing ocean in those eyes…there is no place for him here.

( Destiny, destiny, destiny. The unattainable, the inescapable…Kafka whispers something else. He wants to break his wrists. )

And still, Kafka knows. He can practically see the cheshire curl to her lips. “Cute.” she repeats, drawling the word out. “I’m almost done. Just a bit of the usual…we’ll have the stellaron collected in no time and we can head out. Till then, lie low and be a doll for me before I come to collect you, okay?” he can hear the faint echo of her footsteps echoing past empty hallways. She might spare a visit soon, he realises. “And again. Try not to upset the doctor too much, yeah?”

Blade dips his head down, mollified. “Alright.”

The phone cuts away. You’re still in your room, cut away from most of his conversation. The chicken looks cooked so he turns the stove off and gropes about absently till he feels a plastic handle. Then he knocks on your door.

It takes you a moment to open it for him. “Is it done?” you ask. Blade stares down at your wide, tired eyes. “Yes.” he replies, dizzy and blotted out in the centre all at once. He can’t quite stop it, the rapid undergrowth, the rustling call of mara, that need to seize you by the face and tear into the softness of your cheeks, to bite, to taste blood, to break your bones and devour you. To feel the dig of your nails against his arms, something sharper, you scooping out his chest, his ribs and his heart till it’s beat ceases and he curls into your warmth —

“Do you hate me?” he asks quietly, unwavering. Its swelling. “Do you want me gone?”

You swallow, halfway out of your room. Blade wants to grab you, taste —

“I do.” you mumble.

Appease her. Kafka’s echo fades out once more in the back of his head. Blade presses the knife to your hand, holding its edge just over his stomach, pressing till he feels its prickle numb out. It’s where the fluttering was, unfettered when he tore his intestines out upon your couch and let the blood seep into the fabric ( you hadn’t liked that, so he stopped ).

He stops, gripping you just above the beat of your pulse. It speeds up, vivacious, so alive ( Blade is used to his steady thrum, slow, so slow unlike that of a human ). “You can kill me then.” he tells you. “If it pleases you.”

There’s a shift. The handle slips away and you snatch your hand back, face twisting to what he recognises as distress. Then you look angry, slamming the door back shut. “Don’t talk to me.” You scream through, muffled by hardwood.

Blade feels empty. He collects the knife and turns back into the kitchen, temptations spilling out when he lingers a little too long and thinks of sweet oblivion.

He muzzles himself as most dogs should be. His teeth are blunted, his claws filed.

He doesn't want to scare you.

VII. CONSUMPTION

Aleena hasn't spoken much since she'd told you about 'the arrangement' ( you make it sound like some cold business deal. A travesty. Maybe you were being far too pessimistic with this whole ordeal, putting in too many chunks of those ugly memories into that basket. You could be wrong. You could be wrong about it all ). It's an all too familiar disconnect, a silent misery that you'd watch every day after. She's letting it fill out her whittled spaces, and it worries you. Worries you in the way your heart twists and your insides turn.

( Won't you be coming, he'd asked again over a messy phone call. There's a lot of things to catch up on. We'll lay off the insisting, we'll let you choose the groom this time. That would be far better, right?

And your father's words meter out to warbled static, spilling through your ears and onto the floor. )

Maybe you should put something out in penance. Let those ghosts keep to themselves and continue their silent vigils. You're not superstitious, and rituals like these feel more a far away dream since you'd moved away.

"Aleena…"

"Yes?"

"How about we go get some cha during our break?" you offer a kind smile, tired, a little neurotic but you think it will ache a lot more if you say nothing at all. That wound up and coiled-away thing in her, pulling at the set to her jaw and the firm stoicism she displays — it slowly lapses. She looks down at her feet, back up at you and blinks a long, slow blink.

"That sounds nice." she croaks out, pushing aside a stack of papers. You check the analog clock above the two of you. A lunch break was due in another fifteen minutes and there a few checkups and medical records to fill in for school diaries. You could finish soon enough."Is it at the local place? I like the one with the cardamom."

"Sure you can."

Aleena seems to think a thousand thoughts all at once. "Thank you." she whispers when you step back, trained down to the keyboard. She's not typing, tracing the plastic frame itself . You leave her be, let her stew a while before gently gathering her up and leading her to the closest stall.

( Blade was cornered in the stores. You tell him not to stir up any trouble.

"Where?" he asks.

"None of your concern. I'd like some time alone with her, please." He reaches out, curling his hands into the sleeve of your coat. His eyes look like smelted iron. You tell yourself not to flinch, to skitter away because you will not be a rabbit. For once you will not be a rabbit. "I'm going." you repeat with more purpose. "You can't tell me otherwise."

Blade lets you go. )

It's crowded as is, and you try not to let yourself be pushed out by the squeezing throng. Not until you and Aleena leave with your tea and a packet of glucose biscuits to sit by a roadside ledge beneath the tree cover.

She takes a few bites before she starts talking again.

"Sorry about the suddenness of it all."

"The marriage?"

"Yes." She picks away at some of the crumbs.

"It's okay." You pat her hand in assurance. "I was wondering if you were doing alright

Aleena seems to ponder over it. "A little. I know him. We went to the same school…so it's not all bad." She drains the last of her tea, throwing the Styrofoam cup into a dustbin. "I'm just…angry I suppose."

"At your parents?" You guess.

"Yeah." She swallows. "They've been pestering me since my second year in college. I had to keep telling them that I wanted more stability…a job. Something. I can't just keep relying on my spouse for money and all that, you know…my parents said I could do that after. That I was being selfish for putting it off."

You purse your lips. "It's good to be stable." You agree. "Sometimes it's easy to point fingers and blame it on unnecessary worry and paranoia…but from my experience, marriages like these are a gamble. You can't be too sure, even with people you think you know." You must be rambling. Embarrassment floods into your cheeks. You have the grace to look a little sheepish.

"Right! And I told them that and…" She shakes her head. "They don't get it, I guess. I mean…I don't mind settling down, really, but they keep pushing me and rushing into it and then they just put up that advert without saying anything and..." Her wide eyed hysteria is palpable. You might want to hug her, steal her away. Familiar pains tend to do that, stinging at your soft insides.

"Am I not a good daughter?" The fragility spotting it aches, unfurling, spreading forth. You shut your eyes.

"I'm sure you are." You tell her honestly. And she is. You know she is.

Aleena's face stretches, pained. "It feels the exact opposite. I might be making it all more difficult…I should be grateful, shouldn't I? They care about me, I know that and…this…" The words are turned over, thought upon. Her hands twitch, gesturing at the air with wild frustration. Aleena is shrinking by the second, cracking at the corners. "What do I do?"

Your throat dries.

"I don't know. I ran away from mine and now my family refuses to talk to me." You tell her. "There's a lot of different ways this could go. Parents react in different ways…all I can say is…you need to trust your instincts."

"I don't want to lose them." She admits shamefully, wiping away a tear. "I'm a coward."

You purse your lips. "I think we all are." You sigh. Your tea has cooled against your fingertips. “But…but I'd say it's better than being miserable the rest of our lives. It's selfish, I agree…” you feel defeat trickle down — defeat, hopelessness, a cocktail of too-many-things-at-once.. “it could work out too. It could work out and it will be alright after that. But there's a lot more before it all as well…I'm sorry. I'm not very good with advice.”

Aleena shakes her head, rubbing at her eyes. "It's better than people telling me that I'm being a nuisance."

"You said you knew him too." You add.

She scoffs. "He might have changed. The most I remember is him pulling at my hair and calling me ugly."

"Oh. Hopefully for the better, then."

Aleena rubs at her knuckles, humming softly as a trill of birdsong echoes above the two of you. "Thanks for taking me in." She says, and it's spoken so softly you almost miss it. "I learned a lot working under you.and you were good to me. Better than some other bosses I had…hopefully I should still be able to work after…" She breaks away.

A gooey sort of warmth trembles inside. It's the sort that cracks you open. "You're welcome."

She kicks out her feet, letting her footwear flap shutter against the balls of her feet, then stands back up. "We'll head back then? I don't think I'd want to leave you with unfinished work on my last day…"

"That would be terrible." you agree, cracking a grin.

Aleena veers the subject away to the common pleasantries. She talks about the weather, the new park in the better parts of the city and the flowers there. She talks about the old lady who invites her to feed the pigeons. You listen as you do, till you slip back into the clinic and start the afternoon shift again. Clockwork, familiar clockwork. Still, you ache. It's selfish.

"Blade." you call out when you step back into the stores. You're greeted with silence. You're greeted with emptiness.

"Doctor? we have another checkup!" You straighten up, smooth away the frazzle, the jumbled nerves and the frayed ends. There is a time and place for panic. Not now. Not when you have work to do. So you work. You work till the minutes and hours bleed in and the sun spills past the concrete rises. You work till the night falls and you realise the silence in the storeroom seems to have grown past the occasional rattle from the shutters and the wind.

You heave in a breath. Aleena has left, pulling you into a final hug. You find yourself looking for him.

( Where is he? )

It's Kafka who drops by after closing. The anxiety nips at you, your face, your hands, everywhere, between Blade still not making a reappearance and now…this.

You hadn't met her face to face in a while and you've almost forgotten the weight she carries. She'd turned you around before you could walks away any further, her gloved hands snaking round your waist and her lips brushing against the shell of your ear. "Sorry for the visit, doc." she speaks out, like you're old friends. "Had some work to look into."

You hunch your shoulders, cowed of any initial annoyance. Something in you draws back, scared around her. It's the cat-like preening, the way Kafka smiles so emptily at you. "Right." you mumble.

"Bladie's been treating you well? I told him to be on his best behaviour."

"He's…he's alright. If you're here to pick him up…well he's been missing since this afternoon. I…i swear I didn't — "

Kafka shakes her head. "Oh no, I sent him on a little errand." she assures you, sitting down in the waiting room. She pulls you down next to her. "I've noticed he's been doing his best around you too…granted I'm sure some of his habits are a little…of putting." That smile is back, razor edged.

"It's fine." You try to say.

"Mhm. If you say so." Kafka crosses a leg over the other. "I've been souvenir shopping between work and all. I might pack up a larger haul after this final matter is dealt with. So many things to do…" She trails off, drumming his fingers against her chin as if deep in thought. "Have any places you recommend visiting? I've heard the silks here are to die for."

You hadn't known that either. "That's…nice." You lower your head, that far away beeping growing louder and louder against the chills clawing up your spine. You breath in, feeling the point of her nails press up against your cheek and turn you around to face her.

"Oh dear. I don't think you're very happy to see me." she coos. "Bladie hasn't been very good to you, has he?"

You open your mouth.

"You don't have to say anything." she cuts in with what seems to be kindness. You were almost fooled by it, set adrift, running straight into that tangle of webbing. Kafka feels predatory the way Blade does, and in ways that doesn't feel like him either, spinning you around and around in circles for those simple little amusements.

"He scares me." you blurt.

"Is that so?" Pity weighs in her sentence, cloying it together like resinous amber and sundew. She looks delighted.

"He does." you nod, feeling helplessness undo your seams. Kafka leans in close, close enough for the warmth from her breath to spill over your jaw. You want to push her off — you should, given who she is. But she clings so close, drinking it all in with strange euphoria. She's still holding your face, and Kafka was far stronger than she presents herself to be.

"You poor lamb. I hope he didn't bite you too hard." She smiles, caught in a trance as you sink further into magenta and pink and the smell of her perfume. "Then again, Bladie's always rough with the things he likes. I'm almost tempted to take you with us."

You shutter, blank out, flail about internally before all reasoning bears down with the impact of a comet. "I don't want to go with you though." You squeak, the words sinking in so quick and it shocks you.

Kafka considers you, tilting her head with assured grace. "Are you sure?" She asks again, thumb pressing up against the apple of your cheek. "It complicates things quite a bit for you. I'd say you'd be more miserable staying here than giving in, no? For one…" She's enjoying herself, her lazy gaze scanning the clinic again. "…you'll be loosing all of this."

You seize up. "…What — "

"This." Kafka repeats. "All of this. It'll be gone soon enough. Bladie and I have dipped into businesses that most should keep out of…I'll spare you the details, really…though you might just have more popping up in that little head of yours." She taps a nail against your temple.

"What are you talking about." You croak out, falling into a gaping bit. The vestiges of horror start taking root in your lungs. Kafka bites her bottom lip, playing coy.

"Oh dear, I've said too much. May as well let you in on it then." She croons. "The IPC don't have much of a hold here, do they? No wonder…granted it made going through this operation far easier." Kafka lets you go. You lean back, back away from her, sputtering. "To keep it simple, we were here to collect something. A very important something…and out of all the possibilities we had…your little route happened to give us the least amount of grief to deal with."

You grip at the armrests hard. "I don't…I don't understand…" You choke every syllable out with a tongue that feels like lead. "I don't understand." you repeat, the mania arching your higher notes. Your clinic, this clinic, the only thing standing between giving up and going back and…Your clinic ( You remember the money, the scraping together and the loans upon loans and that less naive part of you still folded into the walls and corners ).

Kafka shrugs. "I don't expect you to. You've been a tucked away and coddled into this peace your planet has blanketed you with. There's plenty more in this universe you can't quite comprehend; and there are plenty of big bad things out there that Bladie and I could hardly hold a candle to…" She grins. It's a vicious, predatory thing. Your fear is a feast to her, one lazy bite after the other.

"I don't want this. You're lying — "

"In another five minutes…" Kafka begins. "Bladie will come back , dragging a little friend of ours along with him. He'll have sustained a hit to his head, half healed. The hem of his coat will be ripped off." Her gaze darts to the clock. "Tick tock. I'll be busy after that so you'll need to be quick with what you have to say."

You're stunned to silence. Blade. An associate. It's a nightmare in the making. strangling every bit of air from your lungs. Kafka seems terrifyingly sure, watching the way you move, scramble, feeling disjointed and not all there or all quite present in your body.

"I don't want this." You tear up.

She kisses your cheek. "I know, sweetie." Kafka gives your shoulder a condescending squeeze. You may as well be stabbed in the stomach too, revulsion burning your throat, jerking you away from her. It makes you want to grow claws, to make her hurt somewhere, anywhere. "It's too bad, really. Maybe if you were a little braver, a little more gutsy, we might have struck you from that list." She laughs. "Honestly, I find it adorable. You're like a scared little stray…"

A sickening thunk suddenly echoes out back, soft against the tile, and moving trough whimpered struggles. Kafka's eyes narrow. "That seems to be our cue." she comments lightly. You look at the clock. Five minutes.

Your voice is stolen away, a failed note against the hand crushing your windpipe. You feel dizzy, dizzy, dizzy, almost stumbling over the chair. Kafka is drunk off of it, shoulder brushing against yours. It's just her, those footsteps, the smell of her perfume. "So…" she whispers. "What's it like?" Her touch sears at your wrist, edging higher. "Being scared?"

Blade steps between the two of you. His hand coming to grasp at your arm, smearing a brown, bloodied stain against the expanse and dwarfing your wrist ( he can break it so easily ). He stinks of iron and rot and you don't dare to face that monstrous view of him, just like that first day, feeling his pulse recede and the massacre he left behind under the fading colour of his eyes.

( And still, you feel guilty. Because Kafka is right. You are a coward. )

"Kafka." Blade utters, a warning stained against his stressed inflections. "Leave her be."

Kafka's lips pull at the corners, serene, seemingly innocent. She doesn't even try to hide the deception. "Jealous much?" she snickers, letting you go. Blade feels agitated, the beginnings of a riptide streaking beneath a still surface. He yanks at you, fingertips pressing at your cheek, the spot between your ear and the column of your neck. It's the most he's touched you.

( Has she hurt you, he wants to demand. Has she? )

"Don't touch her."

Kafka holds her hands up in surrender. "Okay." she relents, content and entertained with the way things seem to be. From the corner of your eye, you see a mass…something close to human, move. A scream is lodged in your pharynx. Your nails dig into Blade's hand, a hoarse, wheezing sound heaving from the depths of your lungs. The mass stretches, tries to move away. You see red plaster the white tiles beneath it.

Blade's gait shifts to awareness, sharp eyed, watching the man try to escape.

"You didn't break his legs?" Kafka asks.

"I did. This one is stubborn." Blade snarls. He looks dog like, wolf like, fangs borne between a drooling muzzle. Your eyes sting as you try to tug away, away from him as Kafka stands and saunters over to the body, that elusive little smile still present.

"Well, we have plenty to ask of him. He still has a few details to give away now, doesn't he?" She hums a little tune, yanking the man by the hair till his broken whimpers turn to miserable screaming. "Come on Bladie, I need help. And you…" She fixes that stare on the man. "Listen to me. You can't speak anymore, or scream, or cry. Not till I tell you to."

The man's cries fade out into open mouthed gasps, his face a bruised and bloodied mess of tears and snort. Blade was not kind in handling him, not with his torn tendons and the unearthly jut his legs were angled at. Your skin crawls at the sight. You reach for your bag, your phone, shaking past the initial terror to give a final call for help.

Blade looks at you. It's enough to completely shatter it, unwinding, undoing, pressing down harder against the fragile cracks in your walls and letting that mess slip away past the desperate grasp of your arms and down away on the floor.

You shut your eyes and tell yourself you saw nothing.

VIII. SKELETONIZATION

You don't hear much of the man, save for Kafka's questions muffled behind the walls. The whats, whens, wheres and hows that you can't keep track off without giving too much of yourself up ( you're afraid you do, a thousand different things will split. You tell yourself there's nothing there ). You focus in the clock instead, watching minutes after minutes pass beneath the incessant sound of it ticking, ticking, ticking.

Minutes after minutes after minutes.

There's a final exchange of words. You hear a tumble, a body hitting the ground. Kafka walks out, hardly bothered in the slightest and pristine save for that dampness of her gloves. She shoots you a charming smile, taking in how you'd tucked into yourself. "Well you're a sight for sore eyes. Scared, lamb?"

You're scared of a lot of things now, of the woman in front of you and the man outback and the man whose words they stole and the impending aftermath predicted. You're trapped in your own burning house, doors jammed shut and the window too high to take a jump. You'll suffocate in here, choke till your lungs collapse and your organs scream and fragment.

Kafka cups your cheek. "Hm, a pity. Scripts have to be followed though…sorry about that doc." She draws away and you let out a wet little sob. "Don't be too sad about it." She coos, patting your cheek. "On the bright side, I'll be leaving soon. Stay close to Bladie, okay? Can't have you running off and throwing a fuss now."

Dear lord no. Not Blade. Not Blade after all this. It feels like a joke and a half, an empty attempt at drawing out any laughter from an unenthused crowd of blank eyed faces. You stay seated, wide eyed and insistent. "No." you choke for good measure. Kafka's expression glows.

"No?" she echoes, a hand resting against either side of the armrest. You try to make yourself small, edging away from her farther and farther till her knee slots between your legs and you nearly cry out and kick her off. "Come on now." She coaxes, hand tugging at your waist, sitting you up proper. "Don't be too difficult. Bladie's not half bad."

You shake your head, blanking out through her crooning as your struggle intensifies. "Stop it." you repeat, shaking your head, seized and maniacal till your nails dig in. Kafka doesn't flinch. She's still smiling. "Don't you dare tell me I'm being —" You sob. it's messy, so messy and that pain in your chest only grows, spreading across like blooming rot. " — that I'm being difficult." You spit. "After all this, I'm allowed to. You're both insane, you fucks, I — "

Kafka presses a thumb over your lips. You bite, hard.

"Listen to me." She keeps talking. She won't stop. "Stop crying."

You stop crying. Your mind is empty white and fuzzy static stretching out like elastic. You feel her laughter against you. "Good girl." She praises. "Now, go on along with Bladie, okay? He'll do a good job looking after you."

You claw at the walls, trying to protest as your body lifts, padding out back, trapped within the long winding of corridors that didn't quite look like that once. "Kafka." you hear Blade echo again, his hands resting heavy on your shoulders. It sounds exasperated? Why? You're fine. You think you're fine. You see a magenta blur flutter around you and words spatter apart and stitch back together into nonsense and noise.

Blade takes you by the arm. You're half leaning against him, the soft, shaky breaths against his ribs and his heartbeat ( it's a slow, faint sound ). He seems to linger in place, letting you be as your nose screws against the smell of blood spotting his clothes. Then, he's leading you along the less crowded roads, shuffling past the harsh blaze of streetlights. Vaguely, you remember where this route takes you and you try to join the pieces — the memories feel so far, far away.

The mass tucked under Blade's arm moves. You look the man straight in the eye and do nothing. Your mind, your ribs are barren spaces.

You smell salt, hear the sea, the waves, the wind. The man in his arms struggles ( you're not here ). You see the panic stretched across, the way he pales to what looks like ash grey ( you're not here ). You watch Blade turn your face away, annoyance sparking in his eyes ( you're not here ). You look on anyway, as his fingers claw at his throat, so easily tearing apart soft flesh and tendon and muscle till his hands are stained warm red ( you're not here ). You're lain bare to those death throes, a wheezing from a broken windpipe, the yellow of subcutaneous fat and the ruptured arteries ( you're not here ).

"You should have looked away."

Blade's voice pulls you out. You finally breathe. Take it all in again as the cotton and the fuzz and the silk web is untangled from your notches. The man falls to the sand, nothing more than dead weight at this point.

( This could be you. )

You take a good, long look at him, at that tear stricken, marred face, that distended jaw and the awful angle to his limbs. The sand is already soaking up beneath him — he was alive once. You didn't know this person, you'd never met him and…

( You let him die. You're a doctor and you let him die. )

Blade's brow furrows when you take a shaky step back, two clear words; 'do not'. You look around you, spot one clear rout of escape amidst that hopeless need to collapse, the world spinning faster and faster and fraying and burning away at the far extremities. You try to run.

He doesn't lie when he says it's easy to catch you again.

You're drawn close, your back practically colliding against his chest before you could make it too far. That rabid, scrambling beast in your snarls and you sink your teeth into his wrist, kicking wildly till your foot connects with his shin. Blade grunts, and you slip away just a little, an inch, one more. But he's bigger, bigger and stronger and it takes a moment for you to fall to the floor, swiping into the buzz and feeling his heaving chest pressed against yours.

His hold closes round your throat. "No — " You burst out,. "No, no don't — "

Blade doesn't move as much against your kicks, face drawn to stony apathy while you try to pry his fingers away, vision blurring against tears and snot. His thumb presses down against your thyroid, breaths unevenly paced to an animalistic rhythm. He doesn't seem all there with how he seems so steeped in madness and…

…fuck it, you're terrified.

Your hand gropes to the side, closing round the uneven surface of a stone. You drive it into the side of Blade's skull, a faint crack ringing out. He falters, wide eyed as one hand presses against the wound and comes away wet. You take a gasping breath in, pushing yourself up but Blade drives you down hard, down to your back till it hits something soft, and still and dead —

( No no no nono no no no NO NO. )

The vermilion of his gaze burns you ( just like all those nights ago ).

It's already started to heal, collapsed parts of his skull scraping and pushing itself back out, repairing damaged bone and muscle. And Blade looks half drunk, sunken into rapture and starvation, his hand sliding up from your throat to press at your cheeks. You freeze, ceasing your assault to his chest and stomach.

He curls over your form, shrugging and swatting away your hands to pin you down proper. There is a wet squelch against your arm pressing against that open wound. "Stop…" You whine, trying to tug him back. "Blade. Blade stop — "

He presses his lips to yours. You slam your fist into his sternum, tasting his blood in his mouth. His teeth come next, biting against your bottom lip, taking, taking, taking. It feels infecting, like a disease, like something that shouldn't be there and you squirm. Blade's fingers tangle into your hair, giving it a sharp tug. You feel your back press against the corpse's shoulder, practically crushing you against it.

He's not gentle. Blade can't be gentle with the violence that comes with him. It's too deeply embedded into the crevices of his bone and marrow and in his veins and blood. It's the oxygen he breathes in, the lead that poisons his alveoli and files away at the pliable parts of his abdomen.

His tongue peeks through, pushing past your lips to take a taste. There's that heady taste in you, disgusting, curling in your guts and just about threatening to batter out. You kick him again.

His eyes flash, dyed more red than orange. He comes away with spit and blood smeared across his lips. You heave, staring up at him, then break down, sobbing openly. Blade keeps you still, bending down to kiss you another time, just at the corner of your lips.

"Enough." You beg him, sounding small. You feel defeated, the load wearing down the bones of your shoulder till you're crushed and collapse. "Please."

Blade blinks. He sits up and sits you up with him, nestled between his legs. You look behind you, the man's larynx having come turn free from your struggle, hanging out a hairs breath and cushioned by fat and crushed muscle fibres. You croak, tipping your weight over and emptying your stomach out onto the beach; till all you are retching out is acid and bile. He pulls your hair back, halting your mess from getting caught in it.

"Done?" he asks, drawing you back close to him, his gaze lidded. You shut your eyes.

"I want to go back home." you whisper.

"Alright." Blade promises you, putting you back down on the sand. "Don't move." You don't think you can. Your limbs weight down more and more with the passing minute. Blade drags the body out into the ocean, for a moment, disappearing beneath the surface. He returns, of course. He can't drown, or die ( He's not human, never will be ). "Come." he tells you.

You allow it, him gathering you in his arms. You don't make a fuss, or shout. "Keys." he reminds you. You hand them to him, leaning your head into his shoulder. Your tears prickle beneath your eyelids.

He takes you back home.

You don't know how he'd avoided the security guard's questioning, or the neighbours, But Blade sets you down on the little stool, pulling the bucket beneath the tap to let the hot water run. You draw your legs to your chest, thoughts collapsing into each other, fracturing and splintering as your trembling grows worse. All you can think of is gargling till the taste of blood is gone and the memory of that kiss is gone.

Blade fixes his attention on you. "You need to bathe." He says, taking a knee. You're exhausted, too exhausted to protest, trembling when he pulls away at your jacket and your pants, letting it pile up by the door.

"I can do it myself." You mumble. You question the necessity of it. He won't listen, after all.

He unhooks your bra and tugs down your underwear. "You're tired." He states. "Your attempts will not be as effective."

"Does that matter?"

Blade hums. "Kafka mentioned the need for hygiene. You could fall sick. Besides, you are a doctor." Not anymore, you nearly snap. He moves on to himself next, unbuttoning his jacket. "Detergent?" he asks when you squeeze your eyes shut and refuse to see any more. The sound of his belt buckle is next and his trousers being pulled down.

"Cabinet under the kitchen sink." you mutter. Blade steps out and you lean up against the bucket, watching the water steadily fill till it reaches your fingertips. You hear the beeping from the washing machine and Blade's returning footsteps. He settles behind you

"Turn around."

You turn. You do not look down.

He spends a moment regarding you, then empties a pitcher-full of water over your head. It's warm enough and you let your eyes slip shut as he works on scrubbing away the blood and sweat from your hair. That rotten thing curls in your belly, ringing round like a centipede crawling.

Blade's thumb wipes away the smudge on your cheek with sandalwood soap and he tips his chin up. "Don't fall asleep yet."

"Okay." you passively reply, opening your eyes. he hums and continues to wash you, treating your body with clinical indifference. You don't know what's worse, the hunger or the distance. The act of being viewed as anything but human leaves a sour taste in your mouth. "What about you?" You ask, filling the empty space. You don't want to think about tonight. You don't want to think at all.

Blade hums. "You can help." He shrugs right after. "We will be done sooner at least."

"Okay." You echo, reaching for the soap. You come to realise that he does need the help. Pulling the bandages off of him was a hard enough task. They were messily strewn on, almost cutting away his blood flow and he sweeps it aside. His wrists and his forearms are next. You don't undo the one on his thigh, furiously washing the dried fluids off of him.

What are you doing?

A part of you laughs at the obscene humour. A few hours ago, you'd have dropped dead at the very idea of doing this, if the hopelessness wasn't torn away from you the reins and left you on the backseat of a crashing car.

"You can…turn around."

Blade grunts and turns. you spurt too much shampoo into your hands. Some of it spills over. "You're scared." He says.

"I am."

He bends down a bit. It's easier to reach his head this way. "You should be. You should have killed me." He states, severity weighing his words.

Your shoulders slump, fatigued. "Please. Just stop." Your voice dips into a whisper. "Just stop. I want to rest, alright?" Blade falls silent, knitting his brow together. He nods wordlessly as you rake your fingers through his hair, undoing some of the knot building up against the shampoo suds.

( Blade thinks you're still too gentle with him, in how you trace one of his scars. But he feels the shudder, the roiling beat under your skin, the fear. He sees how easy it is to bring the tears out again and turn that mind of yours off.

He turns a little, pressing his fingertips to the softness of your thigh, just in case you try to run again. )

When you're both done, he has you swaddled in your blankets and deposited on your bed, clothes in tow. It's horrible, this tenderness. You don't think he's used to it either, in how he shuffles and cautiously pads at your arm like you're a fragile little thing, like he wasn't the one who took the mallet to it in the first place.

"Will you hurt me?" You ask, dead eyed.

Blade's lips part ( sometimes he does, when the mara blooms forth florets in his chest and stomach and he wants to break something that breathes beneath his hands ). "Will you run?" he asks.

"If I do, will you hurt me?"

"Yes." he replies bluntly, his hand resting on your calves. You know what that means. You squeeze your eyes shut and nod, laying down on the bed and curling up into yourself.

"You're a monster." you tell him with a shaky, illegible slur. All this for a preordained destiny, for convenience, because you're a coward. All this and you'll be left with nothing tomorrow. You think of your clinic and what you'd salvaged before opening it. It's foundations and the grey walls of the empty rooms it once had. Your heart poured into it all. "Both you and her."

Blade lowers his head. "We know."

IX. DISJOINTING

You did not sleep at all, last night. Blade still stalks the hallways at the unearthly hours you wake at ( five thirty on the dot ). A man is dead, a man you barely know, whose body now below the ocean's surface. Maybe the sharks ate him. And your clinic…you curse it all, and you curse that compulsion that has you reaching for your phone.

It doesn't take long to find it after browsing the local news network. A few live footage of the collapsed interior and the busted furniture. Years of work torn apart ( At least Aleena quit. At least she doesn't have to see this ).

"Do you know why they did this?" you ask, your voice scratchy when Blade comes to linger by your door frame. He'd washed his clothes last night, having pulled his trousers back on with a loose fitted tank top. Kafka must have dropped by.

Blade looks away.

"You know." You spit out, fury bubbling up, clouding your eyes, painting it all red. "You know, don't you? Look me in the eye and tell me you do, you little — "

"The man." Blade cuts in. "The man who hurt you."

You grip the sheets. "What did you do?" you whisper, numbness taking foot and taking away more and more reasoning.

"I killed him." he passes you a sharp look. "Letting him live would have put both of us at risk."

You let out a mirthless laugh. "So it's your fault then. You…you come in and just assume I would be fine with you just…" You laugh. You laugh and laugh and laugh till your ribs hurt and your sides ache because it was so unnecessary, all of this. He must be sick in the head, him and Kafka, to twist apart your livelihood and step all over it. Monsters, the lot of them. Monsters.

"Oh god you're a fucking riot. Now what should I do? I have no job…should I go back? Maybe you could get a kick out of me being sold off again, right?" You flash him a bright little smile, mania at it's finest, and anger. So, so much anger it boils your body alive.

He narrows his eyes. "You will not be leaving. They'll come after you next."

You giggle. "Of course they would." You whisper. "Of-fucking course they would. Then I'll just die. Let my father douse my ashes, if there's even a body to cremate because that just seems the best way to go." You lay back down, tugging at your hair with frustration. The mattress dips as he lays next to you, lips drawn against your nape.

It's possessive, demanding of every little thing and every little part you had to offer.

"I won't be leaving." You snarl, feeling all that spite gather. "I can't because of you. remember?"

"I know."

You press your cheek against your pillow. You're tired again. You want to sleep. "You may as well just kill me at this point." You state flatly. "There isn't much use keeping me alive. I've served my purpose right? What was it, some glorified shield?"

His grip on you constricts. You're pulled closer to his chest. "You will not die." He tells you, his nose pressing up against your neck. Blade inhales, tangling his fingers into your hair. "And I won't kill you."

You bare your teeth at him. Then you stop, and press your face to the pillow again. "Enough." you tell him, feeling angry and tired and empty and more. You try to push Blade off of you, the small of your back brushing against him. Blade lets out a hiss, nails digging into your forearm and you freeze.

He's pressed up, half hard against you.

You throw yourself away from him.

Your eye sockets burn as you flinch and struggle. "Stop." He rasps his order, pressing you stomach down against the mattress as you curl over the edge, letting out a panicked whimper, a migraine searing through your forehead. It turns into an ugly sob, into cries that bleed into the sheets, tracking saliva down as you're dragged back.

His weight bears down hard on your back, his mane curtaining your line of sight. You try to elbow him off and he wrestles your hands down, pinning them behind you. He's panting, letting out a stray growl every now and then. The edge of his nails dig a little deeper into your wrists, just as the other hand fixes itself firmly against your thigh.

You shake. You don't try to hide the glassy eyed look. You only shake.

Blade's annoyances seem to mount, his forehead pressing against your temple. ( Appease her, Kafka's voice whispers to his ear. Blade feels too much of you beneath his palm, and it stokes a selfish hunger that comes down violently ).

He trails his hand upwards. You lay slack, surrendering to it with a tense form. It tugs your nightwear down, spreads your legs a little more. You cry a little, then give up on it, his fingers exploring the softness of your thighs and slipping to the inside. He lets your hands go and you come to grasp at the pillows, nipping down at your bottom lip.

"Blade…?" You whisper, unsure.

He traces the seam of your cunt, dipping a finger inside to toy at your clit and you squeak, grabbing his arm. "H-hold on that's — "

Blade turns you over, draping your legs on either side of his hips. You look at him, pupils shrunken down at the sight of him surveying you, his lips pressing over the curve of your knee, then further down. You squirm beneath him, movements stilled by a firm hand on your belly. Blade bites hard, tearing into the skin of your thigh, breaking capillaries and drawing blood.

He pulls away to witness the bruising and the wet wail you shudder out, soothing you with his tongue brushing over the wound like a dog. You slam your foot against his shoulder. Blade simply grabs it and hoists it above his shoulder.

"Let me…" he mumbles, groaning up against your skin, spacing your thighs apart some more. You're squirming, and he roughly pulls you closer. "Stay still."

You can't, you want to say. You can't when he's touching you like that and —

He stills. "You haven't done this before, have you?" he guesses. You want to sink, sink down into a place that was far away from here. Blade's eyes are unnaturally bright, burning like coals against the dim lighting.

"Shut up and get this over with." You rasp. There's nothing here, nothing between the two of you. Maybe a few sick feelings from his side. You want it to be done with and let the maggots eat away at your body after ( if that makes it easier for him in the end ). Blade huffs, vague amusement flitting past his expression. His cheek is smushed against your thigh.

"Your first…" he mumbles, a vague story playing out in his eyes. Your legs are pushed back, and he sits himself down before you, teeth grazing through soft flesh till he latches his mouth to your cunt and presses the expanse of his tongue over your bundle of nerves. You mewl into it, jolting under his touch as his hands come to massage circles at your hips.

You stay steadfastly quiet after that, as the assault continues and he licks a strip up your slit while gauging every little shift and twitch on your face. You could have fooled anyone else with the forced apathy, fooled Blade with you looking at anything but him. He suckles at your clit, rolling it over the tip of his tongue and you twitch, bucking your hips into the grind.

Blade demands. He demands and keeps demanding, eating you out half starved and at a pace you couldn't keep up with; feeling that appendage slip into you at some point of it all. You moan ( this doesn't feel goo. It shouldn't. How fucking pathetic are you?! ) trembling at all the new feelings blurring out your mind.

You tell yourself to take it. Take it and let him leave you be after that taste of satisfaction. Blade nuzzles into your cunt, smearing your building slick against your outer lips till smelted orange meets the fatigue in yours.

"You're being stubborn." he comments, pulling away for a moment. You grit your teeth, open your mouth to snap back. Blade dips down then, a finger slipping into you, massaging your insides and pacing himself with more gentleness than you'd expected. Gasping and grasping at the sheets, your narrowed gaze fixates on his, fuming, fuming.

You push his face away when he leans in close and he persists, teeth latching over your neck, licking a delicate strip up the column of it. His chest seems to vibrate — it's not a purr. It rattles at you, it's unnatural.

"Make it quick then!" you sob. "Please."

His finger curls inside you and you curl your toes into the sheets, keening into his hair. You hate this. You hate this. There is a warmth in your insides that stirs and seeps through the cracks. Blade seems to notice and takes it in with a hunger that terrifies you. He presses his pads against that sweet spot, a thumb returning to your clit. You whine, shake your head.

"Good?" he asks. It feels like a taunt.

"Shut up." you grimace, rocking your hips in pace with him. It's little jolts of that buttery feeling that has your mind sink further and farther away. Blade kisses your neck, grinding up against your ass through it all. It's awful. It's all wrong, this facade of gentleness.

You mumble, grinding at his hand as another finger is added and he stretches you out a little, testing your limits with rapture. That heat grows, grows, grows bit by bit, tuned to the way his finger curls into that spot. A moan spills out, then another and you spa a hand over your mouthy, shaking your head. You want it to stop. You want this to stop now and —

Blade's digits nudge against your cervix and he bears down on your clit hard.

It snaps, that warmth. You tighten round his gingers, clenching, sucking him in deeper and his lips part as he watches you fall apart with a jumble of words and begging. You fall back into the sheets as he pulls his hand away, laving at your mess while he undoes the buttons of your shirt. It spares a peak of the sweet of your breasts, the soft expanse of your stomach. He's seen it before. There's nothing new to it.

He bites again, not as deep this time as he pulls his pants down. You spare a glance, snapping out of the afterglow when you catch sight of him. "That won't fit." You whisper.

Blade shudders, his cock resting at your stomach. It's hot, an angry res that makes you feel uneasy. You half expect pain when he slides down to breach you entrance, you expect tears and you expect it with hunched shoulders. Blade is slow instead, thoughtful, almost. He keeps his progress slow, watching you wince against the stretch before he thrusts in deeper, finally nudging his tip to your cervix and staying there a moment.

Somewhere between all that, his hand finds yours, pressing down at your palm in awkward assurance.

You can't take it.

"What are you doing?!" you demand, whining against how full you felt. It's strange, so strange and you think you see the mad ramblings from friends and gossip over how good sex felt sometimes. But this is Blade. Blade, with his violence and his slashed wrists and the way he stank of death.

Blade pushes some of his weight on you. "It's your first time." he replies.

Your first time. A rare consideration. An emotion that bud out too late for your tastes. "Why should you care then?!" You snap, grabbing his tank top. "For fucks sake, stop treating me like I'm your lover! I'm not! You're not doing this to me because you have feelings do you?!"

The question was wholly rhetorical. It's a harsh accusation, mounted by everything else he'd done wrong. Blade falls silent, eyes wide. You leer up at him, then chortle with disbelief. "Oh god, you are." You choke out, feeling violated in a way. Feeling more violated than you were already. Blade keeps staring at you as you cover your face, cackling. "Oh god, oh god this is just unbelievable! You like me? Me?!"

You feel venom drip into your words. You feel that ache, the urge to tear his eyes out then and there. Boys will be boys. The words keep echoing through and it makes you physically ill to think of it.

"You're pathetic. You're absolutely fucking pathetic!" you cut through, grabbing his hair and pulling at it. Blade grunts, annoyed. You don't care, ripping at his face, his neck, his shoulders. "Fuck! Fuck you! After all this bullshit, fuck you!" Blade hisses, trying to shift a bit, move some more but you kick out at his thigh.

"Do not." he grits out, his voice low and angry. "Your anger is an inconsequential thing. I've seen far worse."

"You think I want your guilt, you ass?!" you demand. "You think I want you begging and grovelling for forgiveness?!" Blade thrusts. You dig down, fight against it and the sweet burn it brings. You feel that storm brew in your chest and you spit at him, jarring Blade enough with wide eyed shock ( it's a satisfying thing to see ) to slam your weight into him and roll the two of you over, your hands grabbing at his throat.

He nudges deeper into you and you cry out, feeling his tip coax into your g-spot. Still, you hold on.

Blade still watches, gauging the sudden shift, waiting to see you move. When you take a moment to gain your bearings, he grasps at your hips, guiding you down his cock and you almost falter, feeling his free hand tweak your nipples. sputtering a little, you persist, your thumbs coming to press against his Adam's apple.

Blade lets out a gasp, snapping his hips up again, drawing himself out then back into you. You feel him grind against those sensitive spaces he'd gauged out earlier and a few flustered cries sputter out before your grip tightens round your neck.

He sets his speed, increasing that pace to a faster rhythm, grasping at what parts he could, letting you take from him for a moment. You double over, teeth tearing into his cheek. "I despise you." You tell him. "I hate you for taking everything away from me. I hate you for ruining my life." You pour it all in, all the vitriol and the fury. Blade's eyes shut.

"I know." he grunts, feeling you clench down on his cock.

"I wish you'd stayed dead." You add, feeling it all pile up into a raw mass that eats you alive. "Do you hear me?"

"I know." He repeats.

"I hate you." You sob out, your tears splattering against his jaw. Your thumb presses down harder. Blade moans, his tempo increasing and catching you in it's midst, hitting your sweet spot over and over till it tumbles through to make a mess between the two of you, the baggage and the tucked away harshness. "You're pathetic. Absolutely fucking pathetic."

It feels so fuzzy, the heat, the faint warmth from Blade, blocking out his airflow. His movements grow frantic, almost, his grip on you bruising your hips till finally, you find you release again, legs weakening below you. Still, you hold fast, dragging yourself over the expanse of his body as he keeps up with thrusting faster and faster to a brink of near over-stimulation, all of it animalistic grunts and grows and teeth nudging at your chest.

You press down hard enough and Blade finally cums, his release coming in spurts inside of you. The cartilages in his larynx give out and you feel tissue collapse into itself ( just like that man on the beach with his throat torn out, poetic in a gruesome sense ). You watch him struggle to breath and you push down harder, hysteria bursting as you bare your teeth and drive him closer to another death.

Blade goes still below you. He's cold as a corpse.

You sway a bit, lifting yourself off of his cock, falling into a haze of cotton wool and sick satisfaction, tipping into the space next to him. He's dead. He's dead.

You shut your eyes, and you feel nothing.

You have better to do now, the unsaid and the undone. The empty buzz of pleasure slowly recedes and you grasp your phone between your hands, tapping at the message app. You let out a soft cry, shoulders shaking. There was a life once that felt far too distant. Where you'd been tugged away and folded into silk and gold till you were shackled down and told to stay quiet. 

( There are many things you want to tell them. Many angry things, many quiet, introspective things. Many with a little more love lining your words, a little more longing. They still wait for you, even after shutting their doors. You know this too. )

So, you start to type.

Dear Appa…

Blade wakes when the sunlight filters in, and his arm winds round you in the silence, listening to the rustle down below and the coming commotion. Then, he rises, buttoning his pants up proper and drawing the blanket over your head. "Stay here." he tells you.

You listen to the angry voices and the encroaching footsteps from the staircase outside. Blade summons his sword, stalking out of the room, dog-like, wolf-like, his violence returned to him after briefly being cowed by your venom. 

The doorbell rings and you draw into yourself.

You are not here. You tell yourself. You close your eyes and think of the garden in front of your childhood home.

[rustboxstarr]

🏖Grown Ups🏖 part 1

Summary: You've been pulling away from Eddie recently its not until summer vacation that you finally find your way back to him.

Pairings: Dad!Eddie Munson x PlusSize!Mom!Reader

Warnings: Holy hell prepare yourself -> worrying about R potentially cheating, angst, talk of sex, slightly derogatory talk of sex, Gareth is a womanizer (Sorryyyyy needed someone to be!), alcohol consumption, thoughts of sex, thoughts tiddie fucking, kissing, Eddie being kinda desperate and horny for sex but trying to be respectful, nudity, R has tattoos, nipple and belly button piercing, body insecurity (Don’t worry Eddies just being a weirdo, she loves herself otherwise!), smoking, Steve being an insightful mama hen and apparently knows how women function (Steves a sweetheart, we want all men to be like Steve), light confrontation, looming anxiety, drunken accidental grinding, groping, R being to drunk to remember ALMOST having sex , threats of violence, tiddie sucking, hickeys, oral f receiving, fingering, squirting, interruptions, talk of oral m receiving, Smut P in V, no cut offs or dividers, sorry forgot to put them in. I tried to stay away Y/N I rly did but I think it slipped in once or twice (Sorry not sorry 😈)

Wordcount: Short and sweet only 22.2k........ (Yeah this fic quite literally ripped the idea in my head and sprinted away with it like it was wanted for murder (Get it? HAHAHAHA (Explaining my jokes, I love myself))

A/N: So I was watching Grown Ups (2010) the other day and thought it was so funny when all the guys talk about how little they have sex with their wives, but then it spiraled and got slightly angsty but personally I love this! Character list and ages under the cut :)

Love yas!

Part 2

Drawings I made for the fic for some visuals 😊

Grown Ups masterlist

Check out my other works!

Max (35), Lukas (35) - twins Eric (6) and Billy (6)

El (35), Mike (35) - no kids

Dustin (35), Suzie (35) - Willow (11 months)

Eddie (41), You (40) - Ophelia (10) and Roxette (7)

Gareth (37) - single, no kids

Luke -unnamed freak (39), Simone (38) - Tom (5) and Oliver (3) - not that it matters but Simone is african american so the kids are mixed incase it might be nice to visualise 

Jeff (37), Tracy (45) - Ariana (16) (Tracy's daughter)

Will (35), Winter (33) - no kids

Steve (40), Nancy (39) - Mercy (11), Lousie (9), Rachel (7), Marcus(5), Bianca (3) and Dustin (2)

Jonathan (39), Charlotte (41) - Emma (6), Charlie (4) and Lilly (2)

Robin(39), Vickie(39) - no kids

Argyle (40), Eden (38) - no kids

------------

Summer 1998, the sun was shining bright against the pastel blues of the sky, temperatures rising all over the country, it was the best time of the year, 10 year old Ophelia and 7 year old Roxette were off school for the summer holidays, you had your 6 weeks off and Eddie took leave from work, cashing his holidays in broken up during the 9 weeks of summer to be with you and his kids. Mid june and the Munson family had gotten the chance to rest for the first 5 days before the roadtrip to Dustin’s late granny’s lakehouse in Muskegon, the five hour road trip delayed with multiple food stops, toilet breaks, a few car boot sales which signs had caught you eye, one mall trip to stave off Roxy’s crying when she realised she forgot to pack her bathing suit and a few leg stretchers to keep both the kids from going crazy in the backseat. 

Ophelia had grown up to become a relatively quiet kid, calm, never too temperous and always content with following around with the grown ups plan, god knows how, neither you nor Eddie were ever people to be considered calm and peaceful. In your youth running around being chased by Hopper after breaking into abandoned places, caught drunk encouraging Eddie to piss on the large bronze statue situated in front of the mayor's office, shoplifting, vandalism, disturbing the peace, there had even been one time where Hopper had knocked on Wayne’s trailer door, two embarrassed soon to be adults stood behind him, wrapped up in blankets with not a single other article of clothing on for modesty after giving you both a ‘ride home’ as you liked to joke. 

The straight defiance of US laws simmered down after Ophelia came along but partying, loud obnoxious jokes, crazy schemes and dramatic displays of affection were still something very normal for the two of you. Well normal up until the last six months or so where it had simmered down. The both of you were still cuddly and giggly and chummy with each other, but lately it seemed you both had drifted apart, admittedly you more than him.

Roxette however seemed to have taken to both of you, couldn't sit still, always loud, always on the move, yup she was the embodiment of both yours and Eddie’s personalities, the same reason as to why the five hour road trip pushed 9 hours. Roxy could barely handle the 20 minute drive to school…

Up at 8 am packing the kids into the car with plenty of books, comics, cd’s and toys you set out. Eddie at the wheel of your 95 Mitsubishi Mirage while you cozied under a blanket next to him, head lolling on your shoulders threatening to tip you over until you adjusted yourself to sit up against the window as you let that comforting dull, cloudy feeling overtake you and drift you off to sleep. In the back Roxette was fast asleep while Ophelia bobbed her head in tune to Tupak Shakur’s latest album R U Still Down? playing in the round silvery cd player Eddie kept in the glove compartment, staring out at the trees whizzing past the window. 

The clock was nearing 5 pm when the car pulled off the bumpy road -with Eddie in the passenger seat- over the gravel parking lot to what Dustin had called The Henderson Castle. A quaint surprisingly large cabin in dark mahogany wood panelling, green chipping edging and beams matching the green steps to the bright blue double doors. Lake Michigan painted the horizon behind the garden, a small private beach next to a short dock attached to a boathouse and a sailboat tied to the wood panels, a rack of 5 canoes resting on the old water stained wood. Wooden beach chairs and plastic loungers framed in by the litter of trees and behind a picnic table and worn down monkey bars. 

Eddie took to emptying the boot of duffle bags and food bags while you urged Ophi and Roxy out of the back. Cars of different prince rages surrounded them as things were retrieved out of the vehicle, “Well well well look who decided to show up!” Dusting grinned from the front door, carrying a little girl on his hip who tucked her head into his shoulder in shyness. 

Matching grins were shone at the 35 year old as he descended the steps to greet you “What's up man!” Eddie patted him on the back in a one armed hug before he went around to give you a proper hug. “Hi! I’m Roxette” your daughter said excitedly, Dustin bent down to talk to her “I know, we've met before” his voice was sweet and mischievous as he stuck out his hand for Roxette to shake. 

You were all hustled into the house where a large group of people were scattered around the kitchen, dining table to your left and living room to your right behind the kitchen, all hollering in delight as your family of four stepped over the threshold. Hugs were exchanged as well as ‘took you long enough’s and ‘did you learn to read the clock in your three years of senior year’s, soon enough a wide spread of food, carefully put out by Dustin's wife Suzie had been devoured and catch ups had been exchanged. 

Dustin had taken the duty of showing everyone to their rooms, Jonathan’s three kids, Emma, Charlie and Lily, Luke’s Carl and Tom, Steve and Nancy's six nuggets Mercy, Lousie, Rachel, Marcus, Bianca and Dustin, Max and Lucas’s twin boys Eric and Billy, as well as Ophelia and Roxette were all given the privilege of sharing the well lit and cozy basement. 17 kids with the exception of Willow who had her own little bed with Dustin and Suzie and Ariana, Jeff’s 16 year old step daughter who got her own room, were all over the moon, excited about causing as much ruckus as they could. Parents and couples alike all directed upstairs to the second and third floor for their own bedrooms in the impressive lakehouse. 

The time on Eddie’s watch showed 11:32 as he took it off and placed it on his temporary nightstand for the next week when you crawled under the patchwork cover and got yourself comfortable on your side. Teeth brushed, clothes changed, good nights said and bags unzipped it was time to turn in for the night. Something about being on the go for 8 and a half hours and then making conversation in a room full of 39 other people was extremely exhausting and it caught up to you as your head nestled into the plush worn cotton pillow. 

You heard Eddie yawn loudly behind you as he no doubt flung his balled up fists out in the air, stretching like a cat by the side of the bed. He rustled behind you until you felt the cover lift and a warm body dip into the mattress, humming as he scooted over to wrap his arms around you and hold your back to his chest. You bathed in his embrace, happy and content cuddling up with your husband until, you felt him move again to press his hips against your. A soft grunt escaped your lips as Eddie pushed his hard on to nestle between your ass cheeks, on display from the back of your threadbare t-shirt riding up. 

“Mm Eddie I’m really tired” you groaned quietly, nestling further into his arms wrapped around you. You heard him sigh and had your eyes been open you would have undoubtedly rolled them at his reaction “We’ve been on the go since 8 am, I’m really not in the mood” you further explained “I know baby” Eddies breathed slightly disappointed, in the back of his mind he had hoped that the change of scenery might get you exited, possibly put a stop to the dry spell you had seemed to be going through. “Lets just go to sleep yeah?” he whispered, fingers crossed that his disappointment and slight annoyance at his idea being wrong couldn't be detected in his voice. You hummed in agreement as Eddie slackened behind you and fell asleep. 

The morning had been hectic, starting off already at 7 am when both girls rushed in to find their clothes, awakening you as they spoke loudly “Girls you know this” Eddie sighed as he tiredly sat up on his side of the bed, pulling his warm grasp away from you “Knock on the door, don't just barge in” he was slightly exasperated as he told them off “But were on vacation!” Roxette whined as she paused in rifling through one of the bags “Yeah well the rule still applies”. Even though it might be mostly your fault it was still funny that he was dictating a rule set in place so they wouldn't walk in on you having sex when you actually hadn’t even had sex in god knows how long. 

The reason why you were mostly at fault for the fact was that yes you were the first to cool down with initiating it but you didn't accept Eddie’s advances even when he tried. But recently you just hadn’t been in the mood, work had been hectic and you barely had time for each other, to top it all off lately you’d just felt a dip in your confidence. The fact that you were now in your 40s just seemed to catch up with your busy brain, you didn't look the way you did when you and Eddie first got together, or even the way you did just a few years ago. You'd always been on the bigger side of scales but that never bothered you, in fact your looks weren’t even the problem, objectively. It was the way you felt inside, old, tired, unnatractive, it had caused you to pull back from him, curl in on yourself and throw yourself into being a mom and a good boss. 

Eddie had to keep reminding himself that there wasn't a chance in the realm of possibility that the reason you were staying late at work had anything to do with anything other than work. Something he found himself telling his brain a lot whenever your nearest colleague Greg resurfaced in his mind. Greg was a sweet lovely man who worked just below you, but it was hard to remind himself of that as he thought about the many hours you spend at work alone with him. Even though he was a good kind soul he was undoubtedly attractive, even though he knew you were loyal to your husband and he to his wife and even though he knew he was more your type than Greg was it was still a constant bicker in his brain. 

–

The rest of the morning was even worse, such a drastic change from lounging around the house or almost falling asleep on a blanket in the yard as you attempted to read. Kids were everywhere, everyone was talking, moving around and trying to get to the food served for breakfast, it was stressful to say the least. You were used to large crowds, parties, concerts and other events but now it was just too much, and it seemed to show as Eddie wrapped his arms around your shoulders behind you, planting a kiss to your temple as you talked to Tracy, Jeff’s wife. You appreciated the gesture, even though you hadn’t been all too close to him recently and it was clearly beginning to frustrate him he was still there for you, something that made your heart squeeze. 

Finally around noon the pace had slowed, some kids were occupied with games and crafts inside while your own played with Luke's, Steve and Nancy's kids in the water. Splashing around happily as Nancy floated around nearby while you took the chance to get to know Luke's wife Simone and Jeff’s Tracy better. Eddie, Steve, Gareth, Jeff and Luke all lounged around on the chairs pushed into the sand just as it turned to grass behind them. 

“So Gare, still sad and single?” Jeff chuckled as he sipped a matching cool beer to the rest “Hah! Sad? I’d take being single any day over commitment and fuckin’ kids” he scoffed, legs spread wide as he tanned under the sun in baggy ombre trunks. “Hey having kids aint that bad” Steve grinned “Oh sure, I bet it's a riot being woken up at 5 am by 6 little assholes every morning” he chuckled. 

The sun was high up in the sky, water glittering under the shine as it splashed around by the kids shrieking and laughing. “Ugh, had to remind mine to knock on the fucking door this morning, both of them just waltzed in like they owned the place” Eddie supplied as he looked over at you. Stood by the waters edge laughing at a story Simone was telling, his eyes scanned down your frame quickly, lavender purple full briefs that came up to your waist, just below that glittering jem butterfly hanging from your belly button, a ruching detail at the front and a matching purple halter top to match. He had to look away before he began oggling at your round curves at the way the haltertop bikini pushed your tits up to each other, fuck he would have loved to kiss all the way down your throat and over your chest. 

“Ooh ‘fraid the kids are gonna walk in and be scarred for life by your pasty white ass?” Gareth laughed at his joke as his eyes flicked over to you too. “Pffft” Eddie deprecatingly shooed “Nah man, that hasn't been a risk for like ages” he took a large gulp of the cold beer in his hands “Now that I think about it, hasn't been a risk since like before christmas” 

“That's what marriage does to ya, too high on the feeling of new love and sparkly lights of wedding planning till they dim and she sees your ugly face at the altar” Gareth sat up to inspect Eddie slightly, Eddie laughed along with the others “Man shut up” he managed through a smile.”She's not pregnant is she?” Luke piped up as everyone was now looking over at the subject in question. 

From the corner of your eye you noticed the attention and turned slowly with a soft confused frown, Steve and Luke smiled at you as Jeff quickly averted his gaze, Eddie giving you a forced smile before he slapped Gareth's hand down which was waving at you, fingers wiggling as a seductive smiled painted his features. Your frown deepened as you awkwardly waved back and turned back to the other moms. 

Eddie's face switched from annoyed to questioning as he turned from Gareth to Luke “What?” his brows pinched as wrinkles formed on his forehead. “Well when Simone is pregnant she gets kinda distant, doesn’t wanna do anything” he further explained. “Nah man she’s not pregnant, she's got an implant” 

“Eh, dont beat yourself up about it, me and Nancy barely have any time for ourselves let alone fucking” Steve waved him off. “Yeah well she's had six kids, probably sick of your junk by now” Jeff chuckled, an eye roll from Steve in return. 

“I dunno, she's just busy, got alot on with work and the kids” he pushed his sunglasses further up his face as the sun resurfaced out of a cloud. He did not want to mention Greg and listen to Gareth's lude comments or let any of the others feed him delusions. You were not cheating. “Who knows, maybe she's sick of your junk too. Tell ya what, send her my way I’ll get her walking out a happy woman” Gareth smirked wickedly. “If you don't shut your mouth I’m gonna come over there and beat the shit out of you” he leaned forward with his elbows on his knees to look over at Gareth who put his hands up in surrender. 

“Apart from Steve am I the only one not getting some action” before Gareth had a chance to open his mouth Eddie pointed at him “and you shut up” he sneered. “I mean Ariana’s like 16 so she's never really home, so we do.. get the house to ourselves quite a bit..” Jeff answered sheepishly “Great” Eddie turned to Luke “Mine are fuckin’ 3 and 5 but I mean we have some time sometimes” Luke shrugged “How often is sometimes?” Luke cleared his throat and dropped his voice to an awkward tone “Like.. two… three times.. a week” he looked out at the water. 

“Jesus christ, so it's not like a normal thing?” he slumped back in his chair, looking back at you, smiling widely as you now stood splashing water at Roxette, not on the beach anymore. “Have you talked to her?” Jeff asked “I mean no not really, but she's made it obvious she doesn’t wanna do anything, so I've just kinda backed off” he looked back at his friend. “But you've tried like starting something?” “Yeah, less and less now but yeah” 

“You tried getting her drunk?” Gareth chuckled but fell dead silent as Eddie began to lean forward about to get up and smack him “Chill chill!” he held his hands out in front of him, awaiting the attack. “I just meant loosen her up a little, get her relaxed maybe put her mind off things” 

“You're a dick” Eddie flipped him off “He does kind of have a point, maybe she’ll relax a bit” Luke cleared his throat “We could I dunno all sit ‘round the fire after all the kids have gone to bed. Then she might not have to worry about that ya know?” 

“I mean I guess, but isn't that like a complete asshole move, get her drunk just so I can get her into bed?” he made a slight look of disgust at the thought “Not drunk, just a little I guess tipsy?” 

The conversation continued for a while before the topic changed to Jeff's new job, all sat in the sun basking in the light, soaking it up and talking about nonsense. Ophelia and Roxy came out of the water and Eddie watched as you dried them off lovingly and led them up to the house. He was nursing his fourth beer, head starting to go a little fuzzy as Simone too sent Tom and Oliver up to the house, Nancy was left throwing Bianca around in the water as the other three laughed and all shouted me! me! Me!’s, Dustin the two year old splashing happily by the waters edge. Simone and Tracy made their way up the sand to sit with the guys. 

Tracy told Jeff she was going to check on Ariana as Simone plopped herself down in Luke’s lap happily giving him a kiss following up with a giggle when she pulled back “Jesus how many beers have you drank”. She sat mostly quiet as they all continued, now about some recent U.S news, jumping in to add to the conversation as she draped her arm around Luke's shoulders. 

Eddie had his back to the house as he opened his fifth beer and leaning back even more into the chair, he didn't see as you came back out of the house walking down towards them. Only laying eyes on you as you rounded his chair at the end of the row of them facing the water, barely registering you before you stood before him. As the others continued talking he looked up at you expectantly, waiting for you to say something, assuming you had come to ask something of him. His heart skipped a beat as you inched closer to him, his fingertips grazing your thigh. “Can I sit?” you ask with a sweet smile, his cloudy brain was too gone with the cool fizzing beer to register that you had spoken as he broke out in a grin witnessing your happy face, it warmed him to see you, you being happy made him happy. He suddenly realised you had talked to him and shook his head attempting to look up at you more serious, you giggled softly at him as he straightened his face up, but hearing those sweet little noises of content made that dopey grin fall right back into place “I said, can I sit?” your voice was so sweet it made his whole brain stop. 

“Oh, yeah” he chuckled as he sat up properly, hands itching to touch you. His dopey grin became even dopier, even wider as you turned and bent down to place yourself in his lap, legs coming to curl up and feet slot between his thigh and the space under the armrest. When you settled Eddie’s hand holding his beer settled over your thighs and his other came around your waist, wrapping around you and pulling you towards him to lean against his chest. He almost died as he saw your smile widen at the action and nestle into him, and then even wider as he placed a kiss to your shoulder. He was on cloud nine at the fact that you were sitting in his lap, smiling away. You haven't sat in his lap for a long looong time and the fact that you did it so easily made his heart squeeze and his head spin. 

“Oh Simone you never got to tell me about your trip!” you exclaimed as the conversation quieted down “Oh right! So-” she began to recount her crazy trip to Japan she had taken a few weeks ago for work as Eddie took another sip of his beer, light shock painting his features as you took the bottle from him and took your own gulp while you listened intently. The sun was almost right behind Simone and you began to squint as you tried making eye contact with her, you turned to look down at Eddie for only a second before you realised he had his sunglasses on. Casually you reached up a hand to pull them off him and place them on your nose, Eddie chuckled at the action which made you giggle slightly as you continued listening. 

With no glasses on now, everything was a lot brighter, he settled into the new position and calmed down from his excitement and finally got a chance to register what you were wearing. A floral short white skirt he had seen before, he remembered well, because last time you had worn it was last year dropping the kids off at Steve’s for a sleepover. Oh he remembered it very well, last time your worn it you'd snuggled up to him on a blanket in the far end of the garden, hidden by trees and bushes, only to be seen from the house and gotten a little bit frisky, teasing turned to tickling which turned to Eddie lying on top of you pounding into you at a furious pace with your panties pushed to the side. 

The memories flooded back to him and he realised that if he just moved his hand on your waist down a little bit, and then a little bit more he would find the hem of it and could slip his hands under the fabric to rest his broad palm on the fat of your ass, give you a little squeeze. Before he had time to consider it his eyes cast a glance at your top. Fuck. That brown crochet halter top that he had seen you curled up on the couch making as you watched tv in late January. From his position he could see right over you, tits pushed together by the way the triangles tied behind your neck, could see that one little freckle he always liked to give a kiss, could see that little scar almost hidden on the right. Fuck he wanted to grab them, and kiss them, and suck on your nipples to draw that one little whine at first contact, no he wanted to watch them bounce up and down in you bra as you rode him, no! He wanted to watch them bounce up and down as he sat back on his calves thrusting into you so aggressively that your tits would bounce up and slap you in the face and make you roar out laughing, NO! he wanted to hover over your ribs as you looked up at him with that twinkle in your eyes as you held your tits together, mushing around his cock slipping back and forth in the lube he kept in his nightstand. FUCK. 

He had to look away, something, something that could find his attention, yes the tag on the bottle you were holding, yeah he was gonna read that. Now is not the time to get hard you asshole, she’s only just sat in your lap, for the first time in ages! on your dick… like right on it… no, fuck, you piece of shit, she’s gonna feel if you get hard and she’s not gonna be happy about it. Well she is smiling, she seems really happy.. Yeah so don’t ruin it fucker, remember last night? Yeah exactly. He was fighting with himself as he pretended to read the beer bottle, eyes following as it moved from its place on the arm rest with your hands loosely wrapped around it, followed it up to your lips as he saw you laugh and press your lips to the rim. 

Oh shit those lips he wanted to kiss so badly, wait maybe he could? That's ok right? Kissing? We still kiss? It's not like we don't kiss? Fuck it, if he wanted to kiss his wife, he was going to kiss his wife. 

As you brought the bottle back down to the armrest Eddie moved on instinct, his body working faster than his brain, his hand slunk out from under your arms and up to cup your cheek, causing you to turn to him in question, eyebrows raised awaiting him to say something. He didn't say anything, he only began to pull his hand back, slowly bringing you with him. He closed his eyes, it felt like forever, forever forever forever, until suddenly soft lips on his. Everything was in slow motion as if the world stopped around him as moisturised soft plump lips met his own, barely a craze, just a touch and then more, closer, lips pressing slowly to each other and then at its destination, pressed against your lips in a kiss that made him explode inside. Suddenly your lips drew back and so did you. 

It was just a peck, a simple peck, but it made his heart stop, as well as time, the world and just about everything else around him. A sigh escaped his chest in content as he opened his eyes to see you smile down at him, his own smile quickly matching yours before you drew back and looked back to Simone. His brain was swimming around in a pool in his head, everything was a daze as he watched you lick your lips and grin slightly, turning to him again to whisper “Taste like beer” that cute nose in a scrunch as you spoke to him. 

The daze halted as he chuckled “You too” which earned a smile from you and moved his hand back to splay across your thighs. Finally he turned to the rest of the group and lay notice to Steve a knowing wide grin directed at you, Simone in full ramble as Luke looked up at her in awe, Jeff listening in, and Gareth with an evil smirk on his lips, staring right at him. Eddie's smile faded and was replaced with a sneer directed towards his friend. Gareth's eyes flicked to you and back to Eddie as he mouthed an ooh which made Eddie's loose grip on you tighten immediately and pull you even closer to him, this time not easing up on his hold but insistent on holding you close, as if shielding you from Gareth. 

Lunch came along not soon after, thankfully not as hectic as breakfast as Dustin and Suzie had grilled a bunch of hotdogs of various diets and put them all on one table along with bread, ketchup, mustard and dried onions. Everyone free to get drinks out of the various coolers around the kitchen. 

The rest of the day was very similar to the morning, everyone hustled outside once the temperatures dropped a few degrees. Both you and Eddie had kept an eye on the girls as you mingled with all the parents and friends around the beach until eventually you walked up to Eddie placing your hand gently by his elbow to tell him you were going to go further up and lie down on a blanket and read in the grass. Eddie had taken the role of watching over the kids as they swam in the lake, at first only watching from the waters edge as he spoke to Dustin and Mike until he ran out on the jetty and cannonballed right next to Roxette, hitting the bottom immediately and landing right on his ass bouncing up to be splashed back in the face by Ophelia. She screamed in laughter as he picked her up and threw her away from him. 

When he came up again water dripping down his skin he rejoined Steve and Lucas, as Lucas turned to tell Max something Steve nudged him and cocked his head behind him to the grass “Your wifes asleep” he chuckled as he motioned for Eddie to see you on your stomach, face resting in your crossed arms and book falling from your loosened grasp on it. “Go, I’ll look after the kids” he grinned as Eddie turned back to him. “You sure? I don't wanna-” “Yes I’m sure, just go spend some quality time with your girl” he grinned “Doubt it’ll be much quality time seeing as shes passed out but yeah ok, thanks dude” Eddie patted him on the back as he trudged through the sand, grabbing his towel on the way and patting himself dry. 

Yup you were fast asleep he noticed as he got to the blanket and heard your soft snores, he bent down and picked your book up, dog earring the page, closing it and tossing it down into the grass. He groaned softly as he crouched down, falling flat onto his back next to you. Propping his head up on one hand while the other lay limp against his stomach he stared up at the sky through his now retrieved sunglasses. His gaze broke to turn and look towards you as he heard you stir in your sleep, you twisted your hips to pull the leg facing him up in a bend, knee nudging his hip. You seemed to relax for a few seconds before you grunted and turned to fully lay on your side, hands coming to press together and hold your head up only slightly. 

Once again you relaxed and Eddie watched you amused with a smile on his face until suddenly an annoyed groan left you and the hand not forced against the ground slipped out from under your head shooting out in search of something. You blindly slapped lightly at the blanket before moving and slapping again, and again until your pinky came in contact with his skin, you hand lifted and slapped lightly against Eddie's chest, he had to fight the snort that threatened to fall from his throat as he watched you. 

Finally your hand seemed to find the right place on his chest but surprisingly enough you didn't relax again, instead still hazy with sleep and with your eyes closed you moved on the blanket towards him, forcing your hips forward until you were flush against him. A heavy head thudded to his chest forced an oof to spill from his lips and a thick thigh moved and dropped heavily to drape across him. 

You nestled up against him and finally you seemed to relax. 

Eddie was beaming, the hand previously on his stomach searching for his towel to prop it up under his head and letting him wrap his arms around you to hold you to him. Soft breathing matched up to an even rise and fall of both your chests as Eddie soaked you up. The happiness he was feeling didn't last though, soon enough he too had fallen asleep under the hot sun and your skin against his. 

Both of you awoke with groans as something landed on you, a very wet, very excited Roxette. “Why are you sleeping it's swim time!” she squealed as she rolled off Eddie and sat up. You groaned in pain as you too sat up “Cuz mom and dad are tired Roxy, so please don't jump on us” you told her as you stretched, Eddie doing the same from the ground. “But mom I wanna go play!” she stood up jumping up and down “Ok ok I’m coming hang on” Eddie was about to say something when you stood up and were whisked away by his daughter. 

Dinner was tapas, everybody had brought a dish or some sort of food from the store ready to eat from the get go and was set up this time by someone other than Dustin and Suzie. You talked happily to Robin, Nancy, Will and his boyfriend Winter as you all set out plates, cutlery and food for tiny hands to grab excitedly. You ate in conversation with most of the hellfire club as you sat next to Eddie on a worn leather couch, pressing up to him and letting him give you the occasional kiss to your temple or lips, smiling the whole time. Eventually your plate was finished off and Eddie felt you slump against him after putting your plate on the table. His hand wrapped around your shoulders to rest your head on his for a while until eventually you leaned up and told him you were going to lay down for a bit. 

You left with a squeeze to your hand and a sympathetic smile from your husband. You were planning on just having a lie down or maybe a quick nap but suddenly your clothes were to hot and too tight and too stifling so you quickly changed out of them and threw on the same ragged t-shirt from last night, falling onto the bed, not getting too comfortable because you didn't really want to fall asleep. The universe didn't seem to hear you though and soon you were fast asleep on top of the bed. 

That's how Eddie found you after putting the kids to bed an hour later, knowing they wouldn't sleep with all the excitement of the other kids around but getting them to brush their teeth and change into their pyjamas. They had asked Eddie where you were and why you weren't saying goodnight so Eddie had to explain “Moms not feeling very well so she's resting but she’ll probably come say night night later”. When you told him you were going to your room it seemed like you just needed some quiet but that was clearly not the case when he found you like a log atop the covers. 

He sighed, you needed your rest, the past year of work was clearly catching up to you but yet again he couldn't help the slight disappointment when he found you, he'd gotten hopeful and excited from the day, you'd been a lot more touchy than you ever had been the past few months, cuddling up to him, stealing kisses and it seemed that whenever you were near him you had a need to have some sort of contact, whether it be pressed up against him or his arm around you or even just your hand on his arm or thigh but he had to accept that you were too tired and needed to sleep. 

Carefully he pulled the covers from under you and placed them back on you as you adjusted in your sleep to lie on your side. Just like yesterday he got in next to you and wrapped his arms around you as the big spoon. Falling asleep to the scent of your hair which his nose was nuzzled against. 

This morning the girls actually knocked, waking Eddie from his light slumber to hum a yes at them to come in. Slowly you roused and sat up in bed to listen to your two excited girls tell you all about the cup phones they all made yesterday after dinner and how they had them crisscrossed around the room to talk to each other as Eddie rounded the bed, giving a kiss to your forehead before leaving the room to take a shower. 

You were more relaxed at breakfast now that you knew what was coming and you even enjoyed it, sat at the dining table in conversation with Argyle and his girlfriend Eden, Winter and Jonathan's wife Charlotte who got the group's attention by balancing her cereal bowl on her 8 months pregnant belly which you found out would be her and Jonathan's fourth. 

Across the room Eddie sat in an armchair next to Steve and Gareth “So you and your girl seemed to be very close yesterday” Steve leaned over and dropped his voice, “Yeah pay off? She put out?” Gareth grinned “That threat of me beating you ass is still on the table” Eddie stared at Gareth who only chuckled “But to answer your question, no she was asleep by the time I got to our room” Eddie shrugged, even if Gareth could be an assshole when it came to women he didnt want it to show that he was disappointed, it would only egg him on. 

“Maybe we could do that bonfire thing tonight?” Steve suggested lightly “Besides I wouldn't mind some fun with Nance, she gets so exited when shes drunk its fuckin hilarious” he grinned and looked over towards how wife “Last time she was jumping around imitating a bunny she saw on kids tv” the other two laughed at the picture. 

“Sure, we’ll go into town get some drinks, I think Dustin said he only had beer” Eddie shrugged happily. 

Today was not the different from yesterday, things to do inside and people down at the beach splashing away. “Hey” Eddie bent down to talk to you as you sat on the couch playing shoots and ladders with a few of the kids after lunch “so were all having a bonfire night once the kids have gone to bed” Eddie smiled wide at your happy smile “so me and some of the guys are heading into town to pick some stuff up” you nodded and gave him a kiss before he headed off with Will and Dustin. 

Dinner passed and you were pleasantly surprised that tiredness hadn’t overcome you. All the parents tucked their kids into bed and made a clear point that if anything were to happen they were just outside and to come get them if they needed to. 

Eddie called your name with a yo you in here? as he knocked on the bathroom door nearest your bedroom, instead of answering him you unlocked the door and peeped out an intense stare directed his way “Sorry you can't come in without a warrant” you broke out into a grin as you went to shut the door, Eddies hand grasping onto the wood and forcing it open in a fit of giggles as you tried to fight him. Finally he stumbled in, almost knocking you over and catching you in his arms. 

He locked the door behind him as he looked down at you “Mmm you smell nice” he hummed as his eyes took in your bare face, damp to match you hair, you giggled “Just had a shower” you explained as you slid out of his hold to pick your clothes off the floor. Eddie was slightly miffed as you brushed past him in just your towel and unlocked the door but he followed nonetheless. 

Walking behind you as you tread carefully over the floorboards, hips swaying from side to side as you walked, Eddie leaned back to get a full view of you, hair wet and dripping water over your shoulders, thighs peeking out from under the towel, only long enough to cover your ass, eyes rolling to the back of his head as the towel pulled up slightly to reveal a peak of the bottom. Within an instant his hands circled your waist and picked you up, leaning back on his feet to pull you up off the floor. You squealed at him to let you down as you giggled, only dropping you back down to land softly when he thought he might fall over backwards from bending to steep. 

“What was that?” you whispered as you began walking again, Eddie awkwardly tumbling along with his arms still around you “You just looked so liftable” he whispered back biting your cheek mischievously. You snorted an ok and opened the door to your bedroom. 

Today you had been in a good mood, it seemed the long night sleep and absence of pressure to be productive had taken to you and you were still on a high from it. So pleased that you didn't even let your mind work up into a frenzy as Eddie let you go and flopped onto the bed. 

You didn't think anything of it as you dropped the towel to change, the fact that Eddie hadn’t seen you naked since before christmas didn't even cross your mind. 

Stood with your back to him you rooted through your bag to find a comfortable pair of sweats and a hoodie, preparing for the cold outside now that the sun had gone beyond the horizon. Eddie sat up straight in an instant. Eyes bulging wide and trained on you as the towel dropped to the floor when you found your clothes. He swallowed thick as you moved to another bag to look for underwear. 

Holy shit. You were naked, like fully naked, no towel, no nothing covering you. Fuck he hadn’t seen this sight in over six months and here you were bathed in the moonlight and dim lighting of the old ceiling lamp, gold cast over your body, spotlighting the smooth skin, and rolls of your back, the stretch marks and cellulite of your thighs, the dimples in your back, every little colour and inked tattoo that showed in your skin. All out for him to see, all for him. 

You turned with your clothes clutched to your chest to see a pin straight Eddie with wide awestruck eyes, mouth open in shock. “What?” you chuckled confused as you walked over to the foot of the bed, dropping your clothes onto the fabric. Eddie's brain stopped working as your front was revealed to him, soft breasts sloping down in a natural drop, a sliver of metal and nipples almost out of sight, round and calling to him like two beams of light in the night, your soft stomach spilling down, a patch of hair covering your puffy mound, framed by your soft doughy thighs. Fuck he just wanted to grip and suck and lick and kiss everything he saw right now, matter of fact he wanted to get down on his hands and knees and worship the ground you walked on as well as whatever higher entity out there that had created you. 

You started to grow slightly uncomfortable under his gaze, suddenly feeling extremely exposed, an urge to cover yourself growing strong. In a rush you reached for your underwear to pull the black brazilian cut lace panties over your ass and hips. You looked over at Eddie again to see his mouth open and close as he blinked, awfully resembling a fish, it only encouraged you to get dressed faster, clasping the black bra and spinning it around to pull the straps up your arms. Once again you looked at Eddie, whose expression still had not changed, you threw the t-shirt over your head and jumped into your sweats, pulling the hoodie over yourself as you looked back. “Umm” Eddie started but trailed off “I'm going to the bathroom” you blurted out and within seconds you had practically ran out of the door. 

Eddie stayed still, blinking and trying to wrap his head around what he had just seen. Finally he snapped out of it and shook his head, falling over on his side with a loud groan, pulling at the sheet to cover his face. What is wrong with you?! Your wife is naked for the first time in fucking forever and you just sit there?! He groaned even louder as he smushed his face into the comforter. 

Finally you came to the realisation that you had just been naked in front of Eddie for the first time in a really long time, you rushed back into the bathroom and sat down on the toilet with your face in your hands. Well clearly you weren't just ugly on the inside now, you were ugly on the outside too. Why else would he just sit there and stare at you like you'd grown a second head? UGH what were you going to do?! You had finally loosened up, you were happy within yourself for the first time in ages and felt comfortable around Eddie again, you clearly should have had more control over yourself. He no longer found you attractive, Jesus Christ why were you kidding yourself?

A knock on the door broke you out of your spiral as you weakly asked a yes, the person outside of the door cleared their throat. It was Eddie. Oh, no, no no no no no. “Um, uh you wanna go down? Uh Mike just said the fire is lit” his voice sounded strained, uncomfortable. He was uncomfortable because he’d seen you naked and didnt like it, and now you had nowhere to hide AAAARGHHHH. “Yeah sure” your voice was broken as you spoke. 

Slowly slowly you stand, slowly slowly you step towards the door, and slowly slowly you turn the nob. Eyes pinned to the floor as you walk out of the door, you see Eddie's feet as you walk past them and walk down the hall, you hear him follow behind you. This is the worst feeling, so much worse than coming home late from work hungry, or being in too big of a crowd, or too tight clothes on a hot sweaty day, this unease is so much worse. 

Time ticks by slowly as you feel like you're walking to your execution, feet dragging across the floor shameful as Eddie walks behind you. Anxiety, heartbreak, stress, unease, insecurity all bubble up in your chest, threatening to bubble up to the surface through hot tears if you let yourself. You feel it in your chest, plummeting down to your stomach and spreading all through your body like slim black vines as if a disease, darkening everything inside you. Until a touch, a slight intentional braze of fingers that send sparks, gold touching at your hip and overpowering some of the black. Gold vines take over throughout your hip as you feel a soft hand grasp onto it, guiding you down the stairs. 

Another spark of gold bleeding out into your vines on the other as Eddie holds softly onto your hips as your feet hit the ground floor. Gold vines that threaten to overpower the black and meet in the middle just below your belly button. Your breath hitches and speeds up in anxiety. 

One hand leaves your hip and the gold dies off as quickly as it came, as the first on your right hip slips to hold the small of your back, the gold follows, bleeding from its starting point and stretching as you bend down to slip into your sneakers. The hand never wavers as Eddie leans down to slip his own shoes on, the heat from it causing the gold to continue without the order of touch, spreading slowly through your back, creeping up your spine in a shiver. 

He opens the door to near 20 people scattered around a brazen fire, reds and oranges contrasting the deep dark blues of the sky and the shade its cast around them all. You step cautiously down the now dark green stairs, feet hitting the gravel before they hit grass as you veer off to the side away from the parking lot. “Hey” Eddie whispered beside you as you walk, coming to a stop as you turn to look up at him. Eyes glassy and scared at what his words might do to you. Just as he opens his mouth “Hey!” Robin runs over and pulls you off by the arm so she can show you something. 

Eddie stands frozen, What just happened? he was about to apologise to you for being so weird. His feet drive him forward however and before he can think it over he’s by the mass of people, eyes zoning in on the table of drinks set up he makes a beeline for it. Pouring a shot of tequila he downs it, and then a second, before he can get ahead of himself he picks up a beer can, popping the tab he scans the crowd. His eyes find Steve not far away and quickly he's marching over “I need to talk to you” he says with a grip on the man's arm almost pulling him away from the scene. 

A few metres away from the nearest cluster of figures he stops “Dude what's up?” Steve chuckles, confused “I just saw her naked” is all Eddie can say, Steve's confusion just deepens on his face “For the first time in over like six months” he widens his eyes willing Steve to understand. “Oh, oooh how’d it go?” Steve grins. “Fucking terrible!” Eddie shouts exasperated, quickly straightening up with eyes wide turning to see if someone heard. Everyones too fixated on their own conversation as he looks over at the people around the campfire but he finds you at the drinks table with Robin and Nancy cheering you on as you seem to be taking three shots in a row. 

He turns back to Steve “How was it terrible?” Stevs confused again as he stares up at the taller man “Because Steve, she took her towel off and I just sat there” Steves face shows once again that he doesn’t understand “I just sat there, gawking at her like I’d never seen tits before, like some fuckin’ teenager” he grits. “Oh. Wait so walk me through it” he took a swig of his own can, some fruity cider. “Ok. So she was in the room, well actually, no, here” Steve frowns at Eddie's backtracking “So she was in the bathroom so I knocked on it and she stuck her head out grinning saying I needed a restraining order” Steve smirked but chose not to make a comment “And so she liked tried to close the door and I tried to open it and get in. Ah before you say anything it was just like flirty fun, nothing weird” Steve nodded “And she was all giggly, then we left the bathroom and I like picked her up and she was all giggly then too” “Ok ok” Steve nodded along “Then when we got to the room I just sat on the bed and she just like dropped the towel while she was looking for her clothes, then she turned and I think she said something I can't remember, but then she started like pulling all her clothes on, said she was going to the bathroom and ran off” he finished his recounting of the recent events with a few large gulps of his beer, almost downing half of it. 

“Sounds like you freaked her out dude. Did you like explain why you were being so weird?” Steve tipped his head back to finish the rest of his cider. “Well I was gonna but then Robin just came up and ran off with her” both of them looked over to see you now stood with Robin, Nancy, Max and El a large glass of wine in your hand. 

“Just go up and talk to her now, explain” Eddie screwed his face up at the thought of pulling you away to awkwardly explain why he just sat there “Listen, Nancy gets insecure about her body sometimes maybe she is too” Steve shrugged as they looked back to each other “She's like never ever insecure though, and I don't even think its hiding, she likes her body ya know” the rest of Eddies beer was slung down his throat. “Yeah but you might have made her insecure dude” “Ugh don't say that!” Eddie groaned, his beer was gone he needed something to fiddle with, to distract him, patting his pockets he found his packet of cigarettes, ones he usually kept out of view so the kids wouldn't see him smoking. He flicked his zippo and took a long breath once the cigarette was lit. 

“I’m serious dude, it's not just the first time you've seen her naked it's the first time she's been naked in front of you, might be kinda scary” 

“Since when do you know all about women?”

“Wel-” 

“Don't start” Eddie held his finger up to silence him. 

“Just go talk to her ok?” 

“Fine, but I’m gonna finish this up first, think you can go get me a beer? Don't really wanna look like im ignoring her” 

“Sure” Steve walked off as Eddie turned his back to the fire to crane his neck back in frustration, looking up at the sky. 

“Steve used to be like that with me” Nancy giggled in the huddle as Steve walked up to grab a beer and another cider. “I used to be like what?” he grinned as he leaned over the table “Butt out dingus” Robin stuck her tongue out “Nothing babe” Nancy hid a grin behind her solo cup as she looked away. Steve narrowed his eyes in suspicion at his wife “It's just girltalk” you smiled at him which made Steve's face break out into an expression you couldn't read. 

“Alright well” Steve spun on his heel and  power walked back to Eddie “You better talk to her now, I’m pretty sure I overheard the girls talking about it” Steve rushed as he forced the cold can into Eddie's hands. “Oh for fucks sake” he groaned as he took the beer and began walking over to the table. He saw as Robin awkwardly hushed the group as she laid eyes on him which made his nerves bubble up, yeah they were definitely talking about it. 

“Drink all that beer that fast?” Robin chuckled as Eddie neared “Mmhmn no” Eddie held his unopened can up for show as he arrived behind you “Can I talk to you?” he bend down as he dropped his voice lower, breath fanning over your ear as he spoke. “Ok” you whispered back meekly. He had no idea about girl code, and had absolutely no clue what the looks all the others were giving you meant as you set your plastic wine glass on the table and turned to walk away from them. 

You walked silently side by side as he nonverbally steered you towards the cars, the three shots and half glass of wine causing for a pleasant buzz, dampening some of the anxiety you felt “Um you want a beer?” he asked quietly as he held out the can towards you when you came to a stop by your own car “No thanks” you mumbled as Eddie seemed to cage you in at the hood of the car. You frowned surprised when he flung the can behind him to softly roll into the grass, he needed his hands free for this and he hadn't had a chance to drink it before he came over. 

“So what you wanna talk about?” you fiddled with the string of the cuffs of your worn out hoodie which was actually Eddies as you leaned back to prop yourself slightly on the hood of the car. “Um I just wanted to uh tell you I'm sorry for just like sitting there super awkward before” he looked down at you as you stared into his stomach unwilling to meet his gaze. “If I’m being honest I was just like shocked, we haven't really uh done.. that, in like a long time and it was just sudden” he saw you physically curl in on yourself which made him freak out “No no not like bad sudden, good sudden” you finally met his gaze, looking up at him confused “Fuck, I just mean like I’ve missed you and my brain just like short circuited” he tried to get you to understand. 

A breath he didnt know he had been holding finally escaped his lips as he saw a small smile tug on your lips “I dont wanna make you like uncomfortable, but when I saw you I was just like, holy fuck, she’s naked and I think this is the best thing I’ve ever seen” the grin that spread on his face was a relieved one as you snorted a laugh “Im serious, like baby” his hands came to rest on your shoulder “You are so fuckin’ sexy and just every part of you is like some greek goddess has sculpted you or something. I’m totally ok with us not being intimate, even though I do miss you I just want you to feel safe and comfortable, and for you to be happy but I really do miss you. Obviously I miss you like as a person, you're my wife, and the mother of my children and I love you so much, but like above that fuuuuuck I miss being with you” he groaned as he thought about how long it had been. 

Something swelled within you at his words, you wanted to laugh at his phrasing of being sculpted by a greek goddess but the meaning behind the words were just too flustering and sincere. And following up with that stupid wording he knew made you weak in the knees, mother of my children, yeah you liked that. You were the mother of his children, his wife. 

“I’m sorry” you whispered as Eddies hands travelled down to rub up and down your arms “It’s just been a lot recently, in my head and work and all and I pushed you away I’m sorry” Eddie manoeuvred his knee to push yours apart so he could stand between them and be closer to you “Don’t say sorry, you have nothing to be sorry for. We’ve both just been shit at telling each other things” as he towered over you you craned your neck back to see him properly, a grin spread across your face as you said in a whiny voice “Communication is key”. 

Eddie laughed and brought his arms to wrap around your shoulders, pressing your face into his chest as he hugged you, kissing the top of your head as your own arms wrapped around his waist. You both lingered for a while as you hugged each other tight until Eddies arms loosed and he pulled back to look down at you again “While I do want to know what's been going through your pretty little head lately, why don't we go enjoy the fire and talk more when we get back?” you nodded with a smile. Eddie turned to walk back with you but spun around as you called his name. “One more thing” “Mm?” you grasped onto the fabric of his sweatshirt and pulled him down towards you. 

Lips meeting his in a desperate hungry kiss you wrapped your arms around Eddie's neck as his hands went to your hips, holding you softly to keep himself upright. He thought you were just going in for a long kiss when you broke off but soon enough your lips were back on him again as your fingers snaked through his locks. Another kiss and a tug at his hair had him groaning into your mouth as his hands squeezed tighter at your hips. A few more kisses and he felt your tongue poke softly at his lips telling him to open them. He pulled you flush against him as tongues swiped at each other, his hands moving from your hips past your back to grab angrily at you ass, pulling you up to stand and pushing your hips against his, forcing his hard cock against your mound, groaning at the contact and pressing even harder against you. 

You pulled away from his lips and quickly out of his grasp “Ok now I’m happy” you laced your fingers with his as he stood dumbstruck, you began walking pulling him along with you “What??” his voice was slightly loud as he stumbled along after you “What? I said one more thing, that was my thing” you turned to grin at him wickedly “Oh you little-” he let go of you to run after you and lift you up off your feet as you squealed. The second he let you down you ran off with Eddie hot on your tail, tackling you almost immediately and turning you in his hold to face him so he could attack your hips with wiggling fingers, laughing as you shrieked from the tickling. 

He ceased his attack on your sides as you stepped closer to the group, wrapping his arms around you once again and stepping up behind you to join the group around the drinks table. Steve gave him a knowing smirk as you bent over still attached to Eddie to retrieve a beer for him from the cooler on the ground and your wine, you giggled as he shoved the hand hold the ice cool beer under your hoodie to press against your warm stomach, fighting to move his hands away from you. “OOH smores! Come on!” Robin beckoned the group to sit in the half circle of logs around the fire, all squeezing together to fit as Robin planted herself on the ground to fish marshmallows out of ita bag. 

“May I interest you in a shot of everclear mi ladies?” Gareth grinned as he stumbled over to you, Eddie, Nancy and Steve on one of the longs “Nah nah” Eddie waved the hand not wrapped around you in dismissal, “We got kids you dummy, gotta get up in the morning” Steve rolled his eyes at him. “More for me!” Gareth swiped all four each one after the other “I am NOT on duty to take care of this one!” Eddie held a hand up in the air as Gareth finished his last one. “Whaaaat? You don't wanna be my daddy?!” Gareth whined as he toppled over onto Eddie, Eddie’s hand coming to push him off, pressing hard against his stomach while everyone else laughed. 

“Go sit down you drunk” Eddie motioned for Gareth to sit down next to Steve. “Oh hey Rob’s can you get me a vodka coke?” You smiled as the woman in question pushed herself off the ground, she gave you a thumbs up as Eddie leaned in “Vodka? How much have you drank already?” His breath fanned once again against you ear as he spoke to you in a low murmur “Eh its fine, I’m not planning on getting drunk” you waved him off “Mhm” Eddie hummed sarcastically as you grinned up at him. 

“Jesus Robin how much did you put in here” your face scrunched up as you took a sip, you didn't particularly mind the taste of alcohol but you hadn't expected it to taste so incredibly strong “Like 80% vodka 20% coke” she grinned a dopey mischievous grin as she found her seat again “Chug it ya wont taste it” her grin widened even more “Come on chug chug chug!” she clapped her hands together as a few of the girls chimed in “You don't have to” Eddie searched your face with serious eyes “No no it's fine” your grin matched Robins as you looked up at him before swallowing the whole of the contents in the red solo cup. You cheered along excitedly as you crushed it and threw it down onto the ground. 

Eddie felt you sway slightly as you sat up straight, well it seemed like the getting tipsy had gone a little too well, no doubt by the end of the evening you would be hammered and pass out again on the bed. It's fine he told himself, we’ll just do something.. another day.  “Yo lets go get the chairs it's getting kinda cramped over here” Dustin walked over with Lucas and Mike on his tail “Oh sure. You gonna be ok?” he bent down to ask you as you stared up at the sky in a daze. “Huh? Oh yeah yeah” yup you were definitely drunk as you tried to focus your eyes on his face, he had a slight suspicion Robin hadnt put one single brand of vodka in your cup before handing it to you. “Nance could you..” he trailed off as he motioned to you, asking her to keep an eye on you, she nodded happily as he stood up, hands hovering around you to make sure you didn't fall over. 

When he saw you could sit by yourself he grabbed into his sweatshirt by the collar and pulled it over his head, the fire was getting too warm for him, dropping it down next to you to occupy his place he got up and followed the others down to the edge of the beach.

“Oh!” you squealed as you planted a hand on his hoodie to feel the square cardboard box, digging through his pocket in mass concentration you managed to free the cigarettes and flipped open the top to see his zippo and a few cigarettes. Pulling the zippo and a cigarette out you turned to face Nancy, Tracy and Simone again as you lit the cigarette. Happily taking the next red solocup handed your way by Tracy. Taking a long breath and giggling as the nicotine swam up to your head, mind feeling floaty as you swayed from side to side, even more so as you sipped what seemed to be more vodka coke, this time not as strong. 

“Aw man who let you-” Eddie cut himself off as returned a few minutes later, plucking the zippo and carton out of your hands after placing a chair down in the half circle of logs. You cackled as you watched him shove the packet out of view, this time into his jeans “Baby you know how you get when you smoke drunk” he grabbed into your free hand helping you stand up as you sucked down your second cigarette, almost empty solo cup left behind on the log. He led you back to the chairs to see one empty chair left “Really dude?” Gareth grinned as he spread out into the chair next to the empty one, revelling in Eddie's annoyance “Fine” Eddie breathed “Wait here” he told you as he turned to get his sweatshirt. 

Gareth mumbled something to you as you swayed, trying not to fall over “What?” you almost shouted as you leaned forward, placing your hands on the armrest of Gareth's chair and dropping your head down to hear him. He said something again but your mind was too  fuzzy to understand as you brought the cigarette back up to your lips. “Gareth stop flirting with my wife” you heard Eddie grit behind you as his hands slithered around your hips to bring you down with him as he sat down in the chair. “Whoo!” you squealed as you fell into Eddie's lap, flinging your hands into the air as if you were on an amusement park ride. 

When you’d brought them back down you took another drag of the cigarette, closing your eyes as you exhaled, falling backwards onto Eddie's shoulder as your head began to spin back and back with the kick. 

Eddie chuckled as he plucked the tobacco from your fingers and began talking to Will and Winter, he knew this was going to happen, everytime you drank and smoked your head began to spin, same with weed and smoking, if he wasn't careful enough you would fall flat on your ass with the dizziness. Suddenly you shot up, leaning forward “Oh Ophi loves that magazine!” you must have picked up on Winter talking about some fashion magazine Eddie hadn't heard of before. Soon you were in a deep conversation about the fashion industry and how hiphop had had an effect on it but within seconds Eddie zoned out. 

You kept swaying back and forth, body vibrating with laughter as you flung yourself from side to side varying between leaning over to listen intently as catching up with your brain to form words. You were clearly quite out of it, wrapped up in your conversation and thinking nothing of it but Eddie did. The first few times you moved he didn't pay it any mind, but soon you were almost squirming above him, no longer just swaying but moving your ass, soon enough you were situated right on his crotch. 

Eddie tried to pay attention to what Will was telling him, he really did but you just kept moving around, pressing even harder against him as you relaxed and dropped your weight down. The friction was just too much. Can she feel this? Does she even know she's moving so much? No she can’t feel I’m hard she’s too drunk. Fuck please don’t realize, shit. He wrapped his arms tighter around you, subtly trying to press you up against him more. What are you doing there’s people around! Fuuuuuck, you moved a little just as he pulled you flush to his chest and now he was situated right between your cheeks, pressure coming from all sides. He snapped his head when he heard you hum, could you actually feel him? Were you doing this on purpose? 

Suddenly you turned your head and before he even had a chance to think about it your lips were on his in a hard kiss. As you broke apart he pulled away to frantically look around, Will and Winter were no longer next to you, he noticed them at the drinks table, now talking to Suzie, everyone else were in conversation all in their own worlds, drinking or making smores. Gareth had passed out next to him, Steve listened with a grin as Nancy talked excitedly, Jonathan and Charlotte were whispering to each other, matching smiles as their noses pressed to each others. 

He found your eyes again, looking down at him with a drunken smile, eyes darting down to his lips with your pupils blown wide as glossed over, he gulped. That was a sight he hadn't seen in a long time, the want, need, in your eyes as you looked at him. You leant down again, capturing him in a sloppy kiss, he groaned into your mouth as you wriggled in his lap, turning to face him better. Hands coming up to wrap your arms around his shoulder as you sat twisted to face him. Lips smacking against each other desperately, hands planting firmly on your hips and squeezing, trying to twist you, and pull your chest to his. 

Finally you broke apart with a heavy breath, Eddie's closed eyes opened slowly to admire your face with a smile. Before he had the chance though, you were sliding off him and getting to your feet with a grin, Eddie groaned and toppled over, hands coming to his crotch as his forehead almost nudged his knee. It had been a natural reaction, to cover his boner, now that he had he realised hiding it just made his problem all the more noticeable. He gave Steve the finger as he cackled at him just as you skipped off saying something about getting a drink. 

Clearing his throat he had no other option but to follow his drunken wife, he reached for his sweatshirt that had been hung on the armrest and pulled it over him, making an effort to pull it down low in the front. Reluctantly he pulled himself out of the chair, his slow steps turning into large strides as he saw what you were doing. Within a second he was next to you pulling the bottle of everclear out of your hands “Hey!” you whined as you set your solo cup down. “Babe this is 95% alcohol, and I am not having you throw up all over me tonight” he set the bottle down and gathered you in a hug.

“Mean, you dont wanna take care of me? I see how it is” you joked as you made a show of untangling yourself from him, only making Eddie hold onto you tighter. “Of course I wanna take care of you” I’ll show you how fucking good I can take care of you “But I’d rather have you not throw up if I can” you made a mocking whine which caused a chuckle bubble up from Eddies chest. 

“Let's get you some juice or something yeah?” he grinned down at you as you nodded “Jesus christ all these drinks and not a single thing alcohol free” he frowned as he inspected the table, all the mixers now gone. “There's some cartons inside” Dustin chipped in “Thanks dude”.

So Eddie was turning you in his arms to hold at your hips as he led you steadily up to the house, laughing as you stumbled and almost tripped over your own feet, slowly he led you up the steps and through the door. “Okay” he breathed as he walked you to the kitchen island, wrapping his arms around your waist and lifting you up to sit on the wood “Oh my god!” you squealed as he lifted you “I forgot you could do that! Do it again!” you squealed. Eddie shushed you quietly “I will if you keep your voice down a little, the kids are asleep downstairs” he pecked your lips as he turned to open the fridge “Oh riiiight” you leaned towards his back with an exaggerated whisper. 

Just as Eddie turned he saw you about to fall over the edge, shooting a hand out to catch your arm, placing the juice on the table and coming around to hold onto both your arms and coax you upright. “Ok my little fall risk whose like a newborn baby that can't support its head” you snorted loudly as Eddie grabbed the juicebox next to you and poked the straw through the seal. Legs pressing up against the table to stand between your thighs, keeping you sitting up “Here, drink this” he held out the juicebox to you, which you took and drank all within one breath, slurping noises within the carton as you finished it. 

Wiping your mouth you looked back up to him with a wide grin, collapsing into his chest and mushing your cheek to the green fabric. Eddie chuckled as his hands came to circle your back “I think it's time for you to go to bed yeah?” he whispered as you pushed yourself closer to him humming in agreement “But you have to carry me” Eddie laughed. He hadn’t carried you for a while, but he’d like to think he was still strong enough, lean muscles hidden under all his clothes from hard work at the auto shop. The only thing was that you were very drunk and he was afraid he’d drop you. “Ok” he whispered, marvelling in your giggle as he bent his knees and wrapped his arms around your thighs, throwing you over his shoulder. 

“What? You told me to carry you” he drummed on your ass as he began walking past the dining table earning a drunken laugh from you. 

Somehow he managed to make it up the stairs and down the hall, throwing you playfully onto the bed, just as he was about to pull away from you to stand up two hands fisted at his sweatshirt, pulling him onto the bed sloppily as your lips connected to his. As you continued kissing him he moved, never disconnecting his lips from yours as he lay himself between your thighs. 

His brain stopped as he heard your soft moan against him as he pushed himself flush against your clothed cunt. He needed to hear that sound again. He thrusted his hips hard against yours to hear your moan again this time slightly louder, quick to muffle it by kissing you harder. One of his hands on your hips travelled quickly under your hoodie to first at your breast over your bra. FUUUUUCKKK he hadn’t gotten to feel your tits in so long and now that he did it felt like fucking heaven. 

Grabbing onto you desperately as he set a pace of thrusting his hard cock against you, sloppily swiping his tongue against yours. Soft groans and moans from both of you muffled by each other as you made out. Eddie couldn't begin to explain how good this felt, kissing you, touching you, it was too much for him. His pace quickened against you as you pulled at his hair, other hand pulling at the hem of his sweatshirt. Getting the hint he sat up on his calves to rip his shirts off, cock throbbing with eagerness as your hands travelled lightly over his happy trail, past his stomach and up his chest, hand grabbing at his neck pulling him back to you. 

His lips connected to yours again as he cupped your face and let your hand trail up his side and grip at his shoulder. He pulled away to breathe, staring down at your face, eyes blown wide and filled with lust, kiss bitten lips, hips squirming for friction against him. You were drunk, he knew he shouldn't be doing this when you were drunk but he couldn't help himself, he hadn't felt you in ages and now that he’d gotten a taste he couldn't stop himself. 

Sitting up again he pulled at your hoodie, urging you to sit up so he could pull it off you, nimble fingers eagerly unclipping your bra before pushing you back against the bed. Breath cut short as his nose pushed against your cheek and his lips connected to yours. His hips gave a particularly hard thrust as his hand went back to squeezing at your now naked breast, barbell piercing pinched between his fingers as his other hand propped him up, causing you to moan against him as the zipper of his jeans caught against your clit, igniting a fire within your core you hadn't felt for a while. 

Your moan egged him on to thrust even harder as his lips relentlessly kissed yours. He heard a knock at the door but chose to ignore it, he had you here, in your bed for the week, topless, kissing him, moaning for him, wanting him, there was nothing he would do to stop this moment. The knock came again and he pulled away yelling an angry “WHAT?!” into the room. Aggravated and annoyed that there was something outside of this room, the world that had stopped around him, that needed him more than you did right now, more than he needed you. 

It showed on his face, the annoyance which dropped immediately as well as his heart as he heard the low scared whisper “Daddy?” his forehead dropped to yours as he closed his eyes, breathing out a sigh “Yeah?” he called without moving from his comfortable position against you. “Um.. I peed” the voice whispered shamefully, Roxette on the other side of the door, no doubt clutching her teddy bear close to her as she called for her dad. 

Eddie sighed against you as you let out a low giggle, the whole situation was kind of funny. Eddie straining against his jeans and boxers, frustrated and only thinking of you naked below him and his daughter interrupting to tell him she peed herself. 

“Coming!” he moved slightly above you, staring down in to your eyes as he whispered “Don't go anywhere I’ll be right back” a hard kiss to your lips as he scrambled off you, making no effort to cover his bare chest as he walked to the door, opening it and slipping out you heard Roxy on the other side of the door ask curiously “Where’s mom?” “Uh she’s sleeping”. Boner gone, and everything else that surrounded you, gone for the moment as he took his daughter into the bathroom, placing her in the shower as he ran to retrieve a fresh change of clothes and bedding in your room, groaning as he saw you now on the bed in only a pair of panties. Rushing as fast as he could to change the sheets, his daughter and then soak them all off and hang them up outside to dry. 

The five minutes he thought it would take stretched to a near half hour as he was caught up having to explain to multiple people why he was hanging bedding up and then staying with Roxette as she begged him to stay till she drifted off. 

Finally he made it back to your room, taking a heavy breath in preparation before opening the door, heart dropping as he found you naked atop the covers, on your side, and fast asleep. 

He loved his daughters but could they be more of a cockblock?! He went through the same motions as yesterday, tucking you in and shuffling in next to you to wrap his arms around you. He had to remind himself that there were five days left of this trip, plenty of opportunities to get you alone.

You woke up confused, head throbbing and.. naked? Why were you naked? You frowned as you tried to remember last night: Getting dressed and feeling insecure, shots, talking to Eddie about it, more drinking, something in the kitchen and oh right you and Eddie made out shirtless but you couldn't remember anything else. “Hey Eddie” you nudged the man behind you who groaned “Eds” your shook him slightly “What?” he grumbled behind you “Did we have sex last night?” you turned in his arms to face him as he opened his eyes “We were about to but Roxette peed herself” he murmured, there was a hint of annoyance and frustration in his voice as he recounted last nights events before nuzzling into your shoulder and pulling you tighter against him. “Oh” you breathed as you hand found his back, “Total cockblock” he mumbled against your skin drawing a snort from your throat.

So you were about to have sex with Eddie last night, for the first time in over six months. You found as you thought about it that you weren’t totally against that idea, it felt strange thinking about it, for so long you’d set up walls to block him out and now you felt like you didn't want them there anymore. They were in your way. 

A knock at the door pulled you out of your thoughts “Just a minute baby!” you called as you scrambled to get away from Eddie, turning to look down at the floor, Eddie's Metallica t-shirt that lay inside his sweatshirt was the closest, you hastily pulled it to you, throwing it over your head as you sat up against the headboard. “Yeah come in!” you called to the door as you felt Eddie's hand fall limp on your thigh. 

Ophelia and Roxette shuffled through the door, Ophelia going straight for her clothes and Roxette climbed onto the bed, laying her head in your lap and onto Eddie's hand. “Dad moooove” she shoved at his hand as he grunted in his sleep, flicking his hand in an attempt to move her head away “Daaad” she whined as she pushed at his hand, his hand slid down to hold your knee instead. 

“I heard you had a little accident, you ok baby?” you stroked her hair as she settled back in your lap “Mm peed myself” she pouted “But no one saw so I think its ok” she told you. “And your dad cleaned you up you ungrateful” Eddie mumbled the rest of his sentence into the pillow as he rolled onto his stomach. “Oh, yeah dad helped” 

Soon enough everyone was dressed and downstairs, “So!” Dustin clapped his hands together, gaining the attention of the room “Today is waterpark day!” he referred to the plan he had already set in place. Kids excitedly shovelling food into their mouths after the walkthrough of the day before running to their parents rooms to get dressed and ready. 

Roxy was very excited about her new swimsuit, a blue flowery two piece with a blouse resembling top, but huffed when Eddie told her to come over so he could put sunscreen on her before they went out because she’d want to jump in the water as soon as they got to the waterpark. 

Bags were packed, cars were started and everyone changed as 10 cars and two minivans rolled out onto the road. Setting up camp in a cluster of beach chairs under parasols plans were made. All the kids were very excited, making it quite difficult to get them all gathered and keep them from running off. “Mom I don’t wanna wear the floaters!” Roxette whined as you blew the arm puffs up for her. “Baby you have to” popping the cap closed you started with the other “But Ophelia doesn’t have hers!” She stomped on the ground “Yeah but Ophelia's older she knows how to swim” you explained as you coaxed her over to stand between you knees “I can swim too! No! I don’t wanna!” She ripped her arm away from you as you held it “Baby look a bunch of the other ones are wearing them” you pointed over at the other parents putting arm puffs on their own kids, Eddie stood nearby lathering sunscreen on your eldest. “Fine!” She whined as she let you pull one up her forearm “Be good and you’ll get an ice cream later” you grinned as her face broke out into a toothy smile “Ok!” She happily accepted her fate and let you put the other arm puff on her. 

Argyle and Eden excitedly signed up for chaperoning the kids as well as Robin and a cautious Vickie, Lukas, Mike, Dustin and Suzie joining in as they set off with the kids for a waterslide, Steve and Eddie telling them they would catch up with them. 

You, Nancy, Simone, Tracy, her daughter Ariana, El, Max and Charlotte all huddled together on the beach chairs, lounging as you looked over the waterpark. Will and Winter walked off to get some fancy waterpark drinks that caught their eye as Eddie, Steve, Luke, Gareth and Jeff looked over the map of the waterpark. 

“Oh what a beautiful day!” Nancy smiled brightly as she sat down with baby Dustin in her lap, Simone undid her beach wrap and sat down in a cheeky black bathing suit with straps lining up to her hips, halter top neckline with an open back. “Oh it is hot!” she commented as a few of the other girls cheered at her. “We really doing bathing suits?” Charlotte asked cautiously “Oh come on girls we don't know these people who cares?” Simone smiled brightly as she took her sunglasses off and dropped them onto her wrap on the ground, “Yeah you're right who cares? I've been working on this six pack all spring!” Charlotte pulled her cover up off, thrusting her pregnant belly for show under her punch pink pregnancy dress bathing suit “Yeah baby got front!” she laughed as the girls cheered her on, “Come on Y/N its your turn to strip!” she grinned as she sat back down “Oh no I don't know” you shyed away. 

The swimsuit you were wearing today was not one you were extremely comfortable in, it had been a gift from your friend and you brought it with you just in case, but your bikini had been haphazardly shoved into a ball in your room out of sight and out of mind and therefore not washed deeming it unwearable as it began to smell. This one was a blood red one piece instead, the hem was high on your hips and practically a thong at the back, low cut in the back and round cups pushing your tits together above an upside down triangle showcasing some skin and the undersides of your boobs. “Oh come on! Like Simone said no one cares!” Nancy grinned as she clapped, the others joining in and clapping along. “Oh ok!” they cheered as you stood up and made a show of dropping your towel and filing it onto your chair, even going as far as a little spin. 

Not far away Gareth whistled, causing the group of guys bent over the map to look up, Eddie with his back to you asked “What?” following Gareth's eyes, turning around to see you throwing your towel away and spinning around. He swallowed. Have I seen that before? I don't think so, is it new? his eyes scanned your body, cheeky thong tucked between your ass cheeks, tits pushed together round. “You sure you still set on this marriage thing? Cuz if not I’ll happily take her off your hands. Get her on her knees for me.” Eddie turned back around to see Gareth grinning. 

“Alright that's enough” Eddie lunged “No!” Gareth screeched as he ducked and took off towards you all, scuttling between plastic lounge chairs to stand behind yours which you now occupied. Eddie stopped by your feet as Gareth hopped from side to side “What’s going on?” you asked confused, other girls chiming in as Eddie matched Gareth's movements “If you say one more word I will personally see to it that you're six feet under by the end of the day” Eddie gritted through his teeth. “Eddie!” you shouted, shocked at his words. 

Gareth suddenly became bold “Nah you're too much of a softy” he grinned as he stilled and leaned over the back of your chair, making a show of peeping down you to look at your tits “HEY! Stop looking at my wife!” he shouted, making you turn in confusion to look up at Gareth who quickly disappeared out of view as he ran again. Eddie followed him shouting “You wanna see how much of a softy I am?!” and just like that both of them were out of sight. 

You turned back to the rest “What was that?” they all shrugged telling you how they had no clue, you sighed and stood up walking over to Steve. “Can you tell me what's going on?” you crossed your arms, sweet Steve looking you directly into the eye as he awkwardly murmured “Uh Gareth said some things that upset Eddie so” he shrugged “What did he say?” you frowned “Uh you don't wanna know” Steve brought a hand up to rub at his stubble. Rolling your eyes you walked off in search of Eddie, who was now running through a children's pool. 

“Eddie!” you shouted sternly causing him to stop in his tracks and turn to you “Come here” you stated frustrated. Eddie turned to Gareth who also stood frozen, back to you, to Gareth and finally back to you. He sighed and trudged towards you. 

“What the hell is going on?” you crossed your arms again, watching as Gareth faking nonchalance walked off behind him. “Gareth uh was just annoying me” he brought a hand up to scratch at the back of his neck “So you chase him?” you inquired “Well yeah” Eddie turned to give Gareth an angry glare as he neared the group again. He set his gaze back onto you, your facial expression telling him that that wasn't an answer and urging him to explain “Ugh, he, he just kept saying some things, and I told him to stop and he still didn't” he set his hands onto your hips as he looked down on you. 

“What stuff?” you asked exasperated, Eddie opened his mouth “And don’t tell me I don’t want to know” you held a finger up to him, his mouth closed again, you could see his brain working to think of something to say “Just, well some things about your body” your face softened into scared hurt, Eddie understood instantly that you though Gareth had been making fun of you, your size, but he didnt know how to explain “Fuck sake, he kept saying how he was gonna” he closed his eyes annoyed “Fuck you and shit” he breathed. 

The snort that left your throat caused him to open them again “Baby, just because he says that doesn't mean it's gonna happen” you placed a soft hand on his cheek. Immediately his mind brought up Greg, stupid fucking Greg who had him doubting himself. -doesn’t mean it's gonna happen, doesn’t mean it's gonna happen, doesn’t mean it's gonna happen. He softened against your touch, nothing was going to happen, not with Greg, not with Gareth, not with anybody. “I know” he sighed, more of an admittance to himself  “I just don't like him talking to you about that” he continued as he stepped closer to you, leaning further into your touch “Yeah well he's a pig, but it's just harmless stupid jokes baby” you leant up on your toes to give him a kiss. 

“I’m only for you remember” you held your hand up to him, wiggling your fingers up to show off your engagement ring and wedding band.

Eddie hummed, why was he ever worried? You were his, you were married to him, had his babies, you’d been with him since you were 16 and him 17 for god's sake. Maybe it was the time spent together that had him worrying you had gotten bored of him, but no, it was the time together that only made the two of you stronger. You’d always been attached at the hip, stuck to each other like glue since his first senior year. Yeah you had your rough patches but you always found your way back to each other in the end.

Taking your hand and placing a kiss to the back of it before kissing your lips. “Now come on, you can buy me a gelato cuz it's too damn hot out here” you grinned as you took his hand. “Mm know something that's hotter” he snapped the elastic at your hip against your skin as he captured your lips in a kiss again.

Rejoining the group you stood with Eddie behind you, whose hands wrapped around your waist as his chin dropped to your shoulder. “Gareth, you're disgusting” you sneered “Anybody want ice cream?” you grinned to the rest, Eddie snorted behind you as the rest laughed. Soon enough you were back in your lounge chair leaning onto Eddie's chest as you sat between his thighs, happily eating your gelato while talking to Tracy, Ariana and Max. 

You had so much fun going on slides with Eddie and the kids, throwing Roxette around in the water, your two girls fighting to get the other off each parents shoulders, slurping on ice cream, chatting with everyone and it wasn't as hard as you'd all though getting each kid into their respective car and away from the fun, all exhausted from the day and ready to go home.  Dinner had been munching on whatever snacks there were around the house as kids were put to bed by nightfall.

“Damn forgot to brush my teeth” Eddie sighed as he walked into the bedroom with a towel low on his hips, tattoos on display under the same gold light Eddie had seen you in. “Ok well I’m dying for a shower so you're gonna have to do that while I’m in there” you told him as you brushed past him in a throw over beach dress, bathing suit still on. You didn't see Eddie grin behind your back as you clutched your toiletry bag on your way down the hall, quickly snapping up his things before following you.

“Oh I don't mind” he breathed as he caught up to you, you turned, rolling your eyes at him playfully as you pushed open the door, locking it after letting Eddie through, “Think I can join you?” he grinned down at you as the hand not clutching his toothbrush and toothpaste came to rest on your hip “Pretty sure you just showered baby” you smiled as you pulled away from him, pulling your dress over your head as Eddie flung his things into the sink. “Mm can’t be too clean sweetheart” he smirked as he crowded you from behind. “I’ll let you join me if you just think about this first” you turned around “You really wanna have sex for the first time in a shower in a home that's not even ours?” you began pulling the straps of your bathing suit down. 

Eddie looked off into the distance thinking it over “No you're right” he sighed “Wait wait wait, you're saying we're gonna have sex?” His eyes found you eagerly as you stripped of your bathing suit and stepped into the shower, looking back with a cheeky smirk. Eddie groaned and fell back against the sink as you turned the water off. Fuck… YES! It was happening! It was really fucking happening! 

You pulled the shower curtain closed, putting you out of view as Eddie turned and began brushing his teeth. He sat down on the toilet lid waiting for you to finish and it felt like the time droned on forever, even though it was just 10 minutes. His head perked up excitedly as you stepped out, reaching for your folded towel on the counter and wrapping yourself up in it. “Ugh fuck you’re so sexy” Eddie breathed against your ear as he wrapped around you from behind, you giggled as you picked up your stuff and unlocked the door. Walking slowly down the hall Eddie pressed his painfully hard cock against you, the evidence of the daydreaming he had been doing while you were in the shower. 

“Can't wait to get my hands on you” he whispered as you made your way down the hall. Eddie wasted absolutely no time as you got to your room, pulling the towel off you and letting it drop to the floor. Eyes roaming the various ink splatters littered over your body, shining oh so beautifully in the dim light of the room, soaking in every inch of your undeniably perfect body. “Funny I’m usually the loud one but I have a sneaking suspicion you might beat me to it this time” you grinned as you let his towel fall to the floor. “Oh do you now?” his hands went down to grab a handful of your ass “Mhm you're gonna have to be quiet” you whispered as he captured your lips in a kiss.

Blindly he led you backwards till the backs of your knees hit the mattress, falling onto it, instinctively spreading your legs to make room for Eddie. “Fuck” he made an audible groan as his hard cock came in contact with you slick wet folds, pressing into you. “Ugh fuck I’m not gonna last long baby” he breathed as he broke apart from you “Would be surprised if you did” you panted as Eddies lips began kissing down your jaw and throat, lingering on occasion to suck harsh bruises into your skin, more than on occasion, he seemed to be doing it with every kiss.

You let out a breathless moan as his lips wrapped around your pebbled nipple, sucking lightly as his hand came up to give similar attention to the other. Two metal balls cold on his muscle as he licked at your pierced nips. He didn’t hover there long though, he continued his descent kissing down your body till he slid to his knees on the floor, hands wrapping strong around your hips to pull you to the edge as he kissed your things. 

“Ughhhh fuck I’ve missed this” he groaned as he spread your folds “Missed sex or missed staring at my pussy?” You grinned down at him as you sat up on your elbows, he looked up at you mischievously “Both” and without warning he dove in, licking a broad strip from your hole up to your clit. Your head fell back as a moan ripped through you, you know Eddie had taken to pleasuring himself but above not doing anything with Eddie you weren’t doing anything alone, the feeling of Eddie's warm tongue rolling through you a second time was almost overwhelming. 

A third long lick before he focused on your clit, shorter even licks right in the nub had you gripping the sheets. His lips wrapped around you, sucking hard as his tongue flicked up and down, your hand came to snake between his damp curls and tug harshly causing Eddie to groan as he went faster. 

“Shit baby, we- we gotta be quiet” you forced out a strained whisper between pants as the vice grip on Eddie's roots tightened, all Eddie did was hum in response as one of the hands snaked around the backs of your thighs holding you to him lifted. The hand that had previously been gripping onto the bed sheets for purchase whipped away to hold a tight fist against your lips, biting down hard on your knuckles as you felt a long thick finger slip easily into you. 

“Mm fuck” you whined against it as he pushed a second in, pumping in and out furiously as his tongue flicked at an angry pace. Just as you were about to open your mouth to say something a harsh knock sounded at the door. Startling both you and Eddie as he pulled his mouth off you, head dropping down to rest his head on your mound “You gotta be fucking kidding me” he gritted through his teeth. 

You took a deep sigh as you slackened your grip on his hair, other hand coming down to the sheets to half push yourself up. “Hang on baby, mommy’ll be right there” you called strained to the door as Eddie knocked his head on your mound, the hair tickling his forehead, fingers still deep inside you. “Uh it’s just me, Steve” a deep voice sounded from the other side. 

“Oh” you fell back down on the bed, “Uh yeah?” you managed to even out your voice as you spoke, “No no don’t come in!” You shouted as you saw the doorknob turn, hand held out in the direction of the door as if to stop him. You sighed as it flung back into place “Uh I was just looking for Eddie” he tried keeping his voice down as he called through the door “What do you want?” Eddie hollered as he raised his head, irritation dripping from his voice “I was just gonna talk to you about uh my car, we talked about it earlier” 

“Yeah yeah I’ll take a look at it tomorrow” he set his chin pushing down onto the sparse hair on your mound again as he looked over to the door Aalright great I was just-“ “Steve I’ll be knuckle deep in your car tomorrow right know I’m knuckle deep in something else” he called, the offended gasp you let out as you scolded him “Edward!” with a light slap to the back of his head only had him grinning up at you smug. “Haha alright dude see ya tomorrow” Steve laughed on the other side as he heard the smack “Ok BYE Steve!” Eddie almost shouted. 

You both listened intently as you heard heavy footsteps lead away from the door “Eddie rea- ooooh shit” you broke off as Eddie set his lips back onto you, pumping his fingers in and out of you equally as fast if not faster than he had before, resuming his tackle on your clit as if nothing had happened. 

With each pump he worked faster and faster until his hand was working at an angry pace to get you to the edge, your hand pulled harder at his hair as you writhed beneath him turning to sink your teeth into the comforter. You whined as you felt that familiar feeling boil in your core, only egging Eddie on as he sucked harder. 

“Fuck I’m-I’m c-close” you whined as your hips inched away from him, Eddies fingers sinking into your skin in a bruising grip and forcing you back to him “Shit shit shit!” was all the warning as a spray of warm liquid hit him in the face, causing him to reel back. Watching in awe as you drenched his neck, chest and hand into a furious squirt. 

Within seconds it slowed to a stop as well as Eddie's fingers as he watched you panting heavily in front of him. Eyes bulging he watched as the hand that had previously ripped away from his hair to grip the sheets and fall slack next to you as you sunk into the mattress panting heavily. “Holy fuck” he breathed as he himself panted, getting to his feet and looming over you, hand falling out to keep him raised off you as his other held your shoulder gently, smoothing over your skin as he went to cup your cheek, capturing your lips in a desperate kiss, pausing your panting to kiss him back. 

The skin previously dried from his shower now soaking pressing against you as he fell onto you, both hands coming up to hold you in place as he pulled you to him, head lifting from the bed to meet him. The long kiss broke apart and you fell back onto the bed, breathing slowing as you gathered yourself. 

“Scootch up baby” Eddie whispered as he pushed himself off you “Hm?” You hummed as you opened your eyes, hands pushing into the patterned throw as you pushed yourself off the foot of the bed and up to land against the pillows. Eddie crawled up the bed, hand pushing softly to part your knees and make room for him. 

Finally your daze melted away as you looked up to find Eddie on his calves, hand wrapped around his throbbing cock as he stared down at you in awe, slowly pumping himself, each stroke revealing his angry red tip dribbling a hefty amount of precum. 

You chuckled breathlessly “Don’t want me to return the favour?” Eddie shook his head furiously as he toppled over to rest on top of you “Uh uh” he breathed and without warning lined himself up with you thrusting himself into the hilt. He let out a loud groan while you gasped in surprise. “Aaahahahuuuuh fuck” he complained breathlessly as the hand on his cock slithered up to grab at your hip. 

“Shiiit feel so good baby” his breath fanned against your ear as he buried his face in your shoulder, setting a slow pace of his hips, lips attaching back to your neck. The low whine of your throat only made Eddie speed his hips up “Baby, s-s’too big” Eddie laughed as you whined “Mm been a while?” he pulls his face out of the crook of your neck to grin down at you. As you roll your eyes Eddie plants both of his hands just below your armpits, leaning down to kiss you as he places one hard thrust into your hips, the head of his cock hitting that spot inside you he liked to call the danger zone for some stupid reason, actually the reason being that it either caused you incredibly pleasure, or incredible pain depending on what position you were in. This particular position was the former, and it showed as you moaned loudly against him. 

Braking off the kiss he moved a hand to plaster over your mouth as he thrusted another hard thrust, somehow managing to hit even deeper inside you, his head nuzzling back into the crook of your neck to leave bruises all along the expanse of your throat. Muffling the second loud moan as your eyes rolled to the back of your skull, mouth dropping in pure pleasure. Eddie hummed in agreement as he thrusted again “Mhm yeah thats the spot, fuck” he was now setting a slow pace of hard thrusts, each time inching deeper inside you as your hands pulled angrily at the roots of his locks. 

Your left hand moved from the grip near his neck to circle around his arm, fingers pressing harshly into the skin of his shoulder, nails digging in to leave small crescent moons into the inked slightly tanned skin. The same tattoo which had Eddie moaning in something other than pleasure as he first lay down on his back after a five hour appointment, complaining that he had to lay on his stomach till it healed. 

Now as you touched the ink Eddie only groaned as your nails scratched at his shoulder blades, hard thrust transitioning to quick smacks of his hips against yours, skin slapping against skin. That would have been the only sound apart from moans that would have been heard if it weren't for “Eddie the bed” you panted as the old wood and springs began squeaking with each of Eddie's movements. “You know how many beds I had to listen to rattling last night?” he pulled away from his attack on your reddening neck to stare down at you, panting between each word “Yeah it's our turn” he dove back in to suck hard at your collarbone. 

His hips were now at a furious pace, how he hadn't cum already he had absolutely no clue but somehow he had managed to hold off. That was until he felt your walls squeeze tightly around him, the burning in his belly he’d been ignoring became reality all too quickly. Hips working faster as he pulled off your collar to look back at you, hand still collapsed over your mouth, neck craned back into the pillow to match your eyes practically looking at the back wall. “Fuck ba- shit” he broke off in a groan as you squeezed harder around him “S-Sweetheart, n-not gonna last loOoong!” he tried to whisper but failed miserably as your ankles locked behind him pressing him further into you. 

Bed squeaking, skin slapping, throats groaning and moaning in blinding pleasure echoed all around the room as Eddie's movement stopped, bottoming out inside you in a loud groan as hot spurts of cum painted your walls. 

For minutes both of you just lay panting, a jumble of limbs as both of you tried to catch your breath. It was nice, lying tangled up with Eddie, naked and sweaty, totally counteracting your shower but it was nice, until it got too hot. You pushed Eddie off you, a reluctant grunt sounding from the back of his throat as he pulled out “Where you going?” he whispered as he felt a dip in the bed next to him while he lay eyes closed on his back. “Gonna open a window it's boiling in here” you stepped cautiously over the floorboards as you opened the old window, sighing as cool night air hit your skin. You looked back to see Eddie fucked out and spent with his eyes still closed on the bed and awkwardly picked up one of the towels discarded on the floor and whipped yourself off. 

Eddie peeked his eyes open as he saw you walk over to the duffle bags, dropping both towels on the bench “You-you getting dressed?” there was a hint of nervousness to his voice as he sat up, as if the prospect of you putting clothes on was like you closing yourself off again. “Relax I’m just putting on some underwear” you chuckled as you fished out a pair of forest green brazilians and pulled them over your legs. 

Eddie fell back against the bed again, laughing as he felt a pair of clean boxers hit his face. Pulling them on he hopped back onto the bed with a wide grin, beaming at you like a child receiving a bag of candy or their favourite toy. “What's got you so happy?” you chuckle as you nestle up to him, pushing his hands away as he was about to wrap them around you, turning to lay on your side and rest your head on his chest instead of his face buried  in your shoulder. 

“Oh you know my stock shares went up” his joke earned a laugh as he held your waist and trailed his fingers up and down your arm. The giggle you let out had his smile cracking wider and his arms holding you to him tighter. “Yup I stiiill got it” he smirked as you slapped his chest lightly. 

For once it seemed neither of you were woken by any distractions, Eddie roused slowly face mushed against your hair as he pulled back to see that during the night the both of you must have moved and he was now back to spooning you just like every other night. As the numb feeling of sleep tingled away he squeezed his fingers to find his hand cupping your breast. He chuckled as he heard the low whine from your throat, the sound jogging his memory. 

Oh fuck, hed gotten to touch you, fuck you, even made you squirt! That wasn't even something normal when you were having sex on a regular basis. Memories of being inside you, a tangle of legs, you pulling at his hair, sucking at your neck, all swam to the forefront of his mind. Leaning over he found himself stunned by the amount of deep purple and brown hickies that littered your skin, he couldn't even count them on his fingers Jesus Christ. Dark marks going all the way from just below your jaw all the way down to an inch or so away from your nipples, when did he even have time to do all that?

He was torn from his thoughts as you stirred, turning in his grasp to lay on your back, eyes slowly opening to see Eddie hovering above you, dopey grin painting his face. Your hands went up to the hem of the comforter when you frowned, lifting it up you peeked at what was hidden, frown dissipating to realisation as you whispered an “Oh right” which had Eddie snorting and dropping his forehead on to yours. 

“Mm morning handsome” you hummed as his lips pulled away from a deep passionate kiss “Morning beautiful” he croaked, head pulling back in shock “Beautiful” he croaked again, voice strained, he cleared his throat “Beautiful, there we go” he laughed as you giggled, those sweet noises once again having his heart doing flips in his chest. 

“So beach day again or you wanna do something else? Dustin mentioned a hike” Eddie rolled off you to lie on his back as you propped yourself up on an elbow next to you “Hmm well I am torn, can either watch you hopp around in that sad little excuse for a bathing suit you wore yesterday or stare at you ass in those bike shorts, it really is a tough decision” he grinned down at you, snorting you told him “Well my regular bikini is all dry now so don't worry you don't have to watch me hopp around in that other one” Eddie shrugged “Probably for the best, not easy hiding a boner in swim trunks, trust me” he widened his eyes. 

Ophelia and Roxette strolled in not much later to find Eddie getting dressed as you had wandered off to the bathroom. 

“Why are you wearing a hoodie? It's like 90° outside” Lucas threw his hands out as he plopped down next to you on the couch, everyone eating an assortment of fruit, cereal and toast. Eddie snorted from the other side of the table which had both of you turning towards him, Lucas with a confused frown and you with a warning glare “I’m just cold” you explained weakly “How on earth are you cold?” Mike sat down on the arm of the chair El was occupying. “Uh I just am?” “Oh come on, just take it off” Mike shrugged. 

“I-I’d rather not” you tried taking a bite of your toast to signal the end of the conversation, “Yeah she's gotta hide those massive hickies” Gareth sauntered over to hang of the back of Eddie's armchair taking an animalistic bit of a baconstrip “Not doing a good job by the way” you pulled the hood up further around your neck as the people around the living room area all turned to you. “Whats a hickey?” Jonathan's son Charlie piped up “Oh it's like a-” “Gareth” you turned to him to glare at him too who held his hands up in defeat “It's just a bruise sweetie, like when you fall and hurt yourself” Charlotte waddled over to pat her son on the head, everyone on the couch scooching up to make room for the pregnant lady. 

“Eh no one cares babes just take your hoodie off, you must be boiling” Charlotte smiled happily as she waved you off next to you, sighing you set your plate down and pulled the hoodie over your head, “Jesus christ!” the room erupted in laughter as near 20 hickeys in a steady flow down to the hem of your tanktop was revealed. You forced a straight tight lipped smile and gestured your hands out. Gareth slapped Eddie on his shoulder as he laughed “Didn’t know you had it in ya big guy” chuckling he stood up straight behind him “Mm thanks” Eddie grumbled as he finished the rest of his cereal. 

“Seriously what did you guys do yesterday?” Mike laughed, “Didn't you hear them?” Gareth imitated a high pitched version of a bed squeaking as you curled in on yourself. Roxette hurried over and climbed into you lap as she laughed “What is uncle Gareth doing?” the supposed uncle in question was in the midst of thrusting his hips back and forth, thankfully not making any lude imitations of moans “He's just being silly” you explained as you wrapped your arms around her. “Oh god” you sighed amused as Charlie and Lucas's son Billy copied Gareth's movements “Would you please refrain from teaching my kid that stuff? He’s four” Charlotte complained as she grabbed her son by the arm and yanked him to her “Yeah dude stop, no one wants to see that shit” Lucas chimed in. 

Soon enough almost everyone was outside gathered by the beach, save from Charlotte who went inside to rest, Jonathan following her and trusting Dustin to keep an eye on his kids. Blankets and towels were spread out in the sand and grass as the same group from the first day lounged on the chairs now back in their place from bonfire night. Kids splashed in the water as well as adults, some lying tanning in the sun or forcing sunscreen onto stroppy children. 

Roxette and Ophelia ran up jumping excitedly as you pulled your shorts down to tan, begging you to come jump off the jetty with them. After some faux complaining and getting a rise out of Roxy you agreed, laughing as they ran off in front of you. Walking past Eddie caught his attention immediately, the rim of the beer bottle he was holding falling away from his lips as it seemed that the world stopped around him and watching you move in slow motion. Teeth showing in a happy laugh, fingers wrapped around the hem on each side of your bikini bottoms, securing them to your hips, thick thighs rubbing against each other with each step, tits in a soft bounce from your movements. Faded ink tattoos mixed with fresher ones glittering in the sunlight as it sat high up in the sky. The quick one second of a flash of a smile towards him was the equivalent of an hour as you turned and continued walking. 

The laughter and chatter died around him as if he was submerged under water simply listening to the sounds of the ocean. In the back of his mind he thought he may have cooled down with his rapid heart beat and tensing in his thighs whenever he was around you in anything close to the line of modesty after you’d finally had sex, but no. If anything his heart was beating even faster than it had before in his life, not even the muffling of his chest could hide the beats from sounding out around him, much less hide the feeling of his swim shorts tightening around him. 

Sitting up straight from his wide legged slackened position he stared in awe at the plush thickness of your thighs, to your concealed mound up to the soft rolls of your tummy, slight jiggle of the fat around your arms and bounce of your tits, and Oh. My. God. As he zoned in on the particular area which consumed his mind most of the time he saw those faint outlines of hearts, pressing against the lavender fabric, had it not been for the sun beating down on you he most definitely would have seen the shape of your hardened nipples framed so perfectly by those little diamond encrusted silver hearts. 

Since this morning you had switched your nipple piercings, at some point, without his knowledge, and he knew you knew those little hearts were his absolute favourite of all the body modifications you had. She’s put those on for me. The hearts disappeared out of his view as you veered off to the small wooden dock, the globes of your ass swaying from side to side with every step you took, following your girls down as they desperately jumped up and down in waiting for you. 

Just as quick as the moment came, it was gone, as he watched you disappear under the surface of the water, cannonballing in with a large splash, Roxette eagerly on your tail, copying you and cannonballing in only a few inches away from your face. You laughed as you splashed her back, clapping as Ophelia too resurfaced. 

“Yo you listening to me?” Gareth slapped Eddie's arm in an attempt to regain his attention, not having noticed you walking by, he turned away from the small dots of your heads floating in the distance. “Hm? Oh right Zander yeah what about him?” Gareth repeated his comment about how their boss at the auto shop had slipped up with a recent purchase that was vital in the repair of a snazzy Rolls Royce he had been working on. 

Eddie's attention drifted way off from the conversation again as he saw you swim up to the ladder and pull yourself up. Water dripping off your body as you shoved your hair out of your face. Time slowed again as you dipped your fingers into the hem of your bottoms, pulling at the fabric to lay back properly over your ass from the water forcing them up to nestle between your cheeks as you jumped into the lake. The action wasn’t graceful, in fact it was far from it, but from the edge of the beach where Eddie sat currently having an out of world experience it was the sexiest, hottest thing he had ever witnessed you doing. Even though he couldn't see it he just knew the skin of your ass would jiggle as the elastic snapped back against it. 

“Seriously dude!” This time Gareth shoved him, almost spilling the beer in the bottle over his lap, most definitely making the little situation with the raging boner straining against the mesh a lot worse had it gone further than sloshing around the neck.

Somehow he managed to regain focus and partake in a conversation which mostly consisted of slagging his boss off, coupled with a few swares which had several moms turning their heads in a glare. And somehow he managed to calm down and let his mind focus on other things as his cock slowly softened beneath the black and blue fabric. 

“So Edward Munson” Steve grinned as he walked over the sand and slapped his friend on the shoulder “Don't let Nancy hear your wife calling you that, she'll start walking around calling me Stephen” he grimaced as Eddie turned from Gareth chuckling at his comment. “Seems something you did was successful” he walked over and sank down into the chair Gareth previously occupied, walking off to answer Jeff calling him over. 

“Seems so” Eddie raised his bottle in a mock cheer as Steve uncapped his own “Seriously dude you gotta tell me how the fuck you manage to hold out that long” he leaned in, deepening his voice so no one could overhear. “What hold out for six months? a hellofalot of polaroids and dirty magazines and taking alleged showers” Eddie’s smirk matched Steves as he chuckled, Steve let out a loud obnoxious snort “No, bro, you're like 40 years old-” “41” Eddie grimaced as he cut him off “Right well 41, I’ve never in my life heard a bed make so much noise, you were going at it for like 30 minutes with constant eek eek eek” it was Eddies turn to snort now as Steve copied Gareth's form of imitating the bed squeaking.

“Do 50 hour weeks at an auto repair shop and maybe you'll catch up to me” Steve laughed as he spread his legs and sunk further into the wood. Ophelia ran up dripping cold water all over him as she hung off the armrest of his chair “What's up rugrat?” Eddie ruffled her already tousled and drenched hair “Dad wanna come play princess with me, Mercy, Louise and Emma? Roxette doesn't want to, says it's for girls. Even though she is one which I don't understand” Ophelia mumbled the last sentence as a low rumble left Eddies chest in the form of a deep chuckle “Not right now sweetheart, daddys talking to Steve right now but maybe later” he offered an apologetic smile towards his daughter. Even though he loved her, he wasn't quite fond of having her smear her moms makeup on his face as he wore a blanket for a dress, he was banished from wearing your dresses since he almost flashed Roxette while jumping on the couch. 

“Okeeey” Ophelia grumbled and ran off to join Steve and Jonathans daughters who were already pulling at Charlottes arms. His gaze turned from his eldest to find you stepping off the jetty and making your way through the sand towards him. It was almost uncharacteristic how quickly he switched from trying not to upset his daughter to hungrily watch you in motion. Sure he drifted off and lost focus sometimes, ok a lot, but this wasn't something normal for him, he didn't even hear as Steve barked out a laugh beside him at the change in demeanour, before he even got a chance to let his eyes drift up and down your body you were stood in front of him, lips moving as you talked but not a single word registering to him. 

He straightened his back and fought with himself as he desperately tried not to let his eyes roam your body and instead look into your eyes giving you his full attention “Huh sorry what?” Steve barked another laugh beside him, you giggled “I just said hi” you reached over behind him to grab your towel on the back of his chair, “Oh hi” Eddie breathed as your tits hovered two inches away from his nose, suddenly all the air had left the sphere around earth and he had to sputter to find his breath.

A pressing matter swam to the front of his mind and ripped him out of his trance “Where's Rocky?” he whipped his head around to look behind you and scan the beach “She’s inside, Arianas showing her the wonders of The Notorious B.I.G” you ran the towel over your head, squeezing the water out of your hair “Great first Tupac now B.I.G, you know I really had hope for her, she was listening to Mötley Crue and everything” the brown bottle raised to his lips as he took a sip of the now luke warm beer, he scrunched his face up in disgust and propped the drink into the sand. 

“Hah relax babe, she still obsessed with Mötley Crue, not that I’m very happy about it, the day she starts fangirling over them is the day I divorce you” Eddie scrunched his face up again, soft lines forming on his nose as his brows furrowed “Im kidding!” you held your hands up. With your towel in your hand and arms out by your sides Eddie was fighting for dear life to keep eye contact with you, if only he had his sunglasses on. 

“Oh yo the car” Steve cut into the admittedly mundane but to Eddie, it was a heart squeezing conversation with his wife “Oh right!” Eddie made to stand up as you moved out of the way, eagerly you took his place as the seat next to you vacated with Steve standing to join him. 

It was your turn to oggle now. 

For the first time since December, watching Eddie pull at the neck of his threadbare t-shirt was exhilarating. Unbeknownst to you you were falling into the exact same trance Eddie had been, where the world fell silent and time stopped. Your eyes widened as you saw the sun bleached fabric float over his skin, inch by inch revealing that faint happy trail and that toned v-line pointed down like an arrow towards the price you were now dying to win over. Toned abs revealed themselves slowly next to a set of sleek inked hips, twigs and vines littered with roses winding down the v-line, roses matching the ones that sat under your right breast, peeking out from under your bra. A demon head and a spider showed on his left peck, hovering above a large majestic dragon protecting its four ribbed eggs, each symbolising a different person he admired and loved deeply, a constant reminder that he never wanted to lose them. Ophelia, Roxette, Wayne and you. 

Tattoo sleeves windled from his shoulders down to his wrists, puppet masters, bats, more dragons, daggers, dice and so much more all woven perfectly together resting under the surface of the soon to be golden brown skin. Formerly pale now tanning shining under the brightness of the sky, reflection of the water sparkling at his sides.

It was your turn to not register a word as Eddie spoke “We’re just gonna go have a look at Steve’s car, I’ll be back in a bit” you felt your neck twist as you followed the collections of tattoos on chiselled muscles past you where a hand dropped his shirt onto the arm of the chair and back behind you, leaning in your chair and twisting uncomfortably to follow the wide spread wings connecting to a female form, organs on show and hands displayed to its side, a tribute to his musical hero and favourite album In Utero by Nirvana. 

You felt like a teenager caught staring at her crush as you whipped around to look back at the beach when both Steve and Eddie turned to look back at you. 

“Dude she was totally checking you out?” Steve slapped him on his chest as they tread through the grass “What? Who?” Eddie turned to see you quickly pull back in your chair “Who do you think idiot?”.

Part 2!

[diorkyeom]

「✦」 oh, how i adore you

joshua x dokyeom, non-idols, fluff, angst, humour, mutual pining, friends to lovers, inspired by the song 'jump then fall' by taylor swift

total word count: 22.2k+

warnings: adults drinking alcohol near the beginning, seokmin is scared of heights? but hes good at dealing w it, overuse of "shua hyung"s bc seokmin is a Simp, kissing

summary: "and joshua... well, joshua had realised something. seokmin's laugh was, without a doubt, one of the best sounds that he had ever heard." - in which joshua never really realised that he'd fall for seokmin, but always has and always will do anything for him. and perhaps that should have been his first sign that he'd well and truly fallen for seokmin a long, long time ago.

notes: it's here!! vv heavily inspired by that one lyric in ms. swift's song that goes "without a warning/i realise your laugh is the best sound i have ever heard" bc it's just sooo seoksoo coded. pls b kind to the fic bc it actually took me forever to write lmaoo and enjoy ^^

The day Joshua fell in love with Seokmin started out like any other.

Well, no. That was a lie. But with friends like Joshua’s, it was impossible for any day to be classed as ‘ordinary’. 

On the day he fell in love with Seokmin, he woke up to someone poking him in the shoulder.

Which was weird, because Joshua lived by himself, and his first thought was that it was some intruder coming to murder him as he slept. He couldn’t find it within him to be scared about that, though, still in a mostly-asleep state as the bony finger continued to poke him incessantly right in the shoulder bone.

He was too tired to be dealing with this. Trying to bury his face into his pillow, Joshua reasoned that if someone was trying to murder him, then it was highly unlikely that they’d want to wake him up first, right? 

Either that, or they were an incredibly polite murderer.

“Shua hyung,” the polite murderer whined, and Joshua groaned as the familiar voice finally registered in his ears.

With a heavy sigh, because he now knew exactly who this intruder was, he let himself be manhandled up into a more upright position, propped against his headboard. His eyes were still shut, refusing to accept this disturbance to his sleep.

“Shua hyung,” the person said again, and Joshua could hear the bright amusement in his tone. “Shua hyung, it’s gone 10 in the morning. You promised me cookies.”

Defeated, Joshua blinked slowly as his shoulders were shaken back and forth, making his head loll drowsily like a doll. He squinted blearily.

“Good morning to you too, Seokmin.”

Seokmin beamed again, wide and happy as if he hadn’t just forcibly woken his hyung up and was now shaking him around like a baby rattle. He was practically sitting in Joshua’s lap, having clambered over him in order to shake his shoulders, and Joshua really was beginning to feel like nothing more than a toy doll at this point. 

“Good morning, hyung!” Seokmin chirped, and sat back on Joshua’s knees, making the elder let out a small ‘oof’ at the sudden weight. “Now hurry up, you said you’d bake me cookies.”

Joshua sighed yet again. He really needed new friends.

───────────── ‘✦,

Joshua had met Lee Seokmin for the first time during his third year of university. It had been an odd encounter, but it had been an encounter brought on by one Yoon Jeonghan and so, when Joshua thought about it, by that man’s standards it hadn’t really been all that odd in the slightest.

“Joshuji,” Jeonghan had declared one afternoon, opening the door and flouncing through the small dorm into their kitchen, dragging a tall boy by his oversized hoodie sleeve behind him. “Meet the first-year that I’ve collected this year.”

Joshua, who had been peacefully sipping his fifth coffee of the day, didn’t even bat an eye at Jeonghan’s declaration. “Another one?”

Even in the present, Joshua could very truthfully admit that Jeonghan had been the sole reason he’d decided to carry on going to uni in Korea and not turn on his heel and return to the States three months after the first day. 

It was because Jeonghan had had this… thing, where he liked ‘collecting’ first-years in their literature department who he wanted to take under his wing. During their first year at uni, he’d latched onto Joshua, who’d been a confused Korean-American student that Jeonghan had, for some reason, taken an immense liking to. Their second year, it had been Lee Jihoon, prickly and snappish but who had a hyper boyfriend who Jihoon stared at with hearts in his eyes.

It was a weird, almost mother hen-like act from Jeonghan, but it was a sweet habit, and Joshua had long since given up questioning anything that he did. 

And so, a little absently, Joshua had turned to look over at Jeonghan’s newest adoptee, a polite smile on his face, before promptly freezing.

“Meet Lee Seokmin,” Jeonghan had said, proudly, like a mother introducing her favourite son. “Isn’t he just the cutest?”

Joshua blinked rapidly, because goodness, Lee Seokmin really was cute.

He was biting his lips nervously, tugging at the sleeves of his hoodie before Joshua finally made eye contact with him, and his eyes rounded as if surprised that Joshua had looked his way.

And then Seokmin waved, before ducking his head, as if attempting to (unsuccessfully) hide behind Jeonghan’s much shorter form. The action was so startingly cute that Joshua couldn’t help the genuine smile that tugged at his lips, giving a small wave back even if Seokmin looked too busy avoiding his gaze to see it.

“Hello,” Joshua said, and awfully, his voice managed to crack on that single word. Jeonghan stifled a snort. In an attempt to cover the awkwardness, Joshua apparently decided it was best to do something even more awkward, and stuck his hand out in Seokmin’s direction. “I’m Joshua Hong. Or, Hong Jisoo. You can call me whatever’s easiest.”

Seokmin had stared down at his hand for several seconds, confused, and Joshua wanted nothing more than to turn back time and restart this entire interaction because really, how much more embarrassing could this get?

Before he could retract his hand, trying to forget the handshake and hopefully forget the new layer of awkwardness, Seokmin leaned over and grasped Joshua’s hand, strands of hair falling into his eyes as he looked up at Joshua, eyes startlingly warm and earnest.

His hair was awfully fluffy, Joshua realised suddenly. And he had big eyes.

He looked like a large, adorable puppy, if adorable puppies were tall uni students who drowned themselves in oversized hoodies.

Seokmin’s cheeks were rather flushed as he shook Joshua’s hand, eyes wide. He had a brief thought that maybe Jeonghan had chased him around their apartment block until he finally reached their floor.

Jeonghan did that sometimes.

And then Seokmin smiled, so brightly that it was like a blinding beam of sunlight, his earlier perceived shyness completely forgotten as he released Joshua’s hand and instead lunged forward to engulf the elder in a hug.

“Hello!” Seokmin chirped, arms still wrapped around Joshua’s shoulders, and when he pulled away, he was still smiling so widely that Joshua felt a little dazed. “It’s nice to meet you, Jeonghan hyung’s told me a lot about you. I like your eyes! Can I call you Shua hyung?”

Joshua blinked rapidly, surprised by the sudden and random bout of chatter coming from the boy, but Seokmin’s eyes were lit up with that white gold light and he was so cute that Joshua couldn’t be anything but endeared.

“Sure,” he said amusedly, and marvelled internally at how Seokmin’s eyes crinkled and he seemed to vibrate happily on the spot. “You can call me Shua hyung.”

Seokmin let out a small laugh, delighted. “Shua hyung!” he cried, and then launched himself into Joshua’s arms again, pulling him in for another hug as the elder stumbled back, arms wrapped securely around Seokmin for balance.

Jeonghan had met Joshua’s eyes over Seokmin’s shoulders, face set in a curiously indecipherable expression. When Joshua furrowed his brows, he just grinned, nodding proudly. “Seems like I chose my first-year very well.”

And, well, Joshua couldn’t say anything at that, because Seokmin still had his face buried in his shoulder and he was just so warm and friendly and also because—

Because Jeonghan might have been the tiniest bit correct.

───────────── ‘✦,

Five years later, however, as the Joshua of the present tried to stop Seokmin from drowning his cookie batter in sugar, he wondered whether Jeonghan had, instead, been very, very incorrect.

“Hyung,” Seokmin complained, when Joshua forcibly wrestled the bag of sugar out of his hands. “Hey, Shua hyung, let me help! I wanna help!”

“You can help by staying away from my poor cookies,” Joshua said firmly. 

When Seokmin wilted pathetically, bottom lip jutting out in a pout, he just poked him in the cheek as he set the sugar far out of Seokmin’s reach. 

“Put the pout away, Min-ah,” he said, using the affectionate nickname that always managed to make Seokmin melt and eventually agree with whatever Joshua said. ““Remember the last time I let you do what you wanted with my cookies?”

Seokmin hung his head. “I almost gave everyone food poisoning,” he muttered miserably.

“You almost gave everyone food poisoning,” Joshua agreed. “Besides, you barged into my house at 10 in the morning to demand that I make you cookies. At least let me actually make them, you know?”

Seokmin rolled his eyes, leaning against the counter as he watched Joshua pick up his wooden spoon and continue mixing the batter. “I didn’t barge in. You gave me the passcode.”

“For emergencies.”

“This was an emergency.”

Joshua shook his head. “Whatever you say, Seokmin. Whatever you say.”

“I do say!” Seokmin said, nodding vigorously. “You promised, hyung. And it’s very important that you keep your promises.”

“Because you always keep yours?”

“I do!”

“Then why haven’t you paid me back for all those times I paid for your food back in uni, hm? When you somehow forgot your wallet while going out for dinner with us?”

Seokmin opened his mouth wordlessly, frowning as Joshua chuckled at him. “Hey,” he said finally. “Don’t bring up my dark past like that.”

Joshua laughed properly, and Seokmin’s face brightened into a smile, as if an automatic response to the sound of someone’s happiness. It was kind of cute, and had Joshua laughing again, leaning over and pinching Seokmin’s cheek with a sticky hand.

“Look at you. You’re like an adorable puppy,” he said, grinning at the residue of sticky dough smeared against Seokmin’s cheek when he pulled away.

“Thanks, hyung,” Seokmin chirped. “So does that mean you’ll allow me to help?”

“No,” Joshua said bluntly, heart squeezing with something warm when Seokmin dramatically made a show of looking disappointed. He leaned over and pinched Seokmin’s other cheek, smearing more cookie dough on his skin. “Just sit there and look pretty while I bake them for you.”

Seokmin grinned, all blinding light. “You think I’m pretty?”

Joshua hummed. “Sure. Not when you have cookie dough on both your cheeks, though.”

“Hyung! You—”

Seokmin huffed, rubbing his cheeks and turning his nose up annoyedly at Joshua, before Joshua offered him a cookie dough-covered spoon not seconds later, and he instantly opened his mouth to obediently lick at it. 

“You really are a puppy, huh?” Joshua shook his head, smiling, and turned back to the mixing bowl. “There. Now shh. Eat that and let me finish your oh-so important cookies.”

Was it kind of weird that Seokmin had barged into his apartment because he wanted cookies? Well, yeah, but that was the kind of friend that Seokmin was. And Joshua was the kind of friend to let him.

If Joshua thought really hard about it, there wasn’t actually any real reason for him to be making Seokmin cookies at all, though. 

There was no special event coming up soon, no celebration or holiday or any reason why Seokmin couldn’t make the cookies himself (save for the fact that he may accidentally leave someone horribly incapacitated in the process).

But last night, Joshua had spent several hours on the phone to Seokmin—something which had somehow become a weekly thing for the two of them, which worried Joshua a little but only if he thought about it for too long—and inexplicably, their conversation had turned to cookies. Seokmin had whined that his favourite strawberry and chocolate chip cookies were no longer being stocked in stores, and before Joshua knew it, he’d promised to bake Seokmin those cookies as soon as he could.

Honestly, the things he did for Seokmin.

Joshua looked over at Seokmin again, who had somehow managed to hop up onto his kitchen counter and was now swinging his legs like a little child, chattering mindlessly while watching Joshua make his cookies for him, and he couldn’t hide the exasperatedly endeared smile that tugged at his lips.

Joshua was always doing things for Seokmin, really. He should start making the guy pay for his services.

Probably.

Seokmin made a delighted noise when Joshua scooped him another spoonful of cookie dough to eat, and Joshua tried not to think too much about why Seokmin’s joy made him feel light too.

“There we go,” Joshua announced, setting down a plate of still-warm, home baked strawberry and chocolate chip cookies onto the table, along with a glass of milk. “Your cookies. Now eat.”

Seokmin lit up, and positively beamed up at Joshua, clasping his hands together. “Oh, wow. They look so good.”

Joshua smiled, pulling up another chair and collapsing into it. “Yeah?”

He watched as Seokmin stuffed a cookie into his mouth, eyes instantly widening as he began nodding his head vigorously.

“The best,” Seokmin said honestly, words muffled, and there was a pink stain of strawberry on the corner of his mouth already. “Shua hyung, how are you always so good at baking?”

Joshua didn’t reply, and just watched Seokmin stuff his face with the cookie, laughing a little as the younger sincerely expressed his compliments, words garbled and unintelligible, and smiled and told him to chew his food properly.

For all of their bickering and teasing whenever the two of them interacted, Seokmin was a soft person at heart, sincere compliments spilling from his lips as easy as daylight.

Speaking of daylight, however, the morning had well and truly come and gone, the early afternoon sun spilling through Joshua’s windows and reminding him that Seokmin had been in his apartment for a good five hours now. He ought to kick the man out soon.

“You’re going to choke yourself if you keep shoving them in your face like that,” Joshua said, nudging the glass of milk closer to Seokmin. “Take your time, the cookies aren’t going anywhere.”

“Yeah, and that’s the problem,” Seokmin replied, cheeks puffing out like a chipmunk as he sipped the milk. “These cookies need to be in my mouth. Right now.”

Joshua chuckled, leaning back in his chair as Seokmin finished off the last of the three cookies on the plate. The rest of the batch were sitting on the cooling rack, waiting to be put into a container for Seokmin to take home, of course. Joshua wasn’t going to go to all the effort of baking cookies if he was only going to make a few.

“Happy now?” he asked, smiling again when Seokmin nodded fervently, beaming, cookie crumbs around his mouth. Joshua shook his head in faux disbelief. “I can’t believe you forced me to make you those cookies.”

“It’s because I’m Shua hyung’s favourite,” Seokmin sing-songed, grinning cheekily. “I’m your most favourite friend in the entire world.”

“Wrong,” Joshua deadpanned. “That’s Jeonghan.”

“Just because Jeonghan hyung’s your best friend doesn’t mean he’s your favourite,” Seokmin said, and Joshua wanted to point out that it kind of did, but Seokmin was already carrying on. “Speaking of Jeonghan hyung though, don’t forget that he’s taking us all to a restaurant for dinner tonight.”

Joshua blinked, closing his mouth. “Really?”

Seokmin looked at him, head tilted, and then grinned. “You forgot, didn’t you?”

“No. Of course not.” Joshua stood up, taking the plate and empty glass and walking into the kitchen. “No I didn’t.”

Seokmin laughed, following Joshua into the kitchen and watching as he washed the crockery. “Oh, you definitely did!” he crowed delightedly, and it was such a Seokmin thing to be delighted by that it had Joshua smiling again, even as he tried to maintain a long-suffering frown. “Can’t believe you forgot all about it. Good thing I reminded you, huh? What would you do without me, Shua hyung?”

Seokmin sounded so endlessly smug, eyes shining for reasons that Joshua couldn’t quite fathom. The warm afternoon light from the windows spilled over his face and gave him a golden glow, and so Joshua finally broke, laughing and drying his hands before ruffling Seokmin’s hair, moving away from the sink and over to the rest of the cookies.

“I dunno. Die?” Joshua suggested, making Seokmin laugh suddenly at the answer.

“Maybe not that extreme,” he said. “You’d probably just miss the dinner that hyung planned to celebrate our friend group’s 2000 day anniversary. Which, actually, on second thoughts, probably would lead to your death,” he added thoughtfully.

Joshua smiled, beginning to deposit the cookies into a plastic container. “In which case, thank you for saving me from certain death, Seokmin.”

“You’re most welcome!” Seokmin said brightly, with a grin. “Do I get a cookie?”

That made Joshua chuckle, looking up from the container to raise his eyebrows at Seokmin. “This entire batch is yours, Seokmin. You can have as many as you like.” 

He placed the container into Seokmin’s hands, and then started walking out of the kitchen.

“Also, you have cookie crumbs all around your mouth.”

Seokmin’s loud whine of annoyance echoed throughout his apartment. “Hyung!”

───────────── ‘✦,

And so that was how Joshua’s morning had gone. Relatively uneventful and, truthfully, rather ordinary (well, as normal as a morning could be when you had Lee Seokmin for a best friend). So Joshua wasn’t truly expecting anything different during dinner that evening.

Their overexcited yells blurred together and echoed noisily throughout the BBQ restaurant, and Joshua laughed into his glass of water as half of the table shouted over each other for some reason or other.

They were getting a fair amount of concerned stares from the general public, which was understandable, because Soonyoung was vibrating like he was due to explode any minute and half of them weren’t even sitting in their chairs anymore, but this was how their dinners out together always went, so Joshua didn’t even bat an eye.

“I’m sure if you strap a jet pack onto the ostrich, then it could definitely fly,” Mingyu was insisting, and Seungkwan stared at him in utter disbelief.

“If you strap a jet pack onto a hippo then it could definitely fly!” Seungkwan screeched, and Wonwoo nodded vigorously in agreement. “Doesn’t mean that ostriches can fly!”

“It does!” Mingyu said, but his eye twitched as he talked. It was a sure sign that he knew he was basically talking nonsense, but Seungkwan looked far too irate to notice. “Flying is when stuff goes into the sky, right? I fully believe that a hippo can fly too.”

Wonwoo’s eye was twitching, too, and definitely not for the same reason that Mingyu’s was. “You think that hippos can fly.”

Mingyu grinned. “I do.”

“I support him!” Soonyoung cried out suddenly, and everyone exploded, eager to take part and voice their opinion.

Their conversation had long ago strayed from being in the realm of anything that made sense, and at the end of the long table that they were all eating at, Jeonghan was quite peacefully picking meat off of his barbeque grill, him and Seungcheol making pleasant conversation and ignoring the shouts coming from next to them.

Joshua shook his head. Typical Jeonghan behaviour.

Ducking his head to avoid Soonyoung’s flailing arms as the younger vehemently defended Mingyu’s (frankly very stupid) opinion, Joshua reached over the table for the bottle of soju, filling up his shot glass and knocking it back, observing his friends with a grin on his face.

So far, the dinner had been going incredibly normally. 

They’d taken part in drinking games, and Mingyu and Seokmin had made a show of cooking the meat for everyone, and the conversation had switched topics hilariously fast a span of fifteen times. 

And Joshua was having a great time. He’d been seated between Chan and Hansol, who were actually rather good people to be seated between, because Hansol ended up dozing off three hours into the dinner and Chan ended up disappearing to sit somewhere on the other side of the table, leaving Joshua in peace to observe and laugh at his friend’s antics.

He’d been doing what he always did at their friendaversary dinners: replace half his shots with water, watch his friends’ drunk arguments (and occasionally interject with one random statement to rile them all up again), and also eat as much beef as possible because, well. Jeonghan was paying. He may as well make the most of it.

Joshua listened to the shaking, booming voice of Wonwoo going “What do you mean you’ve never heard of a penguin before?”, and chuckled. 

Everything was indeed going very normally. 

“Shua hyung,” a voice said in his ear, one bony finger poking right into his shoulder blade before a cold hand pressed against the nape of his neck, making him yelp and turn around.

Seokmin grinned at him from Chan's previously-empty chair, eyes looking a little too bright to be wholly sober.

“Shua hyung,” he said again, his grin full of mischief. “Don’t look so excited to see me. Desperation isn’t a good look on anyone.”

Joshua just rolled his eyes, tweaking Seokmin’s ear for good measure. “As if I’d be excited to see you.” Seokmin pouted, and pressed his entire cold palm against Joshua’s cheek just to be mean. “Hey, don’t put your gremlin hands on me, you brat. Why are your fingers so cold, anyway?”

Seokmin shrugged, holding his hands up and looking at them like he’d never seen them before. “Guess they just get cold really easily.” He looked up, and his smile seemed to widen even further, holding his hands out to Joshua. “Warm them up for me?”

“Warm them up yourself,” Joshua said, but he was already reaching out for Seokmin’s hands, warming his fingers between his palms.

Seokmin just beamed, pleased, like he’d known that Joshua would immediately give him what he wanted. Hands still being held by Joshua, he turned back to the rest of their friends, observing them with bright eyes.

He grinned at something that Junhui said, and Joshua watched him, smiling a little. 

There was always just something about Seokmin’s happiness that made one feel happy too. Back when they first met, five years ago, it had been one of the things that had endeared Seokmin to Joshua in the first place.

Joshua looked back at the rest of their friends, listening as Soonyoung was yet again doing his terrifyingly accurate impression of Seungkwan. He smiled, but didn’t pay attention for long, because next to him, Seokmin slipped his hands out of his grip, clapping delightedly and then raised his hands to cover his mouth.

And then Seokmin laughed: loud, brightly, full of golden light as he tipped back in his chair before leaning forward, yelling encouragement to Soonyoung on the other end of the table.

He laughed again, and Joshua just—

Joshua just watched him. 

He was unable to tear his eyes away as Seokmin snorted inelegantly, bursting into fits of laughter and collapsing into Joshua’s shoulder, seemingly unable to hold himself up due to the force of his laughs.

All he could do was stare down fondly at Seokmin, giggling into him. Seokmin, whose eyes had crinkled so they were nothing more than overjoyed crescents, whose laughter was ringing in the air, and even the yells of their friends had become muffled in Joshua’s ears, his focus solely on Seokmin by his side and his bright, unabashed laugh.

Seungkwan said something then, and Seokmin looked up, eyes bright with mirth as he made to stand up. 

“Hey! Seungkwan!” Seokmin yelled, getting up from the chair and leaning on the table. “Look, you—”

And then he cut himself off, bursting into laughter as Soonyoung said something, arms waving in the air, and Seokmin hurried over to them before Seungkwan could get his hands around Soonyoung’s throat, still laughing the entire time. 

“Hey, let me go! Let me go after Soonyoung hyung! This guy deserves it for sure—”

Seokmin was waved off by Seungkwan, but he still kept a close distance, hovering over the younger with his face crinkled into a smile and seemingly unaware of how he'd left Joshua with his head in shambles on the other side of the table. 

And Joshua… well, Joshua had realised something.

Seokmin’s laugh was, without a doubt, one of the best sounds that Joshua had ever heard.

Which was a good thing, Joshua mused, watching Seokmin from across the table, watching him say something and then burst into laughter at his own words. Seokmin was a chronic smiler and chronic laugher, and could never be seen without his lips curling upwards at something or other, letting out at least a small snuffle of a laugh.

Joshua had heard Seokmin laugh hundreds, if not thousands, of times. Never before had he realised how good Seokmin’s laugh sounded, though. Or how good he looked when he laughed.

Happiness was a good look on Seokmin.

Sometimes, his laughter scrunched his face up hilariously, and sometimes, it turned into loud shrieks more than actual laughs. Even so, Joshua thought it was rather endearing, and still sounded like golden chimes in a spring breeze.

It would be incredibly easy to fall in love with a laugh like that.

Joshua froze, mind going blank as Seokmin tilted his head back, laughing and smiling widely, his golden laughter ringing in his ears. 

Oh.

Oh, no.

“Alright, you three, shut up,” Jeonghan finally interrupted, seemingly having had enough of their fighting. “You’re gonna give me a headache. And you’re going to wake poor Hansol up,” he added, gesturing to Hansol who was still sleeping in the chair next to Joshua.

Seungkwan whined immediately. “Hyung! Soonyoung hyung’s doing crazy stuff again!”

“So is Seungkwan!”

“I know,” Jeonghan said, “but you’re both being ridiculous. Sit down. Why don’t we play a nice, quiet game?”

“Or,” a voice said, “you can leave.”

One of the restaurant workers was frowning at them, and handed Jeonghan the bill. 

“In fact, please leave.”

Jeonghan blinked down at the bill in his hands, before his eyes widened and he made a slight distressed sound. “Who ordered this much beef?” He looked around, eyes wide. “Who ordered all of this?”

Seungcheol grabbed his arm before he could work himself up into a fit. “We’ll be on our way, thank you,” he said to the server, bowing. “Our apologies. Jeonghan, come on, you said you’d pay.”

“I’m not paying for all of this,” Jeonghan said stubbornly, even as Seungcheol pushed him towards the desk. “Cheol, split it with me. Look at this! This is crazy! I swear, when I find out who ordered three different cuts of wagyu beef I’m gonna—”

Their gathering split up rather quickly after that, though it did look like Wonwoo had a difficult time trying to drag an incredibly drunk Chan out of his seat. Joshua was rather grateful though, partly because he didn’t want to stick around if Jeonghan managed to catch a whiff of who’d ordered the most expensive meat on the menu, and partly because it would give him the chance to process the sudden realisation he’d just had.

Jihoon was putting very little effort into dragging Soonyoung away from Seungkwan, while Mingyu was bodily hauling the younger man out of the restaurant. The sight would have made Joshua laugh, only he was too occupied with gathering all of his own things and booking it out of the restaurant and back home as soon as possible.

“Shua hyung!”

A hand suddenly squeezed Joshua’s arm, making him whip his head upwards, almost knocking right into Seokmin’s chin as the younger leaned over him.

“Oh my g—Seokmin,” Joshua said, stepping back a little so they weren’t practically nose to nose. “You scared me.”

“Sorry,” Seokmin said, and then grinned. “Are you walking home, hyung?”

Joshua looked over at the counter, where Jeonghan seemed to still be arguing with Seungcheol about splitting the bill. “Probably,” he said. “It looks like those two’ll be arguing for a while. It’ll be, like, three in the morning by the time Cheol drops me back off if I wait for them to be done.”

Seokmin’s lips twisted, eyes round with concern. “You shouldn’t be walking home by yourself at this time of night, hyung.” His face lit up. “D’you wanna come with us instead? Myungho and Junhui hyung are driving me back home. I’m sure they could drop you off too.”

His first instinct was to say yes, of course and that would be great, but his heart was racing unusually fast in his chest, and looking at Seokmin’s bright, earnest eyes for even a second too long made Joshua feel all warm and melty inside, and considering the obscene amount of alcohol he’d consumed (even with his half-water scheme going on) it probably wasn’t a good idea to spend a whole car ride next to Seokmin.

“No thanks,” Joshua said, rather too hurriedly, and then looked down to adjust his shoulder bag, embarrassed at his own abrupt answer. “I mean—I don’t live that far away. I’ll be fine.”

Seokmin looked at him for a long moment, and he must have been more drunk than Joshua thought, because his eyes were coloured with a glittering expression that made him pause.

Seokmin looked almost disappointed.

And then he blinked, and the expression was gone, replaced with a slightly lopsided grin as he pulled Joshua in for a hug then instantly stepped away, wringing his hands together. “Well, goodnight then, Shua hyung,” Seokmin said. “I’ll see you?”

Joshua managed to dredge up his own smile, giving a small wave. “Yeah. See you, Min-ah.”

So Joshua bid him goodnight and the rest of them goodbye, and walked out of the restaurant, his heart thumping in his chest, Seokmin’s smile glowing in the back of his eyes.

And the knowledge that he was in love with Seokmin etched into his brain.

───────────── ‘✦,

Joshua and Seokmin’s friendship went something like this.

They teased, bickered, pinched each other’s elbows and pressed palms against faces. They doted, coddled, cared for each other and talked over the phone until the wee hours of the morning. Seokmin would whine for something, and Joshua would give it to him. Joshua wouldn’t even have to say a word, and Seokmin would be reaching out to hold him, in an instant knowing exactly what Joshua needed.

Seokmin was loud, almost obnoxiously so, but when Joshua went out seeking solace he went to Seokmin first, because Seokmin was always, always soft and comfortable for Joshua.

Joshua sat down on his couch and stirred the sugar into his coffee with a teaspoon, frowning down at it thoughtfully.

Jeonghan was Joshua’s best friend. The other half of his soul.

But even if Jeonghan was half of Joshua’s soul, then Seokmin was the soul that was made to fit with Joshua’s. Not an identical copy of his own, but something that melted and moulded into his edges, slotting together as if they’d been designed to fit into each other all long, like they were—

“Puzzle pieces,” Joshua said to himself, smiling a little fondly. Seokmin was terrible at puzzles. 

He couldn’t help but think of that one jigsaw puzzle that Jeonghan had bought Seokmin for his birthday, and the two of them had bickered for fifteen minutes straight on whether Seokmin would actually be able to complete it. Seokmin said that of course he could, and Joshua said he definitely could not.

(In the end, it turned out that Seokmin could not, but Joshua helped him finish it anyway.)

When Joshua pushed, Seokmin pulled.  Where Joshua was cat-like, easy grins and quick thoughts, Seokmin was puppy-like, bright and boundless energy and endless kindness. Seokmin could never say no to anyone, and while Joshua was getting a little better at it, he could still never say no to Seokmin.

A myriad of not-quite contradictions, of almost-opposites and nearly-differents. Of “Shua hyung?”s and “Yes Seokmin?”s and “Nothing, I just wanted to see if you were still listening to me”s.

Soulmates, but in the truest sense of the word—the person whose soul was meant to reside next to his.

Joshua set down the teaspoon, frowning thoughtfully. When he put it like that, it did sound an awful lot like they were in love. Perhaps he should’ve realised he’d fallen for Seokmin a lot sooner.

Because that was what it was, wasn’t it? Joshua had fallen for Seokmin, perhaps long, long ago, fallen for his entire being and everything he was.

And it took him listening to Seokmin’s laugh to finally realise.

His phone rang, then, a wonderful tune of Jeonghan screaming really loudly that the man had set as the custom ringtone for himself, and with a sigh, Joshua set down his coffee and picked up. 

“What do you want?” 

“Let’s go out.” 

“No thanks. I’m flattered, Han, but I don’t like you in that way.” 

“Idiot,” Jeonghan said, and Joshua chuckled. “Come on, let’s go for a walk down the river.” 

Joshua hummed, looking down at his coffee, tracing a finger over the rim of the mug. “What if I have plans? And what if I don’t want to go out?”

“Joshuji. If you were busy, you wouldn’t have picked up so fast,” Jeonghan said, tone patronising, like this was obvious. “It’s a very nice day for a walk today, you know. Also, Seungcheol’s coming. We all wanna go on a walk together, so join us.”

That made Joshua wrinkle his nose. “No thanks. I don’t have plans to be a third wheel today.”

There was a pause.

“I’ll ask Seokmin to come too.”

Joshua blinked, and then cursed his own heart for jumping hopefully at the mere mention of Seokmin’s name. “And why are you telling me that?”

“Just because,” Jeonghan said, and Joshua could almost picture his flippant shrug. “He said he hasn’t seen you in a week. Have you been avoiding him, hm?”

“No,” Joshua said, and then coughed. Jeonghan hummed sceptically at his words.

“Sure.”

“Why would I be avoiding him?” Joshua continued. “He can come invade my home whenever he wants. He’s done it before. I’m not avoiding him.”

Joshua was definitely avoiding him.

It had been a week since their friendaversary dinner, and Joshua hadn’t seen Seokmin once, too preoccupied with sitting on his couch, staring blankly at the wall and contemplating the fact that he was in love with Seokmin.

He couldn’t bring himself to see Seokmin, not just yet—not before he was sure that he wouldn’t do something utterly ridiculous when they next saw each other. He wasn’t keen on abruptly professing his love the moment he saw Seokmin’s face. Or ruffling his hair and kissing his cheeks and staring, wide-eyed and in awe as Seokmin did something painfully ordinary, like breathing or being alive or just smiling even remotely in Joshua’s direction.

Joshua blinked rapidly as suddenly, his thoughts conjured a vivid image of Seokmin beaming at him, his sunshine smile glowing prettily in his mind’s eye.

“Maybe Seokmin wants you to be the one to come and see him first,” Jeonghan suggested when Joshua didn’t say anything.

Joshua ignored him, dragging a hand down his face. “Why would you telling me that Seokmin’s coming change my answer, though?”

“Oh, it will,” Jeonghan said cheerfully. “I know things, Shuji. So come on out, we’ll meet at the front of Cheol’s house in fifteen minutes. See you.”

He hung up, then, leaving Joshua to stare down at the blinking contact, shaking his head and wondering whether Jeonghan actually knew something or if he was just being Jeonghan yet again. 

And then, he got up from the sofa and went to his room to get ready.

───────────── ‘✦,

Yoon Jeonghan, that little rat.

“Yoon Jeonghan, that little rat,” Joshua muttered, watching as Jeonghan walked away, arm slung over Seungcheol’s shoulders. It was a bit of a struggle, because Seungcheol was one broad guy, but Jeonghan managed.

Of course he did. He'd do anything to ensure the success of his schemes, and this was all part of his ploy to abandon Joshua with Seokmin.

Seokmin, who was pressed close to his side, as they both watched Jeonghan and Seungcheol walk away.

Seokmin, who just turned to Joshua with a bright smile, seemingly undeterred by Jeonghan’s horrific betrayal. 

“Well,” he chirped, eyes crinkling prettily, and suddenly Jeonghan’s betrayal didn’t feel so bad. “Guess we get to spend the rest of the afternoon as just the two of us!”

Indeed they did.

Jeonghan and Seungcheol had been with them for a total of forty five minutes before suddenly, an inescapable emergency emerged, one that urgently required both of them to rush home and leave Seokmin and Joshua alone. Not before insisting that they had to finish the walk together, of course.

Cursing Jeonghan inwardly, Joshua plastered a smile onto his face, a smile that softened into something a little more genuine as Seokmin continued beaming.

“Yeah. Seems like it’s just us.”

The gentle rushing sounds of the river seemed to gurgle in harmony with Seokmin as the younger resumed his chattering, the two of them continuing their leisurely strolling alongside the river.

It really was a nice day for a walk. Joshua hadn’t really had the chance to appreciate how pleasant everything was that day, too busy avoiding Seokmin and even trying to squish himself between Jeonghan and Seungcheol so that he didn’t have to talk to Seokmin for too long and stare into those pretty, pretty eyes.

But now Joshua had no choice but to walk with Seokmin and so, accepting his fate, he was able to look around and acknowledge that today truly was a nice day.

The sun shone brightly, glistening and glinting off of the waves of the river, off of the leaves of the trees, off of the sparkles in Seokmin’s eyes. There was a pleasant breeze, rustling the reeds and ruffling Seokmin’s hair and giving him an adorably windswept fringe that he kept brushing back with one, delicate finger. It was a nice day to look out at the picturesque river, at the general public going about their daily business, at Seokmin’s adorable eye crinkles as he animatedly told a story.

Okay. Maybe Joshua spent half the time staring at Seokmin’s face rather than doing anything else.

It was kind of unavoidable, however, given the way that Seokmin was comfortably pressed into his side, his hands warm as they tucked themselves into the crook of Joshua’s elbow, clinging to him in a way that Joshua, admittedly, thought was very adorable. And Seokmin kept talking, his voice bright and bubbly and every time he smiled, Joshua had no choice but to direct his full attention to Seokmin and Seokmin only.

“And I just watched them the entire time, seeing what they would do after they saw the seagull slip on the log and fall off. Because surely they’d try to go around the log, right? But then the ducks just—” Seokmin cut himself off, one hand coming up to muffle the laugh that escaped his lips, and Joshua found himself smiling too.

“The ducks did what?”

“They just waddled up to the log and one by one slipped off and landed into the water,” Seokmin laughed, and mimicked a duck’s waddle with his head before putting on a dramatically surprised face and pretending to fall into imaginary water.

It had Joshua laughing, endeared, steadying Seokmin as the younger stumbled into him. They really were walking quite close together.

This was the unfortunate thing about being friends with a Lee Seokmin for five years. The man developed a complete lack of understanding for something called ‘Joshua’s personal space’. 

It was a concept that didn’t exist. Not to him, not when they’d known each other for far too long after Jeonghan had introduced Joshua to him all those years ago. For Seokmin, it was totally natural to be practically walking together as one person with Joshua as they made their way down the riverbank. Totally normal for him to be leaning into Joshua most of the time, rather than actually standing on his own two feet.

Joshua wouldn’t normally have a problem with it. He was well aware of Seokmin’s clinginess, and would either respond by pushing him away or letting him do what he wanted, without thinking too much about it.

Now, though. Now things were different. 

Because he was in love with Seokmin, and that made everything a lot harder.

“Did you know that ducks are half-nocturnal?” Seokmin said abruptly, and Joshua blinked.

“I did not know that,” he said. “Why do you know that?”

Seokmin just shrugged casually, his shoulder bumping against Joshua’s. “Got bored,” he said. “Remember, like, a month ago, when you just kept talking about all your different cousins for an hour straight and you accused me of not listening to you?”

“I do. You started sulking.”

“Yeah!” Seokmin grinned, like it was no big deal. “Well, I lied to you, hyung. I wasn’t listening. I was searching up duck facts.”

“Wow.” Joshua stared at him. “You’d choose searching up duck facts over listening to your own hyung talk? I’m hurt, Seokmin. How could you?”

Seokmin only laughed, reaching out for Joshua when the elder dramatically ripped his arm away from his hold, beginning to speed-walk down the path away from him. It didn’t take long for Seokmin to catch up with him again, latching himself to his side once more, even when Joshua refused to look at him.

“Shua hyung, I didn’t mean it like that,” Seokmin whined, pouting. When Joshua didn’t react, he whined again. “Shua hyung! Hey, hey, pay attention to me.”

Joshua steadfastly avoided looking over at Seokmin. Part of it was to keep up the act of being mad at him, but part of it was because if he looked over at Seokmin at that moment, there was a good chance that Joshua would simply combust on the spot.

When Seokmin pouted like that with his huge, round puppy eyes and made those whining sounds in the back of his throat, it was so utterly endearing that it took everything in Joshua to not just fall to his knees right then and there. Seokmin was quite easily one of the most adorable people that Joshua knew, and what made matters worse was the fact that Seokmin didn’t really seem to know just how adorable he really was.

“Shua hyung,” Seokmin said again, very sadly, and Joshua finally looked at him. The moment they made eye contact, Seokmin’s entire being positively lit up, and Joshua had to look away again.

Goodness. It was so hard being in love.

“Alright, I forgive you,” Joshua said, before Seokmin could do something ridiculous like pout all pathetically and whine out a sad Shua hyung again.

“Cool!” Seokmin said instantly, beaming, the earlier sadness wiped from his expression like it never even existed in the first place. “That’s good, ‘cause you’re my favourite hyung, Shua hyung, so I don’t want you to be mad at me.”

Seokmin sounded like he was teasing, when he said it like that, but Joshua couldn’t be too sure. Thinking about it for too long made his head feel all dizzy.

Woah. This really wasn’t good.

While Joshua didn’t necessarily dislike being in love with Seokmin, because it was impossible to put the word ‘dislike’ and ‘Seokmin’ in the same sentence, it dawned on him now that it made it very hard to function normally around the younger man. It made him feel all melty and gooey inside whenever Seokmin so much as looked over at him, and when Seokmin smiled, Joshua could feel himself melt and could hardly even think straight for several seconds after.

But, well. Seokmin was grinning widely at him, tugging his arm to pull him along the path and saying there was normally a very nice lady selling roses on the riverbank and wouldn’t Shua hyung like a rose too?, and he was being just so very Seokmin that it made Joshua smile.

“Of course,” he said, chuckling, as Seokmin slipped his hand into his and they began jogging down the path. “Of course I’d love a rose. Only if you’re paying, though.”

───────────── ‘✦,

“I'm in love with Seokmin,” Joshua declared, loudly, the moment he opened the door to Jeonghan and Seungcheol’s shared apartment.

Seungcheol blinked at him from the hallway, a half-eaten slice of toast on the floor from where he’d dropped it in surprise at Joshua's sudden entrance.

“Um. Nice to know?” he said. “Took you long enough, though.”

Joshua blinked back at him. “Where’s Jeonghan? Why are you here?”

“Hey. I live here, you know,” Seungcheol pointed out, before bending down and picking up his slice of toast. He winced down at the crumbs. “Dang, that’s gonna bring in ants. Also, why are you here?” he asked, in Joshua’s direction. “And how did your date with Seokmin go?”

“It was not a—wait, if you knew I wasn’t in love with Seokmin yet, why did you set us up like that? How did you know I’d fall in love with him in the first place?”

“Because you’re you,” Jeonghan said, emerging from somewhere with a handheld vacuum cleaner in hand. He handed it to Seungcheol, who stared at him like he was some sort of holy saviour. “And because Seokmin’s Seokmin. It was bound to happen at some point.”

Joshua frowned. “That doesn't make sense.”

“Believe what you wanna believe,” Jeonghan said, shrugging. “Anyway, why did you barge into our apartment like this?”

“Oh. Yeah.” Joshua frowned again. “I hate you for abandoning us today at the river.”

“Hey, we were being helpful!” Jeonghan said, over the sound of Seungcheol noisily vacuuming up the crumbs. “Did you not have a good time? Seokmin even bought you a rose, it seems.”

“What?” Joshua looked down at the plastic-wrapped rose in his hands. He’d come straight from his walk with Seokmin to Jeonghan’s apartment, and he’d completely forgotten that he was still holding the rose. “How can you be so sure that Seokmin bought it for me? Maybe I bought it for myself.”

Jeonghan smiled, all-knowing. “This is Seokmin we’re talking about, Joshuji.”

“So?”

“So,” Jeonghan said, “you should come in. Or do you wanna stay by the doorway forever?”

Fifteen minutes later, Jeonghan had ushered him into the living room and seemed to be attempting to stuff Joshua with all the snacks in the world before he left.

Joshua sighed. “Come on, Jeonghan, why are you—”

Jeonghan simply shoved a lollipop into Joshua’s mouth, effectively shutting him up. “Shh. Let me do the talking, okay?”

“Hey, I’m the one who came to talk to you,” Joshua protested, taking the lollipop out only for Jeonghan to shove it back in again. “Why are you—What do you even have to say to me—”

“I have a lot of stuff to say to you,” Jeonghan said, and then his face abruptly morphed into a stern expression. “I am very displeased with your behaviour, Joshua-ssi.” He waved a finger in Joshua’s direction. “You haven’t been treating Seokmin well.”

Joshua choked on his lollipop. “What?”

“You’ve been avoiding him,” Jeonghan said, still in that stern tone. 

“Avoiding him? What do you mean?”

Jeonghan straightened, adjusting imaginary glasses and began listing off of his fingers. “First, you talked to Seokmin for a grand total of 7 minutes and 43 seconds during our friendaversary dinner the other week. Out of a five hour gathering? That’s terrible.”

“Were you timing us?”

“Next, you ignore him for a whole week. You don’t call him, nor do you reply to his texts, nor do you even text him first.”

“I never reply to anyone’s texts.”

“And then today,” Jeonghan declared, throwing his hands up like a grand climax, “you did everything in your power to avoid him entirely while we were all walking together. I’m terribly displeased with you, Joshua-ssi.”

Joshua raised a hand confusedly, the lollipop held in the other. “Okay, Jeonghan, what are you talking about? Why are you displeased?” he asked. “Also can we, uh, backtrack a bit? You didn’t fully acknowledge the… thing.” He reddened slightly. “The fact that I have, uh, feelings for… him.”

“Hm?” Jeonghan unwrapped a chocolate, offering it to Joshua before abruptly popping it into his own mouth. “Oh, I knew about that.”

Joshua’s eyes widened. “How?”

“That dinner, for starters,” Jeonghan said with his mouth full. He shook his head at Joshua’s surprise, the ‘you’re being weird right now’ tone clear in his voice. “Honestly, did you black out for the entire evening? You were watching Seokmin the entire time, Joshua. Seungcheol even has a video.”

“I do,” Seungcheol said, his voice appearing out of nowhere right over Joshua’s shoulder, making him jump.

“Oh my—Where did you come from?”

Seungcheol just grinned, whipping out his phone and showing Joshua the video.

And the video was… pretty incriminating. It was a little blurry, made ambiguous by the haze of smoke wafting from the meat and the frankly terrible cameraman-ship, but Joshua could recognise himself easily. 

He watched as video-Joshua sat back in his chair, glass in hand, and there were about five people standing up and yelling at each other on screen but video-Joshua’s gaze was unmistakably, undeniably fixed on Seokmin and Seokmin alone, eyes crinkling adoringly, smiling so ridiculously wide as Seokmin just continued talking, entirely oblivious.

Seokmin said something intelligible, words lost to the noise of the restaurant, but video-Joshua just smiled even wider, eyes turning into endeared crescents and Joshua could almost see the hearts emanating from his own gaze. 

“Huh,” he said weakly, once Seungcheol vanished after showing him the video. Like he was nothing more than a cameo in Jeonghan's entire interrogation, or something. “Well.”

Jeonghan nodded, smug. “Although, I did know even before that,” he added. “I predicted it from the moment you first met him. I wanted to show you the video, though, because it makes it pretty obvious.”

“The mome—you know what, I’m not going to ask,” Joshua said, and then sighed. “Alright, so you know. And you have nothing to say about it?”

“Other than the fact you should stop being mean to Seokmin?” Jeonghan shrugged, taking out another chocolate and eating it. “Nope. You guys would be great together.”

“What?” Decidedly ignoring that last statement, Joshua waved the lollipop he was still holding in Jeonghan’s direction, annoyed, and in answer, Jeonghan just shoved it back in his mouth again. “I’m not being mean to him. When am I ever mean to him?”

He took the lollipop out of his mouth again  and then set it down on the coffee table, ignoring the affronted noise Jeonghan made when the sticky sweet came into contact with the wood. 

This entire conversation was not going how Joshua thought it would. He’d expected at least some degree of surprise from Jeonghan, maybe even a little bit of comfort whilst Joshua had a small mental breakdown in front of him. He certainly hadn’t expected Jeonghan to somehow already know everything, even before Joshua knew. Nor had he expected to be scolded for how he’d dealt with his feelings.

“This past week! I just told you, Joshua-ssi,” Jeonghan said. 

“Can you stop calling me ‘Joshua-ssi’? It makes it sound like you’re mad at me.”

“I am mad at you,” Jeonghan responded, sniffing and turning his nose up. “Okay, but seriously, Seokmin thought that he’d done something wrong. He thought you were upset at him, which is exactly why I made you come out on that walk today.” He stabbed a finger in Joshua’s direction. “You, sir, are terrible at handling your feelings.”

Joshua sighed. “Can you blame me, though? Being in love is—is weird. Seokmin is just so…” He paused, wringing his hands. “He’s so sweet and kind and genuine and realising that you’ve fallen for someone like that is, I think, a very justifiable cause for having a breakdown for a week.”

Jeonghan frowned. “It makes it sound like you don’t think he’d like you back.”

“Of course he wouldn't,” Joshua said, like it was obvious. “He’s Seokmin, and I’m—” Joshua swallowed, a lump rising in his throat. “I’m just me.”

“Just you?”

“Look at it this way,” Joshua explained, since apparently Jeonghan didn’t understand this horribly simple concept of Joshua being literally a potato compared to Seokmin. “Seokmin is a star, a brilliantly shining ball of light. And then this is me.”

Joshua unwrapped one of the chocolates, holding up the brown ball. Jeonghan blinked at it, before taking both the wrapper and chocolate from him, popping the treat into his mouth.

“I still don’t get it,” Jeonghan said. “So what? Chocolate is yummy.”

“I like him too much to risk melting away under his Sun, if I get too close,” Joshua explained, and then shook his head. “Seriously, I like him so much, Jeonghan. Him and his smile and his laugh and that ridiculously loud voice of his…” He smiled slightly, and then sighed. “I like Seokmin far too much to risk even thinking about if he could like me back. It’d ruin our friendship.”

Jeonghan tilted his head. “Is it really that absurd to consider that Seokmin may like you back?”

Joshua thought of Seokmin and his golden smiles, his beautiful bright voice and his gentle hands and his warm presence, and swallowed.

“Yeah,” he said, a little hoarsely. “I think it is.”

There was a short silence then, as Jeonghan bit his lip, seeming to soften a little at Joshua’s answer, a complicated expression filling his eyes.

Then he leaned over and hit Joshua over the head with the chocolate wrapper.

“Hey!” Joshua protested, brushing at his hair. “Why did you do that?”

“Because you’re an idiot,” Jeonghan said matter-of-factly. “You think it’s absurd? I think you’re absurd, Joshuji.” Oh, good, at least he wasn’t calling Joshua ‘Joshua-ssi’ anymore. “You're being a coward. Don’t deny it, it’s true. Taking a whole week to process your feelings? Please. You were just hiding because you were scared.”

That made Joshua wince a little, because Jeonghan was, unfortunately, quite correct.

“Just take that leap,” Jeonghan said, gentler. He poked Joshua in the cheek affectionately. “Jump. Jump towards Seokmin, Joshuji, because I promise, he’ll be there for you. Even if he doesn’t feel the same. Which, I assure you, is highly unlikely.”

Joshua’s eyes melted, irises looking a little shiny. “But what if I jump and just… fall?”

“He’d never let that happen,” Jeonghan promised. “Jump and fall into him, Joshuji. He’s there to catch you.”

───────────── ‘✦,

It was only a few days later that Joshua realised Jeonghan had essentially told him to confess. Luckily for Joshua, though, there was no way on Earth that was happening.

“You’re an idiot,” Jeonghan said into his ear. “The biggest idiot I’ve ever met. Even more of an idiot than Mingyu, which is definitely saying something.”

“I’m not doing it, Jeonghan,” Joshua said with a shake of his head. “I don’t know why you thought that I would.”

“I gave you a whole emotional speech and everything! Of course I thought you would!”

Jeonghan had called him five minutes ago, asking if everything had been going well in regards to ‘The Business’, where it had been revealed that Joshua a) had no idea what ‘The Business’ was, and b) had not gone through with it at all.

“Listen, Joshua. Seokmin, he’s always talking ab—” Jeonghan cut himself off again with a frustrated groan. “I’m friends with idiots. All of you are idiots.”

“Whatever you say.”

“Please do it,” Jeonghan said, and now he sounded like he was begging. Joshua didn’t quite know why. It wasn’t like the world would end if he didn’t confess. “For my peace of mind, please confess.”

“For your peace of mind?” Joshua repeated. “What?”

“The weather looks pretty good next weekend,” Jeonghan added. “Seokmin hasn’t gone to the amusement park in a while. He’s always said he wanted to go on the ferris wheel, even though he’s scared of heights. And you know how much of a romantic at heart Seokmin is.”

Joshua frowned. “Why are you telling me this?”

“You know why.” Jeonghan didn’t add anything further to that statement. “Anyway, I gotta go. See you. Make use of this info, okay?”

“What am I even meant to use it f—Jeonghan? Jeonghan?” Joshua looked down at his phone, where Jeonghan had abruptly hung up on him, mystified. He really wished sometimes that Jeonghan would do things that made sense.

He set down his phone, tilted his head back, and sighed. He was sighing an awful lot these days. He was just considering whether being in love could give you some sort of illness that caused excessive sighing when his phone rang again, but this time with a different ringtone: Seokmin’s ringtone.

Joshua had annoying and clingy friends who, apparently, really loved customising their ringtones on his phone.

“Hello, Seokmin,” Joshua said, unable to stop the small smile spreading across his face as the name left his lips. “How are you?”

“Good evening, Shua hyung,” Seokmin chirped, and he sounded so lovely and bright that the smile on Joshua's face widened a little. “I’m doing good! I was just calling because it’s a Friday, and we normally call on Fridays, so I was just—I wanted to call you.” He fumbled with his words, stumbling a bit before hurriedly adding, “Of course, if you’re busy, we don’t have to talk! Since, like, we didn’t call last week, if you don’t want to from now on then I totally respect your decision, you know?”

“No, it’s okay,” Joshua interrupted, before Seokmin could begin spiralling. “I mean. Yes. I’d like that. For us to continue calling, that is.”

“Oh. Really?”

“Yeah,” Joshua said, biting his lip to stop himself from smiling ridiculously wide to himself. “Yeah, really.”

“Oh,” Seokmin said again, after a flusteredly warm silence. He coughed a little. “Um, in which case, I’d really like that too.”

Joshua closed his eyes and leaned back, smiling into the phone and trying desperately to calm down his heart because goodness, it should be illegal for someone to make him feel this fluttery on the inside.

“So, anyway,” Seokmin said, and even Joshua could detect the smile in his voice, “I heard that it’s going to be really sunny for the next week or so! Seungkwan wants to plan a long weekend where we all go to the beach to make the most of the sun.”

“Does he really?” Joshua said, with a laugh. “Just because it’s sunny doesn’t mean it’ll be warm, though.”

“That’s exactly what I told him! But he’s still insisting we go,” Seokmin complained.

“What, all of us?”

“I think so. He’ll definitely drag me along, at the very least. Me and Soonyoung hyung and Hansol and Chan. Chan’s definitely going to ditch, though,” Seokmin said conspiratorially. “I think he’s gonna make up some pretend event that he accidentally double-booked himself with so that he doesn’t have to go.”

“Oh, really?” Joshua said with a laugh. “Seungkwan’s not gonna like that at all.”

Seokmin laughed too, bright and delighted, and if possible, Joshua’s smile widened. “He’s really not. I’m also really hoping he’s joking. Because otherwise, I might have to accidentally double-book myself too so I don’t have to go.”

“What would you double-book yourself with?”

“Hm, well…”

Joshua liked talking to Seokmin. Not only because he was in love with him (a fact he was slowly getting used to, having repeated the words so many times to himself) but because Seokmin was an incredibly fun person.

Without a doubt, every time they talked, Joshua would find himself laughing, either because of something he’d said or in response to Seokmin’s own laughter. 

And as Seokmin continued talking, little laughs escaping him whenever he thought of something particularly funny, Joshua listened intently, the smile still on his face. Seokmin really did have such a wonderful laugh, he thought, a little fondly. Beautiful, like golden bursts of light.

“Poor Hansol’s gonna get dragged into Seungkwan’s whole thing, though,” Seokmin was saying, and then laughed. “He's so whipped that he’ll literally do anything that he wants, no questions asked.”

Joshua chuckled. “That sounds like a very Hansol thing to do.” 

“Yeah,” Seokmin laughed, “So Seungkwan’s telling us to keep next weekend free. So of course, I’m gonna do my best to book up my entire weekend.”

Joshua chuckled, about to say something before blinking, Jeonghan’s weird information dump from earlier suddenly hitting him like a lightning bolt, as if someone had struck him on the head with it to remind him of Jeonghan’s words.

“Hey, Seokmin,” he said after a moment. “If you’re trying to book up your weekend, then do you want to go to the amusement park with me?”

A pause.

“Seokmin?”

“Sorry, sorry.” Seokmin sounded a little wheezy, like he’d run a marathon in those last three seconds of silence. “What did you say?”

“I was asking if you wanted to go to the amusement park with me,” Joshua repeated, trying to keep his voice steady and calm. If he started having a breakdown at that moment, there was a good chance that Seokmin would say no. Maybe. Probably. 

Another pause.

“Seokmin?”

“Yes,” Seokmin replied, the word leaving him as a rush of air. “Sorry, hyung, there was just—something. I had something in my, uh, ear. But yes. I’d love to go to the amusement park with you next week.”

Joshua breathed a silent sigh of relief, the beginnings of a smile making the corners of his lips twitch upwards. “You would?”

“Yeah, of course I would!” Seokmin said a little too quickly, and then coughed. “I mean. Yes. You’re my favourite, how could I not?”

That made Joshua laugh, certain that Seokmin was teasing, just like how they always teased each other. “You’re my favourite too,” he said back, smiling. “Okay, in which case, I’ll book the tickets and text you the details, okay? Would you prefer Saturday or Sunday?”

“Any. We can even go both days so I can avoid Seungkwan’s trip, if you’d like,” Seokmin offered, and Joshua laughed again.

“Got it. Well, I guess it’s a date,” he said, too delighted at the prospect of spending time with Seokmin like this to fully process the words until they had left his mouth.

To his surprise, however, Seokmin didn’t seem to freak out, or pause for a scarily long time that made Joshua rethink his entire life’s decisions.

Instead, Seokmin laughed: a sweet, melting sound, all delicate and tiny, like little stars.

“I guess it’s a date,” he agreed, almost shy. Joshua didn’t get to dwell on it for long, though, because Seokmin was already launching into the next conversation topic that popped into his head, rambling about some new training regiment thing that Mingyu recently dragged him into that left him with an aching body for days on end.

And Joshua listened, the smile dancing across his lips, the blush warm on his cheeks, realising that he’d finally accepted that he was in love with Seokmin, now, and he wanted only one thing.

To stay close, by Seokmin’s side, and jump and fall right into his arms.

───────────── ‘✦,

“So that’s how I ended up securing this date,” Joshua finished, and Jeonghan stared at him, eyes wide, mouth open.

“You actually did it,” he said, the surprise evident in his tone. “Wow. I thought you’d chicken out again.”

Joshua punched Jeonghan in the shoulder, giving the man a wry smile. “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” he said dryly. “This isn’t even a real date, though. I don’t know why you insisted on coming to drop me off.”

The two of them were waiting outside the amusement park entrance, because Joshua had told Jeonghan that he’d booked the tickets for himself and Seokmin, and the man had instantly insisted that he’d drive Joshua there and hear all about how it had happened.

So here they were, chatting and standing around, waiting for Seokmin to arrive. 

Jeonghan shrugged. “I wanted to hear the story.”

“Of course you did,” Joshua said, not unkindly, a small smile raising the corners of his lips. “No but, also, I realised something, during that conversation.”

“What?”

“I had time to think it all over, right? And I was just thinking that I didn’t really want to run away from him,” Joshua explained. He smiled, his gaze distant. “I want to stay close to him. ‘Cause I really, really like him a lot.”

Jeonghan looked over at his best friend, noting the way his eyes had softened in the way they only did when he was thinking about Seokmin. He smiled to himself, before punching Joshua in the arm as payback, shaking the man out of his thoughts.

“Good,” Jeonghan said with a smile. “It’ll break Seokmin’s heart if you try to stay away from him.”

Joshua chuckled. “You’re saying that as if Seokmin has a crush on me.”

Jeonghan wiggled his eyebrows. “He might. Who knows? Maybe he’ll end up falling for your ridiculous charms today.”

Joshua laughed at that, properly, and then punched Jeonghan in the arm just because, prompting the two of them to get into a childish little punching fight. Eventually, Jeonghan conceded with a haughty sniff, as if he’d abruptly decided he was above such petty disputes.

Then he stuck his tongue out at Joshua, making him laugh.

“So, anyways,” Jeonghan said, simply carrying on with the previous conversation as if they’d never stopped, “remember. Seokmin likes the ferris wheel, so take him on it, will you? He might talk about it, but he’ll be too shy to offer to go on it, so you need to be the one who asks,” Jeonghan said.

“Why do I need to take him on the ferris wheel?”

“Because Seokmin wants it.”

“Oh.” Joshua thought about it for a moment, and then nodded. “Sure. I’ll do that. Anything else?”

Jeonghan hummed thoughtfully, before shrugging. “Nothing that you don’t know already. He loves the snacks. Buy the matching headbands if he so much as mentions them. Don’t go on any roller coasters unless he sounds like he wants to go on them. Make sure that you win him at least one plushie otherwise he’ll sulk for hours.”

Joshua smiled a little at that, because he really did know all of that already. “Got it. It’s a good thing I’m better than you at those fairground games, huh?”

He received another punch on the arm for that comment.

“Shua hyung!”

A bright, delighted voice made him look up, however, and when he finally pinpointed the voice, there was Seokmin, a brilliant beam on his face as he ran over to where Joshua and Jeonghan were standing, and Joshua’s heart positively swelled at the sight.

“Hi,” Seokmin said, a little breathless, when he finally came to a stop beside him. His eyes were shining. 

“Hi yourself,” Joshua said back, smiling. 

Seokmin beamed, before seeming to finally notice Jeonghan’s presence, looking over at the elder who was watching them with a slight smirk on his face. Almost imperceptibly, the smile on Seokmin’s face wavered.

“Oh, Jeonghan hyung. Are you, uh, joining us?” he asked. “Is it gonna be me, Shua hyung… and you?”

Jeonghan blinked, and then chuckled. “No, no. I just came to drop Joshua off, and make sure you arrived safely too. I wouldn’t want to impose on your date.” He patted Joshua on the shoulder, and then pinched Seokmin’s cheek, steadfastly ignoring the way both of them looked a little flushed. “Be safe, you two. Don’t stay out too late.”

“It’s an amusement park, not a club,” Seokmin laughed, and he eagerly waved Jeonghan off, already interlinking his arm with Joshua’s. “Bye, hyung! Drive safely!”

Joshua watched Jeonghan go, and had the pleasure of having a scarily intense conversation through eye contact with him, one that was mainly full of messages of Be good to him and You better take that leap today otherwise I’m coming after you before Joshua finally turned away.

Damn. Jeonghan really could be intimidating when he wanted to.

“Well,” Seokmin said brightly, making Joshua look over at him. He looked like he was glowing with excitement. “Shall we go in?”

His lips lifted upwards, a soft pink curve of happiness, and Joshua smiled too, using their linked arms to ever-so-subtly pull Seokmin just a little closer into his side.

───────────── ‘✦,

“Oh, hyung, look at that! Are those balloons? Are they selling balloons?”

Going to an amusement park with Seokmin, Joshua was quickly realising, was a lot like venturing into a sweet shop with an excitable child.

Chaotic.

Seokmin was a ball of energy, bouncing on his feet and vibrating by Joshua’s side the moment they entered. The golden-brown puppy ears of the headband he was wearing bobbed up and down with his movements as he dragged Joshua around the park by the hand, eagerly pointing towards the man selling large, obnoxious metallic balloons like they were the pot of gold at the end of a rainbow.

Joshua just laughed, letting Seokmin pull him along, the ears of his own headband flopping against his head. He was wearing a headband too, because of course he was, because Seokmin had picked up the white bunny ears and claimed that they fit him so well, so who was Joshua to refuse?

They almost looked like a couple, with their adorable headbands. 

Thinking about it for too long made Joshua feel all squiggly and happy inside, though, so he tried not to think at all and instead let Seokmin do whatever he wanted.

“Can we buy one, Shua hyung? Please?” Seokmin asked, turning to Joshua with big, shining eyes, and really, it was like this entire day was trying to test whether Joshua really would never say no to Seokmin.

“Sure,” Joshua said, smiling when Seokmin’s eyes crinkled delightedly. “Which one do you want?”

Seokmin glowed. “That shiny strawberry one!”

And so, the rest of their date-not-date carried on. Joshua held onto the string of the strawberry balloon, following Seokmin around as the younger man bounced across the amusement park, hyped up on all the sugar that Joshua had been feeding him. Seokmin looked around the park with a child-like fascination, eyes big and round like he’d never been to an amusement park before, and it made Joshua laugh, endeared, offering Seokmin more candy floss and churros and letting Seokmin grab his wrist and pull him through the park.

“I haven’t been to an amusement park in ages,” Seokmin said to him when they were riding the carousel for the third time in a row. He leaned over to Joshua, bobbing up and down slowly on his horse, nudging the elder in the side with a grin. “Thank you for taking me here.”

“Of course,” Joshua replied, eyes crinkling, patting Seokmin on the back. “I’m glad you’re having fun.”

Seokmin’s eyes sparkled. The flashy golden lights of the carousel made him look like he was glowing from an ethereal light within as he beamed widely.

“I’m having the best time,” Seokmin confirmed. “Way better than Seungkwan will, anyway.” Joshua tilted his head with a smile.

“Oh?”

“I bet the others are suffering right now,” Seokmin confided gleefully, as his horse gently rose up and down. “Seungkwan managed to beg Junhui hyung and Chan to come with him.”

“Wait. They really went to the beach?” Joshua asked, surprised. 

“Mhm!” Seokmin nodded. “Kwan didn’t let Chan double-book himself, and then he went all sulky on Junhui until hyung caved. And then Hansol’s with him too, because duh.”

Joshua chuckled a little at that. “I can’t believe he went through with it. Well, it certainly is sunny today, so maybe they’ll still have a good time?”

Seokmin laughed. “It’s going to be so cold along the coast,” he said, delighted. “They’re gonna freeze!”

His obvious joy at their friends’ misfortunes was rather adorable, and it had Joshua laughing properly, the squeaky carousel music and Seokmin’s laughter ringing in his ears.

After they’d ridden the carousel thrice, Seokmin took Joshua to the photobooths, and then went hunting for more snacks, adamant about avoiding all the rollercoasters with a determined pout on his face that Joshua, devastatingly, thought was terribly cute. 

Joshua was content to allow Seokmin to dictate whatever they did, paying close attention to the younger’s expressions, dutifully carrying around that strawberry balloon, buying snacks, watching a rip-off ‘Punch and Judy’ puppet show with him, and taking all the pictures for Seokmin whenever he wanted.

That was what they were doing right now, the balloon string tied around Joshua’s wrist so he could use both hands to take pictures of Seokmin with the giant shiba inu plushie that Joshua had just won him.

It had taken him a good half hour along with an obscene amount of money, and he’d almost given up countless times, but Seokmin was vibrating so hopefully by his side, so he’d carried on. Even when the guy manning the coconut shy stall looked at him like he was mad for putting so much effort into a silly fairground game, the look of utter joy on Seokmin’s face when Joshua handed the plushie to him more than made up for the struggle.

And it seemed that it was yet another item to add onto the list of ‘Ridiculous Things That Joshua Hong Would Do For Lee Seokmin’.

“Oh, wow, you look adorable,” Joshua said, amazed, as he looked through the photos he’d taken of Seokmin. “Look. The colours of your headband’s ears match the plushie, too.”

Seokmin leaned over, chin resting on his shoulder as he peered at the photos. “Oh, you’re right!” He laughed delightedly as Joshua handed the camera back to him. “Thank you so much, Shua hyung. These are so pretty.”

Joshua chuckled. You’re prettier, he wanted to say, but he swallowed the words down, smiling. 

“It’s ‘cause the plushie is so pretty,” he teased, laughing as Seokmin glared at him. “Why? Do you not like it? Should I take the plushie away?”

Seokmin danced out of Joshua’s reach as the elder made as if to take the toy out of his arms. “No! No, never! You gave it to me, so it’s mine now,” he said, incredibly seriously, squishing the plushie protectively against his chest. “No take-backsies.”

He glared in faux anger, and Joshua laughed, relenting, putting his hands up placatingly. “Okay, okay, I won’t. Are you gonna give the plushie a name?”

“Hmm.” Instantly, the glare melted from Seokmin’s face, replaced by a thoughtful look as he drifted closer to Joshua again, patting the head of the shiba inu, bumping shoulders with him as he did so. “I’m not sure.”

“How about ‘Mingyu’?” Joshua suggested, grinning, chuckling when Seokmin elbowed him in the side. 

“Never. He doesn’t get the honour of having the same name as something that Shua hyung won me,” Seokmin said, pursing his lips thoughtfully as he held the shiba inu up. “How about Seokmin Junior?”

Joshua wrinkled his nose at that, shaking his head. “No. That’s a terrible idea.” 

Seokmin pouted, and Joshua just pinched his cheek affectionately, still thinking. He crossed his arms, and the movement made the metallic balloon (still tied to his wrist) shift too, the floating, bubblegum-pink strawberry balloon bumping against the side of his head. He looked over at it thoughtfully as he swatted it away.

“How about,” he said after a moment, “How about ‘Berry’?”

“Berry?” Seokmin repeated, and then looked at the plushie contemplatively. “Berry the shiba inu.” He looked up at Joshua, grinning. “I love it! It can be Berry the shiba inu.”

Joshua smiled, endeared by Seokmin’s sheer happiness as the younger hugged the plushie tight, pressing a kiss to its soft forehead. And then, because he couldn’t help it, he reached over and ruffled Seokmin’s hair fondly, and began to lead them away from the coconut stall.

“Alright. Where do you wanna go next, Seokmin?”

───────────── ‘✦,

They ended up in the line for the spinning teacups ride.

It was well and truly the afternoon now. They had been there since late morning, and Joshua’s feet kind of hurt from the amount of walking and standing they’d been doing, and even Seokmin was beginning to look a little uncomfortable as he shifted from foot to foot.

Nevertheless, neither of them suggested going back home, and Joshua couldn’t help but feel a little touched at the notion that Seokmin wanted to spend time as just the two of them just as much as Joshua did.

So here they were, patiently waiting in line, because Seokmin had suddenly gotten an eager, shining look in his eyes and insisted that he wanted to ride the spinning teacups even when Joshua had told him that it might make him sick. But Seokmin had been adamant, so here they were, leaning against the railing and watching the people getting into the teacups.

“Remember when we all went to the amusement park a few summers ago?” Seokmin was asking. He was bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet, vibrating. “It was so hot that day, and half of the rides had been shut down for maintenance, but we made the most of it.”

Joshua smiled a little. It had been a fun outing. They didn’t go out with all thirteen of them often, because it was a huge group of people to manage, but whenever they did, they split up into smaller groups for most of the day. 

“You weren’t in our group, unfortunately,” Seokmin carried on, a smile spreading across his face as he reminisced, “but, oh, I really wish you had been! Myungho lost a game of rock, paper, scissors and had to be the one to go on this teacup ride with Jeonghan a total of seven times in a row. Seven!”

Joshua laughed as Seokmin animatedly recounted the event, his eyes round and earnest as he delightedly told Joshua all about how queasy Minghao had felt afterwards and how as karma, later on, Jeonghan ended up getting utterly soaked on the water boat ride.

Seokmin always recounted every story like it was the most important thing in the world, with a sincerity that was rather adorable, and Joshua would be lying if he denied paying attention to the gentle curl of Seokmin’s lips and the way they softened into the most endearing pout as he formed certain words. 

He had a very soft mouth, Joshua thought idly. Despite the amount of talking Seokmin did, Joshua thought he had very kissable lips.

It would probably ruin a thousand things if he leaned in and kissed Seokmin right then and there, unfortunately, but oh, how much Joshua really, really wanted to.

Stars in his eyes, he watched as Seokmin talked animatedly, seemingly oblivious to the way that Joshua's entire inner monologue was nothing more than a chant of “please kiss me please kiss me please kiss me” repeating over and over again. 

“So,” Seokmin finished, clasping his hands together, and Joshua finally zoned back into his ramblings. “I’m hoping our experience goes better, hyung!”

Joshua blinked, having heard the words that Seokmin was saying but only able to think of how utterly adorable he looked with his eyes shining like that. So as Seokmin beamed, bright and beautiful, he just smiled, reaching over and pinching Seokmin’s cheek, endeared.

“Of course,” Joshua said, and then winked cheesily. “Don’t worry. I’m here to protect you, Min-ah.”

Seokmin stared at him, his gaze coloured with playful disgust and another emotion that Joshua couldn’t quite name. He was about to say something else before the line finally started moving again, and it was at last their turn.

“Oh, hyung! Hyung, it’s finally us!” Seokmin exclaimed, delighted, the earlier emotion completely dissolving, replaced by giddy excitement. “Come on, we gotta go sit in the cup that spins the most!”

Seokmin dragged Joshua into the teacup that he claimed he’d seen spin the fastest, and after the brief safety introductions, the ride finally began.

“We have to spin it as hard as we can, okay,” Seokmin said, incredibly seriously. “Okay, hyung? Can you do that?”

“Of course. Can you?” Joshua teased, and Seokmin rolled his eyes. 

“Duh! Hey, move over, you're taking up so much room on the wheel. Why are your hands so big?”

“As if you don't have huge hands too, Seokmin-ah—”

They bickered over having enough space on the wheel to spin it properly, but it didn’t take long for them to get going.

Seokmin relinquished control over the wheel a few seconds into the ride and Joshua ended up with both hands on it, spinning them around at a rate that was definitely not good for anyone's stomach because Seokmin kept on insisting they go as fast as possible even though he genuinely sounded close to tears and—well. This was the reason that Seokmin didn't go on rides often. 

He was screaming with laughter, mouth open wide and refusing to close, and Joshua hardly thought he was able to breathe with how much he was laughing. Seokmin’s hands had slipped from the wheel and had instead found purchase in Joshua's shirt, doing nothing other than clinging to him and curling into his side, still screaming the entire time, sounding like he was both scared out of his mind and having the time of his life.

“Seokmin? Seokmin! Should I slow down?” Joshua yelled, because the wind was whipping in his ears, and he was sure that they looked like utter idiots to anyone who was watching them in the line.

Seokmin just screamed even louder, eyes squeezed shut, shaking his head rapidly and holding Joshua’s shirt like a lifeline. “If you slow down, I’m going to kill you!”

Joshua just laughed, tugging the wheel so hard that he almost sprained his wrist, but it made Seokmin yelp and squeeze himself further into Joshua’s side, the screams dissolving into laughs, and the bright, overjoyed sound was all that filled Joshua’s ears. 

It was beautiful. Joshua was reminded, yet again, just how much he loved Seokmin’s laugh.

If it were up to him, then for as long as he lived, Joshua would make sure that Seokmin would always, always have a reason to laugh like this.

Eventually, the ride came to a stop, and Joshua let the wheel go, allowing the teacup to slow down at its own pace, the pink-fond chuckles lingering on his lips as Seokmin continued laughing, forehead pressed against Joshua’s shoulder.

“Oh, my God,” Seokmin breathed out in between giggles, breathless from how much he’d been laughing and screaming. “Wow.”

They exited the teacup, wobbling and stumbling around like baby deer on new, spindly legs, and Seokmin just giggled uncontrollably at his own uncoordinated state.

“We left the stuff over there, Seokmin,” Joshua said, staggering forward on unsteady feet towards where they’d left the shiba inu and the giant strawberry balloon and their headbands, because Seokmin had fretted that they'd lose them if they wore them on the teacups. 

He tugged on Seokmin’s arm, because the man was walking in the completely opposite direction. The younger stumbled into him with a giggle. 

“I knew that,” Seokmin laughed, and he sounded mildly drunk, the sound giddy and loud and making Joshua chuckle. As Seokmin grasped the balloon tied to the fence, however, he tripped on his feet, hands giving the balloon a sharp tug and suddenly, somehow, there was a loud pop as the balloon inexplicably burst in Seokmin’s hands.

They both jumped, and Seokmin stared wide-eyed at where the popped balloon pieces were scattered across the floor, plastic string in his hand, before turning to look at Joshua.

“Oh,” Joshua said, after a moment, and that was all it took for Seokmin to start giggling.

“It popped,” he laughed, almost in disbelief. “Hyung, the balloon popped!”

“What did you do?” Joshua asked, laughing a little as he shook his head, amazed. “How did you manage to pop the balloon just like that?”

Seokmin shrugged, giggles subsiding as he just grinned at the string in his hands. “I dunno. That’s so weird.” He pouted suddenly. “Aw, no, that means my strawberry balloon’s all gone.”

“There, there,” Joshua said consolingly, placing the puppy ears back on Seokmin’s head before picking up the plushie and handing it towards him too, beginning to lead them out of the spinning teacups area—albeit rather slowly, since they were both still wobbly on their feet. “But look, you still have Berry the shiba inu with you, don’t you?”

Instantly, Seokmin brightened, though it took a second for him to be able to hold the plushie without dropping it. He blinked his eyes hard several times, gaze focusing and unfocusing on the shiba inu as he pouted in concentration to get his vision steady again. Joshua could almost see the little cartoon birds flying in circles around his head as he kept a wobbly pace next to Joshua, grinning dopily down at the plushie before directing that same grin up at Joshua too.

Adorable.

It took several minutes, along with a good sitting-down session on a nearby bench, but eventually both of them stopped feeling like the world was being rattled around like a snow globe, and they sat side by side in comfortable silence as they watched the people walk by.

The sky was streaked with yellows now. It was nearing the end of the day, and Joshua calculated that they probably had time for one last game or snack before they eventually had to leave.

Then, his date-not-date with Seokmin would be over.

Hm. Joshua glanced over at Seokmin, heart twisting sadly. That was a sad thought.

“Seokmin,” Joshua said, nudging Seokmin in the side, “we’re gonna have to leave soon. Is there anything you want to do before we have to go?”

Seokmin turned to him, and Joshua had the wind knocked out of him for a second because wow, Seokmin was so pretty. The sun hadn’t dipped quite low enough for it to be classed as a sunset just yet, but the grey-yellow light across Seokmin’s face brought his cheekbones into sharp relief, silvery shadows being painted down his cheeks from his eyelashes every time he blinked, the soft shape of his mouth scrunched up in thought.

Humming contemplatively, Seokmin’s gaze slid away from him for a moment, and now that he was no longer staring right into the eyes of the most beautiful person on Earth, Joshua felt like he could finally breathe a little easier.

“Let’s do something that Shua hyung wants to do,” Seokmin said, smiling, and Joshua’s poor heart jumped into his throat once again. 

“Something that I want to do?” Joshua asked, a little croaky. “Do you not have anything that you want?”

Seokmin just shrugged, smiling, strands of hair falling into his eyes as he ducked his head. “We’ve been doing the stuff that I wanted to do all day,” he said. “We should do something that Shua hyung wants, too.”

Joshua’s lips quirked into a fond smile, and he resisted the urge to tell Seokmin that all he wanted was to see Seokmin happy.

Instead, he just pinched Seokmin’s cheek affectionately, and gazed out at the rest of the park, looking around for something that he’d like to do.

But, as always, his gaze drifted back to Seokmin again. Seokmin, who had his eyes fixed on one certain structure in the distance, looking at it almost wistfully, and Joshua remembered what Jeonghan had told him several hours before.

“How about the ferris wheel?” he suggested softly, and smiled a little at the way that Seokmin instantly whipped his head round to blink at him, wide-eyed.

“The ferris wheel?”

“Do you not want to?” Joshua asked, double-checking, because while he was 90% sure that Jeonghan would never feed him false information that would make Seokmin uncomfortable, it was always good to make sure that he was really okay with it. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“No! No, I—I want to.” Seokmin swallowed, and there were stars in his eyes. “I wanna ride the ferris wheel with you, hyung.”

Joshua smiled, heart feeling full to bursting as he reached over and brushed away the hair that fell into Seokmin’s eyes. Then he held out his hand, smiling impossibly wider when Seokmin reached for him without the slightest hesitation.

“Come on, then. Let’s go.”

───────────── ‘✦,

The line for the ferris wheel was relatively short, given the fact that it wasn’t long before the amusement park shut for the day, and Joshua and Seokmin didn’t have to stand in line for long before it was their turn.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Joshua checked for the fifth time as they boarded the carriage. “It goes relatively high, Seokmin. If you don’t want to, then it’s fine.”

Seokmin laughed as they each sat down on a bench in the carriage. “I’m fine, I promise. I think it’s a bit too late to get off, anyways,” he said as the wheel slowly began moving. “Besides,” he added, a little shyer, “I really did want to ride the ferris wheel with you, hyung.”

Aw.

“Aw,” Joshua said out loud, and it came out more adoring and in-love than he’d intended. He coughed. “That’s so cute, Min-ah. You wanted to spend time with hyung like this, hm?” he tacked on, grinning teasingly and leaning forward to ruffle Seokmin’s hair and tug at the puppy ears of his headband in an attempt to mask his previous sincerity.

The younger man didn’t pull a face and try to lean away, however, unlike how he normally acted around Joshua’s exaggerated coddling. Instead, he just smiled, eyes crinkling, shoulders rising towards his ears bashfully, and he really looked like a small, shy puppy. 

“Yeah,” he said, the sunlight golden on his face. “Yeah, I did.”

The sun was very much beginning to set now. Yellow light was replaced by something warmer, and the coppery colours spilled in through the windows of their carriage as the wheel continued spinning them all the way to the top.

Joshua checked on Seokmin constantly, making sure that he wasn’t too scared by the heights, but the man seemed to genuinely be having a great time, staring out of the window with wide eyes, Berry the shiba inu sitting forgotten on the seat next to him. 

“It all looks so pretty,” Seokmin said, voice hushed in awe. “Look, hyung, you can see all the places we went to from up here!”

Joshua leaned over to look down at where Seokmin was pointing. “Oh, wow. We’re so high up.” He looked at Seokmin again. “Are you really sure that you’re okay?”

Seokmin laughed a little, raising his gaze to look at Joshua. The golden sunset spilled caramel-coloured light across his irises. 

“I’m really fine,” he promised, eyes crinkling. He reached out for Joshua’s hand, interlacing their fingers. “It’s okay, ‘cause Shua hyung's here with me, isn't he?”

He squeezed Joshua’s hand, once, and then turned back to the window, and Joshua’s ears positively burned.

The wheel spun them a total of three times, and on the third round, Seokmin finally leaned away from the window, sitting back in his seat and beaming at Joshua. Joshua blinked back, and tried to pretend that he hadn’t been gazing adoringly at him the whole time.

“Thank you for bringing me here today,” Seokmin said, all sweet and sentimental and sincere. “It’s been so much fun.”

“Of course,” Joshua responded simply, smiling. “I’m just glad you had fun, Seokmin.”

Seokmin beamed, then, and Joshua smiled back, and they sat there smiling at each other for a good few seconds longer before the ferris wheel creaked to a stop at the top of its rotation for the third and final time.

“Oh!” Seokmin’s eyes lit up, and he scrambled to reach for his phone. “We need to take our last pictures of the day before the ride finishes.” He nudged Berry to the side, and then patted the empty space next to him. “Shua hyung, come sit here.”

And so Joshua went, squishing between Seokmin and the plushie, and he’d barely had time to make himself comfortable before Seokmin was huddling even closer into his side, phone raised in front of their faces.

He let Seokmin bully him into as many different poses as he wanted, with v-poses and finger hearts and cute little pouty faces that were utterly adorable on Seokmin. Eventually, Seokmin lowered his phone, but before Joshua could get up and return to his own side of the carriage, Seokmin was holding his hand, interlacing their fingers to keep Joshua by his side.

Joshua looked down at their hands, and then up at Seokmin, but the younger just blinked innocently at him.

“The sunset looks so pretty,” Seokmin said suddenly, and Joshua looked behind him to follow Seokmin’s line of gaze.

And then he looked back at Seokmin, watching the sunset light his skin up gold.

“Very pretty,” he agreed.

Seokmin’s lips twitched up into an almost wistful smile, as his gaze slid away from the window to look at Joshua, eyes sparkling. 

“Thank you for bringing me here,” Seokmin said again, smiling. “I think it’s prettier because I’m here with you.”

Joshua chuckled, squeezing Seokmin’s hand once. “Of course,” he said, and Seokmin smiled even wider. “Anything you see will be prettier because of me, you know.”

Seokmin’s eyes crinkled. “Really?”

Joshua quirked a grin. “I’m just that handsome.” 

The wheel was slowly descending now, the warm sunset light dipping behind the tall amusement park structures, and Joshua had the most beautiful view of the rays brushing and fading away from Seokmin’s face.

“So,” Joshua continued, mesmerised by Seokmin’s smile, “I think you should only see these pretty things with me. So they’ll always look even prettier.”

His words hung suspended in the air, golden and full of eternal promise, and Seokmin’s eyes widened. Joshua’s eyes widened at his own words, too, stunned at how his internal thoughts had somehow escaped his lips, but every syllable rang true. He wanted to see these beautiful things with Seokmin and Seokmin alone.

“Shua hyung,” Seokmin whispered, eyes meltingly warm. And then he didn’t say anything else.

He truly was just so beautiful, Joshua thought. With his sunlight-clear smile and those eyes, big and glittering and crystalline: Seokmin’s eyes that captured Joshua’s own and kept him mesmerised, unable to do anything other than gaze adoringly as Seokmin did anything at all.

And those very same eyes were the ones holding Joshua in place right at that moment, so awed that he hadn’t even noticed that Seokmin had drawn closer. He was so close that there was merely a miniscule distance between them, and Joshua could count every one of Seokmin’s lashes again, so close he could see the way they fluttered nervously as he took a quiet breath in.

So close that eventually, the miniscule distance between them became no distance at all.

Seokmin kissed him, gently, slowly, a warm press of lips on lips that had Joshua simultaneously melting and freezing up because Seokmin was kissing him. Seokmin was kissing him.

And, oh, his lips truly did taste as soft as they looked.

It was heart-achingly sweet, and only Seokmin would have been able to kiss him so chastely and yet still make his brain crash and shut down because of it. He wanted to have Seokmin’s lips on his forever, to lick into his plush mouth and find out what Seokmin liked and what he adored, wanted to press him against the wall of the carriage and kiss him and kiss him and kiss him—

Seokmin pulled away, then, before Joshua even had a chance to pull him closer and kiss him in the way that he deserved.

He blinked, dazed, far too disoriented to even think of forming words, and it was a little crazy how Seokmin managed to render him utterly non-functional after such a brief kiss.

Only Seokmin, truly.

But he was staring at Joshua now, eyes bright and almost hopeful, and the terrible thing was that Joshua’s brain was still in its melting, post-’first kiss with the love of his life’ state, and he had no idea what Seokmin could be hoping for.

He coughed, licked his lips, heartbeat thrumming far too loudly in his head.

“Huh,” he said, incredibly eloquently. “Oh.”

It was an “Oh” of utter besottedness, Seokmin having successfully removed Joshua’s ability to form proper words, but it turned out to be the wrong thing to say because he watched, confused and worried, as the light slipped off of Seokmin’s face in an instant.

“Oh,” Seokmin echoed, but the syllable sounded utterly heartbroken as it fell from his lips. “Oh, no.”

Joshua blinked as Seokmin backed away, scrambling to kick-start his brain back into action. “Wait,” he said. “Wait, wh—”

“I’m so sorry,” Seokmin rushed out, and he dropped Joshua’s hand like he’d been burned. “Sorry, sorry, please forget about that, I’m so sorry, I—”

“Wait,” Joshua said again, still not quite comprehending what was going on. “Seokmin-ah, you don’t n—”

He tried to move forward, and Seokmin instantly stumbled back, plastering himself against the back wall of the carriage. It rocked slightly, swinging back and forth, but still Seokmin stayed against the wall, like he wanted to be as far away from Joshua as possible.

“Sorry,” Seokmin said, yet again. “I just— You took me out for this whole day, and I thought— But then I— And then you didn’t— So obviously you don’t feel like that and I’m just so, so, so sorry. I’m so sorry, hyung, please just forget that happened.”

And oh, now Joshua realised, and his eyes widened in panic, because Seokmin had gotten everything completely wrong.

“No, wait, Seokmin, no, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

Seokmin didn’t seem to hear him, continuing to babble apologies over and over again, the syllables blurring together as his eyes also seemed to blur with tears. 

This was really, really not good. Seokmin had leaned in and kissed him, and what had Joshua done? He’d just sat there and let himself be kissed, and when Seokmin pulled away, he’d done nothing but mumble a small “Oh” that could have been interpreted in a whole range of different ways.

And Seokmin had interpreted it in the worst way possible.

Joshua opened his mouth, and had half a mind to just surge forward and kiss Seokmin again to show him the truth when the carriage door swung open, and the park attendant was standing in the doorway and politely asking for them to leave.

Instantly, Seokmin took the opportunity to grab Berry and lunge past him to make his escape, and Joshua wanted to wring his hands together in desperation.

“Seokmin!” Joshua called out, almost tripping over his feet in his haste to exit the carriage. “Seokmin, I— Wait!”

He caught up with Seokmin as he was speed-walking through the park back towards the entrance, resting a hand on his shoulder and hating how Seokmin instantly flinched back.

“Hyung, please—”

“Seokmin,” Joshua said, softly. “Listen to me.”

Seokmin visibly swallowed, holding Berry tight. His eyes were big, almost looking like they were turning down at the edges and, coupled with the ears headband he was still wearing, he looked far too much like a devastated puppy that Joshua felt his heart tighten in his throat.

“Seokmin,” Joshua started again. “You don’t have to feel bad about it. I… I didn’t mind it.”

Joshua smiled gently, but to his horror, Seokmin’s eyes began to well up with tears.

“I really am sorry for what I did, hyung,” he said, voice wobbly. “You don’t have to say those things to try and make me feel better. I’m okay. It’s okay. I know that what I did was wrong so please—please just leave me alone.”

And with that, he stepped back, and began to make a dash towards the park entrance again, leaving Joshua standing there, dumbfounded.

“Wh—Seokmin!”

Seokmin didn’t listen to him. He continued speeding towards the entrance as Joshua called out to him, even as groups of people blocked his path and he walked into a small child more times than he could count.

How had Seokmin managed to misunderstand what Joshua was saying so, so horribly? With a helpless sigh, Joshua watched as Seokmin disappeared around the corner, before promptly apologising to the little girl he’d bumped into and beginning to follow Seokmin again.

Joshua managed to get to the amusement park entrance at last, just as Seokmin seemed to be trying to leave without talking to him at all.

“Seokmin,” Joshua said desperately, jogging up until he was standing in front of him, preventing Seokmin from walking off into the late evening. “Please, listen to me. You don’t have to feel all guilty like this. Let me—”

“Hyung, it’s okay,” Seokmin said, cutting him off yet again, and Joshua wanted to cry in desperation.“It’s okay, Shua hyung, I’m okay. You don’t have to try and comfort me.”

“No, Seokmin, listen, I actually—”

“Don’t worry about it,” Seokmin said, and tried to smile, but his voice trembled too much for it to seem genuine. “I’m so sorry for doing that to you. I’m really sorry, so I hope you don’t feel too d-disgusted.”

His voice hiccupped on the last word, and oh, Seokmin was properly crying now, the sadness spilling out of the corners of his eyes and dimming their shine.

Joshua had made him cry. 

“Just let me go home, hyung, please,” Seokmin said, quiet, and the soft begging tone in his voice made Joshua’s heart plummet to the depths of the Earth.

He swallowed thickly. “At least come home with me and Jeonghan,” he said, giving up on trying to talk to Seokmin about this. “I don’t want you going home by bus, all by yourself. Especially when you’re like this.”

Seokmin didn’t say anything for a long moment, and then nodded, lips pressed tight together as the tears continued silently spilling down his cheeks.

It made Joshua’s throat feel tight. Unthinkingly, he reached over and brushed at the wetness under Seokmin’s eyes, flinching back when Seokmin skittered away at his touch. 

“Sorry,” he whispered, voice thick. Seokmin didn’t reply.

They walked back to the entrance, and Joshua texted Jeonghan to let him know they were finished and wanted to go home. And then, with nothing left to do, they loitered around, waiting for Jeonghan to arrive, a stiff silence falling between them.

There was a great deal that Joshua wanted to say, countless words to explain himself and tell Seokmin just how terribly, terribly in love he was with him. 

This was all a terrible misunderstanding, he wanted to say, and he was totally okay with the kiss. More than okay, and in fact, he wanted nothing more than to kiss Seokmin again and again for all of eternity.

He looked up at Seokmin, who was quivering a few feet away from him, clutching the plushie like a lifeline as he stared resolutely out at the car park. A chill was setting in now that the sun had gone down, but Joshua knew that Seokmin’s shivers had less to do with the cold and more to do with something else.

Couldn’t Seokmin see? Just how much he had Joshua wrapped around his finger? Had him clinging to every syllable that fell from his lips, every twinkle of his eye, every bright, ringing laugh?

It was truly bewildering, how Seokmin apparently had no idea. Joshua wanted to explain this to him, wanted to tell him just how deeply he'd managed to fall for him, but the feelings of warmth and light and clean-cut gold were far too big and precious for words. 

He wanted to try, because he truly would do anything for Seokmin, but right now, there was no point. Not when Seokmin wasn’t in a state to truly understand.

Jeonghan arrived some minutes later, pulling up near the park entrance, and Seokmin wordlessly climbed into the shotgun seat while Joshua sat in the back. Jeonghan beamed, entirely oblivious to the tense atmosphere.

“So, how did your day go?” he asked, all pleasant. “Did you guys have fun?”

Seokmin simply buried his face into the plushie.

“Can you just take me home, please?” Seokmin whispered, voice muffled, but there was no way that Jeonghan wouldn't have been able to hear the tears in his voice. 

Jeonghan’s expression changed, and instantly, he eyed Joshua in the rearview mirror, his gaze a searing accusation. Joshua just winced helplessly, and hoped that the desperation in his eyes could help soften Jeonghan’s glare just a little.

Jeonghan narrowed his eyes, before turning to Seokmin again, gaze softening. “I like your headband,” he said gently, tugging at one brown puppy ear. “They suit you.”

Seokmin didn't look up from the shiba inu. He gave a small, wet sniff. 

Jeonghan looked back at Joshua, observing the white bunny ears headband which were on his head, and then the pieces in his head began to click together, and he raised an eyebrow questioningly.

Joshua just stared back.

Pulling out away from the amusement park, Jeonghan glanced over at Seokmin and then at Joshua through the mirror again, before giving a sigh. The “I’ll talk to Seokmin” was clear in his eyes, and Joshua’s shoulders sagged in relief.

Whilst Joshua really, really wanted to talk this over with Seokmin himself, he knew that Seokmin wasn’t in the right headspace to listen to him. But still, there was a chance that he would be able to listen to his beloved Jeonghan hyung who, hopefully, would be able to express a calm thought process that Seokmin would listen to, even if he wasn’t willing to listen to Joshua.

That was okay, though. Because Joshua didn't even know how he would express his thoughts, other than perhaps screaming “I really really like having your lips on mine and I kind of want to kiss you forever”, and he thought that that maybe wasn't the best way to explain how he felt. 

Thank you, he said with his eyes, when Jeonghan looked back at him again.

Jeonghan just nodded once, and looked over at Seokmin again before turning back to the road. 

The car was silent for the entire ride back.

───────────── ‘✦,

“I’m already on it,” Joshua said, when he opened the door to Jeonghan standing on his doorstep the next morning.

Jeonghan blinked, and then shut his mouth with an audible click, nodding approvingly and stepping into Joshua’s apartment. “Good,” he said. “I’m proud of you, Joshuji.”

Last night, Jeonghan had dropped Joshua off home first, with a silent message of “We’ll talk tomorrow” in his eyes. It had been clear that Jeonghan had wanted to spend that evening talking with Seokmin first, which Joshua thought was a good idea since Seokmin had definitely been the most visibly distressed out of them.

Even now, though it had been over twelve hours since Joshua had last seen him, the memory of Seokmin’s tears still made his chest feel tight.

As it was, he hadn’t had the chance to talk to Jeonghan until today. That didn’t mean he hadn’t been busy thinking of ways to resolve this whole situation, though.

“You need to make things up to him as soon as possible,” Jeonghan said as he took off his shoes. 

“I know. That's why I'm already on it.”

Jeonghan nodded again, mildly pleased, before his face melted back into a frown. 

“Still, I wanna say that you’re both idiots,” he informed him. “Both you and Seokmin. Utter idiots.”

“Thanks,” Joshua remarked dryly, and walked back into the kitchen, Jeonghan trailing behind him. 

“You’re welcome. So you better be planning a really good thing to make it up to Seokmin, because otherwise—oh my God. Are you baking?”

Jeonghan stood there, surprised, looking at the mixing bowl and the bags of sugar and flour and the baking trays, lined with greaseproof paper, neatly placed on the table as everything else overflowed across Joshua’s counter.

Joshua grinned, pleased at Jeonghan’s surprise. “Strawberry and chocolate chip cookies,” he said, picking up the mixing bowl again. “Seokmin’s favourite.”

“Huh.” Jeonghan smiled, nodding approvingly. “Good choice.” He sat down at the table, watching as Joshua continued mixing the cookie batter.  

“I know,” Joshua said, a little proud, looking up from the bowl to smile at Jeonghan, all bashful and dusty pink cheeks. “I figured that they might help cheer him up.”

Cute, Jeonghan thought, and then his heart melted at the idea of Joshua baking for Seokmin. There was something so domestic about that, and he knew that Seokmin would really love it.

Seokmin had been utterly distraught yesterday, tears quietly streaming down his face as he recounted the “disastrous” events in a wobbly voice. Jeonghan had feared the worst: Seokmin, for all his gentleness and emotional openness, still hated to cry around other people. So for him to burst into tears in front of Joshua and Jeonghan, it meant that something truly terrible had happened, and Jeonghan was more than ready to (get Seungcheol to) gently beat up Joshua for being the cause of his tears.

Jeonghan thought it would be something horrific, like Joshua had… well, done something really bad. He hadn’t actually had an idea of what Joshua could have done, but he’d been terrified all the same.

He had definitely not been prepared for what Seokmin had told him instead.

“What’re you gonna do with the cookies?” Jeonghan asked, leaning forwards as Joshua set down the bowl, looking for spoons to use to scoop the batter onto the trays.

“I’m going over to his place today,” Joshua said, rummaging through the drawers. “And I’m going to talk this out with him. No matter what it takes.”

Jeonghan tilted his head, smiling a little, a curious sense of pride swelling up inside of him. “No matter what it takes?”

“No matter what it takes,” Joshua confirmed, turning back to face Jeonghan, spoons in hand. “I won’t run away anymore. Seokmin deserves to know that I love him too.”

“I definitely think so,” Jeonghan said, and his tone was dry but his smile was warm. “Especially considering the fact that he kissed you yesterday and then proceeded to have a breakdown because you didn’t kiss him back.”

Joshua winced. “Let’s not talk about last night.”

Jeonghan shrugged. “I think it was a good bonding experience.”

“I don’t need a bonding experience. Seokmin and I are already friends.” Joshua furrowed his eyebrows. “How was that a good bonding experience, anyway?”

“Hey, at least now you know that Seokmin’s as pathetically in love with you as you are with him,” Jeonghan pointed out. “I think you should look on the bright side, Joshuji.”

“I think you’re talking too much,” Joshua said, waving the spoons beratingly at Jeonghan. “If you’re gonna be in my home, then you need to help me. Come on, get some spoons and make the cookies with me. Why are you even here, anyway?”

Jeonghan begrudgingly stood up, rolling up his sleeves. “I came here to see whether I needed to beat you up or not.”

Joshua snorted. “You and those noodle arms?”

“I was assessing the situation first,” Jeonghan said, and sniffed disdainfully. “If you didn’t show evidence that you were trying to make amends instantly, I would have.”

“Good thing I was making cookies then.”

“Exactly. I also came to check up on you, though,” Jeonghan added more sincerely. “To see how you were doing after being kissed by the love of your life.”

That made Joshua chuckle, beginning to spoon the batter onto the trays laid out on the table. He nudged Jeonghan in the side, a silent demand for him to start helping, and Jeonghan reluctantly complied.

“I’m fine. I had my entire worldview altered because apparently Seokmin likes me back, but other than that, I’m doing great,” Joshua said with a grin, and Jeonghan laughed.

“See? A good bonding experience.”

Joshua shook his head, still smiling. “Yeah. A great bonding experience. 0/10, would definitely recommend.”

The sarcasm made Jeonghan laugh again, looking over at his best friend as he diligently bent down over the baking tray, making cookies for the person he was in love with, big hands having turned soft with gentleness and care. 

Joshua’s hair was all over the place, as if he’d rolled out of bed and then immediately started making cookies for Seokmin without even stopping once. Half of his bangs were falling in his eyes but he hardly seemed to notice, and he straightened up to blink at Jeonghan, who was standing there with the spoons unmoving in his hands.

“If you don’t want to help, then you can just say so,” Joshua said wryly, eyes twinkling. “Though Seokmin might be heartbroken when I tell him that his favourite hyung didn’t help make the cookies.”

Jeonghan snapped out of his reverie, busying himself with helping Joshua. “You’re Seokmin’s favourite hyung. You know that,” he retorted, a little sulkily. Though he’d long ago accepted it, he was still a little annoyed that Joshua had stolen one of his dongsaengs from him.

“Nonsense. He was your friend before he was mine, wasn’t he?”

“That means nothing,” Jeonghan said dismissively, waving a spoon around and accidentally flinging cookie dough into the wall. “Whoops. Anyway, you’ve been Seokmin’s favourite since day one, Shuji. Surely you know that.”

Joshua sighed long-sufferingly at the spoonful of wet mixture sliding down his wall. “You’re cleaning that up later.”

“Sure. But seriously, he’s always been in love with you. I promise.” Jeonghan punched Joshua lightly in the arm. “Why are you thinking so much about this, anyway? You know that he loves you.”

“Hm.” Joshua twisted his lips thoughtfully, and he gazed off into the distance, eyes going melty soft and Jeonghan just knew that he was thinking about Seokmin. 

Disgusting, Jeonghan thought affectionately. It reminded him of the way that Seokmin’s eyes never failed to shine just a little brighter whenever he thought of or talked about Joshua, even when he was in tears. These two truly were made for each other.

“Seokmin thinks the world of you, you know,” Jeonghan said gently. “He always has. Ever since he first met you.”

Joshua’s face, somehow, melted even further at that. Jeonghan had been worried that his silence was a sign of insecurities creeping in, a sign of his hesitancy to continue taking that leap for Seokmin, but Joshua’s face was softening into the softest, sweetest smile, and Jeonghan knew that there was nothing that could deter Joshua now.

“Well,” Joshua said, light and full of love, “It’s a good thing that I think the world of him too.”

───────────── ‘✦,

It was some hours later that Joshua ended up on Seokmin’s doorstep, wondering whether he should ring the doorbell or lift his hand and knock.

Jeonghan had shooed him out of the apartment (Joshua’s own apartment) with a pat on the head and a half-serious threat to “Go make out with Seokmin or there will be consequences”, pushing the basket into his hands and telling him to just be himself.

Apparently Seokmin liked that, or something.

So Joshua now stood at Seokmin’s doorstep, resisting the urge to rock back and forth on his heels as he contemplated which would be the best way to drag Seokmin out of his wallowing.

He hadn't been nervous when Jeonghan had come over, too focused on making Seokmin his favourite cookies and thinking about how he needed to make Seokmin not sad as soon as possible, but now that he was here, he had to admit that there were definitely a few butterflies in his stomach.

Confessing to the love of your life was no easy task, after all. 

But, like always, Joshua would do anything for Seokmin, anything at all, so after taking a deep breath, he raised his hand and pressed the doorbell.

It took a few moments, but the door eventually clicked open to reveal Seokmin, sleepily rubbing his eyes, nose scrunching adorably as he suppressed a big yawn.

“Jeonghan hyung, I told you, I’m f…”

His voice trailed off as he realised who was standing at his door, and his eyes widened, the sleepiness falling away from his face almost instantly. Joshua smiled, a little awkwardly, giving Seokmin a wave.

“Hello.”

Seokmin stared at him, and then began to slowly edge behind his door, hiding behind it until only his face was visible. “You… You’re not Jeonghan hyung.”

“I’m not,” Joshua agreed, and his heart twisted at how Seokmin had instantly retreated away once he learned that it was Joshua at his door. “Is it okay if I come in? I wanted to talk about what happened yesterday.”

Clutching the edge of the door a little tighter, Seokmin squeaked out a small “Oh dear” that Joshua had a feeling he hadn’t meant to say aloud.

“Maybe we shouldn’t?” Seokmin suggested meekly. He retreated further behind the door, hiding away so that Joshua couldn’t see his face anymore. “Maybe… Maybe that’s not a good idea.”

Joshua bit his lip. “Please?” he asked. “I even baked you cookies. If you want them.”

A pause. And then Seokmin slowly peeked out from behind the door, eyes widening in surprise as he noticed the basket in Joshua’s hands before his gaze dropped to the floor again. He shook his head.

“Please just go. Shua hyung, please let me—Let me deal with this by myself first,” Seokmin said softly.

It sounded so gentle and reasonable when he said it like that, and Joshua would have believed it, would have accepted it, if he didn’t know Seokmin as well as he did. But Joshua did know him, knew him like the soul that fit perfectly against his own, and he knew that Seokmin was using this as an excuse to wallow in his sadness. He’d only make himself more miserable if Joshua let him be.

“Please,” Joshua said again, pleading. “I think we should talk about this. Please, will you let me in?”

Seokmin swallowed but didn’t say anything, gaze still directed at Joshua’s shoes rather than his face. His fingers pressed into the side of the door as he clung to it, still not quite opening it fully, but Joshua felt a little comforted by the fact that Seokmin was considering it.

“Min-ah,” Joshua said softly, ducking his head to get Seokmin to meet his gaze. Seokmin blinked in surprise, but he didn’t look away. Joshua straightened slowly, and smiled as Seokmin continued to keep his eyes on him. “Please. I’m not mad about what happened, I promise. I just think that you and I need to talk. Please, Min-ah?”

Seokmin’s eyes widened even further at the nickname, a splotchy blush reddening the apples of his cheeks in a way that was still utterly endearing in Joshua’s eyes. And then he nodded, opening the door wider. “Okay. Okay… you can come in.”

Joshua smiled again, a smile of relief as he stepped into Seokmin’s apartment, clutching the basket of cookies in his hands. 

“It’s a little messy,” Seokmin said, a little sheepishly as he led Joshua through the apartment. “I wasn’t really expecting anyone. I didn’t think anyone would come over.”

“That’s okay. I wanted to check up on you.”

Seokmin looked over at Joshua, too many colours swirling in his irises before he blinked rapidly and looked away,

“Oh. Thank you.”

As Seokmin led them to sit on his couch, however, Joshua realised that he hadn't really planned what he was going to say. Which, in hindsight, he really should have done, but it was too late to wonder about that now. 

And besides, he was talking with Seokmin. The right words would find their way to him, especially if he was trying to confess to the love of his life. 

“So… cookies,” Joshua started, and then held the basket out to Seokmin. He smiled a little. “They're your favourites.”

Seokmin gasped, momentarily seeming to forget his apprehension at Joshua’s visit as his eyes widened, taking the basket from him and peeking inside. “Strawberry and chocolate chip cookies?”

“Strawberry and chocolate chip cookies,” Joshua confirmed, resisting the urge to laugh at Seokmin's adorably awed expression. “And don’t worry. I made sure that they won’t give you food poisoning.

Seokmin, already stuffing a cookie in his mouth, gave a petulant huff. “Hyung, that was one time.”

Joshua laughed, unable to stop the delighted warmth bubbling up inside him as the natural cadence of their interactions came peeking through, Seokmin relaxing now that he had something sweet in his mouth. Seokmin looked up at him, a little surprised, before his face melted and brightened at the same time, eyes crinkling.

“So,” Joshua said, still smiling, “I was hoping that we could talk about yesterday.”

At that, Seokmin’s expression changed, and he slowly swallowed. He rubbed at his cheeks, attempting to brush away the crumbs and only kind-of succeeding.

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry,” Joshua rushed to carry on, before Seokmin’s face fell even further and Joshua’s heart fell along with it. “I’m sorry for how terribly our day at the amusement park ended.” He gestured to the basket. “The cookies were kind of an apology present to try and make up for it.”

“Oh,” Seokmin said softly. “No… It’s—It’s okay, hyung. It was kind of my fault, anyway,” he added, laughing a little stiltedly. “I was the one who, well, you know.”

Seokmin bit his lip then, teeth sinking into the softness of his bottom lip, and Joshua remembered with startling clarity how his own mouth had been over Seokmin’s less than twenty-four hours ago.

Joshua blinked rapidly, trying to dispel his thoughts so he could focus on the conversation at hand.

“It was just me being an idiot. You don’t need to apologise, Shua hyung,” Seokmin said, attempting to smile. “It was all my fault. I’m sorry.”

“It wasn’t, though,” Joshua said, taking a breath. Seokmin was still biting his lip, a nervous habit, and it was kind of cute and wholly distracting and it took everything in Joshua to keep his gaze on Seokmin’s warm, warm eyes rather than on his soft, soft lips. “Min-ah, it’s okay.”

He smiled, then, as gently and as reassuringly as he could, putting on his prettiest smile for Seokmin to try and comfort him.

Seokmin’s eyes widened and softened at the same time, before he looked away. “Please don’t look at me like that,” he said, all mumbly. There were still crumbs on his cheeks, and Joshua wanted to lean over and dust them away.

“Like what?” he asked, before giving in to the urge and brushing a finger over Seokmin’s cheeks, wiping at the crumbs. And then, using that same finger, he guided Seokmin’s chin towards him so they were facing each other again. “How am I looking at you?”

Seokmin huffed a little, and pouted. “Like… I dunno,” he said, cheeks turning red, “like you love me. Like—Like you didn’t actually mind the… the thing.”

Joshua’s gaze softened, and he lowered his hand to find Seokmin’s knee instead, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “What if that’s true? What if I didn't mind the kiss?”

Seokmin was shaking his head before Joshua could even finish speaking. “Don’t say things like that, hyung,” he pleaded, almost a whine. “I’m sorry for kissing you yesterday, I really am. I promise, it won’t happen again.”

“What? No,” Joshua said, a little mystified, wondering where on Earth Seokmin had gotten the idea that he didn’t want it to happen again. “No, Seokmin, I want it to happen again. I want you to kiss me again. And again, and again. Forever, essentially.”

“Wait.” Seokmin’s face scrunched up, confused, and goodness, Joshua was hit with the fact that he truly did adore him. “What?”

“I like you,” Joshua said, the three golden words leaving his lips and spinning through the air, and he could almost hear the magical ding as they landed like little chimes in Seokmin’s ears. “I like you, Seokmin. You and your smile and your kindness and your gentleness and the way you make me feel so happy, always. I like you so much, and especially your laugh—” Joshua took a breath, feeling the flush rising up his cheeks— “Oh, I love your laugh, Seokmin. It’s the most beautiful thing in the world.”

Seokmin’s eyes had steadily widened the longer Joshua had carried on, and there was that familiar, warm, beautiful shine in his irises once more, all full of hope. “Really?”

“Yeah, really,” Joshua laughed, smiling widely. “I like you. I love you. I adore you. All of those things. I think you’re wonderful, truly, and it’s like my heart belongs only to you.”

And then, his Seokmin-owned heart made a little whooshing sound as Seokmin’s eyes rounded, and Joshua couldn’t help but laugh. It was kind of incredible, how saying those words didn’t feel like taking a leap, like jumping and hoping that when he fell, someone would catch him.

Rather, it felt like coming home.

Seokmin’s frame melted, the biggest pout forming on his face as his whole body relaxed, seemingly just as comforted by Joshua’s confession as he was. His irises looked a little shiny as he blinked, hard.

“You love me,” Seokmin said, almost to himself, like he couldn’t believe it, all tiny and adorable. And then he looked up at Joshua again, face crumpling into something between a pout and a giddy smile. “Oh my god, you love me.”

He said it in an almost awed way, words getting all blubbery-sentimental and he held out his arms, reaching for a hug that Joshua instantly gave him, smiling as Seokmin wrapped his arms around his neck to bring him even closer, burying his face into Joshua’s shoulder. Seokmin was always so warm and lovely but right now he seemed even more so, melting into Joshua’s arms, the thumping of his heartbeat matching the cadence of Joshua’s own. 

He nuzzled even closer into Joshua's shoulder, making small, content noises into his shirt, and Joshua could feel something in his chest bursting into a spray of cerulean blue joy. 

“I love you,” Joshua said again, just because, just to marvel at how light and perfect those three words felt. “I love you.”

Seokmin pulled away, arms still looped around Joshua’s neck, eyes shining brighter than the brightest, sunniest summer day. “I love you too,” he breathed, and then he laughed—that soft, beautiful laugh that Joshua loved far too much. “I love you. I’ve always really, really liked you, truly. So much. Ever since we met.”

Joshua chuckled a little, tilting his head. “Since we met? That’s a long time.”

“I know,” Seokmin said, almost whining, and it had Joshua laughing again. “You have no idea how hard it was to be loving you for so long. You’re so loveable, hyung. I can’t help but just—love you. Always.”

“I can’t help but love you too,” Joshua said back, and it was incredible how those words managed to make Seokmin’s smile light up even further. He leaned forward and nudged his nose affectionately against Seokmin’s, adoring the delighted giggle that it elicited from him. “You can ask Jeonghan, if you’d like. He’ll tell you how pathetically in love I’ve been with you for weeks.”

“Weeks? Hyung, I’ve been in love with you forever, I swear,” Seokmin said, and the earnest truthfulness of his words made Joshua’s heart swell, hands tightening around Seokmin’s waist. 

“I think I’ve been in love with you before I even knew that’s what it was,” Joshua returned, just to try and one-up him, and laughed softly at the affectionate huff that Seokmin let out.

“Whatever you say,” Seokmin said, playfully rolling his eyes before beaming at Joshua again. His arms were still around Joshua’s neck, his weight still pressed comfortably in Joshua’s lap, and as he continued beaming at him, it was like Joshua's vision was filled with nothing but the gentlest, prettiest, most breathtaking golden light. 

He could have stayed like that forever, actually, with Seokmin in his lap, his weight draped over him like a sure and solid promise, positively glowing with happiness despite the fact that he'd looked close to tears not even 24 hours ago. 

It made him realise that Seokmin really did love him, had loved him forever, and thinking about it like that made him short circuit because oh—

Seokmin loved him. 

And they were just smiling at each other, smiling and grinning and smiling like a pair of idiots and it was all because Seokmin loved Joshua just as much Joshua loved him. 

As if he knew all of Joshua's thoughts, Seokmin smiled even wider, eyes crinkling happily, and Joshua knew that he really would do anything to see Seokmin smile like that forever. His lips were stretched wide, emanating light, and happiness truly did look so beautiful on him. 

Joshua wanted to kiss him.

Oh. He hadn't kissed Seokmin yet. How had he not kissed Seokmin yet? 

He needed to kiss him. Right now. 

“Can I kiss you?” Joshua blurted out, completely out of the blue, and he would admit that it wasn't the best way to ask for a kiss, but Seokmin always made him do weird and awkward things. 

Seokmin blinked in surprise, a blush rapidly rising up his face, but he nodded almost immediately. 

“Yeah!” he said, the eagerness clear in his tone before he blushed even further, shoulders rolling inwards shyly. “I mean. Yes. Yes please.”

And then he beamed, his expression so open and loving and filled with wonderful golden light that Joshua couldn't help but smile too, leaning in closer, one hand releasing Seokmin's waist to slip upwards and cup his cheek, brushing a thumb over the smooth softness of his cheekbone. 

“Beautiful,” Joshua whispered, quiet, and could feel the blush that spread across Seokmin's face as he adjusted his hand, held him more firmly and finally connected their lips in a kiss. 

And, oh, this kiss was even better than that first one they'd shared. The instant Joshua kissed him, Seokmin melted impossibly further into him, hands threading through his hair to bring him even closer, soft lips pressing against soft lips. 

It was dizzyingly sweet. Seokmin tasted like strawberries and chocolate and sunlight, and when Joshua gently nipped at that plush bottom lip, his heart positively soared at the small noise that Seokmin let out, easily opening up so Joshua could kiss him as deeply and as fully as they both desired.

Seokmin twisted his hands in Joshua’s hair, kissing him even deeper, and it made him laugh into Seokmin’s mouth, his head feeling all happy and bubbly light. Seokmin laughed too, an automatic response to the sound of Joshua’s happiness, and they ended up smiling into each other’s mouths rather than actually kissing once they finally parted.

Joshua opened his eyes, watching as Seokmin still kept his eyes shut, drawing back with an adoring smile on his face like he wanted to treasure the moment.

It was so heart-achingly endearing that Joshua leaned in to press a light kiss to Seokmin’s mouth, smiling as Seokmin’s eyes fluttered open at last, a white-gold shine making his irises glow.

“Oh,” Seokmin said, soft, his kissed-pink lips spreading into a wide smile. He still had his hands in Joshua’s hair, still had his knees spread over Joshua’s lap, and he looked so beautiful. “Oh.”

“Oh?” Joshua echoed, amused, the hand on Seokmin’s cheek moving to brush away stray hairs as they fell into his face. “What’s up?”

Seokmin’s eyes just shone even brighter. “You love me,” he said, and he sounded so happy that Joshua laughed again, so in love that his heart felt like it was floating towards the heavens as Seokmin continued to look at him with all the awe and wonder in the world.

“Yes, Min-ah,” he said, devastatingly fond, and Seokmin scrunched his nose in a way that was just so endearing, very clearly delighted by the nickname. “I love you.” 

Seokmin beamed adorably wide and launched himself back into Joshua’s arms again, clumsily pressing a kiss to Joshua's cheek before burying his face into his shoulder, and Joshua could feel him grinning with happiness. 

Joshua had jumped towards Seokmin, taken that leap, but instead of falling, he’d floated right back up towards the sun instead. 

In fact, it hadn’t even felt like falling, he mused, as Seokmin drew away from his shoulder, smiling shyly before leaning in and kissing Joshua softly once more. 

He cupped Seokmin’s face, kissing him again and again until they were smiling so hard that they couldn’t kiss properly anymore, and yet they still tried, smiling lips meeting smiling lips over and over, the taste of sunlight sitting gently on Joshua’s tongue like that was where it belonged.

Perhaps, Joshua thought, it was because Seokmin had been beside him all along. All he had to do was walk right into Seokmin's arms, right into Seokmin who already had, and always would, adore him with the entirety of his heart.

And oh, how Joshua adored him too.

thanku for reading! pls rb w a comment if you liked this :)

taglist: @my-moarmy-heart @ofcoursewhynotmongyu @cottoncheol @i-dont-give-a-fok @leigh-darling @belladonna-is-alive @weird-bookworm @dokyluvie @isabellah29 @bangantokchy @ahuiahoe @yooboointhemood @animesoul2021 @official-eunwoo

[theharrowing]

Happy NamGi Day!

in honor of such a glorious holiday, and because i am feeling a little extra today, here are all of my namgi fics, as well as some of my personal favorites!

♡ - fluff | ☽ - smut | ☁ - angst | ✎ - wip | ☆ - personal fav

just namgi

One Day at a Time | 2 parts, 39.4k words, ☆ ❣ Yoongi x Namjoon | ♡ ☽ ☁ ❣feat. established Namjoon & Jung Wheein ❣ past acquaintances to lovers, a/b/o ⚠ infidelity, mpreg, painful knotting ↳ Yoongi loves to help others. As a professional surrogate, he takes pride in using his body to help families bring life into this world, and love into their homes. But when his high school crush Kim Namjoon hires Yoongi to help him and his wife conceive, things get…precarious. |Or, Omega Yoongi gets bred by Alpha Namjoon and holy shit, does he fall in love.

Sun Seeker | 3 parts, 38.7k words, ☆ ❣ Namjoon x Yoongi | ♡ ☽ ☁ ❣ strangers to lovers, tattoo shop au ↳ Namjoon does not do impulsive. He doesn’t understand the fuss about body modifications, and he has never considered getting one. That is, until he meets Yoongi—the prettiest man he’s ever seen, who happens to be a tattoo artist—and he can’t stop thinking about going under Yoongi’s needle to have an equally pretty design tattooed onto his skin. 

Entanglement | oneshot, 10.9k words ❣ Namjoon x Yoongi | ☽ ♡ ❣ best friends to lovers, confessions, loss of virginity, very little plot ↳ Namjoon is eager to finally lose his virginity and decides it would be wise if his best friend Yoongi helps him. (He is totally not in love with Yoongi, or anything…)

Lips Like Honey | oneshot, 13.9 words ❣ Namjoon x Yoongi | ♡ ☽ ☁ ❣ strangers to lovers, light angst, very little plot ↳ Chef Min is easily the prettiest man Namjoon has ever seen and now Namjoon is questioning everything—including his sexuality.

Honsool | 3 parts, 8.5k words ❣ Yoongi x Namjoon | ♡ ☽ ❣ friends to lovers, requited unrequited, snowed in au  ↳ The whole group is snowed in during their winter trip and Yoongi drinks enough whiskey to finally tell Namjoon how he feels.

namgi x reader

Collateral | 22 parts, 245k words, ✎☆ ❣ Yoongi x Female Reader x Namjoon | ♡ ☽ ☁ ❣ feat. Taehyung x Jungkook, Seokjin x Hoseok, Jungkook x Reader ❣ strangers to lovers, mafia au, poly ⚠ drug use, graphic violence, dark themes - see fic warnings ↳Your ex-boyfriend gets in over his head working for the local mafia, and Boss Min has come to collect his payment: You. But was it simply a matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time? Or has he always had his sights on you?

namgi x members

Pretty in Pink (Make Him Purr) | oneshot, 15k words, ☆ ❣ Yoongi x OT6 | ♡ ☽ ☁ ❣ established relationships, canon compliant, animal play, marathon sex, light angst, very little plot ↳ Yoongi—long-established power top of the group—secretly wishes he could shed all of his responsibility and allow the members to take care of his needs while he’s dressed in a frilly pink kitten outfit. Well, it was a secret until Namjoon discovers the outfit, pulling the cat out of the bag, so to speak, and forcing Yoongi to decide whether to show that side of himself to the rest of the guys.

my favorite namgi fics by others

The One by nicedress | oneshot, 22.2k words, ☆ ❣ Yoongi x Namjoon | ☽ ☁ ❣ strangers to lovers, pistolverse au, serial killer au, smut, angst, fluff if you squint ⚠ dead dove! murder, slut shaming, rape culture, open ending - see fic warnings ↳ Every stamen lured into Yoongi’s bed leaves him with a new blossom on his skin and a new grave on his property. When he encounters Namjoon, a stamen who refuses to touch any pistil unless it’s his soulmate, all Yoongi sees is someone naive and easy to control. Someone to help around the farm without complaint. Someone to dig holes without realizing they’re graves. Someone Yoongi’s not quite willing to kill—not yet.

What the Stars Look Like Under You by nicedress | 11 parts, 134.4k words, ☆ ❣ Yoongi x Namjoon | ♡ ☽ ☁ ❣ strangers to lovers, porn star au, sub/dom, smut, angst, fluff ⚠ implied/referenced rape (not between namgi), panic, suicide ideation - see fic warnings ↳ After building a porn career as a popular submissive, a scene gone wrong sends Yoongi spiraling. Switching roles gives him new purpose and shields him from the trauma he’s not willing to face, but having the world’s most pretentious, ecofriendly Dominant steal his spotlight isn’t making things any easier.

Forever Rain by Kumatokkii | 9 parts, 66k words, ☆ ❣ Yoongi x Namjoon | ♡ ☽ ☁ ❣ enemies to lovers, rapper au, smut, angst, eventual fluff ↳ Underground rappers Agust D and RM have had an unspoken feud that's spanned years, always hinting at each other in their lyrics, never fully saying it. Then Agust D crosses the line and calls him "Namjoonie" in his rap, on stage, for all to hear... To Namjoon's utter embarrassment.

♡ - fluff | ☽ - smut | ☁ - angst | ✎ - wip | ☆ - personal fav

HAPPY NAMGI DAAAYYY!!! 🎉🎈💜

[christinesficrecs]

There is a story called Of Course It's Fairies where dead friends/family members of the pack come back to life and I really love the idea of that especially because it happens after most of the show has happen so the lost pack members see the after effects of all that pain and stuff. So I was wondering if you knew any other stories like it? or if anyone wanted to write a story with that kind of idea as it's a really cool one.

There is a resurrection tag here, most of the ones I know are focused on bringing Laura back.

Of Course It's Fairies by HelloWhyTheFuckAmIHere | 100.2K

While still suffering from the after effects of the Nogitsune, Stiles and the pack stumble upon and save a trapped fairy. The boy's parents, not wanting to be in the pack’s debt, offer each member of the pack who assisted in the rescue, the opportunity to bring a loved one back from the dead.

Having been blissfully reunited with several of their once-lost friends and family members, everyone must work together to figure out how to function as a new pack, and how to defeat a new incoming threat.

Spook: A Ghostly Love Story in Three Parts by zosofi | 38.1K

Derek is fifteen when he dies. He's been fifteen for six years when he meets Stiles. And then suddenly... suddenly things start looking up.

One More Again by HelloWhyTheFuckAmIHere | 22.2K

When a strange man appears in the Hale Pack territory with an unusual proposition for Stiles and Lydia, Stiles is unable to resist going back in time to stop the Hale House fire.

Even after a few bumps in the road, Stiles finds himself in the past with one nearly-insurmountable goal - getting Talia Hale and the rest of her family to trust him with their lives.

You Only Live Once...or Twice by WonderWolf | 32.9K | Explicit

“Anything,” Derek’s eyes are determined, boring into Stiles’.

Stiles huffs a laugh, “Careful there, big guy. Don’t want to be promising anything to every necromancer you meet. Some might ask for your soul or someth—”

“I’ll give you my soul to bring her back,” Derek says, his voice steady and strong with resolve, “if that’s what you want.”

Stiles’ mouth gapes open for a moment before his brain kicks into gear and he stutters out, “N-no, I don’t ask for that. I only ask for money.”

(Or the one in which Stiles is a necromancer who needs help stopping a rogue alpha and Derek is the solution, but at what cost?)

Stiles plans are the worst (the best) by Dashar | 88.7K

Stiles world ended when his pack died. It didn’t exactly come as a surprise. He had been running with wolves for so long that within hunters and monsters it was just a matter of time. It was a surprise when the world ended too. And Stiles… Well, he had to do something about that.

[hpsaffics]

✨ WLW Wed: Teacher/Student ✨

A biweekly HP femslash rec list made by the lovely members of the HP SAFFICS (18+) discord server. See all previous rec lists in the WLW Library.

Currently: Teacher/Student Relationship Previously: Kangelicia (see list)

—

💫 LONG (>10k) 💫

Was this just a game to you, witch? by your_secret_lover [Hermione/Minerva, M, 42.1k]

Was this just a game to you, witch? Or was this ever real? Did your heart pound as hard as mine did? Or did you just barely feel a light breeze of emotions cross your life for a moment, to then never come back? Tell me, witch, what am I to you?

Ruin by quillghost [Hermione/Bellatrix, E, 22.2k]

Hermione Granger has a bit of a crush on her professor and there's not much she won't do to get her attention.

Nymphadora, Nymphet by @thistlecatfics [Bellatrix/Tonks, M, 20.2k] WITH POETRY by @evadwrites!

Dear Nymphadora, I’ve been informed of a temporary Defence professor this year, and you may have gathered she is (was) my sister. Be careful. If she attempts to harm you in any way, report straight to Professor Sprout. We shall talk more at Christmas; it may be time for you to learn more about my side of the family. Please watch your potions work – I know you can do better than last year. -Mum

Lessons with Professor Greengrass by MayorHaggar [Daphne/Rose, E, 12.1k]

Nothing cheers up Professor Greengrass after a long day of teaching like an evening with her Head Girl.

—

💫 MEDIUM (3-10k) 💫

Adamantine by Woldy [Millicent/Rolanda, T, 7.1k]

St Mungos is turning people away and there are dozens of bodies heaped in the Hogsmeade cemetery, but it's not until Harry Potter dies that people start panicking.

The Start of Forever by SolitaryEngel [fem!Harry/fem!Tom, E, 5.8k]

Harri had been staring at Professor Riddle for what felt like forever. She had no clue the woman might be staring right back.

Blurred Lines by CapricornBookworm [Angelina/Ginny, E, 4.0k]

Ginny falls in love with her boss, which is remarkably problematic (until it’s not).

I will marry you someday by Inflinty [Hermione/Bellatrix, G, 2.4k]

Every time Bella hears her say this, it sound more and more like a promise and less like a declaration of a stubborn child.

—

💫 SHORT (1k-3k) 💫

Taking one for the house by Morwen Black (Morwen_Black) [Hermione/Irma, E, 3.0k]

After returning to Hogwarts for her 7th year, Hermione end up taking on for the house when another Gryffindor gets in trouble with Madam Pince.

Better Than Writing Lines by MaxWrite [Irma/Hannah, E, 2.2k]

Irma thought writing lines was a suitable punishment. Hannah had other ideas.

get hot (get too close to the flame) by @broomsticks [Minerva/Ginny, E, 1.7k]

Ginny didn't care that Harry and Ron were returning for Eighth Year. She was determined to get the Quidditch Captain badge, whatever the cost.

To steam for her by @cntrl15 [Narcissa/Minerva, T, 1.4k]

A quarter hour of tea, from the perspective of the cup. Or, Narcissa lands herself in hot water.

trying her best by charminglittledeath [Pansy/Andromeda, E, 1.0k]

In the aftermath of the Battle of Hogwarts, Pansy tries her best to be better.

—

💫 SUPER SHORT (<1k) 💫

Enough by @galacticcoyote [Rolanda/Narcissa, M, 747]

For once in her life, Narcissa didn’t mind that things hadn’t gone quite according to plan.

sweet temptation by @caitiewantstobeavadakedavrad [Lavender/Minerva, E, 200]

Minerva knew her thoughts were wrong, but she couldn’t help it. Ms. Brown plagued her thoughts constantly.

beginning of training by @picklesonjupiter [Narcissa/Minerva, M, 121]

Eighth-year witches and wizards are trained to be good spouses.

—

🌙 Want more Teacher/Student fics? 🌙

@hpfacultyfest | HP Fuck the Faculty Fest

Teacher/Student: Tag on AO3

WLW Library: Tumblr | Tag | AO3

[lyra-brie]

NaNo Update Day 15

Daily words: 1548

Total: 22.2k

Hey guys! It's been a while. I forgot to post this yesterday whoops.

So the past couple days I haven't posted anything cuz I didn't write more than a few sentences and spent most of my time playing miitopia. (I put my characters in it, that should count as writing right)

Yesterday went really well, Elara and Jeldon made it to a certain village and heard a certain dragon's story, but they don't know that yet. They're now on their way to the center of Flane Koltin together.

Snippet! This one's a lot longer than normal because I'm actually really proud of this.

As they walked through the town, she started to notice that this human village was very different from the previous one she was in. Here, there were paintings and murals everywhere.

Paintings of dragons.

The paintings weren’t like the ones she’d seen in books where they looked odd because the person had clearly never seen a dragon, or at least not up close. These… these looked like her dragon paintings. Like they had lived with the dragons for years and had the chance to study them and paint them right.

It took her a little longer to realize that most of the paintings were of the same dragon. There were a few others occasionally, but they weren’t as detailed and exact. This one dragon… the people who painted these knew the dragon. She forgot that she was supposed to be following the woman to wherever people were making lunch and walked closer to the painting.

Up close, she could tell that the paintings were old and worn. They were originally painted several generations ago. People had been touching them up and trying to preserve them, but you could tell they weren’t quite as magnificent as they had once been.

In this painting, there were two dragons. The fire dragon in all the other paintings, and a small one she’d seen in a few others. The small dragon was tiny, potentially a hatching. And the fire dragon was it’s mother? But… the tiny one didn’t quite look like a fire dragon. It seemed to glow in a way that’s different from fire, and it wasn’t all reds and oranges and pinks. In fact, it looked mostly white.

Linda had told her about the legends of the light dragons. They were iridescent white and many believed them to be the first and most powerful dragons, directly descended from Lezzyn herself. Some people still worshiped them, believing they would either come back or that they hadn’t all died off in the Great Dragon War (I'm calling it the Great Dragon War until I come up with a better name for it) like the legends say.

When Linda told the story, she said they didn’t exist. It was all a made up human story, and she definitely never mentioned any hybrids other than the cloud dragons. But she didn’t know everything about the dragons. What if the light dragons had existed? What if the still existed?

And what about hybrid dragons? She started trying to look for the small dragon more grown up, hoping that seeing it more grown up would help confirm what she suspected. In every painting she saw with the hybrid, it was a child.

@unhinged-corvid @rains-inky-mind

[hannieween]

red lights | lights out series

The plan was fair and simple, but one that you could not take from zero to one hundred. Struggling with feelings of insecurity, hurt feelings and other concerns, you soon came to realize that it was not so simple. Nor fair.

✮pairings: joshua hong x female reader x yoon jeonghan ✮ genre: angst, fluff, smut [18+] ✮ aus: rockstar joshua, theatre director jeonghan, boyfriend joshua, best friend jeonghan, polyamorous relationship ✮word count: 22.2k

› 🎧: nbd – i.m | whiskey – jay b | motorspeed 24 – bibi | the killa – tomorrow x together | xo – enhypen | honey! – tabber ft. dean | up late – gemini | put my hands on you – dean, anderson .paak

→ season one — season two — read more

› smut warnings under the cut

✮ warnings: smut with plot, polyamorous relationship, threesomes, joshua is into cucking, talks of bisexuality and consent, light homo-erotic themes ?, possessiveness, jealousy, dom and sub dynamics, (joshua, jeonghan and bunny are kinda switchy in this chapter) multiple unprotected sex scenes, anal and vaginal penetration, double penetration, fingering, pussy eating, nipple teasing. exhibitionsim kink: sex in public spaces, groping. brat taming: spanking, overstimming, edging. pet names: baby, beautiful, brat, bunny, filthy girl, good girl, princess (hers) handsome, babe, baby, baby boy, altar boy (joshua's) baby (jeonghan) ✮ author's note: heyooooo. this note is to explain that the instances where Bunny with capital letter is mentioned, it is a placeholder for "Y/N", oke oke, bye ( • ω • )🩵 ✮ additional note: this is not proofread, as always. so if you spot silly mistakes, no you didn't. bye 🤘🏻 ✮ disclaimer: minors dni this post is intended for 18+ readers. please have your age stated in your description and try not to look like a bot please 🙂.

part iii

The light rain pattering against the windows had created a pleasant lullaby that accompanied you in your dreams, though made fragile by the constant noise, you welcomed it.

Your boyfriend's arms hugged you languidly but close to him, so close in fact that you were breathing on his skin, your face kept snuggled against his chest.

It was three nights before he was scheduled to go on tour. So, every single night and day, Joshua made sure he spent it like this: close to you, searching for you to kiss your face, to hold your hand, to hug you.

However, this night was different.

Joshua was an incredibly good sleeper. He fell asleep with such ease made you feel envious sometimes, he never budged, never woke up with any noise, unlike you.

So, when the sky rumbled, announcing a heavier rain for the following moments, you woke up. Shortly then, you knew that it would take a while for you to fall asleep again.

Defeated, you sighed softly against your boyfriend's skin, snuggling close so your face was almost pressed between the crook between his well-defined pecs.

Initially, his limbs seemed to twitch uncontrollably, making a something flash through your mind, thinking that he might have woken up too by the loud sounding of the sky.

But no, Joshua did it again in his sleep, his body tensing in a snap, his shoulders contracting and chest bumping against your face. The sound escaping from his lips was broken, and hollow—a groan that was cut short by him waking up abruptly.

“Joshua?” you called when he flinched violently and sat up in quick succession.

You felt a heavy hand palm the bedcovers, searching for something beside him frantically until he felt your knee, your calf and let out a sigh.

You saw his back rising and falling rapidly and quickly sat up beside him. “Babe?” you asked, voice full of worry. “What's wrong?”

“I'm fine, I'm fine,” he gasped crestfallen, his back to you still, rising and falling erratically. His hand circled your ankle above the covers, almost as if he needed to anchor himself to any part of your body he could find.

“Joshua, look at me,” you insisted, unsure that he had woken up completely, feeling his body shake slightly on the bed.

Your heart crushed upon seeing his furrowed brow, his eyelashes clumped by the tears that were brimming in his eyes.

“I'm okay, baby, I'm fine,” he whispered shakily, sniffling with some shyness, and bringing up his other hand to wipe his own tears.

“No, you're not,” you breathed and cupped his cheek wet with tears, commanding him to look at you. “Baby, what's wrong? Talk to me, what happened?”

His mouth parted, your heart broke a bit more when his lip quivered, and he gave you an anguished look. “I don't know,” he whispered, as he drew in a breath, a ragged sound came out from him. “I don't know.”

But his next actions said otherwise, he took your hand from his cheek and threw your arm over his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around you, clumsily hugging you.

“I'm okay, I'm okay,” he repeated, over and over, making you think that he was telling that to himself instead of you. “I'm sorry, Bunny. I didn't mean to scare you.”

“It's okay, don't apologize,” you muttered against his chest, gasping softly when Joshua brought your body back down on the bed. “I'm only worried about you.”

Joshua muttered something unintelligible under his breath, but you could not make out what he said exactly. His arms tightened around your body, and he sighed out with a hum. “Mn,” his chest deflated and soon, he fell asleep again.

Now you were unsure whether what had happened was in Joshua's complete clarity. But you waited, fully alarmed and awake, you did not dare to move a limb, even your breathing was cautious.

Joshua did not wake up again. In fact, you are not sure for how long you waited until you fell asleep as well, holding onto him just as he held onto you.

The following morning, his side of the bed was cold and empty when you came to your senses, stretching one arm beneath the covers and opened your eyes.

You slowly rose from the bed, adjusting the oversized t-shirt you wore to sleep and climbed off bed, deciding to head directly to the bathroom after hearing some noises coming from the kitchen.

After rinsing, and making yourself look a bit more presentable, you came out of the bathroom. The first thing that piqued your interest was the smell of coffee coming from the kitchen, being so that Joshua was committed with taking you out for breakfast these days.

You stopped upon crossing the kitchen's door, feeling like being slapped with wild reality.

“Morning, princess.”

“Jeonghan,” you blurted and crossed your arms over your chest, meekly covering yourself over your boyfriend's t-shirt. “G-good morning.”

Jeonghan was busy with whisking a heavy bowl of eggs, so he just followed you with his sweet brown eyes when you approached him shyly.

His movements slowed down when you stood beside him, standing on your tiptoes to give him a small peck on his cheek. Jeonghan blinked and sent you a look that you were not able to read, but then he smiled at you just as sheepish.

“Did you sleep alright, baby?” he muttered, his eyes reading yours, then looking at your lips.

Something fluttered deep inside you, and you could see that your reaction was involuntarily made visible on the features of your face because his lips curved slightly.

You had not seen Jeonghan since the day after you agreed to Joshua's proposition, which allowed you to be with Jeonghan freely—not as friends, but as lovers. But being alone with him like this, without your boyfriend around somehow felt off to you.

“Uh, yeah, um,” you blinked and looked around aimlessly. “Where is Joshua?”

Jeonghan resumed whisking the big bowl of eggs. “Your boyfriend is in a meeting with his band and the tour manager,” he nodded to his phone left unlocked on the countertop. “He's supposed to be coming back any time now.”

“He didn't tell me about this,” you mumbled glumly and stopped yourself. It felt odd to talk about your relationship now that Jeonghan was technically your partner too.

But he seemed impassive to it, he just nodded and sucked in a breath slowly, thinking of what to say. “Yeah, it appears to be a thing that came out of nowhere. I ran into him on the elevator,” he pressed his palms on the edge of the countertop.

“So... did he tell you to come here?” you asked and looked at the bowl of eggs. “To make breakfast?”

“No,” he frowned and turned to the stove setting up the frying pan and turned the fire to a medium. “I came here to see you, but you were still asleep. I grew bored. And hungry.”

“Oh,” you huffed a smile. “And here I thought you were making me breakfast.”

Jeonghan looked over to show you a sly smile. “Don't think too highly of yourself, princess.”

“Why not, since you call me princess all the time, I should be treated as such,” you replied in a matter-of-factly way.

Jeonghan stood frozen for a second. “Tsk,” he snorted. “Brat.”

At some point, you had referred to Yoon Jeonghan as your best friend. From the moment you met him, he quickly became someone you trusted, someone you searched for company. It was only until you realized that you had grown feelings for him that everything changed.

It did not seem odd to you that he would still try to tease you in some way, in fact, you welcomed it. It gave you a sense of familiarity with him, that your relationship had not changed in its entirety.

But still, something felt a bit nerve wracking.

You grabbed two cups to pour some coffee in. “Just milk, right?”

“Just milk,” he nodded, focused on cooking the scrambled eggs without browning them. “Thank you.”

“Don't mention it,” you whispered. “D'you want toast, too?”

“I bought croissants,” he nudged you with his elbow, pointing with his beautiful nose to the paper bag sitting on the countertop.

“Oh, nice,” you smiled stiffly, opening the bag to get the fresh smell of butter and bread. The bag had three pieces. “Thank you, Jeongjeong.”

“Don't mention it,” he replied in kind, but he looked you up and down for a second before he busied himself with serving three plates of scrambled eggs with bacon.

“What?” you asked after a long minute of silence, watching Jeonghan methodically finish cooking breakfast.

He set the frying pan aside and turned the stove off. “Nothing,” he hummed, shaking his black-haired head twice. He turned to you, in the enclosed space between the kitchen counters and you took a step back as he tried to approach you.

“What's up with you, princess?” he asked softly, taking another step, you took one back, then another until you bumped with the fridge.

“You make me nervous,” you confessed with a shaky tone, looking straight to his eyes as he read you in his expert way. You tried to suppress a smile, but when you saw his lips curve in a side smirk, you failed. “Joshua isn't here.”

“So?” he arched one eyebrow, then he blinked, seemingly finding out what you meant. “Do you think this is wrong?”

You eased into your stance a little by loosening the tension in your shoulders. “No. I just don't—this is just so new to me still,” you pointed to your body and his with one finger swiftly.

“Oh,” he paused and then: “I get it,” Jeonghan shrugged, and turned to grab two plates setting them on the table and returned to get the other one.

Completely bewildered, you watched him come and go. You wondered, why now as he turned his back to you that you wanted to grab him and regain his attention. But there you were, back still pressed against the fridge, the thing snapping you to full clarity was the noise coming from the front door.

“Ah, you're back,” you heard Jeonghan say in his own content manner. “Made a plate for you too.”

“Hey, man. Thanks,” your boyfriend sighed, there was some ruffling of fabric, and you assumed it was him removing his denim jacket, proving yourself right when you came out of the kitchen. “Where—oh, there you are.”

You smiled meekly at him, his eyes scanning your frame, noticing that you were still in your sleepwear, which was his oversized t-shirt. Joshua extended an arm as he approached you, a hand sliding on your waist. “Hi, beautiful,” he muttered after pressing a tender kiss on your lips.

“Hi, handsome,” you replied quietly, giving him a shy smile when you saw his eyes. “How was work?”

“It was fine,” he said flatly, and you could tell that it was a subject that he would prefer to not talk about just yet.

“Are you okay?” you whispered softly, reading his eyes to catch every single reaction written on his face.

“Yeah,” he nodded dismissively and then: “Did you just wake up?” Joshua realized, backing away slightly, but keeping a hand on your waist as he read the features of your face.

“Yeah,” you giggled when he shot you a mildly shocked look. “I didn't get much sleep last night,” you explained, occupying a seat on the round table next to Jeonghan, who huffed loudly.

“Ah, Joshuji, you need to let princess sleep sometimes,” he teased with a cheeky smile.

A hot wave of embarrassment washed over your face. But Joshua giggled joyfully, throwing his head back slightly. “Well, I'm not the culprit this time.”

You cocked your head to one side, making both men pause. Jeonghan darted a look at your boyfriend and suppressed a smile. “Josh, you don't remember last night?” you asked with some caution.

Joshua slowed down on his movements, leaving his fork hanging between his fingers as he chewed almost mechanically. “What do you mean?” he frowned.

“Tsk,” Jeonghan seemed to be preparing to shoot a joke, but upon reading your face, he stopped.

“Wait, are you serious?” you asked him, stretching a hand on the table to grab his. “You don't remember anything?”

Joshua lowered his fork completely, his gaze falling out of focus as if he were conjuring the memory of what you meant. He shook his head slightly. “Baby, I don't think I know what you mean,” he looked beside him at his best friend and smiled awkwardly. “Did I do something?”

“You were dreaming,” you explained carefully. “And then you woke up crying.”

Joshua blinked, giving you a bewildered expression. “I don't remember anything,” his frown deepened, then he squeezed your hand. “I'm sorry that I kept you up, baby.”

“No, don't be,” you muttered, retreating your hand from his to grab your fork and started eating from your plate, though the food had already gone cold.  

Jeonghan sat down on the couch, releasing a heavy sigh. His bright eyes found you as you sat next to him. Joshua had taken the task to do the dishes after convincing you by saying that I was only fair since Jeonghan cooked breakfast.

“What's up, princess,” Jeonghan mumbled, making you set your phone aside when he slid one hand on your thigh.

The motion of his hand inching up your thigh send a chill through your body. You tried to brush it off. “I'm just worried,” you replied with a hushed tone.

His eyes darted to the kitchen, buzzing with the sounds of dishes clanking together, water running and Joshua's voice, singing one of his songs.

“Why?” Jeonghan knew right away what you meant without needing to explain more. “We just have to trust him. If he says he's okay, then let him show you that he is.”

“But last night...” you whispered, then choked up upon remembering and shook your head in resignation.

“Baby, he has been making an effort to keep his promise,” Jeonghan muttered, darting another look, and shifting on his seat, thighs wide apart. “He has been communicating, he's present, and we're here.”

You nodded. Ever since Joshua confessed that he wanted you to work things out with Jeonghan too, he has been lively, much as if a weight had been lifted from his heart. Now, as he figured things out and sorted his opinions on the matter, he would voice them out with you and Jeonghan.

“That's another thing that worries me,” you whispered nervously, feeling like the opportunity to speak about this with Jeonghan would run up soon. “I don't know how an open relationship works; I don't know what to expect.”

Jeonghan moved his head on the headrest, a question written in his beautiful eyes. “What do you mean, princess?” he asked, reading your features.

“Yeah, I don't know how I'll feel when he starts dating someone new,” you blurted out hurriedly, whispering to the point that you need to take a big gulp of air afterwards.

Jeonghan smiled with a slow realization and blinked for a long second. “Baby, this is not an open relationship,” he said. “Did you really think that this arrangement allowed for him to date other people?”

You nodded meekly.

“What's going on?” your boyfriend asked, his gentle tone coming so abruptly made you nearly jump off the couch. Seeing your reaction, he paused: “Am I interrupting something?”

“No, not at all,” you gulped and looked at your lover sitting beside you. “We-we were just talking about a book that–,”

“Princess thought that we're in an open relationship,” Jeonghan stated flatly.

Your heartbeat faltered. “Jeonghan,” you reproached with a sunken tone.

“You need to lie better,” Jeonghan retorted.

“There was no way I would've believed that,” Joshua concurred in a nonchalant way. But then, he moved on quickly with a, “What made you think that bunny?”

“I–I don't know, I was just saying that I d-don't really know what to expect when you go away and,” you inhaled deeply, and exhaled: “We haven't talked about what happens when you go away, not extensively.”

Joshua smiled; it was not a condescending smile but one of relief as he understood where the root of your insecurities was.

“Because this isn't an open relationship,” Joshua explained gently and sat down on the empty space beside you. “That would mean that all three of us can see other people, right?”

You nodded.

Joshua continued. “But this isn't that, it's just between us three,” he gestured with a hand to Jeonghan, then you and him. “An open relationship would mean that you can have sex with multiple people but staying with me in a committed way.”

“This is a poly. I won't see or date other people, neither will Joshua,” Jeonghan explained too after you looked at him and he saw your confused face. “And well, do you want to see more people, baby?” he smirked.

Joshua smiled too when you made a scandalized expression with your face. “No!” you shook your head.

“I'm okay with you and Jeonghan dating, he is okay with us being together,” he finished explaining with a satisfied expression on his face. “Questions?”

“So, you won't see other people, not even when you go away,” it was not a question, it was more like you were reaffirming it and thus putting your concerns at rest.

“No, bunny, not even when I go away,” he smiled gently at you, probably finding your worry endearing.

“Is it not a bit unfair that you can't see other people?” you asked, your heart skipping a beat over the heaviness of the question.

“But I don't want that,” he frowned slightly. “I just want you.”

Jeonghan leaned his head against his fist, propping his elbow on the armrest. He smiled softly when you sent him a look and nodded, agreeing with your boyfriend.

You paused for a moment, gathering your thoughts. “And following your logic, you two could be with each other, yes?” you cocked your head to the side.

Joshua tilted his head back, letting out a sweet giggle, making your stomach flutter.

“Yes, princess, in theory,” Jeonghan answered and squeezed your bare thigh with his hand, making your tummy flutter erratically.

“Okay,” you sighed contently with the new information, paused, and thought for a long second. “I think I'd be okay with that.”

With a sigh, you simply lied down on the couch you were sitting with the two men, leaning your head down on Jeonghan's lap and outstretching your legs to Joshua.

You realized upon looking up at Jeonghan's face that you did not give both men the opportunity to reply to your admittance, the obfuscated look flashing on his eyes told you that much.

“Mn,” you hummed happily, stretching your limbs, and exhaled looking up at your lover, who was expertly shaking off the bewilderment.

“You have a long day ahead, right Joshuji?” he asked, placing a hand on your tummy, and you noticed the pause he took before doing so, much as if he were not sure where to place his hand, but deciding that was where it belonged.

Joshua took one look at the hand placed flatly over his t-shirt that you wore. “Yeah,” he croaked. “I should probably be getting ready. Got a press thing in some hours,” he announced.

“I'm taking princess to help me shop for something to wear for tonight,” Jeonghan mentioned offhandedly, you drew in a breath, and he felt it, making his eyes search your face.

“So, see you there, then?” Joshua asked, gently adjusting your feet back so he could rise from the couch. Then, his large hands grabbed his black wife-beater by the hem, stripping it off his torso.

“We'll be there,” you whispered, trapping your lower lip behind your teeth.

Joshua noticed your eyes on him, his naked torso and smiled. “You can join me if you want,” he muttered, turning away and as you saw the well-defined muscle in his back, something sparked in your mind.

Jeonghan had his eyes set on your boyfriend too, his facial expression hard to read. You heard the bathroom door close, and his eyes dropped to your face. “What?”

“Did I overstep with my questions?” you asked shyly.

“You did no such thing,” he muttered softly, removing his hand from your tummy to pinch your chin. “He knows.”

“About you being bi?” you incited.

“Of course,” he shrugged slightly. “You know I don't have secrets.”

“Do you think I made him uncomfortable?” you asked although you already suspected the answer.

“Probably not, or at least I don't think so,” he chuckled lightly. “Relax, you did nothing wrong, baby. Your questions are valid.”

“Did you tell him?” you asked with genuine curiosity. “I'm sorry but I'm kind of curious as to how you guys met.”

“He still hasn't told you that story?” he huffed, his hand returned to your tummy, where he patted gently. “Yeah, I told him. Just like I told you. But with Joshua it was different, since we've had threesomes before, we discussed what we're comfortable with, so.”

“Oh, that makes a lot of sense,” you frowned.

He smiled cutely at you. “Are you more at ease now?”

“Yeah, I think so,” you muttered. “I'm just curious.”

“I'm an open book, princess,” he giggled softly. “Go ahead.”

Your eyelids fluttered briefly when his hand traveled down to your lower tummy, then back up, as if caressing you over your sleepwear. “When did it started?”

“The threesomes?” he pushed his eyebrows up, then raised his head, brow furrowed now as he tried to remember. “Huh. Maybe some four... five months after I met him.”

“Really?” your voice shot up.

“You've never asked him stuff like this?” he asked in an unpatronizing way, it was genuine curiosity.

“Well, yeah but I've never asked him for details about his past experiences with you,” you tilted your head to one side. “Or at least, he's never mentioned it.”

“It's just what it was, fun consensual sex,” he rolled his eyes, slightly unpleased with his own answer. “We've only done it a few times, at least some four times before you.”

“So, six now,” you added dumbly.

He nodded. “Any more questions, beautiful?”

“Mmn, no, I don't think so,” you smiled softly at him. “I'm just curious, since most of my... more daring sexual experiences have been with him, and you. I wanted to know a bit further from the experiences that involved me.”

“That's fair,” he conceded. “But it's a good idea that you ask him too, right?”

“Right,” you aloofly.

“Now that I think about it,” Jeonghan drew in a breath through his teeth, his frown deepening softly.

“What?” you egged him on.

“Was Joshua your first sexual partner?” he asked cautiously, aware of the heaviness of the topic of conversation. But he understood that you were open to talk about it, since your questions were revolving around sex.

“No,” you replied flatly. “But he has been the first in many things,” you giggled shamefully when you realized how it sounded. “I was mostly inexperienced in many things when we met.”

“Oh, yes, I remember that now,” he pointed, referring to your very chaotic deal with Joshua to be your sexual partner so you could write sexually explicit scenes for your book.

“Yeah,” you nodded, lost in the distant memory. “I've explored many things with him. And now with you too.”

Jeonghan smiled at you, it was the kind of smile he did when he pressed his lips together in a flat line, making tiny dimples appear on his chin.

“Do you want to go get ready, baby?” Jeonghan patted your tummy, noticing your distant eyes. “Go.”

You sat up but sat on your knees next to him to bring a hand to the crook of his beautiful neck, making his eyes snap open in surprise, which was quickly replaced by something else.

You landed a small peck on his lips. “Wanna come with me?” you mumbled shakily, batting your eyelashes at him awkwardly.

“So, you're not worried about this anymore?” he asked with some gruffness in his tone, a hand encircling your wrist, and the other cupping your nape to kiss you again.

“A little bit, but,” you drew in a breath, and he took the opportunity to press his lips against yours with a soft smacking sound. “You need a shower. You're stinky.”

“No, I'm not,” he giggled, but caught your misdirect with a nod of his head. “Let's go.”

You stood up from the couch, taking his hand in yours as you dragged him towards the bathroom. You heard him release a short grunt when you pulled him from the couch and fell into step with you.

The bathroom door was left parted and inviting you in, you delivered a soft knock before pushing it open and sneaked a look inside.

“Hi there,” he smiled softly, he had discarded his dark grey jeans, and stood before the shower wearing only his boxers. “Are you joining me?”

“Yup,” you sighed, turning to Jeonghan standing behind you as your boyfriend approached. “Come here,” you grabbed the black-haired man by his clothes, dragging him to you and immediately took his t-shirt off, then the beanie on his head and dropped them on the floor.

“Slow down, princess,” he giggled sweetly, but letting you rid him of his clothes since he was the one wearing most.

“Let her have fun,” your boyfriend said behind you, his large hands slipping beneath the large t-shirt you wore, finding your waist as he planted a kiss on your cheek.

“What do you want, baby?” Jeonghan asked, looking at you with avid eyes as your boyfriend's hands slid upwards, hiking the t-shirt up and uncovering your thighs.

“I want both of you,” you replied, though your voice sounded breathless, laughing shakenly as your boyfriend caressed the sides of your breasts with his fingers. He finished removing the t-shirt off, now moving his face to press his lips on your naked shoulder.

“We're going to make Joshuji late,” he smirked when your eyelids fluttered wildly when you felt a wet kiss on your shoulder blade.

“I can be late,” he muttered at once, his voice muffled in the crook of your neck. His large hands moving back to your waist, then down to find the band of your boy-short panties, pushing them down your legs.

You busied yourself with the casing of his sweatpants, undoing it with a jab. “Do you want to do this, Hannie?” you coaxed at him, stripping him off his sweats and boxers in one go.

“Course I do,” he whispered, closing the space between your lips and his own with a featherlight kiss. “I always want you.”

“Mmn,” Joshua hummed, using his hands on you to flip you around with no effort, so now you stood face to face with him.

“Be nice,” you smirked, noticing his darkened gaze on the features of your face. Your hands traveled down, from his chest to the waistband of his boxers, tugging them down slowly, his hard cock springing out, making your mouth water upon feeling him with your hand.

Joshua clicked his tongue, but then ended up smiling guiltily at you. “Fine. I'll be nice,” he whispered reluctantly, and then pulled the shower tap on, testing the water briefly before taking your hand and bringing you under the shower stream.

What happened next was something that only happened in your craziest, wildest fantasies. Both men had switched to the same mindset already, taking turns with teasing you with kisses, touching you, determined to make you feel good.

The shower head was directly above you, getting your hair and skin soaked within seconds, but the warmth in your skin was not only due to the water washing over you.

Both men had you pressed against their bodies, one look at Joshua's face told you just how eager he was already. The spark in his eyes, biting his lower lip before he leaned his head to capture your lips in a chaste kiss.

Jeonghan slid his hands to grab you by the waist, pressing tender kisses on your shoulder, making a trail to the crook of your neck. You tilted your head for him, allowing his kisses to reach spots that had your breath hitching, moaning softly.

Your hands held onto your boyfriend's strong shoulders, fingers digging into his muscle when you felt Jeonghan's delicate hands travel from your waist up.

“Hannie,” you mewled out when his hands cupped your breasts. Realizing that he had never touched you this way before, you opened your eyes to see him run the pads of his pointer fingers around your areola, exploring your body.

Joshua leaned his head forward once again, trapping your lips between his with a raspy moan from his part, slipping his tongue inside your mouth, wrapping perfectly on yours.

Then a large hand parked on your tummy, sliding slowly down to your lower tummy, a finger finding the mount between your thighs. You let out a needy moan, parting your legs and pushing your hips forward.

But your knees buckled, making you push a hand on his shoulder, stopping him before his finger dipped between your pussy lips. “Joshua,” you breathed nervously.

“Mn?” he responded, pressing small kisses on the corner of your lips, a fingertip sliding between your pussy lips, finding your sopping core with a satisfied sigh.

“Please,” you mewled out, pulling your head back and rested it on Jeonghan's shoulder.

“Please, what?” he whispered, planting a kiss on your earlobe, sending shivers down your spine, making you arch your back.

Your mouth hanged open when Joshua dipped a finger inside your pussy, his doe eyes zeroed on your face riddled by the pleasure of feeling his finger massaging your walls, another finger joining after a couple of thrusts.

“Oh my god,” you sighed and closed your eyes, letting yourself be engrossed by the blissful pleasure coursing through you. Both Joshua and Jeonghan were pleasuring you, touching your bare skin freely, kissing you, responding to the sounds you made with their own.

You would soon be covered in soapy bubbles, dripping from head to toe but you could not care about that, or about how you were the only one being showered by the warm stream of water. Joshua’s hands were pleasuring you, his lips kissing you. A large hand searched for your hip, grabbing your thigh, and hoisting it up his waist, holding you steady.

Your arms circled his neck, squealing in his mouth when you nearly lose your balance, but he kept you firmly wrapped around his body. His fingers curled inside you, teasing a glorious spot in your walls, making you muffle a high-pitch moan in his mouth.

“Stop, stop,” you choked out.

Both men paused at the same time, one man lifting his head from your shoulder, the other pulling back from your lips, hand leaving the needy mount between your thighs.

“Yes, baby?” Joshua asked, reading your face.

“C-can we continue this on the bed?” you stammered slightly embarrassed.

“Yeah, sure,” he smiled at you.

“Come on, princess,” Jeonghan took the lead right away, being so that he was not as soaked as your boyfriend was and pulled you out of the shower.

You giggled nervously when your back hit the mattress, Jeonghan crawled on top of you, pressing a kiss in your lips before diving in for a deeper kiss, his tongue swiping a line on your lower lip.

“We're soaking the covers,” you hummed in between rushed kisses.

Jeonghan let out a chuckle into your mouth, probably thinking some perverse retort. His nose wrinkled slightly but he just shook his head, drops of water joining the ones on your chest when he leaned down.

You arched your back slightly when his tongue swirled around one of your nipples, you felt the underside of his tongue teasing your nipple, getting it hard. A hand snapped to find his black hair to tangle your fingers in.

“God, Hannie,” you gasped, but were swiftly distracted by Joshua pressing a knee on the edge of the bed, his hand tossing a bottle of lube and a condom on the empty space beside you.

You frowned and looked up at him, formulating a question silently with your mouth agape.

“It's for me,” he explained, noticing your face. He crawled to lie beside you. “We're gonna have to do this quick,” he reiterated with a more commanding tone, his hand cupping your cheek before leaning his face to meet your lips.

You tried to nod your head yes, but his hand slid on the back, his fingers sinking in your wet hair as he kissed you deeper, his wet tongue swiftly meeting yours.

Then you understood Joshua did not say that to you precisely. Jeonghan lowered his body on you, leaving a wet kiss next to your belly button, making you squirm slightly.

Suddenly you felt your hand being removed from the long and wet black hair of your lover. His lithe fingers came between yours and placed your locked hands on the covers, beside your hip.

You knew it was coming before you could have a chance to see it. Your body tensed up too, bracing yourself for the first contact of Jeonghan's mouth on your mound, kissing you openly.

Joshua stopped kissing you, moving his hand from your nape to your chin to hold your gaze. “Look at me,” he whispered, just as Jeonghan's tongue gave a broad stroke to your pussy lips.

You flinched, making your breath hitch embarrassingly. “Hannie,” you squeezed his hand, and he responded with a groan, his tongue dipping between your folds.

Joshua held your gaze intently, his dark eyes outlining each of your features. “Don't look at him,” he muttered with a low, raspy tone.

You tried to suppress a moan, eyebrows knitting by reflex when Jeonghan started making out with your pussy, his mouth pressed tightly on your folds, licking, and tasting you fully.

But it was your boyfriend that held your gaze, his fingers threading your hair lovingly, caressing your cheek as you moaned and squirmed on the bed. “Joshua,” you moaned, calling out his name purely by instinct.

A dark smile appeared on his face. “Yes, baby?” he whispered. He leaned his head ever so slightly to one side. “How does that feel?”

“Good,” you breathed, closing your eyes briefly to focus on your lover pleasuring you, on his tongue pressed on your clit, swirling it around. “God,” you swallowed hard, trying to hold to the pleasure sizzling on your skin. “Just like that, Hannie.”

“Mn,” your boyfriend's lips pressed on yours once. “Eyes on me, bunny,” he commanded.

When you did, you tried to get a look at the man between your legs, but Joshua's large hand came to cup your chin, making you look at him.

“Make her come,” he muttered looking straight into your eyes. It was a challenge, you saw it written in his dark eyes, in the smirk that curved his beautiful lips.

And it was a challenge that Jeonghan took at once, his hand gripping your thigh moved to your lower tummy, pressing down slightly right before diving in you with his mouth on your cunt.

“Fuck,” you squeezed your eyes shut.

You wondered when Jeonghan was going to give up—but probably the question lied in if he were giving up. His mouth was unrelenting on you, his tongue flicking the sensitive bundle of nerves in your cunt.

The sounds he made on you were of delight, basically telling you he loved being there, between your legs, eliciting raw moans from you with his tongue on your clit.

“P-please,” you sighed, finding your boyfriend's face with your free hand.

“Please, what?” he hummed. The mewl you let out as a response made him smile at you. “You're close, baby?”

You nodded; you were very close.

“Go ahead, baby,” Joshua purred as he trailed a line with the tip of his finger from the middle part of your collarbone, down your chest, to your sternum. “Come on his mouth.”

You hated that it was his voice, his command that almost tipped you over. But you resisted with everything in your will from it, pushing your hips towards Jeonghan's face slightly, making him groan in protest.

You found his nape with the hand that was not clasped in his, pushing your hips to his face once again. In a couple of thrusts, you were practically fucking his face, swaying your hips, sliding your pussy on his mouth.

With a strangled sigh, you closed your eyes, savoring your release as Jeonghan quickly understood what you were doing. And without skipping a second, he went along with it, relaxing his tongue onto your throbbing clit.

You held in a big gulp of air, squeezing your eyelids as you reached your second climax, whining and squeezing Jeonghan's fingers. He responded with a groan of his own, his hand pressing lower on your tummy, helping you through your high.

“Mn,” you heard your boyfriend sound unimpressed, but still leaned in to kiss your whiny moans, capturing your lips gently. “Filthy girl,” he hummed a smile on his face as he kept kissing you until you stopped thrashing and moaning.

Heaving, you released Jeonghan's hand and hair opening your eyes feeling nearly disoriented.

The first thing you saw was your boyfriend’s hands opening a condom. “Turn over, bunny,” Joshua patted your side lightly.

“No, not yet,” you protested rebelliously, just when Jeonghan rose from between your legs, crawling on top of your body, claiming your lips with a hot, passionate kiss.

You could taste yourself in his lips, feel your slick dripping down his lower lip as he hummed and kissed you fervently. Your hands found his shoulders and pushed, motioning him to lie back on the bed.

That he did, quite obediently. And as he laid his head on the pillows, his bright eyes found your face, very eagerly telling you without a word that he was enjoying you step on a slightly more commanding role.

You got to your knees, taking in the view of the two men you loved, lying naked on your bed. They were both damp on their skin, their hair. Rock hard for you. You leaned over, propping your body with one hand on the pillows to kiss Jeonghan on the lips, blindly running a hand down Joshua's abdomen.

You could feel his gaze on you as you rolled your tongue past Jeonghan's lips, making him moan into your mouth. The tips of your fingers felt your boyfriend's belly button, so you just inched to the side, grabbing his hard cock with one hand, pumping it languidly.

“Tsk,” you heard your boyfriend clicking his tongue. Then his large hands circled your waist, pulling you down forcefully, detaching you from your lover's lips.

A small yelp left your mouth, your body hitting the mattress. You sent him a look. “Joshua!” you protested.

But then he brought down his large hand on your ass, the slap resounding across the bedroom. “Brat.”

“Mnf,” you squeezed your eyelids at the hot pain searing on your skin. You heard someone sigh, making you open one eye to see Jeonghan smiling at you, as if he found you cute.

“Behave,” Joshua conditioned, caressing the sore area of your skin with care. “Or should I get the cuffs?”

“I can behave,” you muttered, meekly settling in between both men. “No cuffs.”

“Good,” he breathed, getting the condom out of the packet and rolled it down his cock to his hilt. “Lie sideways with your back to me.”

You knew what his plan was at once, and did what he told you, lying on your side with your back to him. And then you knew that both had communicated wordlessly once again. Jeonghan slid a hand on your hip, grabbing a handful of your glute to keep you spread to your boyfriend.

“Breathe in, baby,” Joshua whispered behind you, his fingers caressing your hole softly, sighing when he felt it clench instinctively, right before he started to push on your hole, smearing you with cold lube slowly.

Joshua’s hand slid between your thighs, lifting one up to spread your legs open. Then you felt Jeonghan’s hand on your mound, making you look at his fingers right before he started teasing your swollen clit again, the pads of his fingers mimicking the same movements he made with his tongue, softly teasing your clit, moving his fingers side to side.

You moaned helplessly against him, receiving one consoling kiss as Joshua’s lubed fingers pushed inside you, slowly, pushing in and out slightly, testing you at first. “God,” you squirmed.

“Alright?” Joshua breathed behind you, and you turned to look at him over your shoulder nodding your head. “Can I give you more?”

“Yeah,” you gave him a reassuring nod.

“Okay,” he breathed, locking eyes with you as his fingers scissored inside you slightly, looking at your mouth as you let out another moan.

You turned your head again receiving another soft kiss on your shoulder blade. You heard him pump more lube onto his hands, and his fingers returned to spread you open.

He pushed another inch in, and you shivered uncontrollably, closing your eyes, and swallowing hard. “Josh,” you mewled. “Please, hurry.”

“Just a little more,” he mumbled and pressed a loving kiss on your shoulder blade. “Can you arch your back for me? There, baby, that's it.”

A hand crawled on Jeonghan's slender shoulder, finding the crook of his neck, and held on him for support as you practically thrashed on the bed, in between both Jeonghan and Joshua.  

“Please,” you begged, biting your lower lip to muffle a moan when his fingers spread inside you.

“Almost there,” he replied cautiously. “Breathe out.”

It was then that you finally felt the lubed tip of his cock push in your hole, tortuously slow.

“Oh god,” you squeezed your eyes shut, fingers curling on Jeonghan's wet dark hair.

“Fuck,” Joshua exhaled, leaning his forehead on your exposed nape. “Baby.”

“Please,” you whined, loving the feeling spreading on your limbs, tingling from under your skin. “More.”

Joshua grunted, complying without a word, pushing his cock inside you a bit further, but just about enough to make you cry out loudly, and so very lewdly.

“That's it, baby,” he muttered softly, planting another soothing kiss on your nape. “You're taking me so well.”

Then he released a puffy air on your nape that sent shivers down your spine. He retreated his hips, then pushed them to you, burying his cock further into you with a small groan.

“God,” he sighed, repeatedly with each shallow thrust.

“Joshua,” you cried, receiving small kisses on your shoulder blade.

You opened your eyes upon feeling Jeonghan's cold hand squeeze your skin gently, as if telling you wordlessly to look at him.

“Can you take me now, princess?” he asked, his eyes outlining the features of your face.

You nodded, gulping hard.

A large hand moved to your hip, brushing with Jeonghan's as they exchanged tasks, Joshua cupping your thigh and keeping your leg angled to both.

Jeonghan bit his lower lip as he adjusted his hips, aligning them with yours. He sent you a quick glance as his hand grabbed his pretty cock, guiding its leaking tip to your pussy. And with no pause, no teasing, he eased himself inside you slowly, cautiously.

A raw moan escaped your mouth as he pushed his cock inside your walls, the feeling so deliriously good you saw stars when you closed your teary eyes.

Joshua moaned too, probably savoring the feeling of your walls being stuffed full. “Fuck,” he muttered through gritted teeth, breathing hard on the curve of your neck.

You could not utter a single word. Everything had gone blank in a second. All you could focus on was the pleasure you got from the two men you loved inside you. All that occupied your brain was them, their skin plastered to yours, them moaning with you. One kissing your nape, your hair. The other kissing your face.

“Hannie... Hannie,” you breathed out in his mouth, and you could feel the effect your voice had in him, his hips buckled for a split second, eliciting a moan from you and from Joshua at the same time.

But both kept their seamless synchronicity, pushing in and out of you at the same time, their bodies pressed to yours, so warm, so full.

“I know, baby,” he responded with a low tone. “I feel it too,” he whispered, probably referring to the overwhelming pleasure you felt, the joy and love from being so close to both of your partners.

You turned your head over your shoulder to see the face of your boyfriend, whose lips stretched in a faint smile. “Do you like that?” he rasped, noticing the fucked out look in your eyes.

“Yeah,” you breathed, looking at his lips then back to his eyes.

His smile grew, knowingly leaning his face to yours to brush his lips with yours. “I know,” he whispered, his lips caressing yours. “You feel so good.”

You received a kiss on your neck, bringing out a moan that was muffled in Joshua's mouth as you leaned closer to kiss him deeply.

“So good,” Jeonghan sighed on your throat, his breath caressing your skin before he pressed more kisses.

You clumsily turned your head to kiss Jeonghan, he moved his face at the same time you did, finding your lips with a tender kiss, which you reciprocated with a whiny moan.

“Faster,” you muttered, sliding a hand on top of Jeonghan's, which was still parked on your hip. “Please, faster.”

Jeonghan nodded, complying at once. Joshua kissed your nape once more, also pushing inside you at a faster pace, falling in sync with Jeonghan in a second. Both started moaning more, their sweet and raw sounds flooding the room, pushing you closer and closer.

“Please,” you mewled heedlessly, losing yourself into a pool of pleasure, feeling so close to your sweet release. “Please, please, more.”

Joshua pressed his forehead to your exposed nape, muffling a raw moan against your skin, his lips giving you open kisses. His breathing had begun to catch, sounding shaky in your ear. “Baby,” he rasped, letting you know he was close too.

“You're close, baby?” Jeonghan muttered sweetly, learning to discern the sound of your voice when you were close to your orgasm, the faces you made.

You nodded your head in affirmation, unable to bring yourself to do more. Your body was firmly pressed to both, your clammy skin plastered together, you felt them breathe harder, heard them moan in near unison.

It drove you crazy. You loved it more and more: to be theirs, to feel them as close as humanly possible. They kept their thrusts fast and steady, always in sync, as if they shared one mind when they were with you.

Your hand circled Jeonghan's wrist, bracing yourself for the pleasure consuming you fast with a fiery wave, making you shut your eyes and cry out lewdly over and over. Both men responded with their own raw sounds, holding you tightly as they both succumbed with you helplessly.

“Fuck,” Joshua gritted, his face flush against in your hair, drowning raw moans. His fingers sunk in the plush of your thigh, gripping you tightly as he pushed his hips sloppily against your ass.

Jeonghan captured your lips in a hard kiss, his thrusts faltering too as he came, breathing and moaning faintly in your mouth, his hand squeezing you. “God, princess,” he groaned, keeping his mouth close to yours, nudging the tip of his nose with yours.

The thrusts stopped languidly. Joshua lowered your leg with great care, his large hand sliding to your waist, brushing with Jeonghan's. They both breathed hard, but kept their bodies pressed to yours.

“You're shaking,” Joshua giggled lazily. “Are you okay, baby?” he asked, moving his hand to pull your hair sticking to your cheek.

“Yeah,” you hummed, turning to see him. “Amazing.”

The smile he gave you made your heart twist. “You did so well,” his eyes read your face, his hand cupping your chin. “You're so perfect for us.”

The feeling fluttering from your tummy shocked you so hard you were unable to say a word. You smiled at him, the features of your face controlled by tiredness, he read it easily.

“Rest up, bunny,” he mumbled, the corners of his lips rising ever so slightly. “I'm going to clean up. I have to go to work.”

“Okay,” you breathed, giving him a reassuring look.

He nodded at you, okay, he mouthed. A large hand cupped your hip, holding you in place so he could pull out of you with a gentle motion, but it made you shiver, nonetheless.

You watched him over your shoulder as he walked out of the bedroom and turned to Jeonghan. His eyes were following you, as it was part of his habit: to observe you.

“Are you okay?” you asked with caution.

“I'm fine, baby,” he pressed his lips in a tiny smile, his eyes turning to half moons. “I'm just looking at you.”

You fought not to smile in utter embarrassment. “What, why?” you blurted.

A sheepish smile curved his lips. “I think you're beautiful,” he said, and his tone faded in nervousness.

“Hannie,” you brought a hand to his shoulder, pushing him slightly in a playful way.

“What, I mean it!” he laughed, sliding his arm between the crook of your neck and the pillow, hugging your head. “Shut up,” he mumbled when you laughed with him.

“Ah, Jeonghan!” you yelped in protest when he pressed hard, punishing kisses on the crown of your head, but you broke in laughter, pushing him off. “Stop it!”

“Come back here,” he rasped, motioning you to cuddle up to him, opening his arms to you.

Your heart twisted inside your chest. However, you crossed the short space between you, putting your head on his shoulder and throwing a leg over his as he wrapped you in his arms.

There have been very few times that you had this kind of intimacy with Jeonghan. Since you began the agreement of being with both men at the same time, you had not found the chance to be this close to Jeonghan.

You welcomed it: his warmth, the smell on his skin, the little sounds he made. Some seconds passed, turning to minutes. He started to trace shapeless figures on your shoulder blade with the tips of his fingers.

“Are you falling asleep, princess?” he asked softly after a while.

“No,” you hummed, quite clearly telling a lie. The only sounds that filled your brain was Jeonghan's quiet breathing, and in the distance, the sounds Joshua would create as he got ready for work.

“Sleep, baby,” he suggested. “I can wake you up later.”

“I need to say goodbye to Josh,” you explained, your voice muffled by the crook of his neck, which you were nuzzling your face comfortably in.

“Okay,” he whispered, continuing to draw waves on your shoulder blade, making it harder for you to stay awake.

Some minutes later, you heard faint stirring noises around you, footsteps and someone say something. What woke you up was feeling the mattress dipping beside you.

“Bunny,” Joshua whispered. He was sitting on the bed beside you, a soft smile adorning his beautiful face. “I'll see you later, okay?”

You nodded. “Okay,” you hummed, turning from Jeonghan's warm embrace to face Joshua.

Joshua leaned down, grabbing your chin with his thumb and pointer finger. “Jeonghan's going to take care of you,” he muttered after pressing a loving kiss on your lips. “Be good, yeah?”

You loved whenever he talked sweetly at you, just like this. You nodded once again, showing him a waning smile. “Yeah,” you echoed, receiving another kiss. “Always.”

Joshua smirked ever so slightly. “I love you,” he said quietly, and part of you felt like he did not intend Jeonghan to be witness to the soft moment between you.

“I love you,” you replied just as meekly.

Joshua rose from the bed, turning to the door. “See you later, Jeonghannie,” he said, leaving the room.

“Later, Joshuji,” he replied, welcoming you back to his arms when you nuzzled him again.

And at that, you fell into a quick nap.

Then, you woke up before Jeonghan did you the favor of waking you up, you suspected at first but quickly found out that Jeonghan had fallen asleep with you. His soft snores, you realized, were the reason you were pulled out of your nap.

But despite that, you felt well rested. In the warmth of his arms, bundled up in the bedcovers, you could not find the purpose of getting out of bed.

However, you did not want to be late for the party. Knowingly, you lifted your head from Jeonghan's shoulder, snapping him awake easily.

“Morning,” you cooed with a smirk.

“Morning, baby,” he replied, bringing a hand to rub his eyes to then take a glance at his watch, he smiled. “We overslept.”

“You were supposed to wake me up,” you quipped.

“It's not my fault,” he giggled, cupping the back of your head with his hand to bring you back to his chest. “Your nap was highly contagious.”

“Oh, so it's my fault then.”

“Yes, everything is your fault,” he mumbled, his chest deflating beneath you.

“Don't fall asleep again,” you cautioned, but you could feel yourself slipping back into slumber.

“You first,” he replied, but then you felt him stifle a chuckle.

“Jeonghan,” you pressed.

“Give me a good reason.”

“We're going to be late for Joshua's party,” you replied with obviousness.

“We can be late for a couple of minutes,” he said, stirring on the bed sheets, pressing his arms around you, much as if he were getting ready for another long nap.

“Didn't you say you wanted to go to shop for something?”

“Mn yeah but I can wear somethin' else,” he muttered dismissively.

“Jeonghan,” you insisted. “Let's get dressed up.”

Jeonghan let out a giggle, the kind that would let you know whenever he was trying to tease you. “Alright, alright,” he clicked his tongue and sighed as he moved on the bed to get out of the bundles of covers.

You closed the car door with a small, laboured sigh.

“Mn, granny is tired already,” Jeonghan murmured with a low tone, his eyes set on the back-up camera of the car as he drove out of the parking spot with one hand.

“Shut up,” you bit back, enjoying the sound of his chuckle. “You’re older than me. And I am tired.”

 Jeonghan drew a breath through his teeth pensively. “I know baby, but the day is far from over,” he muttered in a serious tone now. A hand slid on your thigh, his fingers pressing softly over the fabric of your jeans. “Relax. Let me take care of you today, yeah?”

“Mn, yeah, I’m going to need lots of pampering from you,” you smiled at him, grabbing his hand from your thigh.

His eyes remained on the road ahead, but you felt his movements stilling slightly right before he laced his fingers with yours. “You got it, princess,” he smirked.

“I want milk tea,” you giggled. “And a Danish pastry. Or two,” you held your two fingers in front of you.

Jeonghan looked at you through the corner of his eye and coughed up a laugh. “You call that pampering?” he teased. “That is like a normal Friday for you.”

“Well yeah, it’s a treat for me,” you explained, shrugging slightly.

“Okay, yes, a treat, not pampering,” he emphasized, glancing at you repeatedly.

“I indulge in other things too,” you pouted cutely at him. “I like shopping for books every now and then, music…”

“I know that but,” he rolled his eyes, going straight to the point: “What do you like to do for yourself? Not to serve others, to serve only you.”

You arched an eyebrow, opening your mouth to speak.

“You can’t mention sex,” he said, realizing what you were about to say right away.

“Hey,” you frowned, and he laughed in victory. “I don’t know. Well… I find work therapeutic sometimes.”

“But that's what it is, work,” he muttered, the car came to a stop. He used this as an opportunity to bring your laced hands to nib at your knuckles with his lips. “Have you been taking breaks?”

Your heart warmed at the question.

Jeonghan and you had taken some distance after the first threesome happened. After you realized that you withheld feelings for him very deep in your heart, you could no longer continue with your friendship with him.

So, for nearly a month, you went low contact, holding out for him to look for you to talk again and to be friends again. Though it was futile, since you knew how he felt about you, and you could not ignore how you felt about him.

You missed him. And it had been so long since you spoke with him like this, it felt good.

“Umn,” you paused, pretending to gather your answer.

“So, no breaks,” he shook his head lightly.

“Listen, the deadline for the second book draft is closer and closer and I am nowhere near done like I was for the first,” you tried to make up an excuse. But an exasperated sigh won over you. “I just want to get it done as soon as possible, but lately no words come out.”

“All the more reason for you to take a break,” he said, his lips still close to the back of your hand.

“You know I only take breaks whenever I finish a draft,” you countered.

He rolled his eyes. “But that draft will never come to be if you keep overworking yourself,” he chastised, now completely serious.

“Alright, I’ll take a break, then,” you conceded, but it was obvious for the both of you that you were not being completely truthful. You nodded to the road ahead. “Green light. Drive, old man.”

Jeonghan clicked his tongue. “Say goodbye to your pampering,” he muttered in a low tone.

You smiled, pleased. “I will take a break, soon,” you promised, now taking your laced hands to place a small peck on the back of his.

That did the trick, his gaze instantly softened. “Good.”

He turned the car off, clicking his belt off just as you were undoing yours. When you came out of the car, he was already going around it to walk up to you, taking your hand when you thoughtlessly reached out to hold his and walk together towards the mall.

Jeonghan paused for the fraction of a second, looking at your linked hands without skipping a step. “Hmph.”

“What?” you inquired, but he just raised his gaze and fixed the beanie on his head with his free hand.

“Nothing,” he mumbled, turning his head to look in your eyes. “Help me choose a shirt?”

You nodded eagerly. “Do you have something in mind?”

“Just something that looks cool,” he shrugged.

“Oh, we can match outfits,” you suggested, looking at his sweet brown eyes. “Or at least match in color of outfits.”

The shadow of a smile appeared on his face, keeping his eyes on you as you walked together on the vast mall. “Whatever you want, baby, just say it,” he replied with a tone of endearment. 

“Nice,” you whispered, and he showed you a satisfied grin. “But first, you’re getting me that milk tea.”

His head tipped back, as a chuckle came out of his mouth. “Okay, princess. Let’s get you your tea.”

Jeonghan sighed impatiently, his eyes rolling back on his head. His hand, which was holding a hanger with a shirt changed sides, now showing you the other shirt, you selected.

“Mmn,” you hummed pensively, taking the straw into your mouth, sipping milk tea earnestly.

“They’re identical,” he whined, changing his hand once again.

“Trust me they’re not,” you retorted, pointing at the one on his right side. “This one is silky and shows your waist on the sides because it’s meshy,” you informed him, then switch to his left. “This one is denim and doesn’t accentuate your figure.”

“They’re both black,” he punctuated, sending you an annoyed look.

“That’s the only thing they have in common,” you countered, ignoring the cold look he was trying to give you. “Can you try them on?”

“Only if you come with me,” he muttered with a cheeky grin.

“Jeonghan, you know I can’t do that,” you said and as the words flew out of your mouth, you understood that he was not being completely serious.

“You could, but you don’t want to,” he smirked.

You rolled your eyes. “Try this one first,” you pointed to the silk shirt.

“Fine,” he muttered.

You waited outside of the changing room, sipping milk tea to completion until Jeonghan came out, his hair ruffled by the changing of clothes, a reason why he took his black beanie off. But he shyly lifted his arms, showing you the shirt on his body. You could get a glimpse of his skin on the sides of his torso through the mesh material.

“Get that one,” you said upon laying eyes on him.

“But you haven’t seen the other one,” he said, looking a little perplexed.

“I think this one is definitive,” you explained. “You never wear things like this. You’re always wearing baggy clothes lately. Not that I’m complaining, but this shirt is different. Looks good on you.”

Jeonghan pouted. “I like baggy clothes,” he mumbled. “They’re comfy.”

Your guts twisted with so much endearment that you were sure that it showed on your face. “I know, Jeongjeong,” you muttered, a cute giggle coming out of you.

Jeonghan looked down, pinching at the fabric on the neck of the shirt. “I like this one,” he said softly. “It’s shiny.”

“Mn, I don’t have anything to match it with,” you realized. “Maybe I could pick something too.”

“Please. I’d like to get out of here,” he sighed, unbuttoning the shirt with fast fingers. “And I much rather watch you try on things for me.”

Jeonghan stayed close to you as you browsed the long hallway of tall racks of clothes that displayed nice dresses, tops, and everything you would never wear on a regular basis. You had your fair share of party clothes. But what your fingers were sorting through would be a new look on you.

“I like that one,” he muttered, leaning his head to one side as you hovered a dress over your body, stretching the material over your frame to imagine what it would look like on you.

“I do too,” you hummed aloofly, looking at the tiny black silk dress. “Don’t you think it’s too showy?”

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” he shrugged and sent you a dark look. “Or are you worried about what your boyfriend might think of it?”  

Your tummy fluttered at the way his voice sounded, it was dark and raspy. He stood over you, thankfully flanked by the racks of clothes so you were both out of sight. “Maybe,” you replied, trying to sound unaffected. “Though he won’t be paying much attention to me tonight. You know he doesn’t want the media to notice me as his girlfriend.”

Jeonghan frowned slightly in question. “Are you okay with that?” he asked, his head was still leaning over one side, his eyes reading your face expertly.

“I’m think I’m okay with keeping our relationship private,” you sighed, putting the pretty dress back on the rack. “I don’t want Josh to be even more stressed about the media’s snooping on his life.”

“Mmn,” he hummed, nodding his head once. He looked at the dress, hanging abandoned on the rack. “Try it on.”

“No,” you replied shortly, turning to continue strolling down the hall.

You heard an annoyed sigh coming from the man, so you turned to look at him, reaching for the dress to hand it to you.

“Try it on,” he repeated, but this time firmly.

You rolled your eyes with equal annoyance. “Jeonghan, the dress is pretty, but it’s too expensive,” you sighed.

“I want to see how it looks on you.”

You raised your eyes to his face, preparing a rebellious retort but were cut off abruptly by the lady tending the store: “Can I help you, miss?”

You tore your eyes from his and looked at the woman, who gave you a polite smile. “Yeah, I would like to try this on,” you replied, returning the polite smile. You turned to the rack next to you and grabbed two more dresses. “And these too.”

Jeonghan grinned but making sure that you were the only witness to his small victory.

You followed the retail lady to the changing room, feeling Jeonghan looming on your back, you could almost feel his eyes on your frame as you made it to the hall of changing rooms, separated by walls and doors.

“You can wait here, sir,” the lady informed Jeonghan.

He stopped, but you could see the cunning in his eyes clearly, though it was something you thought only you could notice, since the lady just resumed with her work.

As you took a step towards one door, you felt the man move behind you. “Jeonghan,” you started.

“Fine,” he huffed, and leaned back against the wall of the hall, deciding to wait outside the door of the changing room you slipped in.

You giggled at his face when you closed the door. “You’re such a baby,” you said, taking the advantage that he could not take any retaliation at your teasing.

He did not respond verbally, but you could listen to his tongue clicking.

You quickly changed into one dress, purposefully choosing a different one and not the dress he wanted to see you try on. You opened the door, enjoying the way his face lit up when he saw you in the skintight leather dress.

“D’you like it?” you sighed, trying to hide that changing clothes that quickly made you ran out of breath. You slid your hands over your tummy, smoothing the faux leather over your skin.

“No, I don’t,” he replied, quickly telling on your intentions. But his eyes could not lie to you: they were glued to your body, shaped by the pretty dress. It accentuated every curve, though it was hard to move in it.

“Mmn, that’s too bad,” you purred, turning so that he could look at your exposed back, and your ass. “I reeeeally like this one.”

“Tsk,” he closed his eyes slowly, letting his smile show. “Try on the other one, the one that you actually liked.”

You smiled but turned around, closing the door behind you, and stripped off the black dress. The bite of the chilly air made your nipples harden, and you sucked in a breath through your teeth and hurried to put the other dress on.

Jeonghan raised his gaze from the screen of his phone to see you, his facial features changing in a second. He pocketed his phone, now focusing on you fully.

You leaned a shoulder against the doorframe, enjoying his gaze on you. “What do you think?” you asked in a sugared tone. Looking down, you smoothed the silk on you, bringing the tips of your fingers to your chest. “I should probably get boob tape if I get this one.”

“Bo-boob tape?” he asked, raising his eyes to see your face.

“Yeah, to cover up,” you smiled cheekily, swirling the tips of your fingers around your pebbled nipples. “I don’t want to be flashing everyone on Josh’s party.”

You expected the man to laugh, or to smile. But no, his gaze remained trained on you, on your fingers tracing circles around your nipples. He gulped hard and cleared his throat.

“What, you don’t like it?” you asked innocently, twirling on your feet so he could see how the skirt of the dress sat on your ass.

Jeonghan had gone deadly silent, and you did not like that. It meant that his brain was occupied scheming a plan, you stopped showing him the dress, and saw that his gaze had darkened.

“Maybe I should just try the other one on,” you said, adding a gasp to appear resigned. “And if you don’t like it, then maybe I should just wear one of my old dresses,” you pouted, very evidently knowing that your attitude would press his buttons.

“Yeah, you do that,” he muttered, but he was not playing your game, no.

And that was worrying.

“Maybe you could come in, and watch me?” you muttered, knowing that he would be able to hear you despite the music playing on the speakers of the store.

Jeonghan shook his head no but sent his dark eyes to survey at the surroundings. “Get inside,” he nodded at you sharply.

You took it as, stop playing with me. So you just went back inside, with a rejected look on your face that he definitely got to see right before you closed the door and started removing the pretty dress off your body.

Suddenly, you heard a soft click and through the mirror, Jeonghan was entering the changing room, closing the door with one hand beside him.

“Jeong–,” you started, but he brought a finger to his lips, motioning you to be quiet.

You had instinctively brought the shirt closer to your chest, covering your naked breasts. Warmth crept onto your cheeks, realizing that he could see the back of your body through the reflection on the mirror.

“Be quiet,” he cautioned, grabbing the dress from your hands and tossed it on the stool. A hand came to cup your jaw, commanding your eyes to his. “You're going to do as I say.”

Your heart had started beating rapidly in your chest, you could feel your own pulse in your neck. But you nodded, intrigued as to how far he would go.

“I didn't think you'd come,” you breathed, taking a step back as he approached you, pinning you to the wall.

“That's because you're used to your boyfriend,” the ghost of a smirk appeared on his face. “He's all bark, no bite.”

Your breath hitched, forcing yourself to close your mouth. Jeonghan enjoyed your reaction, that much you could see from the way his eyes, darkened by lust, outlined your face. He stopped cupping your jaw, his hand delicately traveling down, a finger tracing an invisible line on one of your breasts, finding your nipple to pinch it with his pointer finger and thumb.

You looked from his fingers teasing your nipple to his face. Jeonghan trapped his lower lip with his teeth, catching your gaze on him, the corners of his lips curved in a smile.

“You like teasing me,” he whispered, his hand continued traveling down, tracing a line on the center of your tummy. “I guess I should return the gesture.”

“Hannie,” you squirmed when his fingertip stopped at the band of your panties, you pressed your back against the wall.

“What?” he muttered, his voice raising to a lower one.

You sent him an alarmed look, but his face remained impassive, his dark eyes on you.

“Shh,” he pressed his body against yours, effectively pinning you tightly against the wall. He leaned his forehead against yours, nose nudging against yours, wordlessly telling you to raise your head for him to find your lips.

His lips grazed yours, inviting at first, but pulling back when you tried to inch closer to his mouth. He showed you a grin, and you could almost hear him say, “Eager, are we?”

His finger slipped beneath the band of your panties, his eyes widening with awe when he found out how wet you got just by teasing him. His lips pressed a soft kiss on the corner of your mouth when you squirmed against him, trying to get his fingers on you to satisfy the need you felt for him.

“Please,” you hissed.

“There are your manners,” he whispered, you felt him smiling in your mouth, his finger dipped inside your core, pumping in and out slowly.

But the feeling of being exposed, hearing the movement and commotion outside the changing room made your body come alive with excitement and arousal.

You sent him a pleading look, breathing out a tiny moan when he introduced another finger inside you. Your hand snapped to palm the tent in his pants, trying to get his zipper down.

The following movements happened fast. He pulled his fingers out of you, grabbing your panties and pulling them aside. You instinctively pushed your hips forward to him, angling yourself as you pulled his hardened cock out of his pants.

You noticed his other hand fishing out something from his pocket, pulling out his phone, opening his camera and pressing the record button.

“Hold this,” he whispered, handing the phone to you. His hand grabbed your leg to wrap it around his hip, just as you guided his cock to your throbbing pussy, letting him sheathe himself in one go.

You let out an airy moan, Jeonghan's free hand clamping your mouth shut as he started thrusting tortuously slow, making you feel every inch of his pretty cock inside you, stuffing you full.

You saw yourself through the video feed of the phone, you were nearly naked, a fucked-out look in your eyes as Jeonghan dipped his head to kiss your neck. Your eyes widened as he started sucking a lovebite on the curve of your neck, making your skin tingle when he detached his lips, breathing on the marked area.

“Fuck,” you heard him breathe.

The noises outside, though unrelenting, made your pulse quicken, anxious butterflies swarming inside your tummy. A world happening outside while you were in a changing room, being fucked against a wall by your lover.

You sent him a warning look, the squelching noises of your pussy becoming increasingly prominent.

“I know,” he nodded, smirking at you. “You're being so good, princess,” he breathed. “Such a good girl for me.”

His hand slid down from your mouth, but found the curve of your neck, pressing his forehead against yours. You closed your eyes, letting the world be drowned out by the sweet sound of his breathing.

“Fuck princess,” he whispered on your mouth. “You drive me crazy,” he said, his thrusts becoming more demanding, pushing against you rapidly.

“Hannie,” you said, beginning to shake, but you kept the phone up, camera angled to your bodies. “Come inside me,” you whispered. “Please?”

“Not yet,” he whispered, a taunting smile playing on his lips. “You're gonna come first.”

“I can't,” you refused, shaking your head lightly.

Jeonghan locked eyes with you, before scanning your face, your blazing hot cheeks, your lips glossy with his spit. “Yes, you can,” he countered, spotting your lie effortlessly.

“I don't wanna get caught,” you said, but aimlessly, since the squelching noises resounding inside the small changing room became even more louder to your ears.

“Where's the fun in that,” he retorted, a smirk showing on his beautiful lips.

“Hannie,” you tried to chastise him.

“Princess,” his smile widened, shooting a wave of arousal through you. He fucks you with a smile on his face. You stifled a moan, but the throbbing in your walls was impossible to control.

His thrusts slowed down, you saw his Adam's apple bob and his eyelids fluttered close. You knew instantly, it was taking him everything in him to not give in to his full impulse to just fuck you to his heart's content.

You saw your retaliation.

Your hand stopped clutching at the shoulder of his jacket, sliding it down his abdomen, reaching the area where your bodies connected. His eyes shot open in realization when your fingers began toying with your clit.

“Baby,” he whispered, though his voice sounded shaky, making his warning wane.

Your mouth parted, letting out a silent gasp. You saw his eyes following the movements of your fingers briefly, the way you worked on yourself to get to your orgasm faster. He raised his head, getting a glimpse of your facial features going slack in sweet pleasure. Your eyebrows knitted, and his did too, mimicking you automatically.

His thrust changed speed, becoming more demanding as your walls clenched around him. “Fuck,” he gritted.

Laughter boomed around you from a group of girls chattering inside the store. Jeonghan's grip on your thigh tightened harshly. You saw fascination cross the features of his face, he clearly enjoyed this: being exposed, having you at his mercy in a public space.

And to be honest, you understood why.

It was exciting.

It was easy to let yourself be swept away by the pleasure overtaking the features of his face. That just made it easier to sink into the waves of pleasure coursing inside your body, making your pussy wet. The sounds it made every time Jeonghan pushed his pretty cock in and out of your throbbing walls.

The tension inside you snapped. You threw your head back, succumbing to the sweet pleasure rippling through you. You sunk your teeth on your lower lip, commanding yourself to keep the phone up. You angled the camera so that it clearly captured you and Jeonghan, the way he pushed your body against the wall with this thrusts.

He kept his eyes trained on you all the time, as if he did not want to lose a second of you coming silently, shaking between him and the wall he was fucking you into. But his eyes went lazy, his breath ragged, his body weakened against you and that is how you knew he was coming with you.

Shaking, he drowned his grunts by crushing his mouth on yours, pushing his hips against you sloppily, emptying himself inside your walls to the last drop.

You stopped recording, slipping his phone back inside the pocket of his black jacket.

He dropped his forehead against yours. “You play dirty,” he rasped, still breathing raggedly.

“You almost had me in the beginning,” you muttered with a cheeky smile.

“Fuck you,” he chuckled airily.

You chuckled too, a retort sitting on the tip of your tongue.

A loud and repeated knock came to the door, startling you and Jeonghan with a jolt from you both. “Is everything alright, do you need help, miss?” the voice from the lady came from the other side, sounding completely unbeknownst to the situation inside the changing room.

“Oh, shit, you scared me,” you replied, bringing your best acting voice you could muster, though the reality of the situation helped. “Maybe I'll try the dress in red too, please?”

Jeonghan smiled deviously, shaking his head ever so slightly but did not make a sound.

“Coming up,” the reply came, and you were so still that you heard her walk away.

“You, miss, are learning fast at coming up with lies,” Jeonghan observed, pulling away from you, though begrudgingly. He tucked himself swiftly, watching your fingers fix your panties back in place.

“I have the best instructor,” you quipped, showing him a grin through your tiredness.

A weird look shot across his face; his heavy-lidded eyes scanned you. “Mn,” he hummed briefly.

“Here it is, miss,” the lady handed the dress in red over the door.

“Thank you,” you said as Jeonghan grabbed the dress from the lady's hand and passed it to you.

“No problem!” she said, still ignorant to the man standing at the other side of the door.

Jeonghan saw his opportunity, creaking the door open. “Gotta run,” he muttered.

But he was surprised when you quickly grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, pulling him to your lips with a quick kiss. “I'll be there. Go,” you whispered.

He returned the feathery kiss, though in his eyes you saw something you could not quite place. “Hurry up,” he whispered. “I'll buy you anything you want, let's just get the fuck out of here.”

And with that, Jeonghan slipped out of the changing room, leaving you with a deep desire for something that sex would not satiate. But you still weren't sure exactly what that desire was. Or rather, how you wanted to satiate it.

“Well?”

His sweet brown eyes looked at your face. He nodded. “You look beautiful.”

You laughed. “The dress, Hannie. How does it look?”

You stood in the living room, a pair of high heels hanging on your fingers. Jeonghan effectively, bought everything that you so much showed an interest in at the stores you visited with him. So now you had a new pair of shoes, a new handbag, and a new dress.

“Spectacular,” he smiled softly, rising from the couch, and stood before you.

Jeonghan looked good in everything he wore. But he looked ridiculously good whenever he was dressed in all black. From head to toe, his boots, the tight denim jeans, the shirt you picked, and the jacket he wore were all black. And on top of that, he had lost the beanie, so his lush black hair was partly humid from the recent shower.

“You look good,” you said, finding yourself hoarse for some reason.

“You think so, princess?” he smirked softly, placing a finger beneath your chin, the pad of his thumb brushing your lower lip ever so slightly.

“Yeah,” you whispered, closing your eyes when his lips pressed a kiss on your upper, to then capture the lower and kiss you deeply.

A hand slipped on your lower back, bringing you closer to his frame. You gasped in his mouth, and he responded with a groan when you pressed your chest to his.

“Let’s get out of here before I lose my fucking mind,” Jeonghan muttered, letting out an airy chuckle. “C’mon.”

You and Jeonghan arrived at a club, one that you had never been before, granted. But Jeonghan did, apparently, taking your hand and lacing his fingers with yours as he led you through a crowd of people, all the way to the front door, where he exchanged a couple of words with the bouncer, who let him and you in right after.

The club was what you had expected. Dark, hot, packed with people and loud. But instead of just going right in, Jeonghan kept walking, crossing the place and to a more secluded area. There, a pair of dark elevator doors stood, and he pushed the button with his lithe fingers.

He shot you a brief look, and you knew that there was something heavy in his mind. You nodded your chin at him, prompting him but he just shook his head no, pulling you to the elevator when the doors parted.

But he seemed to be getting ready for something, he sent his gaze to the ceiling, sucking in a breath through his teeth.

“Are you really sure you’re okay with Joshua keeping your relationship a secret?” he finally asked when you were both standing in front of the doors, the reflection showing him beside you.

He looked dark. And strangely alluring.

“Yeah,” you nodded, turning your head to look at him. You had gained some inches, thanks to your high heels.

But the man still towered over you. “Okay,” he whispered, content with the certainty he saw in you. “Though tonight, I don’t think we will be surrounded by a lot of press people. That was mostly in his conference from earlier.”

You paid attention to him. “Still, I don’t think I can… go to him as his girlfriend, you know?” you cocked your head to one side. “There will be a lot of people, from what I gather.”

Jeonghan shrugged lightly. “You could,” he countered with ease. “Once everyone is on alcohol and other substances, no one will care. And even if they noticed, they would most like take it as him kissing his best friend’s girl.”

You were not sure if you were completely okay with how he phrased it. And it was not his words that upset you entirely, it was also that he was playing a part in all of this.

“You don’t like this, do you?” you realized.

“I don’t like that he’s using me to keep you in the dark.”

Your instinct was to say no. Joshua would not do that to his best friend. But you bit your tongue, instantly deflated by the thought of Joshua agreeing to the polyamorous relationship to keep you happy. And a secret from the media and his fans.

“Well, then maybe we have to trust him, like you said,” you finalized.

Jeonghan stilled. “Yeah, you’re right,” he muttered.

“Let’s enjoy tonight?” you offered sweetly, turning so that you were facing him. “Let’s be there for Josh.”

His gaze softened, convinced by your request. “Okay,” he said, using the proximity between you to plant a kiss on your forehead.

The doors of the elevator parted, loud, revealing a place just as packed, rock music poured into your ears. But evidently this part of the club was private. It even looked poshed, compared to the dark interior from before. This one was colorful, though lit in red neon lights on the walls, and blue beams shooting across the space.

Jeonghan tugged your hand, pulling you even closer to his body as you both entered the place, and dived into the crowd. You noticed that he had an intent of crossing through the small sea of people and knew where Joshua would be found.

The first thing you noticed about your boyfriend upon laying eyes on him was that he had changed his hair. It was still brown, but not the golden brown that shines almost to a blond tone when he stands under the sunlight. This was a chocolate brown, the shade so dark it could pass as black in the dark interior of the club.

Like Jeonghan, he was dressed in concert black. Black suit, black tie. The only things that were not as dark were the chains adorning the flaps of his jacket. You knew it was not his decision to wear this, nor the way his hair was styled so that there was a single strand of hair hanging on his forehead, the rest pushed back.

Another thing of note was the hazy look in his eyes.

He was drunk. Surrounded by people and by the looks of it, he was having enjoying himself. He was talking to some people, none of whom you recognized.

Your grip on Jeonghan’s hand tightened. This was the first time that you saw him at his job since his band’s skyrocketing towards nation-wide fame. From meeting him as the lead singer of a local band, to now being one of the most popular singers in the rock music scene.

And without question, Joshua fit into what a rockstar would look and act like.

You watched as he stood back, side hugging the person he was talking to and someone raised a camera and snapped a series of photographs, the bright flashes illuminating his gorgeous face. The way he posed, looking directly at the camera with a neutral expression on his face, only added to the dark mood with which he was holding himself.

But that was swiftly changed when his beautiful eyes fell on you. His mouth parted slightly, and his eyes changed from what neutrality he was commanding himself with, a glimmer appeared in them.

Jeonghan returned the tight squeeze in your hand, as if telling you to get ready.

You saw Joshua tearing his eyes from you to face his best friend, to whom he greeted with a warm hug, using it too as an opportunity to look over his shoulder to look at your face again.

Your mind reeled over and over again as to how you were going to play this. But you just pressed your lips together in a tight smile, waving at him eagerly with your free hand.

You saw it on his face that he was not content with your short and distant greeting, so he made a move towards you, but was quickly blocked by someone coming up to him to ask for a photograph. Joshua stopped abruptly, removing his eyes from you, and accepted to take the photo, though reluctantly.

“Do you want a drink?” Jeonghan asked, leaning towards you to speak in your ear.

You nodded, being pulled away from the crowd surrounding Midnight Haze. As you left to go to the bar with Jeonghan, you could feel your boyfriend’s eyes on the back of your head.

“Can’t get drunk tonight,” you said, or practically shouted over the loud music to Jeonghan.

“Live a little, princess,” Jeonghan shouted back, pointing at a bottle of tequila sitting at top of the shelves of expensive bottles and signaled a two towards the bartender. “Besides, I wouldn’t blame you if you get drunk, you need to let loose.”

You looked over your shoulder, effortlessly spotting your boyfriend in the middle of the crowd, still chatting up to the people who came to him asking for autographs and photos. He swiftly sent a glance over to the bar, as if he had felt your eyes on him too.

“Yeah, got a point,” you said to Jeonghan, turning over to him and raised your shot glass at the same time he did.

“I’ll take care of you,” he said, making you giggle.

“Oh no, that’s scary,” you recalled the drunken nights with Jeonghan, when he was still someone you considered just a friend.

“Ah, come on, trust me,” he clinked your glass with his own, motioning over to you to link arms with him, and you did, pouring the shot of tequila down your throat at the same time as him.

He made a ridiculous face, and you laughed at him harder. “Cute,” you pointed. “You can’t drink tequila, and it shows.”

“Oh, it’s on,” he arched one eyebrow, turning to the bartender and ordered two more shots.

“This is how you get wasted,” but you raised the shot glass at him anyway, linking arms again to drink with him.

“I know,” he chuckled, wiping a drop of tequila from the corner of his mouth with the pad of his thumb. “But, since you’re the expert in tequila, I want to test you.”

“Shut up,” you said, pushing his shoulder playfully.

Jeonghan leaned over the counter, asking for something that you could not hear. He would soon get two slices of lime served in a nice ramekin. And two more shots.

“Wait,” you exclaimed, but he had a devious grin on his face.

“Nuh-uh, princess. Drink,” he challenged.

You rolled your eyes, but quickly took on his challenge. You did not wait for him this time, downing the shot of tequila straight away, setting the glass on the counter. “Your turn,” you said pointedly.

Jeonghan looked at you with a glint in his eye, a smile creeping on his face slowly when you placed the slice of lime between your teeth, waiting for him. He took the shot glass to his mouth, tipping his head back and you saw his throat bobbing as he swallowed. Setting the glass aside, he brought a hand to cup your cheek, leaning towards you to capture the slice of lime from your mouth.

His lips brushed yours, making your body come alight, he sucked on the lime once, discarding it to dive in for a kiss, and that he did slowly at first, delicately. You tasted the lime in his lips. You felt drunk already, but you knew that the intoxication was not from the alcohol alone.

You felt a new wave of arousal rushing inside your body, you held his face with your hands, letting him kiss you deeper, more demanding.

“Stop,” you brought a hand to his chest, feeling his breath fanning over your face.

He leaned his forehead on yours. “Sorry,” he exhaled softly. “I got carried away.”

“Me too,” you confessed with a small giggle. “Let’s stop drinking before we get reckless.”

Jeonghan laughed at that, the sound sending a powerful shiver down your spine. “Oh, baby, I think it’s too late for that,” he said, a pleased look on his face. “Come on. This thing is starting soon.”

“Oh, what is?” you asked dumbly. Following him back to where you saw Joshua.

The music suddenly came to a stop, the sound of a microphone being plugged in boomed through the speakers. Making you look across the room to find Midnight Haze standing on a small stage, the microphone was passed to Jihoon, who looked at it for a second and passed it to Joshua.

Midnight Haze’s lead singer took the microphone and brought it to his face, camera flashes lit up his face, making him blink repeatedly. “Hello, ladies and gentlemen, we’re Midnight Haze and we’re here to present our first studio album,” he explained expertly, a grin appearing on his face as he enunciated the following words: “And here to explain more about the album, we have Lee Jihoon, the drummer, producer, and leader of this band,” he returned the microphone to Jihoon, who smiled with a mixture of shyness and awkwardness.

Jihoon started to give out a speech that consisted of him just explaining where you could stream the album and when, followed by a short word of gratitude. When he finished, he passed the microphone back to Joshua, who just gave it up to Vernon.

Laughter resounded around the room from all the party attendants.

“Thank you for coming,” he said briefly and returned the microphone to Joshua.

“Thank you,” he concluded.

And Midnight Haze started sounding on the speakers. You recognized the song from the first second because of how often you heard Joshua rehearsing it on his guitar or singing it aloofly all over the apartment. The song was catchy, the guitar riff alluring, aptly named Euphoria, the lyrics were enticing, and about you.

You felt Jeonghan’s fingers slipping on your wrist before he laced his hand with yours, taking you with him through the sea of people. You felt eager to see Joshua again, to be able to have a moment with him.

But you knew that you would have to wait for some time before that happened. Joshua was still busy talking to fans, and friends, and all the people who would come up to him and strike small conversation. Some would ask for photographs, others for autographs, most people both.

It felt nice to see him accomplish one of his dreams, though you could not deny that it felt slightly heart crushing to be watching from the distance.

So, you had to look for an opportunity. You turned to Jeonghan. “Cover me?” you asked him. He frowned at first, but leaned over so you could explain further. “I want to talk with Josh.”

Jeonghan nodded, wasting no time he just grabbed your hand catching Joshua’s gaze as he pulled you away from the crowd, leading you down a corridor that ended in an emergency exit. That apparently did the trick, since Jeonghan and Joshua had somehow formed a wordless language between them.

Because your boyfriend had followed you. A minute after you had slipped down the lonely and dimly lit corridor, Joshua appeared, nodding at his best friend in something akin to gratitude.

“Be quick,” Jeonghan warned. “And don’t be sloppy,” he added, sending you a meaningful look before walking away.

But Joshua did not reply, instead, he was instantly wrapping you in a hug as though he had missed you. He lifted you from the floor in his strong arms for a second, returning you so that he could cup your face in his hands.

“You look beautiful,” was the first thing he said to you, right before capturing your lips in a hurried kiss. You tasted whisky in his mouth, when his tongue outlined your lower lip and touched yours.

“Thank you, baby,” you replied, sensing the alcohol start to numb your senses.

“Let me see you,” he requested, stepping back so that he could see the pretty dress Jeonghan bought for you. But his eyes swivelled back up to see your face, but inevitably spotting the red mark sitting on the crook of your neck.

Your stomach dropped, and you brought a hand to brush your hair, covering the spot that Jeonghan marked.

But your boyfriend was quicker, he sent a look at his sides and back before carrying out his plan.

He pushed your back against the wall, the shadow of a smile appearing on his face when a soft gasp left your mouth. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice?” he muttered darkly in your ear, his voice sounded hoarse.

You pushed your body away from the cold wall, your front brushing with his. You were squirming, trying to get him to back away and let you calm your nerves.

But no, his eyes read the features of your face. “You like this,” he realized, the corners of his lips rising slightly. “Oh, you cruel thing. Do you like to get me jealous?”

You nodded with your head, smiling at him when you could not take the heaviness of his darkened gaze on you.

“Is it fun to kiss Hannie while knowing I’ll be watching, baby?” he purred, moving his mouth to press a soft kiss below your earlobe. “Do you like to know it turns me on?”

“Joshua,” you mewled out when his lips reached a particular sensitive spot on your neck, where Jeonghan had left a noticeably big hickey. Then it dawned on you.

“Answer me,” he muttered, his large hands gripping your waist tighter.

Granted, you did have a recollection of Joshua saying he liked seeing you with Jeonghan. You also remembered the times you saw him pleasure himself to the view of you being fucked by Jeonghan. But to hear him say it, flat out, made a hot wave of arousal course through you.

You nodded, closing your eyes, and letting out an embarrassingly loud moan when his mouth placed an open kiss on the sensitive spot, making you squirm a little more.

“Fuck, baby,” he sighed. “You sound so sweet,” he mumbled languidly, and you could tell just from the sound of his voice, sweet and moany, he was aroused too.

“Joshua,” you called, and he moved his face to capture your lips with his own, swallowing your moans when he rolled his tongue inside your mouth. “We need to stop,” you said, pulling your head back.

“Right,” he frowned. “Shit, you’re right,” he realized, as if he had forgotten for a split second that you were not completely alone.

He peeled his body off yours, straightening his jacket and fixing his hair. That made him look to one side, his features hardening at once.

A tall man, of dark hair and similar attire to your boyfriend’s was walking from the fire exit to you and Joshua. He did not seem impressed with your very public display of affection since he very evidently did not know you.

“Hey man,” Joshua greeted amicably. “Enjoying the party?”

“Yeah, though not as much as you,” he replied with a slurry tone, his lazy eyes swiftly looking at you and then back at your boyfriend. “The album is a hit, dude, a number one.”

Joshua smiled, letting his guard down for a second. “Thanks, Tae,” he said, nodding when the man patted his back, continuing to walk back to where the party was.

“We should get back,” you told him.

“Yeah,” he agreed, but he leaned over to get a swift, featherlight kiss from you. “I want to get out of here already.”

You giggled. “Just a couple of hours then we can leave,” you told him.

“One hour,” he said, glancing at his watch. “And we get out of here, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you replied and begun heading back to Jeonghan, but not before Joshua slapped your ass.

You yelped, sending him a look. Joshua masked his grin by biting his lower lip but could not resist when you just rolled your eyes at him and smiled broader at you.

You quickly found Jeonghan, whose eyes quickly read your face, your entire demeanor and smiled.

“I suppose it went well?” he teased, leaning over to press a kiss on the side of your head as he slid a hand on the small of your back.

“Shut up,” you muttered, but he obviously did not hear you.

“Baby, I’d like you to meet, Taehyung,” he said, showing you to the person he was clearly having a conversation with moments before you arrived, though you were too distracted to notice.

Taehyung had a question written all over his face, but he still nodded at you. “Nice to meet you,” he smiled charmingly at you.

You sent Jeonghan a look before returning the polite nod. “Nice to meet you too,” you said.

The man cocked his head, the confusion in his face clearer now, the lines between his eyebrows showing when he frowned.

“Taehyung is the singer of Green Nocturne,” Jeonghan interjected, noting that the exchange between you and the man was growing more awkward by the second.

Whatever Jeonghan might have seen in your face, it told him everything he needed to know. So his distraction worked, your mouth fell open in both surprise and embarrassment.

“Oh, really?!” you squealed, blaming the alcohol for sounding so high-pitched. “Oh my god! This is so cool. Forgive me, but I am the biggest fan of your music,” you giggled uncontrollably.

Taehyung dropped the confusion from his face at once upon hearing your drunken giggles. “Thank you,” he replied, almost as shy as you were now.

“Let me tell you, I was one of the many people that never believed you were a one-man band,” you blurted, feeling hot on the cheeks, and forgetting the awkward exchange completely. “But I think that it’s so cool that you do nearly everything…”

You were swiftly submerged in conversation with Taehyung, who also seemed to be wrapped in your crazy stammering and excited descriptions of how much you loved his music. So you never realized when Jeonghan slipped from the conversation, and away from you and your new friend.

Jeonghan tried to turn the lighter on, spinning the wheel once, twice, until he got to the third and the flame came up. He brought it close to the end of the cigarette, hearing the paper burn, igniting the end with a long draw.

The cold air brushed his cheeks, cooling his lips as he exhaled the smoke, his eyes lost on the vast city below him. He leaned forward, leaning his elbows on the banister of the balcony, ignoring the loud music inside the party.

He took another drag from the cigarette he stole, it seemed funny to him that he still had some of the gimmicks when he used to smoke tobacco. He narrowed his eyes, one closed more than the other, parting his lips slightly to let the ghost of the smoke slip, to then draw it back in, an exhale it through his nose.

“I thought you had quit smoking that.”

Jeonghan clicked his tongue. “Can't get a moment by myself,” he tutted, not needing to turn to know who was behind him on the balcony, closing the sliding door to the party.

“In fairness, I came here to have a moment alone,” Joshua admitted, leaning so that he matched Jeonghan's position to perfection, all to the exception of the cigarette resting in between Jeonghan's lithe fingers.

“Why?” Jeonghan asked in a low, raspy tone, which he corrected with a cough.

Joshua shrugged beside him, licking his lips and drew in a breath through his teeth. “I used to think that I was just tired of touring, but now I realize that I'm overwhelmed,” he shook his head slightly.

“I thought you wanted this,” Jeonghan commented, frowning to his best friend.

By this, he referred to touring. Making music, the fame, the acclamation, the money.

He shook his head once again, but now firmly. “It's consuming,” he whispered, raising his gaze skyward.

“Welcome to the life,” Jeonghan said with a nod. “Success isn't easy.”

“I want to stay,” Joshua confessed, twiddling his fingers slowly, but in an anxious way.

Jeonghan did not need Joshua to explain more. He knew why he wanted to stay. He took another deep drag from the cigarette, exhaling the smoke into the night sky.

“Where did you get that though?” Joshua read his friend's face expertly, knowing that it had been a while since Jeonghan smoked his last cigarette. And this was a brand he would never buy from.

“Taehyung's pocket.”

“Jeonghan,” he exhaled in resignation and Jeonghan chuckled at his reaction. “Please don't steal from my friends. And stop smoking.”

Jeonghan rolled his eyes and made no comment.

“What's wrong with you?” Joshua asked.

“Nothing,” he muttered, feeling his brain swim under the effects of the nicotine, and alcohol. He should not have mix alcohol and nicotine. “Why are you doing this, Joshua?”

“Doing what?” he asked softly, pausing to look at his friend.

“This, with Bunny. Agreeing to a poly,” Jeonghan exhaled, the anxiousness constricting his heart. Damn the nicotine.

Joshua looked at him agape for a second. He had not expected the blunt question, but he supposed that a moment such as this was merited. The doe eyes returned to map the city skyline, searching for an answer.

“I want this,” he shrugged uneasily.

“Tsk,” Jeonghan exhaled. “Ay, don't tell me this is out of the goodness of your heart, Shuji. I know you. You could've swept this under the rug, continue a monogamous relationship with Bunny. Why drag me into this again?”

“Because you also want this,” Joshua retorted, expecting his best friend to laugh. But not even a smile appeared on the crestfallen man. Joshua exhaled too, but out of shame he still felt about the topic of conversation. “I hurt you both.”

“But this is damned to fail if you just want to make everyone happy,” Jeonghan darted a look at the man beside him. “Just because you regret hurting her and giving me the middle finger doesn't mean that we can be all in a poly now.”

Joshua winced, and he could see it in the face of the man, his words offended him. “I want this,” he emphasized with a pained look. “I want this to work for all three of us.”

“Why?” Jeonghan pressed now, raising his gaze to meet the dark doe eyes.

“I don't know,” he whispered, but Jeonghan could tell when his best friend lied. It was the tone in his voice, the bristling look in his eyes when he could not continue with the eye contact. “I want to see how this works out.”

“So, you're... experimenting?” Jeonghan frowned. “Exploring? What happens if you decide you don't like it?”

“But I do,” both men met gazes again. “I do like it. I just don't know why.”

“From being the most jealous person I know, you switched to sharing your partner with me,” Jeonghan clicked his tongue, taking the cigarette between his lips. “It's just confusing to me.”

“It's confusing to me too,” he replied tiredly, as though he had repeated that same statement many times before.

Jeonghan twisted the cigarette bud in his fingers, deep in thought.

“You know I never apologized, at least not sincerely,” Jeonghan muttered, watching the cigarette consume itself between his fingers. He raised his head, looking at the stars. “I'm sorry for what I did, for not telling you how I felt about her sooner.”

Joshua nodded, his eyes lingering on the face of his best friend. “You didn't need to tell me, Jeonghan,” he commented. “I knew it the moment you bought her tickets to come see me in the opening show.”

Jeonghan huffed, a guilty smile showing on his face. “You're lying,” his eyes beamed in a mixture of shame and joy. “I can be nice sometimes.”

Joshua shook his head, a smile curving his lips too. “No, you can be nice, but this just told me that you wanted to keep her far away from you.”

“Tsk,” Jeonghan exhaled sharply. “Am I that transparent?”

“Just to me.”

The moment slowed down when both men stared at the city lights in the night, both deep in thought, but at the same time, sharing the same feeling.

“I want her to be happy,” Joshua repeated, his heartbeat stammering under the feeling of being vulnerable.

“I want that too,” Jeonghan conceded with a softness lacing his tone. “But that's not all there is, right? You need to know what you're facing, Shuji. If you agree to this, you're agreeing to me dating her fully. Not just having sex.”

“I know, I know,” he rolled his eyes. “I will try not to be jealous.”

“Have you heard of going to therapy?” Jeonghan quipped, receiving a slap on his shoulder, eliciting a low chuckle from him. “I've heard it does wonders.”

“Shut up,” Joshua exhaled, but there was a smile on his face too. “I'm not as jealous as I used to be.”

“I know,” Jeonghan agreed with a nod of his head. “Do you accept my apology?”

Joshua snorted. “You don't need to apologize,” he said. “But I'll take it.”

“Nice,” Jeonghan exhaled, palming the banister once and stood up straight, readying the cigarette bud on his fingers to discard it.

“Don't,” Joshua cautioned, clearly understanding the intentions of his friend.

Jeonghan flicked the cigarette bud from his fingers, tossing it into the void.

“Ah, you little shit,” Joshua huffed, shaking his head in disapproval.

“Go get it if you care that much, altar boy,” Jeonghan nodded his head to the city below them, letting out a characteristic low chuckle.

“Fuck off,” Joshua laughed, slapping Jeonghan's shoulder.

But he was quicker, returning a slap on the back of Joshua's head that resounded with a smacking noise. “Gotcha,” his giggles became high pitched.

Joshua grabbed the man by the back of the neck, quickly wrapping his arms in a headlock, enjoying the way Jeonghan struggled, laughing, and grunting as he tried to set himself free.

“Let me go, you idiot,” Jeonghan laughed, groans escaping his mouth as he tried to slip off the bigger man's grip.

“Stop being a pain in my ass,” Joshua retorted.

Both men stopped in dead in their fight when you slid the door open, a perplexed look on your face as you stepped out and into the balcony.

“H-help,” Jeonghan rasped, arms flailing at his side. “Help me baby, he's gone insane—gah!” got cut off by the man keeping him still in a head locked.

“What's going on?” you asked carefully, wide eyed.

“Nothing, baby,” Joshua exhaled with a pleased smile on his face. “Me and Jeonghannie are just having a heart-to-heart, right?”

A set of fingers poked at his ribs sharply. Jeonghan nodded rapidly, stifling a laugh. “Ah—fuck, it tickles, stop!”

Joshua released him with a breathy laugh, straightening his denim shirt he looked at you, still standing frozen by the door. “What's up, baby?”

“I was wondering where you two had gone,” you shrugged, reading them both with great curiosity.

“I wanted some fresh air, turns out he was having a smoke,” Joshua stifled a giggle when his friend shot him a cold look.

“Ah, you–,”

“Jeonghan, please stop smoking,” you chastised, and the man clicked his tongue and groaned when you crossed your arms.

“I wasn't smoking, baby, I promise,” he raised the palms of his hands to you in a gesture of innocence.

But you could tell he was lying, his widened eyes, the way he tried to hold a rein to the muscles of his face, fighting his smile. You rolled your eyes.

“Let's go home?” Joshua asked, taking a glance at his watch.

“Sure,” you mumbled sweetly, reaching out to grab Jeonghan's hand, slipping your fingers beneath his palm. “Let's go.”

“Me too?” he asked, sending a look to your boyfriend.

“Well, yeah, obviously, you dummy. We arrived together, we leave together,” you punctuated with a confident smile.

“But-,”

“Come on, the car is already waiting for us,” Joshua muttered, looking at his phone.

Jeonghan grabbed your hand, slipping his fingers between yours. He pulled you back to the party, where your boyfriend stopped to say goodbye to his friends as you waved at them exiting the large and heavily crowded room.

All three of you stepped in the elevator, facing the reflection showing on the closed doors. Joshua stood on your left side, casually placing a hand on your lower back as he scrolled on his phone. Jeonghan stood on your right side, still locking hands with you.

He noticed you looking at the reflection and held your gaze as he leaned down and planted a soft kiss on your head. “What are you thinking about, princess?”

“I had fun tonight,” you said, looking at both men flanking you. Joshua pocketed his phone when he heard you, turned to see you, and then at the reflection.

“Did you like Joshua's friends?” he asked in that sweet tone that sent butterflies through your body.

“I did, they're nice,” you nodded, turning to your boyfriend. “I'd like to meet them again.”

“Maybe we can arrange something,” he muttered. “When I come back.”

You nodded with your head ever so slightly, giving him a chance to press a soft kiss on the crown of your head.

You hissed loudly as you slid on the backseat of the car, rubbing your hands together before blowing on them to bring some warmth to your face.

Joshua laughed softly. “Let me,” he said, capturing your hands in his, pulling them away from your face. He wrapped them in his large and warm hands, rubbing them together, rapidly warming them up.

“I liked your dress,” your boyfriend muttered, his lips caressing the back of your hand. He pushed his eyebrows up, looking at you. “Is it new?”

“Hannie got it for me,” you muttered sheepishly, just as the man slid a hand on your bare thigh, sending a cold shiver down your spine.

“Did you thank him for that baby?” Joshua muttered, kissing your knuckles tenderly, slowly.

“I did,” you nodded, looking at his pouted lips pressing on your knuckle.

“Mn, that reminds me,” Jeonghan muttered beside you, looking at the screen of his phone. “Check your phone, Shuji.”

Your stomach twisted; anticipation flashed through your body. You instantly knew what this was about, just as your boyfriend pulled his phone out of the pocket of his black jacket.

“On silent preferably, or else this ride will get more awkward,” Jeonghan mumbled, eyeing at the driver inconspicuously.

Joshua paused and you froze, sitting between both men. Your boyfriend exhaled through his nose slowly, his face staying impassive as the brightness of his screen flashed on his face.

You peeked at the screen, guts twisting when you caught a glimpse of Jeonghan passing the phone to you, making you record him as he fucked you against the wall of the changing room.

The screen went black.

Joshua locked his phone, placing an elbow on the car windowsill, his forehead pressed against this fist. “Fuck.”

Jeonghan laughed silently, palming the plush of your thigh gently.

“So, you two have started to have fun,” he said, his voice low and raspy.

“Just a little present. For the road,” Jeonghan quipped, pressing his lips together in a sweet smile.

Back to your bedroom, you got ready for bed, brushing your teeth facing the mirror, where you saw Joshua come to hug you from behind. He placed one of his hands on your tummy, leaning to leave a kiss on your cheek.

You beamed at him.

“What?” he asked.

“You're being clingy,” you muttered after rinsing your mouth.

“What if I am?” he retorted, pressing another kiss on your temple.

“I like it,” you admitted, turning around so you could face him, cupping his face before giving him a sweet kiss on his lips. “Let's go to bed.”

“I'll be there in a minute,” he nodded, patting your ass gently.

There in the bed, Jeonghan lied with one arm tucked under his head, looking at his phone until his eyes caught sight of you. He left his phone aside, watching you crawl on the bed to lie next to him.

“I'm starting to really like this,” you muttered, bringing a hand to gently rub his tummy up and down.

“To like what, princess?” he asked with a soft tone, his hand caught yours to play with your fingers.

“Sleeping with both of you at the same time,” you admitted with a sheepish grin.

“Oh, so you didn't like it before?” he chuckled, his nose wrinkling at little.

Joshua came to the bedroom, lying next to you so now you were sandwiched by both.

“I did, I'm just saying that I can get used to this. I like it,” you shrugged, feeling the warmth from both bodies. Joshua cuddled up behind you encircling your body in his arms.

Jeonghan looked at your lips, then your eyes with a sweet smile on his face. “That's good to hear, princess,” he commented, leaning over to plant a kiss on your forehead.

You turned over. Joshua captured your lips in a tender kiss, conveying without words what he wanted to say, but was too tired to bring himself to vocalize it.

“I know, me too,” you whispered sweetly, cuddling up to both before falling asleep in their warmth.

It was one day exactly before Joshua had to leave for tour.

His suitcase sat on the chair in the corner of the bedroom. It was half made, an act you attributed to his reluctance to leave again.

He left earlier in the morning to rehearse with his band, and to get some other things in order before they kickstarted the tour. In his anticipating of these things, he told you he would not take long and when he came back, you could have the afternoon to spend together.

So, you saw it as an opportunity to prepare for a nice time together before he left.

Admittedly, you were not as anxious about him leaving as before somethings you could talk them out with him, but there was still a very particular thing living in your mind.

But you shrugged it off. For now.

You had some hours before Joshua returned home, so you had to make every minute count. You left to the market to buy some groceries, and to buy some other things needed for your impromptu plan.

By sundown, you had successfully cooked dinner, tidied the entire apartment, making the table look nice and pretty, adorned with candles and a nice set of cutleries and a bottle of wine. And lastly, you made yourself look pretty. Prettier.

You stomach dropped to the sound of the door being shut, and you practically ran to see your boyfriend entering the apartment, looking at the table with a question written in his face.

In his hand he was holding a bouquet of flowers.

“You’re back!” you chirped, welcoming him in a warm hug that always seemed to leave him speechless.  

“Hi beautiful,” he giggled joyfully. “What’s this?”

“Hi handsome,” you replied, equally as joyous. “I thought of surprising you.”

Joshua showed you a wide smile that robbed you of air. “I was thinking of surprising you,” he said, his eyes wrinkling around the corners. “You beat me to it.”

He handed you the bouquet of flowers, which was strikingly beautiful. It was chosen carefully and abundant with pink, blue and white flowers.

“Oh, Josh, thank you so much,” you beamed at him, taking the bouquet from his hand, and instinctively brought the first flower to your nose. “They're beautiful. Let me get them in a vase.”

Joshua watched you as you came back with the flower vase and place it on the table. He was still standing in the same spot, as if he had frozen with surprise upon seeing you all dressed up, minus your shoes.

“Come here,” he caught your hand, pulling you closer to him with a tug. “What is the surprise for?”

“Well, I wanted to spend a nice evening with you, silly,” you replied with an obvious tone, but you were unable to hold your shy grin. “I want tonight to be just the two of us…”

Joshua smiled, his hand had already parked at the small of your back, the other quickly finding your face to cup your chin, planting a gentle kiss on your lips. “Thank you, baby,” he whispered, holding you closer when you tried to pull away.

“Wait, I also got you something,” you giggled when he looked offended at you when you pulled away and turned to the kitchen counter, where you had left a small box.

You sneaked a look at his face, meekly handing him the present you had prepared for him with anticipation for this day.

Joshua took the box, returning the glance at you but his denoted intrigue. He uncovered the box, revealing the guitar strap you had personalized only for him. It matched his in-ear pieces, and it held a secret message that only him would be able to find.

But he lowered the box, a soft look overpowering the features of his face. “Thank you, bunny,” he whispered, cupping your cheek to kiss your forehead. “I love it.”

The rest of the afternoon was spent in the good company of music playing in the background, food that was carefully prepared and of course, his presence. Somehow you both ended up sitting on the couch, soft touches and tender kisses inevitably led to a heavy make out session.

Joshua grabbed you by the waist, letting out a heavy grunt as he dragged you to sit on his lap, making you straddle him. “Clingy,” you whispered, teasing him.

“I remember you said you like it,” he retorted, his studded eyebrow jumping up slightly.

“I do,” you ran the back of your pointer finger down his cheek, outlining his beautiful jaw, stopping to hold his chin. “It's as if you can't get enough of me.”

Joshua laughed, wrinkles appearing at the corners of his eyes, the chirping sound warming your heart. “What can I say,” he muttered, bringing a hand from the back of your knee to your hip. “I have a nasty addiction to you,” he grabbed the hand from his chin, planting a gentle kiss on the inner side of your wrist. “I'm afraid you've made me insatiable.”

You returned the smile, though shadowed by the fact that you were overcome by the urgent need to feel his body, to melt into him. He raised his glinting eyes to you, noticing the change in your eyes.

“I'm going to miss you,” you said, conquered by the feeling coiling in your throat.

Joshua paused; his gaze softened. “Me too, baby,” he whispered too, the grip of his hands on you tightened softly.

“Yeah?” you breathed, egging him on.

“Every minute,” he responded, swallowing hard. “You know I'd take you with me everywhere I go, given my way,” he said, his gaze trained on you as you straddled him, lowering yourself on top of him.

“Would you?” you questioned again, enjoying the way his eyes were on you, reading the features of your face as though he wanted to memorize them again.

“Do you want to visit me sometimes?” he muttered, his eyes following your lips as you leaned down to capture his pretty lips with your own.

“Yeah,” you breathed, his large hands slid from the plush of your thighs, gripping your waist, his fingers pressing over the fabric of your pretty dress. “I could visit you.”

“Please do,” he muttered into your mouth, his breath hitching audibly when your fingers slipped on his hair, your fingertips raking his scalp as you kissed him deeply.

“Okay,” you replied faintly, swept away by the beauty of the man below you, looking at you with glimmery eyes.

“Will you?” now he questioned, he bit his lower lip as his hands on your waist grabbed you to press you down on his hard body, making you feel his warmth.

You nodded your head yes. “Yeah,” you echoed, diving for another long kiss, rolling your tongue in his mouth expertly. He moaned into your mouth, his hand leaving the curve of your waist to cup your cheek.

“Mn,” he hummed in delight when you thread his dark brown hair between your fingers. “Baby.”

“Yes?” you paused, breaking away from him to look in his eyes.

His hands, one parked in the curve of your waist and the other flatly pressed on the small of your back exchanged positions. Joshua licked his lips slowly, appearing to be gathering his words.

“Thank you for tonight,” he muttered, tiny dimples appearing above the corners of his mouth when he swallowed hard. “You make me so happy, feel so loved.”

Your heart stammered at the sound of his words, the way his eyes brightened up, looking at you with so much love. “You don't have to thank me for that, Mr. Hong. I do it gladly,” you whispered with a sheepish smile, pushing his hair away from his face with your fingertips. “I wanted tonight to be about you,” you said, putting weight on the last word.

“I love the sound of that,” he admitted, a small smile appearing on his face. “Come here, Ms. Hong,” he muttered, bringing a hand to cup your cheek, just as you closed the space between his lips and your own, sealing them with a tender, slow kiss.

The question remained. Now that you were with two people, how would it work between all three of you? What was the finish line? Was there even one?

When this little deal was prompted initially, you had your doubts. You still did. The deal was fair and simple, but it was a one that you could not take from zero to one hundred. You soon had to face insecurities, hurt feelings and other concerns, you soon came to realize that it was not so simple.

“Hey,” you hummed, pulling away from his kiss once again. “Where are we going with this?” you whispered shakily. A hand caressed his cheek, threading his long hair back.

“With Jeonghan?” he asked, easily knowing what you were referring to. You nodded. “Where do you want it to go?”

You stayed quiet, at complete loss of words. You never came to a conclusion in your mind, and never thought that Joshua would relinquish the decision over to you.

“Don't you think it's a little early to decide that?” he asked, noticing that your answer was incomplete.

“B-but,” you exhaled through your nose, irritated that you were not as ready to have this conversation as you initially thought to be. “I need us to be in the same page when you leave. I want you to be sure of this.”

“I'm sure of this,” he nodded slightly, his tone had dropped, but it still sounded so sweet, and so reassuring. “Are you having second thoughts about Jeonghan?”

“No, no,” you mumbled. “I'm just thinking—I'm having a hard time with the logistics of the whole relationship.”

Joshua showed you a smile that made your tummy flutter. “I know. I've noticed,” he giggled sweetly, but soon his features took on a more serious look. “How about this, let's just roll with it, yeah? Don't stress about it now.”

“Okay,” you whispered, however in your mind you did not put the matter to rest.

“Yeah?” he mumbled, lifting his eyebrows. “I what you want to know is that I won't doubt you, I don't. I trust you, and I want this to work.”

Something burst inside your chest. Relief, excitement. The feeling made you breathe erratically. “Yes, but how will it work?” you countered. “Are there any rules? Do you have any limits you don't want me to cross?”

His gaze softened, much as if he understood what the root of your worries was. “There are no rules,” he smiled, planting a small kiss on your forehead. “Just the ones that we mentioned. We don't date other people.”

“Is that the only rule?” you pressed, reading the features of his face but he stayed looking at you fondly.

“Do you want to set some rules?” he inquired, blinking rapidly when your hand slid from his nape and started toying with the small rings adorning his earlobe.

You shook your head. “I'm just saying, since you say that everything is okay with me and Jeonghan dating but,” you sighed out some nervousness. “What will happen when Jeonghan and I actually start dating?”

“What do you mean?” he asked with a soft tone.

In anxiousness you pinched his earlobe softly, the corners of his lips curved up. “I don't want you to feel bad,” you finally blurted, a sunken feeling slumping on your shoulders.

Joshua took a pause, the smile weakened a little, but his eyes did not seem to lose the glimmer when he looked at you. “I'm happy if you're happy,” he mumbled.

“Babe,” you leaned your head to one side. “I find that endearing but I don't believe that you won't feel jealous,” you stammered through the words. “You can be honest with me. I want you to.”

Joshua seemed lost for a second. “I'm not lying,” he said carefully, but you detected a slight hint of apprehension. “I can't say that I won't feel jealous—I am jealous that I won't be here with you and he will,” he read your face intently. “But I want you to be happy. And I want you to explore this with me and Jeonghan.”

“That's the thing I am skeptical about,” you smiled because he did first, and you pushed his shoulder. “Stop it.”

“Why do you feel skeptical?” he emphasized the word, teasing you a little. His smile faltered and he took on a more serious tone. “Mn? Tell me.”

“I think that the fact that you no longer feel possessive makes me a bit incredulous that you actually want this,” you confessed, fearful that your words strike a chord in a wrong way.

“Oh,” his mouth dropped slightly and nodded. “Well, I've told you this before, baby,” he explained, he was not condescending with you, and you silently thanked him for that. “With everything that we went through, I made the decision to change,” he paused, and you noticed that the conversation was starting to affect him, but he held your gaze, even though you saw that his eyes had started to take a glint of sadness: “I thought I would lose you. All because of my stupid jealousy and possessiveness, and I almost did.”

The remorse you felt gripped your heart so vehemently that it robbed the air from your lungs. Joshua noticed the change in your eyes, and he moved his arms to encircle your torso and pulled you to his body.

“Listen,” he started, bringing your gaze to his. “Let's take this easy, yeah? Don't worry about how I'll feel, I'm exploring this too,” he suggested, his tone softened again. “Learn about what you like, what you don't like. As long as we're talking this through, I think we'll be fine.”

The challenge presented itself to you. You thought about how hard was for you just to talk your thoughts out. You thought about how you will grapple with being with two people at once, despite one of them being away.

But you wanted this to work out too. You wanted to explore this, with him, with Jeonghan. And for once, you liked that you were the one in control.

“Mn?” he pushed his eyebrows up. “Will you tell me if things get complicated?”

You nodded with your head in affirmation. “Will you?” you whispered.

His gaze softened. “Of course,” he nodded slightly too. “I promise.”

You finally felt the weight lift from your shoulders, you smiled at him. “I promise too,” you whispered.

He responded with a smile of his own. “Better?” he asked with a tiny whisper.

“Better,” you confirmed.

Joshua brought a hand to cup your cheek as you leaned your head to find his lips to clasp them with your own. “I love you,” he murmured with a raspy tone.

You returned the kiss, just as passionate. “I love you, Joshua.”

✮ author's note: hi hello hi hi

so, let me overshare a little bit here: i'm bi. writing some bits from this chapter were a bit exciting for me because i want everything to be v clear, but at the same time i don't want to make it so extensive that it becomes the theme of the whole chapter, so, yeah. hannie is bi in this universe hehe (●'◡'●)

this fic is a wild ride for me. i love writing it so so much. and that is the whole idea of writing fic for me. i get enjoyment out of writing it and sharing it with you. idc if i lost readers when i turned this fic into a polyamorous fic, i'm happy with the readers that stayed.

✮ special credits to my beautiful @thatgirlfromwindsor, who provided me with prompts for our joshie, namely him having nightmares about losing bunny, him being so fucking in love in a rave/party setting, the indoor dates (i'll use more prompts baby, i think i'll use every single one you sent because my heart aches for more josh scenes like these) i love you 😙🩵

✮ additional note: i just started using a word processor to write (i used the tumblr desktop app to write yes, i'm insane), so there is a change in the quotes the i used for this chapter (i.e.: curved quotes) so if you're freaky w details like that like me, i am sorry hahahaskfkdjgh

anyway,

✮ PART FOUR!! ✮

toodles!

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© TO HANNIEWEEN — I DO NOT ALLOW TRANSLATIONS, CONTINUATIONS, REIMAGINATIONS OF MY WORKS OR THEIR REPOSTING ON OTHER WEBSITES.

[evansbby]

𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟒

part iv - just like animals

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dark alpha!Steve Rogers x naive omega!Reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smut, major angst, extremely dark themes, a/b/o dynamic, daddy!kink, dubcon, dumbification, bullying, breeding kink, pregnancy kink, size kink, housewife kink, semi-public sex, pussyjob, oral (f receiving),  extreme depictions of bullying and depression, 18+ only, minors do not interact!  

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You begin to lose hope, and Steve begins to lose his mind.

Series Masterlist 

𝐀/𝐍: Another warning that the angsty content and certain themes in this chapter may be difficult to read. Warnings are there for a reason. Apart from that, thank you so much for being so patient. It took me more than 4 months to write this and it’s 22.2k words long. Enjoy.

Pregnant.

You stare so hard your vision blurs, until the two lines on the test are swimming around comically, almost as if they’re laughing at you. And then you’re blinking rapidly, because your eyes must be playing some kind of cruel trick, right? This can’t be real, this can’t be real, this can’t be real.

You’re pregnant. With Steve’s baby.

It’s with an almost detached silence that you get up and wrap all three tests in a big wad of toilet paper. Like you’re floating through the air, you stuff them under your shirt and make your way out of the room. With Steve still asleep, you venture downstairs and out the front door, the chilly morning air having no effect on you.

You bury the tests at the bottom of the garbage bin, like how you’re currently trying to bury all the emotions threatening to spill out of you. A baby. Inside you. Right at this moment. Steve’s baby. Your hand twitches, reaching up to touch your stomach before you stop yourself. What were you going to do now?

Steve reaches for you when you return to the bedroom, he looks half-asleep as he pulls you back into bed. You wonder whether here, cocooned in cosy warmth, you can just scrunch your eyes up real tight and pretend none of this is happening right now…

“Where did you go?”

“Steve, I… I’m…” Your throat constricts, and panic rises within you like bile as you try to regulate your breathing. “I just went downstairs to drink water.”

Steve hums, drawing you closer and burying his face in your neck while you lie completely still. As if any movement would somehow expose the fact that you’re pregnant. He peppers soft kisses onto your skin, tugging your shirt down to expose more of your neck.

“I’m gonna take you out for dinner tonight.” He says softly, and it’s the last thing you were expecting to hear from him right now. His lips drag up to kiss the corner of your mouth before moving down to your jaw, his hands stroking up and down your body as he holds you close. “You have an exam this morning, don’t you?”

You don’t know whether to laugh or cry at the fact that you’d forgotten you have an exam today.

“Y-Yeah.”

“Mm, so I’ll take you out after. Anywhere you want to go. We can even go shopping before that, I’ll buy you whatever you want.” Steve’s arms encircle around your waist, pulling you up as he rolls onto his back, so that you’re lying on his chest. He blinks up at you, blue eyes suddenly serious, “I want you to forget about everything that happened last night, omega.”

And just like that, it all comes rushing back to you. Like a hurtling freight train that had been momentarily kept at bay because you’d just found out you were pregnant. But now the memories come back at lightning speed. Bucky. Steve Junior. The fight. How Steve hadn’t defended you. How he’d left.

How he’d cheated on you.

How you’d begged him not to leave you.

“Forget all of it.” Steve repeats, cupping your face with both his hands. “None of that’s important anymore, as long as you’ll be good from now on.”

And just like that, he wants you to forget. Move on in a blink of an eye. Forget his cheating, his casual cruelty, how he’d laughed when you’d cried. How he’d told you every detail of his encounter with that other omega, how it had felt like you’d been punched in the gut repeatedly.

How could he expect you to forget? By pretending it never happened and distracting you with shopping trips, gifts and dinners? Was that his way of compensating? Didn’t he feel even a tiny bit of remorse? Could he even acknowledge how much he’d hurt you?

There’s a part of you, underneath all the newfound shock of being pregnant, that wants to confront him about all of it.

Instead, you nod mechanically. “Okay, Steve.”

“Good girl.” He kisses you a few more times before sitting up and setting you down next to him. “Pick a restaurant and text me, I’ll make the reservation.”

With baited breath, you watch him as he gets up, moving around the room to get ready for the day. You know that he’s got his morning run, then a gym session and then two exams back-to-back– which means you won’t see him until a lot later. Maybe it would give you enough time to gather your thoughts and make sense of your situation before you tell him.

***

Your own exam goes by in a blur. It doesn’t help that all you can think about is the fact that there’s literal life growing inside of you, but you somehow soldier through. With nerves mounting, you walk from the university building back to Steve’s house almost in a daze. Worries, questions, concerns, and fears swim around in your head like a school of frenzied fish. What are you going to do?

Acting on desperate impulse alone, you whip your phone out. Shaky fingers scroll desperately, searching for one blocked contact in particular. Almost in a frenzy, you tap on his name, unblocking him and calling him before you can change your mind.

“H-Hello? Peter?”

It takes a few moments for him to register that it’s you, and then:

“Oh my God. Are you okay?!”

The familiarity of Peter’s voice makes you want to cry, the sound bringing back fleeting memories of sitting on his sofa with a bowl of popcorn and a movie, complaining to him about all the alphas in your lectures. Playing computer games on his laptop and laughing when you beat him. Catching the bus to his house after days of not speaking to anyone at university, and the relief you’d feel when he’d open the door…

“I’m… I…Peter, I…”

You’re suddenly awash with shame. The last time you’d seen Peter, his face was spurting blood after being punched several times by Steve. And you hadn’t even bothered to call or text him after that, hadn’t bothered to see if he was okay. Granted, that was also the night Steve had mated you – oh, how could you ever explain all of this mess to Peter?

“Are you okay?” Peter repeats. “I tried to call so many times but you blocked me.” A pause, and then he adds: “Don’t worry, I realised that was probably Steve’s doing.”

You swallow harshly, “I should’ve called you. It’s just… He… He…” But you couldn’t blame it all on Steve, could you? In the past month and a half, it’s not like you’d gone out of your way to contact Peter. No, after Steve had mated you, it was like he’d consumed you, eaten you alive. Wrapped you up in this little bubble where it was just you and him and no one else mattered. A bubble you clearly had been in no hurry to escape from until it had popped unceremoniously all over your face.

“Is he treating you okay?” Peter’s question sounds tentative, as if he doesn’t quite believe his own words.

“No, Peter, I–” A strangled sob escapes your throat from out of nowhere, and you can feel the flimsy threads holding you together as they begin to come apart. “Everything’s a mess, a big fat mess and I don’t know what I’m going to do!”

“What happened? Did he hurt you?”

Why had you called him? How could you even begin to tell him everything you’d been through in the past twenty-four hours? Would Peter ultimately even care to listen to you complain about the man you’d cheated on him with? The man who you’d been living with for the past month, acting like his good little omega while pretending Peter no longer existed?

“It’s all a big mess.” You moan pathetically, hating yourself for how you sound. Here you were, hurt by one man and immediately trying to hurtle yourself into the arms of another. Stupid. Pathetic. Dumb. Careless. You’d gotten yourself into this mess. Just like Steve said – all your fault.

Your hand finds its way to your stomach, stroking it softly through the material of your dress. For a split second, you close your eyes and try and picture it. You, with a baby in your arms. Your very own baby – it looks exactly like you. And Steve coming home, smiling happily as he kisses you and takes your child, swinging it around while it giggles.

But like ink spilling on paper, the image darkens. Now it’s you alone with your baby. Cold, dark, dreary. Steve’s gone. He left you. Left you and left your baby. For that other omega. Left you just like how your dad left too. And it’s all your fault, all your fault, all your fault! Steve’s voice chanting in your head while your baby cries: all your fault, all your fault, all your fault!

“Hello? Are you still there?” Peter’s voice drags you out of your mind. “Look, just tell me what happened. I can help you. I know I wasn’t much help last time but I can help you now. We can figure something out, just tell me where you are, and–”

“I’m sorry,” You interrupt him, swallowing harshly. What had you hoped to achieve by calling your ex-boyfriend and telling him that your current boyfriend got you pregnant? No, you couldn’t do that to Peter. “Look, I don’t know why I called, I can’t drag you into my mess.”

“You haven’t even told me what the mess is–”

“I’m sorry, Peter.” You choke out before quickly hanging up. Methodically, you delete the call history and block his number once more. And then, it’s with almost mechanical grace that you wipe away your tears and clear your throat.

This is your mess. You have to handle it by yourself.

Still reeling from the impulsive phone-call and it’s abrupt ending, you walk the rest of the way back to Steve’s house in a daze of different emotions, wanting nothing more than to just escape your mind which seems to be working in overdrive. Reaching the front door, you’re about to twist the doorknob when you hear a click and the door swings open from the inside.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Little Miss Omega.” Words dripping with smug delight as if he’s caught you with your hand in the cookie jar, Bucky leans against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest and a wolfish grin on his face, “Was that you I just saw on the phone?”

You duck your head, hoping to just ignore the alpha, nudge past him and run up to yours’ and Steve’s bedroom. But Bucky easily blocks your path, leaving you standing outside on the porch and looking up at him in dismay. Again, you try to push past him but he’s too big, too strong, barely budging.

“I asked you a question. Who were you on the phone with? I bet Stevie doesn’t know, does he?”

Bucky intimidates you, with his light blue eyes and cold gaze. The way he’s always staring. And you don’t think you’ll ever forgive him for what he did to poor Steve Junior. Hands curling into fists by your sides, you can’t help but look to the ground, “I was talking to a friend about a textbook I’m looking for.”

“Nice try, sweetheart. Everyone knows you don’t have any friends.”

“Just let me in!” You try and be assertive, but shoving past him does you no good – just like Steve, he’s practically built like a brick wall.

“Let’s put it to a vote, shall we?” Bucky turns his head slightly, “Hey, Sam. Should I let little omega into the house?”

Over Bucky’s shoulder, you see Sam on the couch, feet propped up on the coffee table and a joint between his fingers, a slightly glazed look over his eyes. “I don’t give a fuck, man.”

“I’ll take that as a no. Sorry, sweetheart. I guess Steve should’ve trusted you with keys.” And you can’t believe it when the door slams in your face. You stand there in shock for a few seconds, wrapping your head around exactly what’s just happened. Overhead, the clouds grow darker and you hear a boom of thunder that has your chest tightening.

Hurriedly, you knock on the door once more, trying to persuade yourself that they’re just doing what they always do – acting like alpha jerks and joking around. Of course, they’ll let you in soon – they’d have to be heartless not to.

“Please let me in!” You call out, knocks becoming more incessant as panic begins to bubble inside of you – you’re not too fond of thunder, “Bucky, Sam, please! I think it’s gonna start raining!”

A rush of cold air has you shivering down to the bone, goosebumps rising up and down your limbs. It had been warm in the morning, so you’d worn only a light sundress – absolutely not ideal for the rainstorm that’s clearly about to hit.

“Guys, please!” You cry out again, and it comes out as a whimper. Bucky’s been awful as of late, but maybe Sam would grow irritated by your cries and come to open the door? That’s all you can hope for as you continue to slam your fists against the door harder and harder.

Suddenly, the door opens and you sag with relief until you see it’s Bucky again.

“L-Let me in. Please.” You hate that you have to beg him like this, after everything he’s said and done to you in the past. How he tore Steve Junior, how he called you a bitch in heat. Oh, how badly you wish Steve was here. But then, would Steve have even done anything at all?

Bucky tilts his head as if he’s pretending to think, “How about we strike up a bargain, sweetheart? You give me a kiss, and I’ll let you in.”

It’s as if someone’s dunked poison into your veins. Ugly, green poison that gives you a bad feeling and a bad taste all at once. You take a step back almost cautiously, “N-No.”

“You sure, omega?” Bucky licks his lips, pushing his brown hair out of his face as his gaze drinks you in hungrily. “It’s awfully cold out there, and nice and warm in here. All it’s gonna cost you is one kiss. And don’t worry, I won’t tell Steve.”

You jut your chin out, “No. I’m not going to kiss you. You’re Steve’s best friend, you shouldn’t be acting like this anyway.”

It’s like it’s all a game to him, because Bucky just smiles wickedly, reaching out to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear. Revulsion overtakes your body, and you take another step back, blanching before giving him a pleading look.

“Acting like what? I told you, I won’t tell Steve.” He tries to grab you, but you’re quick to dodge him, “Come on, omega. It’s not like Steve’s gonna care anyways. I was there when he cheated on you. I didn’t understand it, if I had a hot piece of ass like you in my bed– I’d never do what he did.”

You bite your lip. The pain is still so fresh, the memory of Steve so nonchalantly telling you how he’d cheated on you, how he didn’t have a mark on his neck that tethered him to you. You’re crestfallen, but there’s a certain fury that awakens inside you too, because you hate how Bucky’s talking about it, you hate how he knows, you hate how he’s using it to his advantage.

“JUST SHUT UP!”

You’ve never yelled at an alpha like this before, your voice sounding over a clap of thunder that hits at that exact moment, “Shut up, okay? My relationship with Steve is none of your business. So just please, please leave me alone and let me in.” And once again you try to barge your way past him, pushing against his arm with all your strength but getting absolutely nowhere with it.

“Listen, you little bitch. Don’t fucking raise your voice at me.” Bucky is quick to grab your arm, twisting it roughly behind your back and making you cry out in pain. “And stop trying to act all high and mighty, like you’re above kissing me. You’re just a pathetic little scholarship slut omega, remember that.”

“Please! It hurts!”

“It hurts!” He mimics, face inches from yours as he sneers down at you, “When are you gonna realise that no one cares when you hurt? Least of all Steve.” His lips are so close to yours, and you can feel his breath on your face as he speaks, “So, what do you say about that kiss, hm, sweetheart? He cheated on you, now’s your chance to do the same. An eye for an eye.”

“No! I’m not going to kiss you, okay? I don’t want to!” You cry out, trying with all your might to wiggle out of his grasp until he cruelly pushes you away and you stumble down the front steps of the house.

“Fine. Suit yourself, omega slut.”

And the door slams shut again, followed by the unmistakable click of the lock. And this time, you know Bucky isn’t coming back to open it. Another clap of thunder, a ripple of lightning and now heavy rain is falling down in earnest. For a few seconds, you just watch in disbelief as the icy cold water soaks through your clothes.

Then you run up against the window, pounding on it, hoping that maybe Sam will let you in. But Sam looks like he’s passed out on the couch and dead to the world around him. And Bucky just sits there, cigarette in mouth and phone in hand, pretending as if he hasn’t just heartlessly locked you outside in the heavy rainfall.

And the rain is unforgiving, so cold as it pelts downwards. Fat droplets of icy water beating down on your head – it’s already soaked through your dress and everything from your hair to your phone is dripping wet.

Once more, you slam your fists on the door, yelling out both their names, begging and pleading to be let in. You shake and rattle the doorknob, you pound at the glass of the window, at one point you even hurl your whole body into the door to maybe break it open – but to no avail.

“Please! It’s c-cold out here!” Your voice comes out hoarse from all the pleading you’ve been doing, and you can’t tell whether it’s rainwater or tears smeared all over your face, “Please let me in! I d-don’t know what I did to you but please, just let me in!”

It’s in the middle of your hundredth ‘please’ that you finally stop, clamping your shivering mouth shut because what’s the point? All this begging, all this pleading, just in the hopes that the two worst people you know might feel sorry for you? When they never have in the past? When they’ve been awful to you every chance they got, despite the fact that you’ve been nothing but polite to them?

No. Bucky and Sam don’t deserve your begging.

You find yourself sinking down on the steps. You contemplate calling Steve, but one glance at the black screen of your phone and you know it’s either dead or the rainwater got to it.

The library was closed for maintenance, and walking to the nearest campus building would be impossible in this rain. Even your old dorm is out of the question, because Steve has the keys to it. And slowly, as the cold numbness begins to spread across your fingertips and up your arms, you feel a sudden numbness in your mind too.

This despairing feeling of no hope, cruelly snatching away any need to survive. You feel your body switch off, the feeling of deadly indifference overtaking you. You bury your head between your legs, wrapping your arms around yourself to preserve any body-heat.

Steve should be home by now... But he isn’t, he isn’t, he isn’t! The voice inside you mocks. He’s probably with that other omega…Cosy in her dorm room, probably kissing her…

You don’t know how long you sit there in the pounding rain, feeling it beat unforgivingly down your head and back. A part of you wants to drown in the rainwater, or let it wash you away and take you somewhere far. Somewhere where it isn’t so wet and so cold, where everyone isn’t so horrible.

The car headlights don’t really register in your head, and neither does the rough hand that grabs your arm a few moments later, shaking you and calling out your name repeatedly. You just keep your head in your lap, hoping and praying that the cold goes away.

“Can you hear me? What the fuck are you doing out here?” Steve demands, grabbing both your shoulders now and shaking them heftily, making you look up slowly and blink. Your vision is completely blurred, and again it’s either from the rain or your tears – you don’t know. But you see Steve’s halo of blonde hair glimmering in the rain, and the furrow of his brow.

You open your mouth but nothing comes out as Steve yanks you up to your feet, pulling you towards the door.

“Did you hear what I just asked you? What are you doing out here in the rain? Are you insane?” He has to raise his voice to be heard above the deathly patter.

“W-Wouldn’t let me in.” You mumble faintly as Steve fishes for his keys, pulling them out of his pocket and unlocking the door in record time, pushing you inside before following you.

“What?” He repeats once you’re both inside, “What did you say?”

The warmth is immediate but you feel no relief – just that same numbness from before. You’re dripping all over the floor, cold beyond belief as you look down at your ruined shoes.

“Th-They wouldn’t let me in.”

It comes out so quiet, so pitiful, so weak and resigned. Because you know he won’t care, that he’ll downplay it. But Steve’s blue eyes blaze with fury once realisation sets in. Face red and knuckles white, he turns to the living room. You must’ve been outside for a while because Sam is gone, and there’s only Bucky who sits with his feet reclined on the coffee table, casually typing away on his phone.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, asshole?” Steve roars, striding into the living room and grabbing Bucky by the collar, yanking him up to his feet.

“Hey, hey, let the fuck go of me.” Bucky’s got a glare on his face as the blond alpha slams him against the wall, “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Don’t act fucking stupid,” Steve sneers, “She was outside in the rain for God knows how fucking long. Look at her. She said you wouldn’t let her in.”

Bucky’s gaze shifts towards you, and you know you look like a dishevelled, soaking mess. There’s a split second where his eyes widen, and his throat bobs as he swallows. Then he blinks, that familiarly cruel smirk returning, “Oh. I guess I didn’t hear her knock.”

“Bullshit.”

“What’s going on–?” Sam chooses that moment to come thudding down the stairs. He stops short when he sees you shivering at the landing and the sizable puddle of rainwater by your feet.

“Why would you do it?” Steve slams Bucky against the wall once more, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him this angry. Except the night he mated you.

“Relax the fuck out. It was a joke. Don’t act like you haven’t done shit like this before.”

“Don’t fucking joke with her.”

“I’ll joke with whoever the fuck I want, asshole. Just like how you used to,” Bucky sneers, “before you got yourself whipped on that omega slut.”

The look on Steve’s face is one of absolute livid fury, and he’s about to draw his fist back when–

“Steve, she looks like she’s hypothermic or something.” It’s Sam who speaks, stepping forward and swiftly coming between them. Steve glances at you before looking back at Bucky, giving the brunet one last menacing look before shoving him, then shoving Sam and making his way over to you.

“Both of you can go to hell.” He mutters, blue eyes still filled with rage as he grabs your arm. He inhales sharply, as if stung by how cold your skin feels. And ‘feel’ is a strong word because what you can’t feel is your toes, your fingers, the tip of your nose. And you can’t stop the violent, body-wracking shivers as your body fails to heat itself up.

Steve tries to pull you up the stairs, but it’s like you’re a solid block of ice – half frozen from cold and from the shock of everything that’s happened. Eventually, he just picks you up, carrying you up the stairs as you remain stiff in his arms.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you repeat the words in choked whispers till they lose meaning. And you don’t know what you’re apologising for, but you know Steve’s angry. Which means he’ll be angry at you – maybe for making him fight with his friends? Causing a huge commotion because you cried like a baby for being locked outside? Would he blame you again, tell you it’s all your fault?

Would he leave you?

“I’m s-s-sorry,” you can’t keep your teeth from chattering but you keep repeating it nonetheless, scared of what he might do, what your punishment will be, as he carries you up into his room, slamming the door shut behind him.

You risk a look up at his face. There’s still anger in his eyes as he scans over your body, the way you’re trembling in his arms, cold fingers gripping onto him tightly. And for a moment, he just stands there. Stands there in the middle of his room as if he has no idea what to do, almost as if he’s at a loss.

“You’re really cold.” It’s all he says, and then he carries you into the bathroom, easily holding you close with one arm, and manoeuvring the other to open the tap and fill the bathtub with scalding hot water. You can see the steam rising invitingly, but it’s like all hope’s been snuffed out from within you – you don’t really care about getting warm anymore.

“A-A-Are you m-mad at me?” You ask Steve quietly, but maybe it’s too quiet, or maybe you asked it in your head because he doesn’t respond. Instead, he gently puts you down on your feet, unzipping your dress and taking it off, and then your shoes and sopping wet socks too. That’s when you realise you can’t feel your toes either.

The bath is boiling hot but it only feels lukewarm against your poor, cold-stricken body. He’s filled it up till the brim, so you sit there with your chin resting on your knees and arms wrapped around your legs protectively, as if any moment he’s going to turn on you, yell at you, tell you it’s your fault. And then you expect Steve to leave, and he almost does once he turns the faucet off. But he hesitates at the doorway, as if he’s afraid to leave you alone in the bathroom.

Finally, he decides to stay, sitting down on the floor next to the bathtub, his eyes glued to you. But the anger seems to be gone (or maybe he’s hiding it?). For a long while, no one says anything. And it’s there, in Steve’s bathroom as you sit in the scalding water, that something seems to break inside of you. As if any will you may have had has been sapped out of your body, leaving just a shell behind.

Steve clears his throat, “Are you still cold?”

Silence.

“Omega. Answer me.”

You don’t. Or you can’t. He seems far away.

“Do you want me to make the water hotter?”

Why is he being nice? Is it an act? Is he trying to trick you? Why hasn’t he punished you yet? This is all your fault, isn’t it? Isn’t it?

You stare straight ahead at the tiled wall in front of you. It’s black and white marble. Minimalistic. A simple pattern.

“Is there something written on my face that makes people to treat me like crap?”

It’s you who speaks – but you almost don’t recognise it. Clear, void of any emotion and no stutter. You feel like a ghost, out of your own body and watching yourself from a corner, resigned and not caring what happens next.

And Steve seems slightly taken aback – maybe he expected you not to speak at all. Maybe he only expected you to cry like you always do. But it’s as if you’ve cried all the tears you possibly can, and your body has no more left to give. It’s like you have nothing left inside you to give.

“They shouldn’t have done that.” Steve says darkly, “I’ll make sure they don’t pull shit like that ever again.”

You blink, but don’t respond. You know in your heart that you don’t believe him – not when he picks and chooses when to defend you.

“Is there something so glaringly wrong with me, that it makes people treat me like shit? You should know if there is, because you’re the one who started it, Steve. They wouldn’t be bullying me – no one would be bullying me – if it weren’t for you.”

You feel nothing as you say it, almost as if your body’s given up on protecting you; your tongue allowing you to say things that you’ve only ever dared to think about before. You were profusely apologising to him not five minutes ago, but now it’s like you can’t stop yourself from saying what’s been festering at the back of your mind for who knows how long. But your tone isn’t accusatory, just monotonous. You focus on the pattern on the wall – black, white, black, white, black, white. One white tile has a crack in it. A small one, but it’s there.

“Why did you bully me, Steve? What did I ever do to you, except keep my head down and mind my own business? Did you hate me that much? Do they hate me that much?”

Through your peripheral, you can see him holding his head in his hands for a second. And then he looks up, does that thing where he runs his hands through his hair. Eyes squeezed shut for a second, he opens them and looks down at you, and his hand hovers in the air for a second as if to grab yours, only to snatch it back at the last second.

“I don’t hate you.”

“Why did you treat me so awful, then? And persuade everyone else to do the same?”

Silence. No answer. But it’s not like you expected any different. You fold more within yourself, hugging your knees closer to your chest and letting a huge wave of shivers overtake you.

“Can you just… Could I be alone, please?”

He doesn’t budge even an inch, and again you get the feeling like he’s scared to leave you by yourself. But it feels even more alien when his hand comes up to stroke your hair back. The omega inside you sings for his touch but for once it’s like the numbness within you is overshadowing your base omega desires. You duck away from his hand, making him freeze and snatch it back once again.

After a few beats of silence, you speak once more.

“It’s me, isn’t it? There’s something about me that people just don’t like.  No matter how hard I try, how nice I act – it always seems to come back and slap me in the face.”

Steve, his tongue always ready with cajoling words and sweet nothings, seems to have nothing to say. You’ll never figure out how to read his expressions, but his brow is furrowed and lips pressed into a thin line.

“I’ve kept quiet all my life, kept my head down, kept out of everyone’s way – but none of it works.” You meet his gaze, that forever unreadable look; “Please… Please tell me why it never works?”

“I told you; I’ll make sure they never do shit like that again. You won’t have to worry anymore; I’ll make sure they don’t even speak to you–”

“You told me once that nobody cares about me.” You pick at your nails, sounding both broken and matter-of-fact at the same time, thinking back to Bucky’s words from earlier: No one cares if you hurt. “And you’re… you’re right, Steve. No one really does, otherwise Bucky and Sam would have just let me in. And no one would’ve ever bullied me. And… And my mom would answer my texts, and…” A sudden wave of anguish washes over you, “And my dad wouldn’t have left me.”

You don’t know why you’re telling him this now, but it seems like everything’s finally connecting in your head – everyone will leave you, even Steve. The alpha sucks in his breath, and again it’s like his fingers are dancing, creeping over to grab your hand that lays limply on the rim of the bathtub. And this time, he does, squeezing tightly except you’re so emotionally numb that you can’t even feel it.

“You know he left because he wanted a boy? An alpha? You were right, he didn’t care about me, left before my first birthday.” The pain associated with the one thing you never talk about, that you never even think about, is so strong that it almost winds you, and it makes your heart hurt. “N-Now he has a new family. Two sons. He even has a daughter, but I don’t think he’d ever leave her like he left me.”

Steve’s grip on your hand tightens, and you hear this growling sound that comes from his chest. But you’re so far down this well made up of your own pain and anguish, that it’s like Steve’s almost not even there.

“I don’t think my mom ever forgave me for him leaving. And you were right when you said that she doesn’t care about me either. I don’t remember the last time she called me, or even texted to check up on me.” You look up to see him open his mouth to speak but you beat him to it, “Steve, sometimes I… sometimes I hate myself for being like this, for driving everyone away.”

Steve whips his blonde hair out of his face, suddenly sitting up straighter and eyes molten blue with new heat, shoulders squared as if he’s defensive, “Don’t say shit like that.”

“But it’s true. And I drove you away too. To that other omega.” And now fresh anguish cuts through, splicing you open like a knife, the same pain you felt the moment Steve told you he’d kissed someone else.

“You didn’t drive me away–”

“That’s what you told me. You said it was my fault. And it was, and I made you cheat on me. All my fault – that’s what you said.”

“I didn’t mean–” He grabs your face, hands rough and calloused but so familiar, as if a thousand others could touch you at the same time but his touch is the only one you could ever recognise. Face inches from yours and intense gaze boring into you, he exhales sharply, “I didn’t cheat on you, omega. I don’t think you understand what cheating means, but kissing someone is not–”

“I’m not dumb.” You interrupt, and it’s funny because you wouldn’t have dared to ever interrupt him before now. But it’s like you’re a ghost, outside of your own body and long past the point of caring. “Maybe I’m a bit naïve but I know what cheating is.” Tears would’ve been flowing down your cheeks at this point, had you any tears left to cry, “And you know the worst part? You laughed as you told me.”

Steve shuts his eyes again for a second, really scrunches them up and you can see the furrow of his brow, the clench of his jaw. But you don’t know what any of it even means – is he angry with you? Annoyed? Irritated? Do you care?

“It didn’t mean anything with her. I came home to you in the end.”

It meant everything to me! You want to yell, but instead you sink down lower into the water, wanting it to swallow you up, pull you down the drain and away from everything. But strong hands grip your forearms, jerking you back up almost immediately. You suck in your breath before turning to face him, properly face him, “You still kissed her. And you– you gloated about it; told me it was my fault. N-Now you’re gonna leave me just like my dad did. Leave me for her.”

Steve shakes his head, his knuckles white from gripping your shoulders so tightly, “I don’t even remember her face.” He lifts you out of the tub, and you don’t even struggle because what’s the point? The fight seems to have left your body completely. He places you on his lap, naked and wet and trembling, strong arms encircling around you as they’ve done a thousand times before when he’s ready to sway you with his sweet words, “Omega. Listen to me, she meant nothing to me.”

“I don’t think I mean anything to you either.” It’s both an observation and a realisation. All these weeks of trying to persuade yourself that Steve has changed, that Steve’s good to you now, that surely Steve wouldn’t treat you how he treated Sharon. It’s a delayed reaction, but now you’re sure of it. As Bucky said: no one cares if you hurt. Least of all, Steve.

“You mean everyth–” Steve cuts himself off with another deep inhale, the muscles and veins in his neck tensing, “You mean a lot to me–”

“Don’t,” You interrupt him again, “Don’t say things you don’t mean, Steve. You do it all the time and I’ll always believe it – and it’ll all be a lie because it always is.” You shake your head, looking up into his shadowed blue eyes and feeling that lurch in your heart you always feel. “I’ll always fall for your words, Steve. Because you made me fall for you.”

A surge of indescribable anger overtakes you, washing over you like a tidal wave, drenching your already wet body in confused, accusatory rage. Feebly, as if testing the waters, you shove him. It’s a slight push against his chest, but then you do it again with a little more strength. And then again. He’s so strong, so big, so well-built, that he doesn’t even budge but you push him again anyways.

“I hate you for making me fall for you, even though you treated me like dirt at the bottom of your shoe!” You cry, shoving him harder while all Steve does is stare at you with that damned unreadable expression, “I hate you for not standing up for me,” Another shove, harder this time, and then another one, “I hate you for cheating on me, for laughing while you watched me cry. I hate you for making me care so much that it felt like my whole world ended when you told me you kissed her!”

Again and again, you hit him; and every time he just lets you do it. Not even raising a hand to defend himself, just allowing your pushes, slaps, punches and shoves to slam against his shoulders and chest. And everything’s a blur to you, black and white bathroom tiles melting into the blues in Steve’s eyes, and again you shove him, harder and harder, not even knowing you had this animosity inside of you until it came pouring out.

“I hate you for bonding with me when you don’t even care about me. Hate you for making me beg you not to leave me, hate you, hate you, I hate you!” Louder and louder your voice gets, till it’s bouncing off the walls of the bathroom, and you think you see a chip in Steve’s stoic expression when he winces, and you hit him even harder. You’ve never hit anyone in your life but it’s like you can’t stop, this animalistic anger radiating off you in waves.

He catches your fists in his hands easily, as easily as he’s crushed and stomped on your trust and feelings in the past. And he pulls you into him, muscular arms wrapping around you, clutching you to his chest, holding you there while you struggle against him, shove and punch and push, until you finally stop.

“I don’t hate you,” You whisper in defeat, “I can’t hate you – no matter how hard I try, no matter how much I should. I wish I did, but I can’t.” You lower your fists, sagging against his chest in defeat, voice breaking as finally, finally, the tears begin to fall. “Can’t hate you, Steve. Not even a little bit.”

Everything’s still. You. Him. The water in the bathtub. And then:

“I won’t hurt you again.” Steve’s voice comes out oddly thick.

“You’ll leave me.”

“I won’t.”

You stare at your hands, fingers shrivelled from the water, trembling from all the screaming you’ve just done, “Don’t believe you anymore.”

Steve sucks in his breath, and you look up to see him tug at his sweater, pulling it down to expose his neck, pale yet so thick and veiny, connecting to his muscular shoulders. He tilts his head slightly, eyes dark and deathly serious, blinking rapidly with a desperation that you’ve never seen on him before.

“Mark me too.”

Your head whips up, heart skipping several beats. Desperately, you search his face for a sign that he’s joking, that he’s about to laugh in your face. It’s almost instinctive to do that now – you don’t trust him; you don’t believe him. Despite the fact that there seems to be sincerity written on his features, you can see it brimming in his eyes that glow in the dim light of the bathroom, in his lips which practically purse with anticipation.

You don’t know what to say.

“Mark me too, omega. Like how I marked you. I don’t give a fuck about anyone else; I only want you. So claim me, if it’ll make you feel better. I’ll be yours just like how you’re mine.”

You gulp. Steve’s all about grand gestures and sweet words, but could he really mean it? When he’s barely said anything this whole time you’ve poured your frustrations out to him? For a moment, a wild nano-second, the feral omega within you wants to surge forward and bite him hard, claim him how he claimed you that fateful night a month or so ago. Make him hurt how he made you hurt the night he claimed you. Make him yours, and maybe, just maybe, you’d finally be happy?

But then you wilt, like all your feelings have rushed to a standstill and taken a nosedive down to the depths of your own mind. Dark doubts, insecurities, mistrust, hopelessness – all of that seems to overtake any innate desire you have to mate him right back. Clearly, the bond you both shared meant nothing to him when he’d cheated on you. What difference could your measly bite-mark on his neck really make?

“Make me yours.” He repeats.

“You’ll never be mine.” You shrink back within yourself, like a candle that’s been snuffed out, or a balloon that’s slowly deflating.

Steve blinks as if he can’t quite believe it, and you feel a peculiar wavering in your bond. “I don’t understand,” He says slowly, “I’m giving you permission to mark me, omega. Not anyone else, just you. So do it. Mark me.”

You bow your head, shaking it slowly, “I’m tired, Steve.”

There’s a certain pull that you feel in your bond with him, a heaviness in the connection you share. You’ve never felt it before. Hurt. It’s almost as if he’s hurt. Could Steve possibly be hurt? But the feeling is fleeting, glimmering slightly before disappearing altogether, making you think you imagined it to begin with.

No more words are shared between you as he helps you to your feet, wrapping his large black towel around you before guiding you back to the bedroom. Like you’re a kicked and injured puppy who needs him. You wonder if you’ll ever not need him.

You feel nothing as he pulls his old football jersey over your head. It’s your favourite one, the one with all the holes in it that smells so much like him. His lucky jersey, he’d told you once. But even the omega inside of you has quietened down, and you still feel so numb. Numb and cold. And hopeless. Even the bed doesn’t bring you any comfort as Steve tucks you in.

He sits by your side, stroking your hair. You struggle to keep your eyes open, the dark depths of sleep tugging you in, and you wonder what fresh nightmares await inside your head. Steve leaving you? Leaving you and your unborn child? You’re already half asleep when you think you hear him speak again, in an oddly gentle tone:

“When I kissed her, I closed my eyes and pretended it was you.” A pause, as if he’s mulling whether to say his next words, “You’re all I think about – and I think about you so goddamned much, it feels like I’m going insane. I can’t even look at another girl, all I see is you.”

It’s through the throes of sleep that you answer:

“Don’t believe you, Steve. Don’t trust you. How can we raise a chil–”

But even in your half-asleep state, your voice knows to trail off. You know what you were about to say: How can we raise a child together when I don’t even trust you? But you can’t tell him about the baby, not when everything is so uncertain.

Sleep pulls you into unconsciousness. Dark and quiet, you dream of nothing.

***

The next few days feel like you’re living in some sort of limbo, with things between you and Steve quieter than a pin dropping. There seems to be change in the foreboding alpha who used to make your heart stop every time he looked at you. Now, he teeters between a range of different emotions. Like masks – quickly exchanging one for the other. Wary – as if you’re made out of glass. Apologetic – except he’s yet to actually say sorry. Cautious – as if he thinks you might do something to hurt yourself. Angry – not directly at you but it scares you anyways.

And sometimes you don’t recognise him – but did you ever truly know him to begin with? And you also don’t recognise yourself. You feel like a snuffed-out candle and you don’t know what to do with yourself. Steve’s room suddenly feel suffocating, but where else are you supposed to go?

But it’s like there’s an invisible barrier stopping you from leaving his room. The fear of running into Bucky is the biggest barrier, and so everything else comes to a standstill. Cleaning, laundry, all the little things you used to do around the house for Steve and yourself. Things you didn’t even realise had become routine until now. You barely go into the kitchen anymore, with Steve now bringing food up to his bedroom for the two of you.

Soon, your end-of-year exams finish, and looking out onto campus through your window, you can see other students packing up and leaving. Laughing and hugging their parents who show up in pick-up trucks and moving vans. Friends saying tearful goodbyes because everyone’s going home for the summer. Is that what you should do? Go home? When your mother hasn’t given you a call in more than a few months now?

One day, you’re staring listlessly out the window when you hear a knock on the door. Turning your head ever-so-slightly, your eyes meet with Sam’s.

“Steve isn’t here.”

“I know. I wanted to speak to you.” Sam steps into the room, leaving the door slightly ajar behind him. Your breath hitches in your throat, and the alpha scoffs when you get up and take a step backwards, “Relax. I’m not going to hurt you.”

It’s less a fear of Sam and more a fear of something bad inevitably happening that makes you swallow harshly. Sam isn’t as bad as Bucky but he was still awful to you, still said the meanest things to you and had done nothing when Bucky locked you out of the house. So, your body is on high-alert as you gaze warily at him now.

“Go away.” You don’t want to beg him, but you don’t have the willpower to even try to be assertive anymore. It’s not like any of the alphas in this house ever listen to you, anyways. “Just go away, okay? I have nothing to say to you.”

Sam scowls at the floor, kicking the carpet before inhaling deeply and looking up to meet your eyes. Why is he here? To ridicule you? Berate you? Laugh at you? Do you even care anymore?

“I’m sorry, okay?” He blurts out, the words tumbling out of his mouth so quickly that you’re stunned for a second, unsure if you’ve heard him correctly. Sam himself looks stunned, and you get the feeling that he’s never apologised to anyone before, let alone an omega. And nobody’s ever apologised to you before, not any of the alphas who’ve bulled you. Not Steve. And certainly not Bucky.

Sam takes a step closer to you, and this time you don’t flinch away.

“Look, I won’t pretend I’m a saint, okay? I know I’ve never been nice to you… But things went too far the other day and I’m man enough to admit that.” He’s still speaking fast, as if he wants to get it all out before he changes his mind.

Should you trust him?

“And I don’t know what the fuck came over Bucky that night,” Sam continues, shoving his hands in his pockets, “Usually he’s the nicest out of the three of us. And I was high as fuck that night, I thought he’d let you in eventually, so I just went upstairs. But whatever, I’m not making any excuses for him or myself.”

You exhale slowly, willing yourself to look up at his face, search for even an ounce of laughter, or a twitch of a smile – any hint that this is all a sick joke.

“So, consider this an apology. And you don’t have to say anything, and you don’t have to forgive me. But just know that you won’t be getting that sort of treatment from me anymore.”

Silence. Except your mind’s working in overdrive: should you trust him? Should you believe him? Did you even want to forgive him? Does this apology make up for all the verbal abuse, berating and bullying that you’ve suffered, with him being one of the main perpetrators? Did his apology even matter anymore, when the damage was already done?

You never get a chance to respond because Steve walks in at that very moment. The blond alpha freezes at the doorway, a bouquet of yellow roses clenched in his hand and a frown quickly forming on his face. His blue eyes narrow as he looks from you to Sam, who’s standing only about a foot away from you.

“Get away from her before I fucking kill you.”

There’s a flurry of movement, the yellow roses drop to the floor and it takes Steve only two strides to cross the room and stand between you and the other alpha.

Sam raises an eyebrow, “Chill out. I only came in here to–”

“Get out.” Steve is curt and seething at the same time, and for a moment it looks like Sam’s about to square up. He opens his mouth to speak before clamping it shut and shaking his head.

“I’m so fucking done with this bullshit.” Sam says under his breath before exiting the room, leaving you alone with the sound of Steve’s rapid breathing as your alpha whips around to stare you down. Your heart lurches when he grabs you by the shoulders, shaking you while those blue eyes never leave your face.

“You were gonna fuck him, weren’t you?”

Your jaw drops at how ludicrous his accusation is, how shockingly unbelievable.

“Wh-What? No, I wasn’t–”

“Don’t lie to me.” With clenched teeth and eyes that look half crazed, you see his pupils darting around as if trying to find the truth in your face. Jaw clenching and unclenching, he squeezes your shoulders and shakes you again, “Don’t think I don’t know what game you’re playing. You think you can cheat on me just because I cheated on you?”

“No–”

“You think you could ever get away with that?” Blonde hair falling over his forehead, eyes bloodshot with anger, he looks like he’s teetering at the edge of his own sanity. “You think you could just hook up with someone else as some sick form of revenge on me, do you?”

“Steve, no–”

“Where’s your phone?” Steve looks incensed, eyes scanning the room like a man possessed. Grabbing it from on top of the dresser, he goes through it quickly. Like he’s done a thousand times before, except this time it’s like he knows he’ll find something. You thank your lucky stars that you deleted the phone call with Peter from your call history – not that that counted as cheating in the slightest.

His frown grows deeper as he opens every app, scrolls through every chat, scours through your call logs. But you feel an eery since of calm – which is the opposite of Steve who looks like he’s about to explode with whatever mad anger that’s suddenly consumed him.

“Don’t you fucking think you can go behind my fucking back, you got that? Especially not with my friends, or that fucking scum beta ex of yours.” He throws your phone down on the bed, clearly having found zero evidence to back his absurd claims, but it doesn’t stop him from glowering at you.

“Listen to me very carefully, omega.” Steve scrunches your face between his thumb and fingers, his expression so intense it chills your blood. “You’re mine. I’m your alpha and I own you. That’s never going to change. If you ever cheat on me, I’ll kill him. And you too.”

He slams his lips against yours in a kiss so bruising, you feel your lips burn. And this kiss is different, you can almost taste the desperation as he moves his tongue against yours. As he holds you close to him so tightly that it hurts, and you can’t breathe, and you feel like he’s never going to let you go.

You fight the urge to kiss him back – because even now, that urge is still there. It’ll always be there. Palms press desperately against his hard chest in a bid to push him away.

“I wouldn’t do that to you!” You cry out as you pull away, “I would never deliberately hurt someone I care about, Steve. I’m not you!”

He lets go of you as suddenly as he’d grabbed you, breathing hard and still seething. And it’s almost like you’re really seeing him now. Steve, who was always so poised, so smooth as he clinically seamed his words together in the past. But now? The distant, crazed look in his eyes, the dishevelled features, hair unkempt, jaw tense, lips bitten and pursed. He’s always been beautiful but there’s an unpredictable edge to him now that maybe wasn’t there before.

Was the alpha losing control?

He backs away, fists clenched at his sides and that intense and crazed expression still on his face. You both stare at each other, it feels like your heart’s about to thud out of your chest. And then abruptly, he turns and strides out of the room, stepping over the bouquet of yellow roses that lay trampled and dejected on the ground.

***

The days all start looking the same. You’re so stationary in Steve’s room yet you feel like you’re running. Constantly running and hiding from the responsibility of the child growing inside of you. Tell him, tell alpha! He deserves to know! The omega inside of you shrieks and croons, but something’s stopping you from doing it. There’s a mountain of problems surrounding you and Steve – where would a baby fit in all of that?

The silence between the two of you grows louder as each day passes. Barely any words spoken, and a certain awkwardness that was never there before – certainly never from Steve himself. Yet despite all that, every night he holds you while you sleep. And every morning, you wake up in his warm embrace. And it’s only in those moments, in the quiet of the night with the weight of his arms around you, that you can pretend everything’s okay.

And then one day, Steve walks into the room and sits next to you on the bed. You think nothing of it, barely glancing at him before going back to examining the pattern of the duvet cover.

“Omega.” Steve says, but as usual he seems so far away. And it’s almost like you don’t have the energy to acknowledge him, even when he grabs your hand and squeezes it. It’s only when he says your name – your real name – that you look up. He barely ever calls you that.

“Have you eaten today?” He asks, a frown adorning his features when you shake your head listlessly. You’d attempted to go down to the kitchen earlier, but upon hearing Bucky’s voice you’d turned and come straight back into the bedroom, heart pitter-pattering and a sinking feeling in your chest.

He takes out a wrapped deli sandwich and a bottle of water from his gym bag. His blue eyes watch you like a hawk as you slowly take a sip of water and tear off a bit of the sandwich, chewing softly. It tastes like nothing, but you figure it’s better to just keep quiet and eat it – since you’re meant to be eating for two now anyways. And just that thought sends shivers down your spine – how long can you pretend not to acknowledge the existence of the baby growing inside of you? How long before you have to tell him?

Steve clears his throat, “Look, I know things have been…” His voice trails off as he watches you tear off tiny pieces of your sandwich, staring into your lap because you just can’t seem to look at him. He shifts around, and you feel a spark of unease in the bond you share with him.

“I got you something.” He says finally, reaching into his gym bag a second time, he takes something out and throws it into your lap.

The fur looks worn out and one ear is missing, and you can see the haphazard stitches on the teddy bear’s neck that hold it together. Not the neatest thread work, but it looks strong enough despite the head which is slightly lopsided. Coal black eyes shining bright as ever, and the same blue bow tie except now it has a few more loose threads than before.

“Steve Junior…” You breathe, running your fingers over the stuffie, and his fur feels just as soft as before. He looks so old, so worn out, pieced together and stitched so precariously but it’s him. As ridiculous as it sounds – he’s just a stuffed animal after all – but it’s him and now suddenly your mouth feels dry. You bring the stuffie up to your nose and you’re bathing in Steve’s alpha scent, so potent and rich and warm.

“It took me a while to find someone who’d fix him up.” Steve breaks the silence, scratching the back of his neck. You sneak a peek up at his face to find him scanning yours, as if gauging your reaction. “A lot of his cotton stuffing was dirty so I had to replace it. But the rest of him is all him, just as he was before. I thought of just buying you a new one, but I figured you’d appreciate this more.”

You nod slowly, stroking the top of Steve Junior’s head as if you can’t get enough of it. “You gathered up all the pieces from the kitchen floor?”

“Yes.”

It’s a monosyllabic answer, but his eyes say a lot more. At least, you think they do and you wish he’d verbalise it. Instead, with a hesitancy that was never there before, Steve slowly pulls you into his lap, holding you close against his chest, where you can feel the dull thud of his heartbeat. And you let yourself be held, feeling his alpha warmth that you haven’t felt in a while now.

Warm hands cup your face and make you look up at him. And it’s his tenderness that you can’t wrap your head around. Is this the same Steve who so vehemently accused you of cheating on him just days ago? Why was it always a different emotion with Steve? Always a different mask, as if he could switch them out so easily. What were you supposed to believe?

He kisses you like someone who’s parched, and again you feel that desperation on his lips. Before, his kisses were always so confident, self-assured, taking what he needed from you and leaving you breathless and reeling in the process. Now, he’s gentle. Handling you as if you’re made of glass. And it feels so foreign to you.

You let yourself kiss him back. Steve sighs and increases his pace, tongue swiping over your bottom lip, making you gasp before he gains entrance. His hands fall down to your hips at the same moment your arms wind around his neck. It’s frenzied movement and a blur of limbs, like two people who’ve suddenly realised they can’t get enough of each other after days of no contact.

“Fuck,” Steve mutters under his breath, squeezing your hips before his hand slips down between your legs, cupping your mound in his warm grip. You pant, jerking forward, squashing Steve Junior between both your bodies. You pull away long enough to prop your stuffie up on your pillow, making sure he’s sitting upright before Steve drags you back to him.

“You need me, don’t you?” He whispers fervently against your lips, biting and nipping while the heel of his palm grinds against your clothed pussy. “Tell me you need me.”

You do need him; you’ll always need him. It’s what terrifies you the most. But you try not to think, try to lose yourself in the feeling of his lips smattering kisses all over your jaw and moving down to your neck. He slips his hand into your panties, eliciting another gasp from you, and a jerk from your hips that can’t help but want him.

You start moving against his hand, riding it while he slips a finger inside you. Your slippery pussy swallowing his digit as if you’re starved, walls so needy that they constrict around him and you moan, grabbing at his shoulders, wanting to feel more of him. Nothing’s solved, nothing’s okay – but he’s made you so addicted to his touch that, for a second, it doesn’t even seem to matter.

His hands have snaked up your shirt, palm pressing against your belly like how he always used to do before. Except now it’s different, now it makes your eyes widen and a cold panic rise in the pit of your stomach. Again, the picture plays behind your eyes: you, alone with your baby. Dark and dreary, and Steve’s nowhere to be found. He’s gone. He’s left you. Did he kiss that other omega like this?

“STOP!”

You push hard against his chest, the force of the blow surprising both of you. You scramble off him, hands shaking and you can still feel his burning kiss on your lips, and his touch on your body too. You back away slowly, shaking your head and breathing hard.

“I can’t, I–” Your eyes dart to Steve’s face, and he’s looking up at you with what looks to be concern, as if he’s just kicked an already injured puppy. Repeatedly, you shake your head, “I’m sorry, I just… I just can’t!”

Running to the bathroom, you slam the door shut and that’s when the tears spurt out and you’re sobbing and sobbing. It seems like you’re always crying – as if the self-pity will just never end – but it’s like you can’t stop. Why couldn’t you just become okay again?

Everything is okay! The omega inside you screeches. He fixed Steve Junior! It shows he cares! Everything’s okay now!

If everything was okay, then why did nothing feel fine at all?

Staring at your reflection in the mirror, you see an omega who is weak and broken. Red eyes, bitten nails, puffy face. Hair unkempt, hands shaking pathetically, clothes crumpled. Was this the omega who was meant to keep Steve happy? Was this the omega who was going to have his baby? You cradle your stomach as rivulets of tears flow down your face.

“What are we gonna do?” You whisper softly, your sobs making your words almost indecipherable. “I don’t know what to do, I don’t know what to do, I don’t know what to do.”

You don’t hear the thud of the footsteps, only the crash of the bathroom door as it’s thrown open, Steve striding towards you and grabbing your shoulders before you have a chance to even cower.

“What’s wrong with you?” He roars, but there’s desperation in his anger as he shakes you by the shoulders.

“I don’t know!”

“What’s it going to take to get you to go back to how you were before?”

“I DON’T KNOW!”

You flinch when he draws his hand back, wondering if this is it. If he’s finally run out of whatever patience he had up until this point and now you’re in for it. You brace yourself for the inevitable blow, taking a deep breath and willing yourself to disassociate from the pain. But you only see Steve looking at you incredulously, his hand slowly curling into a fist by his side.

“I wouldn’t hit you.”

He looks almost appalled, staring down at his own fist for a handful of tense seconds, during which you can hear the sounds of your own rapid breathing and every single beat of your heart too.

“It wouldn’t matter if you did.” You say it softly, more to yourself than to him.

As if exhausted of all his options, Steve’s grip on you loosens. Blue eyes boring into yours, reflecting the helplessness that you can also detect in your bond.

“I told you to forget about it.” His hands cup your face again, thumbs swiping away your tears. “Why can’t you just forget about that night, why can’t you just let me make you happy?”

More than anything, you wish you had an answer for him.

***  

Despite talking lesser and lesser and slowly becoming strangers by day, the magnetic pull between the two of you increases at night. Where it’s dark and warm and you can pretend it’s all okay, that’s when Steve holds you and you let yourself be held by him every single night.

Which is why you wake up with a start, on the bed completely empty besides you and the newly resurrected Steve Junior.  A glance at your phone tells you it’s past midnight – so, where’s Steve? Blindly, you reach out for him – but he’s not there and, despite everything, this troubles you.

He’s left you, the dark voice at the back of your head cackles. You thought you could get away with being upset with him for this long, and now he’s left you, just like he said he would if you got out of line.

You’re not even fully awake before you’re on your feet, trying to keep your dizziness at bay. It’s another symptom of your pregnancy, another reminder of the secret you’re holding inside of you, another reminder that you need to tell someone. But right now, all you can focus on is where is Steve?

You find him on the small balcony that overlooks the back of the house. Elbows resting on the railing and blonde hair looking silver in the moonlight. He looks back as if he senses you, cigarette between his lips and a cloud of smoke surrounding him before he turns his back to you once more.

Before you can change your mind and go back to bed, you venture forward to stand beside the alpha, heart thudding as it always does whenever you’re near him. After days of his hot and cold behaviour and your own depleting moods, you realise you don’t know how to act around him or what to say. A gust of cold wind blows and you shiver, but it gives you this sudden burst of courage to speak.

“You shouldn’t smoke so much.” You blurt out. It’s the only thing you can think of to say; you’ve seen Steve smoke here and there a few times, at parties or gatherings with his friends. But never at home, in the middle of the night, with two empty beer cans rolling around by his feet.

To your surprise, Steve puts the cigarette out. Dropping it to the floor and stomping on it before turning away from you to exhale the final puff of smoke. You watch as it swirls into the night air, dissipating almost immediately.

“Sharon used to say that a lot.” He remarks, and hearing his ex’s name on his tongue feels like a punch to your gut – he’s never voluntarily mentioned her before. You turn around to leave, but his next words stop you short. “It’s funny, because I never gave a fuck about what she said. Or any of the other girls I was with.” He looks at you squarely, “I cheated on all of them too. And I never thought anything of it.”

It feels like there’s needles in your throat when you swallow, tumbling all the way down to your stomach and tearing you up from the inside out. Why is he telling you this?

“I thought it would be the same with you. You’re just an omega after all, why should I care about what you say or how you feel?” The full moon’s reflecting in his eyes, giving them an alien silver glow that makes him look like a stranger. And maybe he is a stranger, because he’s never opened up like this with you before.

“But I do.” He says it so quietly, it almost gets lost in the night air. Another gust of chilly wind has your teeth chattering, goosebumps covering your bare arms as you stand there and stare at him in only your nightgown. You don’t protest when Steve shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over your shoulders, smoothening the lapels and his fingers linger at your collarbone. For a split second, he leans closer, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply before sighing.

“I’ve hurt girls in the past and I’ve never cared. But you…” He turns back, looking over the balcony railing, and you wait a few beats, your mind silently urging him to finish his thought.

“I thought I could cheat on you and things would be fine after that. That I’d scare you into acting right and we’d just go back to how things were.” The words tumble out of his mouth quickly, as if he’s spitting them out before his ego catches up and swallows them back into his brain.

“Sharon warned me about you.” You blurt out.

His head whips around, faster than the frenzied winds that surround the two of you, “You spoke to her?”

“I–I didn’t believe her. I didn’t want to believe her because I liked you so much.”

“I know you did.” Steve cocks his head to the side, looking at you almost curiously. The stars dance in his eyes, and tufts of his blonde hair blow up with the strong wind, “How could you like me that much, despite everything?”

You don’t know what to say. How could you like him that much? Despite everything he’d done to you? Was it because the forced mating compelled you to feel things for him? No – your feelings were more complex than that. They’ve been there since the beginning, when he would bully you and you wished to God that he would like you. To after he mated you, and how you’d persuaded yourself that he’d changed, that he did like you now. To when he confessed to cheating, and your whole world broke down…

It's less of a realization and more of a fact: you like Steve a lot – more than Peter and more than your mother. Because you could live without Peter and you could even live without your mother. But you don’t think you could ever live without Steve.

When you don’t answer, Steve sucks in his breath and looks away again, “You’re pure, you know? The way you act, how good you are. And it… confuses me.”

You have to grip the railing hard to keep yourself rooted in reality – was Steve genuinely confiding in you?

“I’ve never second-guessed myself before.” He says after a long, long pause. As if he’s got a script pictured in his mind and he keeps mentally rewriting it and scratching things out. “But you… You make me second-guess everything.” It sounds like an accusation, but a resigned one; and you focus on his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. “I shouldn’t have made you think I was going to leave you. Because I won’t. Ever. I can promise you that right now.”

You nod, tentatively taking a step towards him and he mirrors your actions, his hand reaching up to stroke your cheek. It’s instinctive when you lean into his touch, feel the rough pads of his fingers rub against the soft skin of your face. He traces your cheekbones, and he’s so gentle. You wish you could freeze this moment, because Steve’s emotions are like the changing tide. Would he be this tender tomorrow or the day after – or even two minutes from now?

“You should go back to bed.” He says abruptly, as if on cue.

Why is your heart sinking? Why do you want to stay? But you listen to him anyway, a large part of you will always listen to him, always want to be good for him. And it’s when you’re a good few steps away that you hear him clear his throat.

“Omega?”

“Yes, Steve?”

“I’m sorry. For all of it.”

A coolness spreads across your chest, like a pleasant, soothing balm that calms you from the inside out. Your heart steadies, and you feel like you can breathe again.

***

“He’s not in his room, Steve.”

“I don’t fucking care.”

“He’s our running back, we need him. Especially today.”

“Jensen can play his position. Now let’s just fucking go.”

Behind the closed door of your bedroom, you can hear Steve and Sam’s muffled voices out in the hallway. You don’t mean to eavesdrop, but the two of them seem to be growing collectively louder and louder.

The tension seems to be running high between the two of them – you’ve hardly seen them speak since the day Sam apologised to you and Steve exploded on him. But the two alphas seem even more stressed out today, with the final football match of the season against a rival college in less than a few hours.

“Jensen can’t play as good as Bucky.” Sam quips.

“Bucky’s not here.” Steve says through clenched teeth, “He’s probably out somewhere, either passed out or hungover. And we don’t have time to start a manhunt for him so let’s just go.”

The bedroom door bursts open and you freeze as Steve storms in past you. The two of you haven’t spoken since last night when he’d apologised on the balcony. Granted, he’d been busy all day prepping for the game tonight – last minute workouts and strategizing with his team. And you had about three loads of laundry to get through since you’d been neglecting things like that for the past few weeks now.

And yet the lack of contact between the two of you made you wonder whether he was already regretting his apology. Or worse – what if he was going to pretend that he never apologised at all?

If anything, Steve seems more riled up and on edge now than ever, rummaging through the already messy bedroom (you had neglected cleaning too, and it’s not like Steve himself ever cleaned). “Where the fuck is it??” He murmurs under his breath, tossing clothes out of the closet and onto the floor.

“Wh-What are you looking for?” You ask him quietly, wondering whether he can detect the awkwardness in your tone. Sure, he’d apologised – but where do the two of you stand now? In some awkward limbo between “okay” and “not okay”?

Steve sighs, stepping away from the closet and grabbing his gym bag. Slinging it over his shoulder, he makes his way over to you.

“Nothing.” He murmurs, reaching out to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear. You gulp, wanting to say something, anything. Maybe wish him luck for the game? But you’re too shy, lips feeling like they’re glued together and heart beating harder than ever. Steve opens his mouth to say something else, and then–

“STEVE, LET’S GO!” Sam bellows from downstairs.

Steve leaves without another word.

You spend the day doing all the chores you’d neglected for the past few weeks. It’s crazy to you how much of a difference two words can bring about. You’d spent the past few weeks lying listlessly in bed, feeling numbingly indifferent half the time and cripplingly stressed out for the other half. And you’re still stressed – how can you not be? Pregnant within your first year of college and you still haven’t told a soul.

But it’s somewhat easier now to make a mental list of everything – washing and drying three hampers of clothes (you wonder if you can put Steve Junior in the washing machine but after seeing the precarious stitches on his neck, you conclude that handwashing him would be safer). You also venture downstairs to clean the kitchen (and it’ll never cease to shock you, what a mess three alphas can make).

It's only when you’re deep into cleaning the bedroom that the vacuum cleaner catches on something poking out from under Steve’s side of the bed. A rectangular book with a black velvet cover – it seems unassuming enough yet it piques your curiosity anyways. Maybe because it’s got Steve’s scent all over it.

You expect blank pages – Steve’s not the type to make notes – but nothing could truly prepare you for what you actually see when you open the book.

It’s you.

Over and over again. Drawn on one page, then again on the next. You flip five pages down, and there you are again. Different renditions of you on almost every single page and the book is more than half filled up. You in pencil sketches, you in watercolour; there’s one of you with a pen in hand, clearly taking notes. Another of you sitting under a tree, drinking from a juice-box, one of you on your phone, and plenty more of you studying – always wearing your oversized hoodie.

The most recent one is of you sleeping, wearing his jersey with the holes in it and Steve Junior clutched tightly in your arms. It’s with shaky breath that you trace a trembling finger over the masterful strokes, admiring the accuracy of the teddy bear’s blue bow tie – all the way down to the loose threads! And the attention to detail is astounding – your hair, your skin, the slight furrow between your brows…

It's a lot to take in. Had Steve drawn these? He must have! You didn’t even know Steve could draw like this because never once had he done it in front of you. And how long had he had this book for? There were so many drawings – was it from before you and him got together? Carefully, you close the sketchbook and place it neatly back under the bed.

Almost as if you’re in a trance, you walk around to your own side of the bed to where your little makeshift nest is. What’s left of it anyways, since you haven’t really kept up with the upkeep and right now all it consists of is your teddy bear and Steve’s jersey with the holes in it.

His lucky jersey. Was that what he’d been looking for earlier?

Steve Junior looks at you with his coal black eyes as if conveying to you exactly what you’re thinking. Thoughts racing, you stroke his fur softly, the action reminding you of the rare occasions when Steve would fall asleep before you with his face buried in the crook of your neck. When you’d card your fingers through his hair because you were too shy to do it when he was awake.

You feel the sudden urge to do it now as you hold onto his lucky jersey. The one he was looking for. The one he probably needs right now. Right?

Grabbing your phone to check the time, you find that it’s already early evening – the game would be almost over by now. Could you possibly make it in time? Would this even be worth it?

You seem to have made up your mind before you can even begin to answer any of those questions.

***

“Let her in, that’s the quarterback’s girlfriend.”

Getting into the college stadium is easier than you thought it would be. In fact, it’s surprisingly easy, as if the universe is paving a path for you straight to Steve. You thought your significance at university was that of an ant surrounded by giants – but the guys hanging by the ticket booth recognise you immediately, one of them even offering to personally take you inside.

“You should go to the box by the front, that’s where all the girlfriends hang out.”

Never in your life have you been to a college football game before – or a football game of any variety for that matter. Feeling completely out of your depth, you put all your faith into this guy you’ve just met as he guides you through the waves and waves of people. You try your hardest to swallow down your anxiety – you hate large crowds – your nails digging into your palms while your heart races, already wondering whether coming here was a mistake.

“I’m Colin, by the way.” The guy says before pausing to look up at the gigantic scoreboard, “Uh-oh. We’re still down by a few points. That’s why I was outside, couldn’t handle the pressure – even as just a spectator.”

Down by a few points? You clutch Steve’s lucky jersey harder between your fingers, wondering what exactly you thought you’d accomplish by coming here. The game was in full swing – it’s not like you could toss the jersey into the field and hope Steve would notice and pick it up.

“I just think today’s a bad day for the team,” Colin explains, “Steve seems distracted – well, that’s what my friend Jake told me. Jake’s on the team too, but he’s usually on reserve. Except he’s playing today because Bucky didn’t show up, and if you ask me–”

Colin’s voice drowns out as your nerves go into overdrive. Slowly, after ages of weaving through a very intense and rowdy crowd, the two of you make it to a cluster of seats in the front row. A bunch of cheerleaders are standing there in a group, biting their nails with frowns and looks of concern etched on their faces – the girlfriends.

You gulp, glancing down at your own attire and knowing you’ll stick out like a sour thumb. All your new clothes that Steve had bought you were currently in the washing machine – leaving you with the one piece of clothing that you hadn’t worn in a long time. Your oversized hoodie.

Not that it matters right now.

“Well, there you go. Front row seats to all the action – although it’s looking pretty bleak right now, so I’d look away if I was you.” Colin grimaces, glancing at the scoreboard once more. “We’re down by five points and there isn’t much time left on the clock.”

You manage a tight smile, feeling like a tiny fish inside the Pacific Ocean. “Thank you for helping me, Colin.” You say softly.

“No worries.” Colin’s already walking away – clearly, he has no faith left in this game, “Oh, and please don’t tell Steve I spoke to you, okay? He’s probably going to be in a bad mood when – if – we lose this game, and he usually takes his anger out on Jake or me, and this’ll just make it worse, and–”

And then he’s gone, and you make your way past the cluster of cheerleaders, whispering out a soft “excuse me” every time you make eye contact with one of them. They all look you up and down, but thankfully don’t say anything as you walk over to the front, where you now have a clear view of the field.

Steve’s got his team in a huddle, yelling out instructions that you can’t hear. He’s in his blue jersey with his helmet under his arm, blonde hair fluffy and messy and his face pale yet flushed at the same time. And he does look stressed and distracted just how Colin had said. Would he be angry if his team lost? Would he be mad at you for coming? With Steve, one never really knew what to expect, and you suddenly feel extremely foolish, standing here in your ill-fitted hoodie with a jersey full of holes in your hands.

All the players take their positions for the final few minutes of the game. From your limited understanding of football, you can tell that the stakes are very high. The girl next to you can’t stop biting her nails and clutching onto her friend’s arm.

Your eyes are trained on Steve, focused only on him despite the fact that there’s ten other players wearing the same blue jersey and helmet as him. That’s when you feel the mark on your neck suddenly prickle, and Steve’s heard jerks up at that exact moment as if on cue, turning back to look directly at you.

His face is obscured by his helmet, but it makes your breath catch in your throat all the same. Like it did every time he’d strut into the lecture hall, every time you’d see him in the hallways, and those times when he’d show up to your dorm room. He’s yards away from you, but you shoot him a small smile – it’s the first time you’ve smiled at him in a long time now and you wonder if he can even see it.

The whistle blows and there’s a flurry of movement. For a handful of seconds which feel like ages, you don’t even know where the ball is. Everything’s moving so fast, and a glance up at the gigantic timer shows you there’s barely any time left. But the seconds feel like hours, the anticipation growing high not only within you but in the crowd around you. You lean forward over the rails, eyes scanning the field and you see a blur of blue with a handful of players chasing behind it.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen Steve run so fast, yard after yard, as if he’s racing against the clock – which he is. And then his teammate – all the way from the other end – heaves the ball downfield. You see it soaring in the air, so quick that it’s easy to miss. And there’s mere seconds left on the clock, and there’s about four defenders surrounding Steve but he’s gotten past the goal line, and he jumps up, and –

There’s a split second of silence before the stadium erupts in cheers. You realise you’d been holding your breath, and you blink several times before you see the ball in Steve’s hands, hoisted up high. And he’s cleared the goal line, and his teammates are charging at him, whooping in the air.

“I can’t believe it!” The cheerleader next to you screeches in glee, grabbing her friend as they both jump up and down, “A touchdown! We won!”

And sure enough, the huge screen at the front flashes “touchdown!” in huge block letters, and everyone seems to be beside themselves. You exhale in relief, the cheerleaders’ infectious excitement rubbing off on you as you can’t help but smile. Steve is swarmed by his team, and they lift him up. And now you can see him more clearly, see when his eyes zero in on you.

On the shoulders of his teammates, but he’s looking directly at you. You want to give him a little wave but you feel too shy, and you wonder whether you should leave now since he’d obviously want to celebrate with his team. But, as if he somehow senses your intentions, it takes Steve about a millisecond to get back down on the ground, and then he breaks into a run – straight towards you!

You grip onto the railing in anticipation, and Steve crosses the distance in almost record time. There are people in the crowd who’ve invaded the pitch, congratulating his teammates and staring after him as he makes a beeline towards you. Wide-eyed, you stare as he gets closer and closer, his cheeks flushed pink and chest puffed out as he comes to a stop in front of you.

“You’re here.” He says, slightly out of breath.

“Y-Yeah, you’re uh–” You’re suddenly at a loss for words, but you hold up his lucky jersey as if that’s a sufficient enough explanation. Clearing your throat, you add: “Congratulations, Steve. You played really well.”

He stares at you for a moment, and then before you know what’s happening, his hands wrap around your hips, lifting you up over the barrier and into his arms. You squeak, arms instinctively winding around his neck and your legs wrap around his waist.

He kisses you, and there’s an explosion of summer sunshine behind your eyes and all around you. The scent of firewood and an intense summer day interweaves through all your senses – all you can taste, smell, breathe is him. And it’s you who pulls him closer, returning his kiss with double the enthusiasm, your lips working against his as if you’re willingly ready to be consumed in him.

Steve draws back, only to kiss you again. One peck, another peck, and then one of his hands slips up and cups your cheek, pulling your face even closer as his tongue probes against yours and he sucks sweetly on your bottom lip, leaving you breathless yet wanting even more when he suddenly pulls away.

“I love you.”

The words seem to burst out of him – and it seems like both of you stop breathing as soon as he says it. As if you’re both encased in this bubble and the people around you don’t matter and those three words are bouncing around the confines of this bubble, echoing and growing louder, embracing you like a hug.

And your whole world stops. There are hundreds of people around you but they all seem to freeze in place, and you can hear your heart thumping to the same beat as his. And his eyes are clear blue and earnest, and you can see your reflection in them. Shocked, surprised, caught off guard yet every cell in your body rapidly filling up with hope.

“Don’t say that…” You breathe, “D-Don’t say things you don’t mean.” Or else I’ll believe you.

“I mean it.” Steve presses his forehead against yours, gripping you so tightly that you feel like you can’t breathe – but in a good way. “I mean it, omega. I’m in love with you.”

He savours each word as he says it, and you feel this hot and cold feeling – rushes of it – throughout your body. Sparks in the pit of your tummy like tiny butterflies fluttering excitably, or firecrackers ready to erupt in a shower of what feels like pure happiness. You feel light, like you could float forever as his words keep repeating inside your head like a song.

Up until this moment, you’ve second-guessed almost every single word he’s said to you. But why aren’t you second-guessing this? Why is your whole body trusting and believing him, erupting in elation as he holds you close? He loves you. Steve loves you! Love! You don’t think anyone’s ever told you they’ve loved you before. Or made you feel this strange feeling; this heady mixture of wanting to laugh and wanting to cry, of feeling so overwhelmed and yet so at home, and, and and–

“Steve, I’m pregnant.”

The words leave your mouth before you can stop them. And maybe you don’t want to stop them anymore, because the relief you feel is almost instantaneous.

And Steve stares at you for the longest time, and you focus on the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes rapidly, pink lips parted slightly as if he can’t believe what he’s hearing. For one horrific second, you think he’s going to drop you and leave, and take his “I love you” back and tell you it’s over. But he holds you even tighter, and you realise you’re moving as he walks the two of you to a door off to the side, leading to the changing rooms.

Once inside, he sets you down gently on your feet and pins you against the wall, trapping you against his considerably larger frame, looking down at you with an almost foreign look on his face, as if he can’t quite grasp what you’re saying.

“You’re pregnant?” He repeats.

“Yes, I am.”

“Pregnant.” Steve says it again, more to himself than to you, cupping your face, his thumbs stroking your cheekbones lightly. “My omega. Pregnant.”

“Yes.” The more you confirm it and the more he says it, the realer it seems. But it’s crazy how much less scary the prospect of pregnancy sounds when the word is coming out of his mouth. “I took three tests; they all came out positive. My period never came–”

His lips press against yours in a heady kiss that leaves you reeling, and he’s holding you so tightly that you feel light-headed. “My girl carrying my baby, just like I said you would.” Steve whispers against your lips. A smile breaks out across his face, “Baby, you’ve made me so proud.”

Proud. He’s proud. Proud of you.  

He gets down on his knees in front of you, your breath catching in your throat because he’s so big. Even on his knees, his face is level with your chest. His hands, so big and warm, trail softly down your figure – the gentlest he’s ever been. Fingers splayed out and stroking carefully over your stomach, he lifts your hoodie up and presses his face against your soft, exposed skin.

“You’re so tiny,” he breathes, almost in wonder. “So little… How’re you gonna carry my baby inside you when you’re so little?”

Your chest rises as you inhale deeply, a soft whisper of “I don’t know…” leaving your mouth.

Butterfly-light kisses trail up and down your stomach, his lips dragging against your skin, tongue peeking out to lick, nip and suck at your belly – as if he wants to devour you. You get the strong urge to card your fingers through his hair, but you’re so shy that you hesitate, jerking forward instead when the tip of his tongue probes inside your belly button.

Steve looks up, the wonder in his eyes now replaced with a familiar, devilish sparkle.

“I always knew I’d knock you up before the year was over.” He boasts cockily, one hand still firmly stroking your stomach like he’s grown addicted to the feeling. “Didn’t I say it from day one? That I was gonna fuck my baby into you? And now look at you, knocked up like the good, dutiful omega I knew you’d be under my wing.”

He sounds how he did before, the same cocky Steve. But there’s an underlying lightness to his words, this infectious excitement that’s so different from your own cold fear of being pregnant.

“You don’t think it’s too soon, Steve? I mean, I don’t think I’m ready–”

“You’re ready.” He interrupts you, words spoken between kisses against your stomach – it seems like he can’t refrain from kissing you there – “It’s an omega’s duty to have her alpha’s babies, and didn’t I say I’ve got a plan? You, me, and my baby – it’s all coming together now.”

“B-But what about college? You’re graduating now but I’ve still got two more years left, and–”

“You don’t have to worry about any of that anymore.” Steve cuts you off again, standing up to his full height so you have to crane your neck to look up at him. With his shoulder pads on, he looks even bigger than usual, “Didn’t I say I’d take care of you?”

Your concerns are swallowed up by his kiss, and his hand slips down to hook under your thighs. He picks you up easily, and he’s so strong; he only needs one arm to carry you, his other hand cupping your face and pulling you in for another kiss – as if he can’t seem to get enough.

“Poor little baby omega,” He coos, laying you down on a nearby bench and climbing on top of you. You can hear the roar of the crowd close by, everyone celebrating this monumental win for the football team. You know for a fact there are people milling about near you. Steve is undeterred, however, kissing down your neck as he pushes your hoodie up to expose your chest.

“You must’ve been so stressed, huh baby?” More kisses as he unclasps your bra and pulls it off hastily, throwing it somewhere behind him as his eyes zero in on your bare breasts.

“Y-Yeah, I was.” You can’t help but sniffle, sounding small and pathetic but you can’t help it. Telling Steve about the baby feels like a huge weight has been lifted off your shoulders, the agonising stress inside your head easing bit by bit as Steve’s large hands squeeze and grope your tits roughly.

“Don’t worry, sweet girl. You don’t have to worry about anything anymore. I know your little brain is tired from thinking so much, now you just leave all the thinking to daddy, okay? All you have to focus on is being a mommy.” He buries his face in your breasts, nuzzling and inhaling your soft skin, squeezing and pushing your tits together till they hurt while you whimper beneath him.

“St-Steve, someone might – ah! – someone might see us!”

“Shhh, didn’t I just tell you not to worry about anything?” He takes your hoodie off completely, and now you’re topless and completely at your alpha’s mercy. He grins wolfishly down at you, “Now, did you know that pregnant baby omegas like yourself are meant to feed their alphas too?”

Your eyes pop open, “Wh-What?”

Steve smirks, palming your tits roughly before rubbing one of your stiff nipples between his thumb and forefinger. You’re half enamoured by the thrill of it, and half paranoid that someone’s going to walk in and see all this, but Steve doesn’t seem to care.

“You didn’t know that you’re meant to feed daddy too? God, you really are a baby, aren’t you?” He pinches your nipple before his tongue peaks out and licks around it, making it even more erect. “All pregnant omegas have to let their alphas have a taste of their milk.”

“I haven’t – ah! – I haven’t read about that anywhere!” You try not to moan.

“That’s because you’re just a baby,” Steve coos before encasing your nipple in his mouth and giving suckling on it not so gently. And the action sends thrills straight down to your core, making you gasp breathlessly and clutch onto his broad shoulders. He releases your nipple with a pop, “Now omega, are you gonna let daddy drink your little mommy milk?”

You squirm, “Y-Yes?”

He twists your nipple roughly, “Say it, then.”

“Y-Yes, you can drink it.”

Another pinch. “Say it properly.”

“Yes, you can drink my mommy milk!” You cry out.

Steve smiles, pulling your cheek condescendingly, “Good girl. Not that I would need your permission, since you’re mine after all.” He gives your nipple a feather-light kiss before encasing it between his lips again, teeth grazing against the sensitive bud.

“And address me properly, or I’ll call the whole football team and make them watch while I fuck you.” You can feel him harden at the thought, “I’ll show them exactly how I knocked you up in the first place.”

“Daddy…” you whine, “N-Not in front of anyone, please!”

Steve licks his lips as his eyes drink you in, like a carnal wolf admiring his prey. His gaze focuses on between your legs, his hangs grabbing at your thighs and spreading them apart. Lewdly, he cups your mound and you automatically buck your hips upwards, making him smirk at your neediness. Grinding the heel of his palm against your clothed pussy, you want to hide your face in embarrassment when you see the wet patch forming on your leggings.

“You’re going to be so much hornier now that you’re pregnant,” He breathes, looking at the wet spot between your legs as if he’s entranced. Suddenly, he strikes you; palm slapping against your clothed pussy while his other hand holds your legs apart. You gasp, sparks of pleasure flaring up inside you as he repeatedly slaps your clothed cunt.

“Tell me, baby omega. Who knocked you up?”

“Y-You did!” You cry out desperately, trying to clamber upwards to grab at his shoulders except he easily pins you back down. His head dips down too, straight between your legs till he’s face to face with your pussy. And you wish to God your leggings and panties weren’t in the way, but Steve doesn’t seem to care. His tongue peaks out past his pink lips, licking a stripe up your covered cunt, and you convulse, “Oh fuck!”

“Tell me how you got knocked up, baby.” Steve speaks against your pussy, and you can feel his hot breath through the thin material of your leggings. He lets out a hum before he takes the material between his lips, sucking at the wet spot and making you throb down there, “Tell me how I filled up your little baby cunt and fucked my baby into you.”

You hesitate, and earn a harsh slap to your ass that has you hissing in pain. “Say it!”

“Y-You filled up my baby cunt and knocked me up!” You cry out desperately, rubbing your pussy against his face as he continues to suck your leggings, his nose grazing against your covered folds and making you want him so badly, it hurts. “Daddy – ah! – y-you fucked your baby into me, okay? P-Please!”

It’s insane how quickly he renders you to be delirious, but after weeks of not being intimate with him, it’s like this is exactly what you need. The depravity, the filth, the fear that just about anyone could walk in at any moment. And it’s also the pride you see in his face – alpha is proud of you for getting pregnant, and that just makes you want him even more.

“You’re just a tiny little baby,” Steve sits back up, looking down at you as if you’re some ravishing creature and not just a desperate omega practically humping against him, face contorted in need for her alpha. “How’re you growing my baby inside of you, when you’re a little fucking baby yourself, huh? Daddy’s little baby.”

He peels your leggings off, leaving you in just your panties in the changing rooms where anyone could walk in at any moment. Pressing kisses against your inner thighs, getting closer and closer to your core, and you’re wiggling underneath him, thrusting up into air because you’re so needy for him.

“I’m gonna take such good care of you, baby.” He breathes, sinking down to his knees on the side of the bench and grabbing your calves to pull you to the edge of it. His face between your thighs now, you can feel his hot breath against your panty-covered core. “Gonna keep you so happy. My little wife… I’ll give you everything you deserve.”

Your heart lurches at the word “wife.” He’s never referred to you as that before, but you don’t have the time to mull upon it when Steve’s teeth enclose around your wet panties, pulling them and letting the elastic stretch before he lets go and it snaps back against your pussy, making you whimper softly. He grins, taking the sodden fabric into his mouth again, this time sucking all your slick from the material while your eyes pop at the sight, pussy clenching around air.

“I love you, baby. You’ve made me so happy today. I want to make you happy too.” His voice is dripping with sweetness – and usually you’d be questioning: is he being sincere? Does he mean it? Should I trust him? But just hearing him say it, hearing him say “I love you,” it’s like it makes you stop thinking straight, makes you not want to question him, makes you want to believe him because what do you truly have left if you don’t believe him?

And maybe – just maybe – he does mean it.

“The mother of my child,” Steve coos, blowing cool air on your hot core, and your slick is dripping down to pool underneath you on the bench as he continues to finger the material of your panties, “Aren’t you happy that you’re pregnant, baby? Aren’t you happy that you made daddy so proud?”

You bite your lip, “H-Honestly, I’m scared– ah! – I’m too young, we’re both too young. There’re so many things we have to think about and consider, and– oh! Oh my God!”

Steve chooses that moment to rip your panties in half and dip his head down, pushing back the hood of your clit and encasing the throbbing button between his lips. He sucks down hard, and you automatically raise your hips to grind up against his face, leaving it glistening with streaks of your wetness. His hand lands an open-palmed slap against your bare pussy, the sound so lewd and wet as it echoes across the changing room.

“I asked you if you’re happy for making me proud.”

You gulp, hands reaching down to grab at his blonde tufts – something you’d been itching to do all day. Slowly, you nod your head. “Y-Yeah.” You whisper, “A-Always wanna make you proud.”

“Good girl. That’s what I thought.” He goes back to your clit, spitting down on it. His saliva pools around your button and he uses his thumb to spread it, circling and rubbing it around and around till you can’t take the intensity, and hump up against his hand. “I already told you not to think about anything else, except being a mommy and making me proud.”

Steve lifts your thighs up and props them over his shoulders, and your ankles automatically lock around him, encasing his head between your legs so he’s face to face with your core. And that’s when you feel his tongue, hard and pointed, flick against your clit, once, twice, three times till you’re crying out his name, your thighs already thrashing except his tight grip keeps them pinned to his shoulders.

“Look at your little button, all swollen up and cute.” Steve spits once more, his saliva trailing down your mound to pool around your clit once more. “You missed having your daddy make you feel good, didn’t you?”

“I…I, uh – Ow!” You gasp when he slaps your ass, the sound resonating across the room and you wonder why no one has walked in yet.

“I wasn’t asking you; I was asking her.” Steve licks his lips, looking straight at your glistening folds and using his pointed finger to swipe up and down your wetness. “Look at your little baby pussy, she’s crying because she’s so happy that daddy’s here to take care of her again.” And that’s all it takes for him to bury his face in your wetness once more, enveloping your sensitive folds between his lips and suctioning harshly.

“Mm, fuck, daddy!” You whimper softly, and he reaches up to squeeze your breast possessively.

Licking and sucking his way back up to your clit, his teeth graze against your swollen bundle of nerves, making you throb like crazy as the sparks begin to build up. “So fuckin’ puffy, just for daddy, huh?” He questions, and you gasp out in agreement, your movements getting needier and more desperate as you begin to hump into his face in earnest, your fists tightening around his hair as you practically smear your pussy over his face, feeling his tongue, his teeth, his lips, his nose, even the light stubble he’s starting to grow out – all of it creating delicious friction against you.

Your body is rocked by so many different sensations: he’s practically making out with your pussy as his mouth suctions over it, lapping at your wetness like he’s starved. His tongue, so hard and pointed, fucks into your hole, his nose grazing against your clit before he licks a flat stripe up from your fuckhole up your slit, ending with a hearty suck up on your clit before biting down on the bundle of nerves not so lightly.

“That’s right, baby. My horny fuckin’ little omega, rub your baby cunt on daddy’s face, use me to make yourself cum. Fuck! I said rub yourself on my fucking face! Harder, before I change my mind.” Steve’s teetering between nice and mean, and the heady mix of both makes you scream out and clutch his hair harder, his voice muffled and sending vibrations against your clit. “Hump on daddy’s face, baby, c’mon. Make yourself feel good, show daddy how much you missed me.”

Your orgasm is doubly intense, and for the second time in your life, your juices squirt out, streaming all over Steve’s face and coating him in your slick. And, like a man starved, he wastes no time in swiping his cheek and sucking his finger, his eyes training on your pulsating pussy as you clench and release, over and over again, thighs tightening around his face as you cry out, “Oh! Oh my, d-daddy!”

“Good baby,” He praises you, prying your legs off his shoulders, “Doesn’t it feel so good to just switch off and let your daddy do all the thinking?”

Hands and legs limp like jelly and every thought and worry slowly leaving your mind, you manage to sniffle out a soft yet ashamedly honest, “Y-Yeah.”

You’re completely limp in his arms as he picks you up by the waist, sitting down on the bench and setting you down on his lap, your back against his chest. But not before undoing his fly and pulling his dick out. It looks angry and red and somehow bigger than ever – as if it’s about to explode. You gulp – it’s been so long since he’s been inside you. Would he still fit?

Like a steel rod, his cock pokes out from between his legs, resting pretty between your own thighs that are parted by his hands. Your wetness has spread all the way from your folds to down your legs, and it’s mildly embarrassing just how needy you are for him at this moment. So needy, in fact, that you surprise yourself – your hands grabbing at his dick as if the omega inside you just can’t help it.

“Fuck,” Steve hisses, covering your hand with his own, “Look at your tiny baby hands on my daddy dick.” His tongue is lapping and sucking at his mark on your neck – his favourite spot – but his eyes are locked on the scene in front of him – you palming his dick almost hesitantly, as if you’re scared of it yet want it badly at the same time – which you do.

You swallow harshly, “P-Please.”

“Please what, sweet girl?”

You duck your head, too shy to voice your desire but his hand grips your chin and makes you look up, twisting your head back slightly so he can look into your eyes.

“Tell me what you want, baby.” Steve says softly, beguilingly with blue eyes sparkling, “I already told you I’ll give you whatever you want – you just have to tell me.”

You surge upwards to kiss him, suddenly remembering how he’d rejected your kisses the last time the two of you had had sex. But this time, he captures your lips with his, ravenously making out with you and his tongue dominates yours, licking up every crevice of your mouth like it’s his job to kiss you. Till you can’t breathe and yet you still don’t want to pull away, and it’s him who finally does.

“Or we could just sit here, and I could feel you.” Steve muses, hand gliding his dick back and forth against the soft skin of your thighs before slapping it against your pussy. You gasp and convulse, and he only chuckles as he repeats the action, and you can’t help but close your legs around his dick, as if forcing him to put it inside you.

“Alpha please!” You mewl softly.

“I guess your pregnancy hormones have made you even needier now, huh omega?” He snickers, using his hand to guide yours up and down his dick, making you jack him off. And you can feel every ridge, every vein of his thick dick as it pulses under your hand. And the omega inside you is feral, you want him so badly it’s unreal. All these weeks of no intimacy have you starved in a different way – because being mated to him means always wanting him, always yearning for him, and having no willpower against his charms.

It's with burning cheeks and tears of need welling in your eyes that you utter: “P-Please, alpha! N-Need you inside me, your knot… So bad. So bad!”

“Why? You’re already knocked up.” He’s tracing the tip of his dick against your clit, holding you down as you thrash on his lap. And you don’t understand his willpower – did he not want you as badly as you wanted him? But he continues to slap and stroke his dick against your folds, coating his length in your cream, grabbing you by the hips and grazing you on top of it, physically grinding you against his hard dick yet not putting it inside you.

“Aww, poor baby. Look at your cute little baby cunt, all drippy and leaking all over daddy. You still want my dick, baby? Still want my knot even if you’re already pregnant?”

“Yes! Yes, please!” You want to tell him not to tease you, but you know that he’s your alpha and you can’t really tell him what to do. You know you’re already submissive by nature but in his arms right now, you feel like you’re completely at his mercy, like you’d do anything for him. “N-Need you, daddy. So bad. Just… Just gotta feel you inside… P-Please!”

Steve swears, grabbing the base of his dick and lining it up against your leaking pussy. But he has to lift you up by the hips and slam you back down to get his fat, bulbous tip to finally breach your tiny hole. And oh my God – was it possible that he felt even bigger than ever before? He’s barely halfway inside you and you feel stuffed to the brim already, slippery walls convulsing and crying around his fat cock as it penetrates into you.

“What a tight fuckin’ baby cunt,” Steve grits out, squeezing your tits till it hurts, “God, fuck! Never had a pussy this tight before, baby. It’s like you were made for me.”

He’s so big, it almost feels like it’s the first time – how could you ever have gotten used to such a huge dick? And he’s big everywhere: his muscular legs which hold your entire body weight, his thick arms that hold your thrashing limbs at bay. All six foot six inches of him dwarf you completely. You feel so light, so fragile, so tiny on top of him, his dick slowly going deeper and deeper inside of you, practically ripping you in two.

“S-So big, daddy…” You moan, because it hurts yet it hurts so good, and you love the delicious friction you feel.

“Can’t even go all the way inside you, baby.” Steve say softly, as if he himself is surprised by his own girth and by how small you are. “Fuck, you’re tinier than I remember. Guess I’m too big for you. Your cute little baby cunt can’t take me in, omega.”

“Please! F-Force it in.” Something carnal takes over you then, and you’re surprised by your own words; they sound so desperate, so lust-ridden and unabashed – like you’d die if he isn’t fully inside you.

And Steve growls, pushing out of you and picking you up – and he only needs one arm to do it – before forcibly turning you around so that you’re chest to chest with him. He forces you back down on his dick, and it’s so hard and imposing as it pierces into you, and you can’t help but clamber closer to Steve, both of you gasping against each other’s lips when he finally fills you up till the hilt, and the pain is so deliciously excruciating, you feel like you’ll break in half.

“I think I may have broke your pussy, baby.” He whispers, as you marvel at how much of a tight fit it is, his dick so snugly inside you, stretching out your walls as far as they’ll go around his fat girth. You truly do feel broken, but in the best way, and you wrap your arms around his neck, wanting to be closer.

“D-Don’t care, alpha.” You don’t know what’s suddenly come over you, maybe it’s the fact that he told you he loves you, maybe it’s because you haven’t had sex with him for weeks, maybe it’s because you’ve finally told him you’re pregnant and he’s proud of you, he’s promised to take care of you. Or maybe it’s something else altogether, but your desire for him has never been this high, this intense. Even Steve looks surprised.

Slowly, he starts bouncing you up and down on his dick. And you don’t have to do any work, just sit there and let him manoeuvre you, let him control your movements like a puppeteer, like how he controls every other aspect of your life. And maybe it’s time to admit that you like it that way, maybe it’s time to stop fighting with the omega inside you. Maybe this, here with him, is where you belong.

“You like me splitting you open like this, don’t you?” He whispers against your lips, capturing them in a searing kiss that has you grabbing his face and pulling him closer. Wanting to touch him and smell him and feel him and hold him and everything in between. His dick is hitting that special spot inside of you, making you cry out with every thrust, not caring that you’re being loud and this is a public place and anyone could walk in.

“I love you so much, baby.” And there it is again, those three words once again, penetrating into your heart and tattooing themselves upon it. His hand suddenly grabs yours, holding it close and pressing kisses all over your palm and fingers – and you’re reminded of the night where you’d begged him not to leave you, and how you’d done the same thing.

“I’m never letting you go, omega.” Steve speaks between kisses, all the while his hips are a blur as they move up and down, thrusting inside you like he wants to keep the two of you connected forever. “I’m gonna make you my housewife, keep you locked up and safe so no one can ever hurt you or my baby. I’m gonna take care of you, both of you.”

And you’re nodding feverishly, whispering “okay” over and over again, grinding down to meet his thrusts, biting your lip in bliss when his hand snakes down to where you two meet, his fingers deftly rubbing your clit, heightening your pleasure as his cock continues to tear you in half.

“My omega, all mine,” He growls, balls smacking against your skin as he fucks into you, your poor fuckhole so used and abused yet you don’t even care as you drip all over him, the pleasure growing steadily inside you, coils tightening as he fucks you like only he ever could. “Won’t let anyone else touch you, speak to you, even look at you anymore. You’re my property – my little wife knocked up with my kid. Won’t let anything come between us, not again.”

Through your delirium, you manage to lock eyes with him, clutching at him desperately, and your words come out so softly, and you feel so small when you ask him, “Y-Y-You promise?”

He stalls for a second, just a second, before his thrusts resume, hitting deeper if that’s even possible. He cups your face with his warm hand, and you can smell his heady, musky scent that you’re so addicted to. His eyes sparkle earnestly, like twin blue oceans that you could drown in except the experience would be pleasant. He leans close to you, so close; “I promise, omega.”

You cum so hard, you feel like you’re going to pass out, your walls constricting around his dick, squeezing it so hard while he continues to thrust up into you. You can feel your cream leaking down his dick, staining his uniform but it’s like you can’t stop squirting around him, your slick squeezing out of your worn-out pussy as it pulsates around his hard cock.

“Steve, oh my God, oh my God, fuck!” You cry out in complete abandon, clutching onto his biceps, your nails digging through the material of his jersey.

“That’s right baby, cum on daddy’s dick like the good little girl you are,” He coaxes you, rubbing your bare back almost soothingly, while his fat dick continues to pierce in and out of you at an inhumane pace – as if he’s savouring being inside you, as if he never wants to stop. “Squeeze my fucking dick, omega. Fuck, I’m gonna keep you pregnant forever, baby. Tell me you want that; tell me you want all my fucking babies.”

“W-Want your babies!” You cry out obediently, your body jelly on top of his, limbs twitching as the rushes of pleasure flush through your body. He’s using you like a fuckdoll now, an iron grip on your hips as he pounds into you as if he can’t get enough. His mouth latches onto your mark, licking and sucking possessively, and you think you might pass out from the pleasure – and he still wouldn’t stop.

You feel his dick twitch inside you, and he’s still fucking you through his own release, his seed so hot as it pours into you. Spurting hot cum, coating your insides like he’s trying to brand you, and he grips firmly onto your hair, pulling your face to his and kissing you roughly. “I love you, baby.” He whispers soft as a feather against your lips, and you don’t think you’ll ever get tired of hearing him say it, as you grind down, his thick ropes of cum mingling with your own slick, and he’s still pumping out more. As if his load is so heavy and he won’t stop until you’re completely filled up.

“Marry me.”

For the second time today, he renders you completely speechless. Third time, if you count your reaction to his book of sketches. Cupping both your cheeks and making you look at him and only him, and you don’t know what to think. First ‘I love you’ and now ‘marry me’? The alarm bells are chiming softly in the rational part of your mind – because isn’t all of this happening too fast, too suddenly, too soon?

“Marry me, omega.” Steve repeats, “Let me take you home. To Brooklyn. I’ll take care of you, give you a real home, I’ll make you so happy. And you can leave this place behind.”

Leave it behind? What did he mean by that? Your degree? There’re so many questions on your mind: Is he being serious? Does he mean it? Why is all of this coming out now? Should you believe him, believe his promises – when your own trust in him has come back to slap you in the face multiple times in the past? And what if this is all some cruel practical joke? What about your education, your scholarship? What about your mother? What about… what about… what about–

But it’s like your mind is working in overdrive to forcibly push all those thoughts out, and replace them with how he’d told you he loved you. How he’d apologised to you last night. All the sketches he made of you – those weren’t a joke, were they? They couldn’t be.

Time to surrender, the omega inside of you is beguiling as ever; time to be happy…

“Okay.” You whisper.

He breaks into a smile, like he knows you could never say no to him, and presses kisses all over your face.

There’s a quiet calm as he picks you up, taking you to the nearby bathroom and helping you clean up. You thought your head would be a screaming mess of emotions, but your thoughts are eerily quiet as you let him clean and redress you. Maybe this was all meant to be, and this is where you belonged. Maybe he meant it this time – maybe he’d take care of you and keep you happy forever. And you have the baby to think about too – maybe this was best for the baby.

He carries you back out of the bathroom, only setting you down on your feet when he’s opening the exit doors to get back out onto the field. And even then, he holds your hand tightly – so tightly, as if you’re a kite that might fly away.

Outside, everyone is still celebrating – almost as if the two of you never left. You can see Sam and the rest of the football team popping open cans of beer and pouring it all down their fronts, or shaking hands with different people, or kissing their own girlfriends. Instinctively, Steve’s grip on your hand tightens even more.

“Hey, Cap! We’re taking a team picture with the trophy. C’mon!” One of his teammates calls out before the whole team begins to assemble themselves into haphazard rows while the professional photographer tries to guide them.

You feel Steve hesitating before letting go of you, grabbing your shoulders instead.

“Don’t move, omega. I’ll be right back.”

You nod, smiling softly, “Okay, Steve. I’m right here.”

It’s like he’s searching your face for something, and you wish to God you knew what because you’d show it to him in a heartbeat. But then his face softens, he grabs the back of your neck and pulls you close, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. And then he jogs away, joining his friends and being greeted with hoots and cheers and high-fives and chants of his name. He looks like a king on top of his world, standing up front and centre. Someone thrusts the gigantic trophy in his hand, and he holds it up proudly, smiling cockily at the camera.

You take it all in, feeling a mix of emotions ranging from pride for him as well as a certain sense of imposter syndrome. He’s a king and you’re an ant – but he loves you. He told you so, he told you so, he told you so–

“HEY!”

The repeated calling of your name doesn’t register to you until it’s right up against your ear, and you feel someone grip your wrist roughly, tugging you back. You turn around in alarm, mouth dropping open when you see who it is.

“Peter! What are you doing here?”

Peter looks dishevelled, out of breath as if he’s been running around all day. His spiky hair is longer than how you remember it, with brown locks tumbling down his forehead. His cheeks are flushed and eyes bright, the remnants of his fading black eye very apparent on his face. And his hold on your wrist is tighter than ever – just like how Steve’s grip was earlier.

Heart pounding, you glance back at Steve – but he’s still busy hoisting the trophy high in the air, posing for pictures and shaking hands with different people.

“Went to your dorm – you weren’t there.” Peter huffs, trying to catch his breath as quickly as he can. “Someone said you might be here – that the entire college was here. And they weren’t wrong – I’ve been looking for you in the crowd for ages. I figured this would be the best way, since he’d be too busy playing to notice anything.”

Peter casts a quick glance at Steve too, before pulling you further away. When he doesn’t stop, you tug back.

“What’re you doing? We can’t… I can’t be speaking to you, he’ll–”

“Come on!” Peter cuts you off, an almost desperate sense of urgency in his tone as he keeps glancing back at Steve. There’s a certain panic to his demeanour, as if he’s in a hurry. “Look, this is the perfect opportunity – he’s distracted, we can just slip out and –”

“Wait, Peter–”

“No, I’m not going to wait and neither are you!” Peter hisses, yanking your arm and pulling you further and further away, off the side of the field and leading to the stairs where a sizeable crowd of people is still mingling.

“Look, I spent a whole month feeling sorry for myself for getting beaten up… For letting him get the best of me. And I barely spared a second to think of you and what you must’ve been going through.” Peter’s talking rapidly, and he never stops moving, never stops tugging you but he does keep looking over his shoulder in Steve’s direction, his palm clammy as he holds on to your wrist. “But then you called, and you sounded distressed. I knew he wasn’t treating you right, I knew I had to do something.”

You swallow harshly, taking another look back at Steve – now his teammates have hoisted him onto their shoulders again, and he’s still smiling for pictures. A million thoughts race through your head, “Peter, I have to get back, he’s gonna–”

But it’s like Peter doesn’t hear you at all, as he determinedly pulls you up the stairs behind him and towards the exit. And you do want to speak to him, of course you do! You haven’t spoken to him for more than a month, and there’s so many things you want to ask him. But, but, but…

“I’m so fucking stupid for not doing something sooner. You were my girlfriend… You are my girlfriend and I should’ve taken care of you.”

You shake your head rapidly, “Peter, please listen! I don’t want to… I don’t think this is a good id–”

“You’re never gonna have to see that sick sonofabitch again, I promise you that much. I’m doing what I should have done that day I showed up at your dorm – take you away from him.”

“Peter, no, I–”

But either it’s the roar of the people around you or his own determination, but he doesn’t seem to hear your pleas. Everything’s happening too fast, the thoughts racing around in your head and the panic bubbling in your chest. Peter is good, you know this – and you know he means well. And yet…

You feel your mark prickle hotly, and you whip around in time to see Steve’s head snap in your direction. Your eyes lock with his for one single split second, and your mark throbs in pain and you feel a certain unrest in your bond, and it feels like you can’t breathe.

The hurt that flashes through Steve’s eyes is the last thing you see before you’re yanked out the exit and swallowed up by the crowd.

Well. If you managed to make it to the end of this chapter, thank you! I really hope you enjoyed. Guys, I poured my life and soul into this... and I hope I did this chapter justice. Please, PLEASE PLEASE reblog! And give me feedback. That’s what keeps me going honestly. I would love to hear what you think. In fact, i’m nervous to know what you think! And what should we expect for the next part? All I’m gonna say is... Steve’s omega has been taken from him, if he was mean before, it’s nothing compared to what he’ll be now. ALRIGHT BYE. and thank you for all your support! Love you guys!

[ggukkiereads]

FIC RECS | Namjoon Nerd AU

This is based on a recent ask I received from @monovcut​.. Thank you! I had fun making this list 

I almost included other fics where he’s the smart dude, the genius, the scientist, the smart professor, etc. but I focused on scenarios where Namjoon is smart but has this quality about him that’s either shy or weird or awkward that makes him oh so adorable? Maybe not blatantly so in some of the fics, other times more pronounced. I also read various genres so you will be surprised at how the list will feature fics from sugar daddy au to fantasy-themed.

💌  Sharing this and I hope you all enjoy this as much as I did because I love hot, nerdy Namjoon too  🥰. Thank you dear authors for writing and bringing this wonderful concept to life. 🥰

Please note that some of the fics are mature. Minors please DNI. Check the tags/warnings per fic too.

S - smut | F - fluff | A - angst

Note: if link to fic doesn’t work, click on author and go to their masterlist.

[around 29 fics]

A Match Made in Heaven @sahmfanficbts - one shot | 4.8k | medical school residentt!namjoon x dental school resident!reader, humor (I just love Joon and his puns and his super funny conversation with his Mom uwu),, meet cute | f, s

🌷Honestly, just read all of Sam’s Namjoons even if they are not necessarily nerdy. You'd just love the characterizations and you get that Namjoon essence you're looking for in fics.

All I Need is One @lamourche (only on AO3 now and you need an account to view) - one shot | 10.7k | sugar daddy au but make it one hot awkward Namjoon, Professor!Namjoon, bartender!reader, some hurt/comfort theme too?, humor | s, f

🌷This used to be on tumblr but it got removed T_T. Awkward!Namjoon exploring the concept of sugarbaby/daddy relationship has never been this attractive. I need this Namjoon shouting "you are the sugar baby of my dreams" in the streets to me while looking like his serious, philosophical and confident self. This is someone who knows what he wants and like what he said, there are two things he's good at. The comfort part of this fic is just a bonus but it makes you feel like getting a warm tight hug after drooling over this Joon

Beauty & the Bookworm | Nice Try, Nerd @jungshookz - bullet fic | 22.2k | Librarian!Namjoon, College AU, follow-up drabble is Halloween-themed fluff | f, a, s

🌷It just so automatic to think about this Namjoon whenever people ask for a Nerd!Namjoon fic. Please I miss librarian!namjoon 🥺.

Castaways @rmnamjoons​ - one shot | 25.5k | castaway au, stranded au, survival au, luxury cruise with the best friend and the boyfriend Hoseok, and Hoseok’s nerdy best friend Namjoon but got hit by a storm, slow burn | f, s, a

🌷Author has wonderful Namjoon fics - I feel like his smart but sometimes awkwardness is captured so endearingly in all of the fics and I guarantee you’d just fall for all the Namjoons.. You may try the author’s other fics such as Sunshine. They also have a Witch OC and bookstore owner!Namjoon who I find so adorable.

Cherry Muffins and Lavender Tea @roses-ruby​ - one shot | 8.1k | College AU, Coffee Shop AU, biker Joonie 🥵, Book lover Namjoon who always reads at the cafe’ she works | f, s

🌷This reminds me of Namjoon from the SOOP and how he’d just plop on benches and beanbags, with his iced americano, to read his choice of book for the day  T_T.

Citrus @taephilia - drabble series [5/?] | 8.3k+ | College AU, Strangers to Lovers, slice of life, got partnered for a project  | f

🌷I love the simple slice of slice vibes and how domestic the scenarios are. He gives MC a pet plant (uwu so cute)

Distortion @darlingwoes - drabble | 3.1k | Tutor!OC, smart and awkward  Namjoon (he’s smart but he asked to be tutored 👀) x more sociable OC, turned into smutty tutoring session | s

🌷 short but sexy drabble about going for the adorable namjoon (no full smut but it’s still spicy)

English Literature & Like Pavlov’s Dogs @tayegi - two shot | 15.8k | college au, bookstore staff!reader, bookworm!namjoon, they engage in a debate over Jane Austen and I am mad at Namjoon too lol, kind of e2l, humor, established relationship for sequel  | s, f

🌷So I debated if Namjoon is “nerdy” enough. Yes, he is smart (and a smartass) but he’s not that awkward enough to be labeled so (or whatever ruler people have to differentiate this lol) but I just love how fierce and dedicated he is with his thoughts/opinion about erm, literature  and I’ve never been so annoyed with a character’s argument as if I wanted to jump into the story and join OC to defend Jane Austen. This is just an amazing battle of the nerds smarts

Feeling Deeply @yournameyn - series [6/?] | 20k+ | arranged marriage au, OC (named Brishti), slow burn, 1960s themed, immigrants | f, s

🌷It just has a poetic style to it (so less dialogues and more on description) with art and literature references. It's about two people that are just perfect for each other (in the fic description, author actually wrote that it's about two nerds discovering each other)

Fuck Me Through the Phone Part 2 @trbld-writer - series [2/?] | 8.2k+ | phone sex operator!namjoon, secret identity, college au, actually partners in class, med student, humor | s, f

🌷something I read in the past. I just remember Namjoon being a smart aleck and a project partner OC is so annoyed with (though OC finds him cute). It was fun to see OC try to figure things out like why does Namjoon sound so familiar (or sounds like her favorite phone sex operator lol. It’s a fun scenario)

Glasses Clad Boy @jeongi  - one shot | 10k | Tutor!Namjoon, super intelligent Namjoon who prefers books even though a lot of people wanted him, mutual pining, college au | f, s

🌷 Namjoon is just so attractive the way he’s described - just smart and focused on things that matter than playing around. I guess a different kind of nerdiness.

Handsome Stranger @bangtanloverboys - drabble | 316 words | just short but super cute, a bit of idiots to lovers and we have to thank Yoongi for making OC realize a thing or two | f

🌷something short but fluffy that's tooth rotting 🥰

Hot Nerd  Part Two  Part Three @imagines-bangtan - drabble series [3/3] | 6.8k | just cute moments between hot nerd!namjoon x library hottie!reader that started in the library to how they are in an established relationship | f, implied smut

Inside my Mind @jimlingss - one shot | 19.2k | high school au, mind reader!namjoon, one horny!OC, humor/funny, a sort of coming of age phase but make it crack | s, f

🌷I’ve spoken about this a few times but I have fond memories of these two and their hilarious tandem. Mind reading horny thoughts aside, I like that on the outside these two appear smart, studious, harmless, and kind of weird but they are each other’s weirdos ya know? This is just fun and a good read when you want something funny, horny and kind of pure too? (each other’s first times)

I’m Nothing Without You @realifefairy​ - series [2/4] | 23.3k | Brother’s Best Friend AU, Childhood friends, Unrequited of some sort (OC confessed before he moves to college but got rejected), but also Mutual Pining (I guess throw in idiots-to-lovers here but their situation can’t be helped)| f, a ,s

🌷I like how this is written - it has this nostalgic vibes to it as if I was watching Our Beloved Summer (the Korean drama) and the characters are so vibrant at the young age we meet them until the moments that pass by as they grow up bit by bit. Namjoon has this image of being a “geek” or “nerd” but OC just has heart eyes for “her nerd”. I guess, this story is about timing too. I really like this and I can’t wait to see how the story will turn out

Just Friends & Still Friends @satnin-darling  - two shot [2/? But it feels like there might be a continuation so I am putting a “?” mark]] | 19k | College AU, Namjoon and some nerdy talks about bonsais, art, beliefs, politics, philosophy, etc, virgin!Namjoon, sort of FWB au | f, s

🌷If you like cerebral Namjoon and just swoons over his deep thoughts, you’ll like him here

Love Borrowed @goldenkookietae - one shot | 7.1k | bibliophiles, library buddies, more of reading buddies, library au, strangers to lovers, friends to lovers, memory loss/amnesia themes | f, a, s

🌷Please, we get Namjoon doing a Narnian handshake - this is so precious. It’s actually cute and sweet with a touch of soft angst. It’s just heartwarming to know that the things that connect two people are their love of books no matter what the time/situation is.

Love is Blind @helenazbmrskai - one shot | 7.4k | Best Friend’s Brother AU, Enemies to Lovers, College AU, humor, Namjoon is mean, Unrequited love | f, s, a

🌷Namjoon is such a meanie though 🥺. I guess we need a mean Namjoon at some point. It started out comedic enough (with OC breaking his eyeglasses and he needs help since he can't see anything) but it turns angsty with OC's thoughts about not being similar to Joon who is smart and all that. I guess Joonie being mean didn't help the angst T_T

Midnight Wishes @ddaenggtan​ - one shot | 10.3k | Roommates AU, Coworkers, Friends to Lovers au, FWB AU, humor | s, f, a

🌷This is part of a Christmas-themed collab which is probably one of my favorite collabs (probably mentioned this a couple of times). I’ve probably gone through the stories at least twice too. It would be good to read the stories sequentially and get immersed in this cute and lovable community of characters. Anyway, now to our Namjoon. I just love how the writer described the perfect way to simp and thirst over Namjoon - respectfully and also crazily. Okay wait I was supposed to talk about Namjoon and how he fits this fic rec list.. Okay, I actually like our OTP!!! They just have this smart and quirky vibes to them that leads to quirkiest conversations like talking about bonobos and going over kinks and orgasms while doing lab work (lol). For two people who are super smart, they are so oblivious and this makes their whole fwb situation interesting. I just love how these two smarties are just perfect for each other and being the Christmas-enthusiast that I am, it’s such a perfect setting to realize a thing or two.🥰

Moonlight @sugaurora - one shot | 16.5k | Werewolf!Namjoon (a secret), Fantasy, Forest Spirit!Reader, sort of College AU (Namjoon is studying Institute of Metaphysical Research and Technology), strangers to lovers, friends to lovers, kind of awkward not so social namjoon in the beginning but he loves his plants (and talks to them too uwu) | f, s, a

🌷I guess this is a bit different because it has more fantasy undertones to it and it’s a werewolf au (a favorite genre of mine);  I just remember Namjoon being so focused on his world(?) whether it be his studies or what. Definitely reserved that it took OC some time to get a response from him and it was a lovely process seeing Joonie bloom =)

Nerdy Namjoon who knows how to f*ck good drabble @1kook - drabble | 500 words? | fwb, nerdy namjoon who worries about his books, humor | s

🌷I love this drabble so much and I remember reblogging/commenting on this; It’s so short but we get this funny but super hot Namjoon and I relate to him and the way he takes care of his books lol

Oh, Worm? @agustdiv1ne​ - one shot | 3.6k | Librarian!Namjoon, equally awkward OC, two bookworms | f

🌷literally falling over books - another couple that are perfect for each other 🥰

Partners @btssmutgalore - series [11/?] | 97k+ | College AU, partners for paper, virgin!Namjoon, Namjoon with a “boring” image (so most people don’t even remember him 🥲), chirpy popular!MC   | f, a, s

🌷This is a classic fandom fic for this kind of trope and it’s actually one of the fics I first thought of when I got this ask. You get your stereotype nerd (also labeled as a “loser” by others) and one popular MC who gets the pretty but dumb and shallow image (she’s actually smart though). The dynamic and how these two seemingly mismatched characters, by society’s standards at least, get to develop their relationship is a wonderful process to witness (I guess I should put “slow burn” in the tags too).. As MC discovers more about Namjoon and how much she likes Namjoon, MC goes through this self-awareness and realization too. It’s nice to see her thought process because she is more than the glossy and glittering image people associated her with. Namjoon has this line about how we overthink things when we feel our actions do not align with our beliefs and we just need to be more self-aware about our limits and what we want. Okay I guess this is becoming a full review but if you like to see good character and relationship development between the nerd x popular trope, then this is such a great read =)

The Rich Man’s Crochet Club @kpopfanfictrash​ - one shot | 32.4k | College AU, virgin!Namjoon, comedy, crushing on OC | f, s

🌷This is really more of an OT7 fic to me? It felt like watching an American sitcom with this group of virgin guys as the lead characters and how they lost their v-card. In this episode, we focus on Namjoon as the only remaining virgin in the RMCC. It’s such a fun read to see how the boys draw up a “battle plan” for Namjoon. They kept putting these strategies that don’t seem to work only for them to realize that Namjoon just needs to be his nerdy self to get the girl. OC is kind of nerdy too so it was cute to see their few interactions (the boys’ reactions are making it so comedic tbh). The other members get a spin-off and we reunite with the gang later at Namjoon’s wedding to OC in The Monogamy Monologues (it’s a Jungkook story though)

Roast @dreamscript - one shot | 3.5k | College AU, accidental tutor!namjon, comedy (funny snapchats) | f

🌷Engineering major!Namjoon who goes into philosophical talks, blind date au of some sort, feat funny OT6, OC likes roasting people - something to read on days you want lighthearted scenarios

The Snow Globe Effect @gukyi - one shot | 10k | co-workers au, library au, librarian!namjoon and OC, snowed in, New Year au, Joon drabbles in rapping sometimes | f

🌷I realize I have this whole library of Christmas fics because I love the season but I don’t have one for New Year fics. I just love this nerdy Namjoon who’d randomly share trivia and random stuff like his talk about the weather and crabs - just so endearing! (if you like smart Namjoon, try author’s hogwarts Namjoon Tutor too. It’s more of E2L and some rivalry that led to snowball fights lol. Maybe not as nerdy as Snow Globe’s Namjoon 🥺 but I love a smart joon e2l fic)

Stick Me @geniusjjang - drabble | 3.2k | TA!Namjoon, Grad School!Namjoon, College AU, MC crushing on Namjoon and using stickers to get his attention 🥺, funny and cute | f

🌷 It’s just so timely that I keep seeing Problematic Men Namjoon clips all over my twitter feed and I imagine this drabble’s Namjoon looks and behaves like that. It’s just cute and awkward and OC is kind of weird haha but the approach worked so 🤷‍♀️

Strawberry Cake @watashijeon - one shot | Tutor!Namjoon, kinda bratty!OC, pwp, sort of established relationship (Namjoon and I are still asking lol)  | s

🌷This is pwp but Namjoon gets a full description and backstory why he’s like this (military dad and a mom who likes romantic stuff) which I appreciate because you see the pair’s contrasting personality; then their porn-worthy sex is just sizzling hot and just so…them? The ditzy cutie and the duality of Namjoon.

Stuttering @moonlightchildz​​ - one shot | 11.6k | Tutor!Namjoon who stutters a lot (and people make fun of this ☹️), Underground Rapper!Namjoon, Secret Identity | s, f

🌷Something I actually reblogged twice because I love this Namjoon and there are times I crave for rapper Joon. His nerdy but swag duality is just mesmerizing and I love that secret identity bit. This is Ddaeng!Namjoon and you can not change my mind

notes

This is not exhaustive and there are probably a lot of fics I’ve missed. I actually made a mental note the other day to include some fics I randomly remembered but when I was putting this together I couldn’t remember the titles (I am so sorry!). I will update this once I remember fics or if there are newly written ones =)

I also tried to put fics I've read on AO3 but I got a bit overwhelmed going through my bookmark collection so --- maybe another time 🙂.

🌷Feel free to chat with me about fics/fichunting asks =)  🌷posted: 2022 Oct 26 | updated:  🌷other fic recs lists

[washymylifeaway]

Collective favorite hq fanfic recs

Hello, it’s as the title states HAHA. I’ve had this blog for a year now and I wanted to go through and put all my favorites that I’ve recommended in one place. Spoiler alert, there’s a lot LMFAO. Gonna try something new and separate by word count tho LOL I thought it’d be fun HAHA

warning, there’s a little over 200 fics under this but it’s only links so it’s not that long

WC long -> short!

Seasons by Nimbus_Cloud (E,T) 176.3k // kuroken, bokuaka

Terminal Curiosity by favspacetwink, moonlumie (E) 126.4k // sakuatsu

Making a Home by Featherfur (G) 111.4k // multi (arankita)

Conquering the Great King by SuggestiveScribe (E) 105.6k // iwaoi

Superposition by todxrxki (M) 102.8k // kuroken

boiled frogs by reginagalaxia (E) 91.5k // matsuhana

Thicker Than Blood by kylar (M) 91.4k // kuroken

Super Spy Husbands by leurauxe (G,T,M) 91.3k // iwaoi

Burden of Blame by DeathBelle (E) 91.2k // sakuatsu

The Loyalty of a Traitor by DeathBelle (E) 76.9k // iwaoi

the courtship ritual of the hercules beetle by kittebasu (chanyeol) (T) 66.3k // iwaoi

butterfly in the subway by bigspoonnoya (T) 62.8k // daisuga

Close to the Chest by darkmagicalgirl (T) 61.1k // kyouhaba

Crisis Converted by valiantarmor (M) 60k // bokuaka

if not, winter by knightswatch (M) 54k // kyouhaba

Even forever is too short of a time with you by miyarinnnn (T) 53.8k // sunaosa

Words Not Spoken by Dogsocks (T,G) 51.5k // kyouhaba

In the Absence of Light by meeks00 (E) 50.7k // bokuaka

Room To Grow by kiyala (G) 50k // kyouhaba

Venom and Vulnerability by darkmagicalgirl (E) 48.3k // kyouhaba (ao3 members only)

burning bright by kittebasu (chanyeol) (M) 43.9k // oikuro

Addiction and Attachment by eevaeon (T) 41.8k // kuroken

The Loss We Learned by DeathBelle (T) 41.6k // sunaosa

but not for spring to well up by tookumade (T) 40.8k // sunaosa

Seijoh Inc. by DeathBelle (E) 40.5k // iwaoi

K-Cup Coffee Verse by situational_irony_13 (T,G) 40k // iwaoi kyouhaba

Build A Temple In Me by Authoress (T) 39.7k // iwaoi

Atsumu + Sakusa + The National = ? by isaksara (syailendra) (T,M) 37.8k // sakuatsu

to make any other mistake by honeymilktea (rosevtea) (T) 37.3k // sakuatsu

Police Dog by surveycorpsjean (E) 34.9k // kyouhaba

sorry baby by sketchedsmiles (M) 34.3k // sunaosa

Running In Place by cleiioo (T) 33.3k // kyouhaba

glass stained black by unrequitedangst (E) 31k // sunaosa

the galaxy is endless (i thought we were, too) by cosmogony (T) 30.9k // kuroken

Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back by Asimi_Shadowborn (T) 30.6k // kyouhaba

tale as old as time by crossbelladonna (G,T,M) 30.2k // kyouhaba

Kyouhaba Trash Week 2016 by HoneyBeeez (T) 28.9k // kyouhaba

Remind Me by tookumade (T) 28.6k // matsuhana

we call everything on the ice, “love” by awkwardedgeworth (T) 27.9k // sakuatsu

laid bare, right there by berfinwrites (E) 26.6k // sakuatsu

An Inconvenient Espionage by DeathBelle (E) 26.6k // sunaosa

your flame will not survive in this cold tundra by awkwardedgeworth (T) 26.5k // sakuatsu

how can I not be moved (by you) by Ann1215 (T) 26.4k // sakuatsu

April 10th by orphan_account (M) 25.8k // iwaoi

you’re made of memories you bury or live by by tirralirra (T) 24.8k // sakuatsu

I wish to live in a world by hatsuna (T) 24.8k // komosuna

It Takes Two by Poteto (G) 24.1k // kyouhaba

flutterbird (a collection of sakuatsu one-shots) by wordstruck (T,M,E) 23.2k // sakuatsu

you never have to wander, wonder by sieges (T) 23k // sunaosa

In Another Life by LittleLuxray (T) 23k // bokuaka

i’m gonna be the man who comes back home to you by baekuugo (insxouts) (M) 22.5k // iwaoi

Like Smoke Blown to Heaven by littleboat (T) 22.2k // sakuatsu

love could be labeled poison and we’d drink it anyways by myhopeisjhope (NR) 21.3k // sakuatsu

Thin Sand by shiro_yuu (T) 20.2k // kuroaka

three roses and a smile by strawberrycitrus (T) 19.7k // sakuatsu

Accidentally in Love by pancake_surprise (T) 19.6k // sunaosa

Retrograde by dreyars (T) 19.5k // kyouhaba

Pas De Deux by hatsuna (T) 19k // sakuatsu

Q&A by crossbelladonna (T) 19k // matsuhana

il mio ragazzo falso by karasunovolleygays (T) 18.5k // bokuaka

A God for Every Season by timkons (T) 18.4k // matsuhana

double vision by sketchedsmiles (T) 18.3k // sunaosa

Take off my mask by CarissaThePanda (M) 17.4k // bokuaka

but we’re not, like, in love by eidilechsi (E) 17.3k // sakuatsu

Moral Ambiguity by DeathBelle (E) 16.7k // iwaoi

Shiver by Yuu_chi (T) 16.7k // iwaoi

crimson colored lotus by sieges (M) 16.5k // sakuatsu

close up, close in by yoogiboobi (E) 16.4k // sunaosa

Parallel Lines by orphan_account (T) 16.3k // matsuhana

to heretics and their devotions by honeybakedgrace (M,T) 16.3k // sakuatsu sunaosa

Everything is old is new is old is new again by hatsuna (T) 16.2k // matsuhana

Upstairs by yoogiboobi (E) 15.9k // bokuaka

dogshit (first comes the fall) by kitcassiachan (E) 15.8k // sakuatsu

Better For Us Both by abrandnewheart (M) 15.7k // sakuatsu

atypical confession by SilverMoonT (G) 15.5k // sunaosa

STAND/STILL by viverella (T) 15.2k // washisuna

we fall between by stringendos (T) 14.7k // sunaosa

An Equivalent Exchange by Chibs (E) 14.5k // kyouhaba

i’ll face down the world with you by bastigod (T) 14.1k // sunaosa

and i press you to the pages of my heart by volchitsae (T) 13.9k // sakuatsu

Show A Little Faith by minijhi (G) 13.8k // kuroken

darlin’, your head’s not right by aruariandance (T) 13.6k // iwaoi

let us burn by SilverMoonT (G) 13.5k // sunaosa

bet on it by selenophim (T) 13.3k // sakuatsu

a fist amidst the hands by noodletastic (E) 13.2k // sakuatsu

the worst ever by wheelspokes (M) 13.1k // sakuatsu

quidditch gloves, parchment, and custard cream by h_lovely (T) 12.4k // matsuhana

the art of keeping up by sieges (T) 12.3k // sunaosa

agape by sketchedsmiles (T) 11.7k // sunaosa

the echoing halls by ohwickedsoul (T) 11.7k // sakuatsu

Rainbow Veins by bokkuroo (T) 11.6k // bokuaka

behavioural response of the msby black jackal to newfound independence: a study by miya osamu by spacedhowell (T) 11.4k // multi (sakuatsu, sunaosa, hinata, bokuto)

your ivy grows by sketchedsmiles (T) 11.1k // matsuhana

Magical Mishaps and How to Deal by plumtrees (M) 10.9k // matsuhana

‘basis’ - noun. the underlying foundation for an idea or process. by auvelli (T) 10.9k // sakuatsu

talks firmly and calmly by warmly (T) 10.9k // matsuhana

parallax error: angle of inclination by min_mintobe (T) 10.8k // sakuatsu

nebulas by tothemoon (T) 10.8k // matsuhana

dyspnea/arrhythmia by carafin (T) 10.8k // iwaoi

Zenith, Nadir by tookumade (T) 10.7k // matsuhana

mortality is found in the flesh of your sins by citronnes (M) 10.6k // sakuatsu

this is our time in the spotlight by volchitsae (T) 10.5k // sakuatsu

Hide and seek by badreputation (E) 10.5k // sakuatsu

don’t forget today by warmly (T) 10.5k // sunaosa

stranger things by tinypersonhotel (G) 10.2k // matsuhana

The Truth Comes Out by Your_Friendly_Neighborhood_Pigeon (T) 10.2k // matsuhana ?

sunagashi by bastigod (T) 9.8k // sunaosa

How (Not) To Share A Bathroom by renaissance (T) 9.8k // oisuga

Lost in Translation by rageprufrock (T) 9.6k // iwaoi

Adagio by h_lovely (T) 9.6k // matsuhana

In Defense of Reptiles (and Other Gross Things) by rikke (T) 9.3k // iwaoi

I Choose You by TripsH (T) 9.3k // iwaoi

curse breaking by allicanseeispink (T) 9.2k // sakuatsu

you make my heart burn by myhopeisjhope (G) 9.2k // sakuatsu

Even Though it All Went Wrong by plumtrees (T) 9.2k // matsuhana

my love, take your time by bastigod (T) 9k // sakuatsu

you may now kiss the enemy by SilverMoonT (G) 8.9k // sunaosa

All the Time in the World by minie_ai (M) 8.8k // sunaosa

warm memories of a cold ex by SilverMoonT (G) 8.8k // sunaosa

hang out fall in love by carafin (T) 8.6k // matsuhana

it’s cold out here by bishounen_curious (M) 8.6k // matsuhana

dog eat dog eat dog world by perennials (T) 8.4k // sakuatsu

Magicked by HoneyBeeez (T) 8.4k // kyouhaba

in the mood for love by tenderized (M) 8.3k // sunaosa

the 28 postcards you left me by wheelspokes (T) 8.3k // sakuatsu

In knives and bullets by badreputation (M) 8.3k // sunaosa

always, omi by auroramyths (T) 8.2k // sakuatsu

reasons to microwave an elixir by spiritscript (T) 8.2k // sunaosa

Clipped To You by littleboat (T) 8.1k // sakuatsu

what becomes of broken hearts by plumtrees (T) 8.1k // kyouhaba

san'yō expressway, 6:17 pm by yamabato (T) 8.1k // sakuatsu

Mixed Signals by snoqualmie (T) 7.8k // kyouhaba

two slow dancers by quietkids (T) 7.7k // kagehina

rating explicit, completed works only, sort by kudos by lesbiantrait (E) 7.6k // sakuatsu

simple fact by bastigod (T) 7.4k // sunaosa

magic, foxes, and lore by bluelions, lovebot (bluelions) (T) 7.4k // sunaosa

The Courage of Stars by FairyLights101 (T) 7.1k // matsuhana

somewhere to belong by kitouma (T) 7k // sunaosa

The Wall Thing by rideahorse (M) 6.8k // kyouhaba

Dance of the Parallax by astroeulogy (T) 6.7k // sakuatsu

from here to eternity by TheGlovedArtist (T) 6.6k // sunaosa

How Do You Know? by awkwardedgeworth (T) 6.5k // sakuatsu

come on with the rain by rosegoldwriting (T) 6.5k // sunaosa

if you make me feel in love / if you make me open up by volchitsae (E) 6.4k // sakuatsu

resistance to flow by viverella (T) 6.2k // sunaosa

The Study of Suna Rintarou by DeathBelle (T) 6.1k // sunaosa

The Great MSBY Black Jackal Pizza Bake Off by awkwardedgeworth (T) 5.7k // sakuatsu

a little bit funny, this feeling inside by postcanons (G) 5.4k // kyouhaba

Take a hint by badreputation (T) 5.4k // sunaosa

meet me at the fucking pit (and let me hold your hand) by anyadisee (T) 5.4k // kyouhaba

A Bouquet of Flours by guyfierimpreg (G) 5.2k // matsuhana

the kind of magic you aren’t supposed to write home about by skittidyne (T) 5.2k // kyouhaba

like hollywood stars by skittidyne (T) 5.1k // iwaoi

lo and behold by tirralirra (T) 5k // sakuatsu

Evernight by astroeulogy (G) 5k // sakuatsu

if we get this right by Slumber (G) 5k // sunaosa

do not separate! by aalphard (T) 5k // sakuatsu

the home we built in hell by awkwardedgeworth (T) 5k // sakuatsu

School Bus Yellow by yuuki (G) 4.9k // sakuatsu

5 Ways To Tell If The Person You're Dating Is The One by SugarHighs (T) 4.9k // sakuatsu

iwaizumi hajime has a ring by chocomelon (G) 4.8k // iwaoi

need a little sweetness in my life by orphan_account (G) 4.5k // matsuhana

my heart beats for contract law by orphan_account (T) 4.4k // matsuhana

new constellations by thealmostviki (G) 4.3k // kyouhaba

working backwards till it rhymes by unrequitedangst (T) 4.2k // sunaosa

poolside by tothemoon (T) 4.1k // matsuhana

the dog days are over by grandecoffee (T) 4.1k // osamu

two drinks by spiritscript (T) 4k // sunaosa

Spring Secrets by DeathBelle (T) 3.8k // sunaosa

everything is blue by hatsuna (T) 3.8k // semishira

take me to the limit, hold me down there by volchitsae (E) 3.8k // sakuatsu

what are you waiting for? by Slumber (T) 3.7k // sunaosa

yahaba vs. the miyagi captains by blessings (T) 3.7k // kyouhaba

courting cream puffs by latenights (T) 3.7k // matsuhana

let the light in on the front porch by rosevtea (G) 3.6k // komosuna

I (Heart) You by darkmagicalgirl (T) 3.6k // kyouhaba

sense of purpose (or, what comes next) by pseudoanalytics (T) 3.6k // sakuatsu

snakes, meth labs and something like love by orphan_account (G) 3.6k // matsuhana

you, clouds, rain. by auvelli (T) 3.5k // sakuatsu

a thousand and one roses by rorarot (T) 3.4k // kyouhaba

As easy as loving Issei by carxies (G) 3.3k // matsuhana

wear your love like it’s made of hate by parenthetic (renaissance) (T) 3.3k // kyouhaba

Multiples Of Two by yuuki (G) 3.3k // sakuatsu

Isolated Parts by darkmagicalgirl (T) 3.3k // kyouhaba

miya osamu’s guide to bad neighbors, serial break-ups, and domesticity by rosegoldwriting (T) 3.1k // osaaka

Please Stop Crying by dauwtrappen (G) 2.9k // sakuatsu

to crash in orbit by aceun (T) 2.8k // sunaosa

No One Else Like You by auber_jean (G) 2.7k // matsuhana

toeing the line by masi (T) 2.7k // kyouhaba

101 Uses for Cornstarch (Culinary or Otherwise) by parenthetic (renaissance) (T) 2.6k // ennofuta

Reflex by hiuythn (T) 2.3k // matsuhana

I’ll Be Home by ghostystarr (G) 2.2k // sunaosa

Camellias by kiyala (T) 1.9k // kyouhaba

With Love, Washio by pancake_surprise (G) 1.8k // washio komosuna

seventh ring by entrechat (T) 1.8k // sunaosa

for whom the heart beats by cielelyse (T) 1.6k // sakuatsu

something of a disaster by latenights (T) 1.4k // matsuhana

colours in the dark by tookumade (G) 1.3k // sunaosa

what a wonderful kind of day by qingting (G) 1.2k // kyouhaba

christmas traditions by akanemnida (T) 1.2k // sakuatsu

Cost by kiyala (G) 1.1k // kyouhaba

wow that’s a lot LMFAO. uhh I honestly probably missed some favs here and there (kat can testify she watched me add more as I looked through) but this also took me a couple hours to make (even though it was all just cp LOL) so it is what it is HAHA. happy one year? HAHAHA but seriously thank you all for making this blog such a special place for me! I didn’t think I’d make it this long or have this many people following me, so it’s been very weird and touching HAHAHA. I look forward to my revival if/when s5 comes out! Until then see you all next list LOL :)

[nowayhomerry]

bruce wayne rec list (battison)

let go (18+) - @allaboardthereadingrailroad

categories: smut

word count: 7.2k

summary: after unmasking batman's identity, you grow closer

into the abyss - @atlaese

categories: angst, fluff

word count: 4.8k

summary: bruce should've known that nothing in gotham city ever is smooth sailing. but when the one person in his life who means most to him gets kidnapping, he feels the darkness descending on him

quite the revelation | series (18+) - @stranger-nightmare

part 1 part 2

categories: smut

word count: 39.7k (in total)

summary: you and bruce had been friends since childhood. meaning you're the one he usually comes to for help after a rough night of seeking vengeance around gotham city. one night bruce reveals more than he means to; just how sexually inexperienced he is. you, being the good friend that you are, offer to help in that area...

surely, you'd burn the same | series (18+) - @jangofctts

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4

categories: smut, smut, smut

word count: 28.8k (in total)

summary: you're stuck with the batman, and he's got a problem

something in the way (18+) - @mypoisonedvine

categories: smut, dark!bruce

word count: 4.5k

summary: you know your bestfriend well enough to know that he's keeping a secret from you, you just can't figure out what - or why. but you're about to learn a lot of new things about him that you never could've imagined

if i could share my nights with you - @mell-bell

categories: fluff

word count: 1.1k

summary: you help bruce put on his eyeliner

copper stained | series (18+) - @clints-lucky-arrow

part 1 part 2

categories: smut, hurt/comfort

word count: 5.9k

summary: there are very few people that are allowed to see bruce at hid most vulnerable

a world alone - @vigilvntes

categories: fluff

word count: 8.1k

summary: bruce makes his first public appearance since the memorial service, with you by his side

walk me home - @vigilvntes

categories: fluff

word count: 3k

summary: you get escorted home by none other than gotham's own protector

nocturnal (18+) - @distortionbobble

categories: smut

word count: 3.4k

summary: bruce wayne is a broken and bruised man. you're the sweet healing that he needs

for tomorrow to come - @wwinterwitch

categories: smutty

word count: 1.5k

summary: out of all your victims, gothem city's vigilante had to be your favorite

always been you | series (18+) - @letaliabane

part 1 part 2 part 3

categories: smut, angst, fluff

word count: 22.2k (in total)

summary: all the batman want is a information but he's a little distracted by you

all the light we cannot see (18+) - @sunkendreams

categories: smut

word count: 7.9k

summary: that hollow shell hew been living inside of, his fortress of carefully-constructed barriers, it all begins to crack. it's rather terrifying, the idea of letting someone in, but he's done for now, isn't he? the way you look at him is invigorating, its electrifying - it makes him feel less like the batman and more like a man

relationship hcs - @vigilvntes

categories: fluff

word count: 2.5k

summary: bruce wayne + romantic relationships

making headlines | series (18+) - @twinklelilstarkey

masterlist

categories: smut, angst, fluff

word count: 53.2k (in total)

summary: after your reputation is ruined over gossip and you have to clean your own name, you find the culprit of it all once more. bruce wayne

convenience | series - @imaginingmarvelandeverything

masterlist

categories: fluff, angst

word count: 37.7k (in total)

summary: after his oldest friend loses everything, bruce suggests a marriage of convenience that will benefit them both

after hours | series (18+) - @goldingwrites

masterlist

categories: smut, angst, fluff

word count: 84.3k (in total)

summary: the nights in gotham are always unforgiving, you, you strip for money, to feed tour son and to forget some of your troubles. it's easy, it's simple until vengeance appears in your night

call out my name (18+) - @honeydulcewrites

categories: smut

word count: 6.5k

summary: a terrifying savoir comes to your aide one night but it isn't the last you see of each other

[thinkingisadangerouspastime]

L&O Fic Recs (Mostly Kincoy)

Notes:

Fics are listed in no particular order outside of website specifications

Most of these fics are Claire/Jack, but not all (there’s also character-centric fics, some femslash, at least one niche rarepair, etc.)

If you read, be sure to reblog (Tumblr), kudos (AO3), and leave a kind comment (all platforms)!

The summaries for the majority of these fics are the same as were posted with the story; for the one or two that had particularly vague summaries or no summary at all, I provided a sentence

Fics are complete unless stated otherwise

I may update this list occasionally in the future :)

Feel free to reblog with your own additions!

Tumblr:

Red and Pink, by fighterkimburgess; Claire/Jack, oneshot, unrated, 1.4k.

It’s Valentine’s Day 1996, and Claire Kincaid is making big decisions.

you’re too tall, by serenasoutherlyns; Claire/Jack, oneshot, unrated, 210 words.

Claire looks up at Jack as she says it, her eyelashes fluttering, her hand coming to grasp at his tie, watching with satisfaction as his eyes darken.

AO3:

Mine Eyes Dazzle, by GilShalos1; Claire/Jack, four fics, ratings include G, T, and E, 38.4k total.

A series of stories all set within the same fanon: Jack and Claire, and Jack after Claire.

lovers lost in time, by lonely_is_so_lonely_alone; Claire/Jack, 13 chapters, rated G, 22.2k.

She knew it was crossing a line – crashing through a boundary they had set themselves in those first, slow, weeks.

Her head screamed at her. Not again. Not again. Not again.

– tracing the relationship between Claire and Jack, from their first kiss to their last.

it was more than worth it, by faerialchemist (me!); Claire/Jack, 2 chapters, rated T, 32k.

Claire shook her head, lacing their fingers together. “How about we lay down some ground rules?”

Jack chuckled. “Rules, huh?”

“Yes.” A smirk twitched at her lips. “If you come within six inches of my personal space in the office, I have permission to taze you.”

(Or: 7 times people found out about Jack and Claire’s relationship + 1 time people were told.)

love in rushes, by serenaclaires; Claire/Jack (ft. a smattering of other Claire pairings, including Margot/Claire), oneshot, rated T, 500 words.

Claire kisses him like he might disappear.

Takeout Lives (or, The Turkey Effect), by missanotherboat; Claire & Jack & Adam, oneshot, rated G, 2.2k.

“Most people wait until Christmas to let it flow – memories, guilt, joy, pain – but I should have known you wouldn’t be caught dead in a conventional depression.”

the lock that kept it dark, by serenaclaires; Alexandra & Jack, Abbie & Jack, Claire/Jack, oneshot, rated M, 5.3k.

The first few times, it’s the smallest glimpses. A flash of dark brunette in the back of a courtroom that is gone as soon as he sees it.

passionately, i’d say, by serenaclaires; Claire/Jack, one chapter, rated T, 1.3k. Ongoing.

Jacqueline “Man-eater” McCoy, Claire recalls the sexist but accurate nickname among the many the new EADA had acquired.

match point, by faerialchemist (me!); Claire/Jack, oneshot, rated T, 2.9k.

Jack raised an eyebrow. “Claire, Adam wants us to be in the office at 7 tomorrow.”

Claire bit back another sigh. “I’m well aware, Jack, but like you said—my car isn’t going anywhere right now. Not without a tow truck.”

“Then let me take you home.”

Claire stiffened, her traitorous heart skipping a beat at his suggestion. “I’m sorry?”

won’t you hang a picture?, by faerialchemist (me!); Claire/Jack, oneshot, rated T, 3.6k.

She watched in silence how his toned back, his firm shoulders rose and fell with each slow breath he took, the consequential snores causing her to bite her tongue to hold back a laugh. If only the court could see him now—the fearless, fiery Jack McCoy sleeping on his stomach with one hand under his pillow and snoring like a disgruntled cat.

Maybe it was selfish, maybe it was childish, but Claire reveled in the fact that this sight was one reserved solely for her.

(Or: It’s 3 AM, and Claire Kincaid finds herself thinking about Jack McCoy.)

come on, babe (why don’t we paint the town?), by faerialchemist (me!); Claire/Jack, oneshot, rated T, 2.9k. Part 1 of and all that jazz.

“Sounds lovely,” Jack said. He started commenting about the color, some stupid, quippy remark, no doubt, but Claire was only half-listening as she stood to slowly unzip her pencil skirt.

Based on the way Jack cut himself off with an awkward cough halfway through his sentence, Claire had a feeling her phone had picked up the sound just fine.

(Or: Claire gets ready for a night out. Jack listens in.)

find a flask (we’re playing fast and loose), by faerialchemist (me!); Claire/Jack, oneshot, rated T, 5k. Part 2 of and all that jazz.

Of course, Jack’s age hadn’t stopped a few beautiful young women—and one handsome young man—from approaching him with a wink and a casual hand trailing across his chest. One girl had curly dark hair and was even wearing a short red dress.

But none of them were Claire, and therein lay the problem.

(Or: Jack tries to find Claire on her night out. Easier said than done.)

come on, babe (we’re gonna brush the sky), by faerialchemist (me!); Claire/Jack, oneshot, rated T, 2.7k. Part 3 of and all that jazz.

Wincing at the stiffness of her shoulders and the thunder that continued to boom against the inside of her skull, Claire reached over to retrieve the folded paper.

It was a note, she realized upon closer inspection, a note scribbled in very familiar cursive. Its message was concise: You’ll need these.

Right.

Jack.

(Or: Claire wakes up after a wild night out. Jack is there, too.)

With Mechanical Assistance, by ememmyemmers; Claire/Jack, oneshot, rated G, 1.5k.

Too scared of his reputation as a man who sleeps with his assistants, Jack McCoy has hidden his growing feelings for Claire Kincaid for months. But one late night ride in the office’s ancient elevators might change it all… 

the saviours, by lonely_is_so_lonely_alone. Claire/Jack, Jack & Jamie, oneshot, rated T, 5.4k.

After Jamie’s disciplinary hearing at the end of Justice, she and Jack go back to the office for a drink.

Later, Abbie crashes the party.

And as always, things turn back to Claire, the ghost in the walls.

– Coda to 10x05, Justice

between friends, by lonely_is_so_lonely_alone. Claire/Jack, Jack & Jamie, oneshot, rated G, 2.9k.

After Jack walks out of the Grand Jury in 9x14, a old friend comes to visit him in DC

– Or Jack and Jamie talk about what pushed him over the edge.

three’s a crowd, by lonely_is_so_lonely_alone. Claire/Jack, Jack & Jamie, oneshot, rated T, 2.8k.

Jack and Jamie talk about the elephant in the room.

– post ep for Under the Influence (8x11)

belief, by lonely_is_so_lonely_alone. Claire/Jack, oneshot, rated T, 7.1k.

He doesn’t believe in ghosts. Nope. Not at all. He is Jack McCoy, rational down to cynical. He’s seen all the world can offer, right under the floorboards of humanity and back out. He doesn’t believe in ghosts but – but – there’s a ghost sitting on the edge of his desk when he gets back from court.

– Every time Jack McCoy loses an ADA, there’s a familiar face there to talk about why.

Principessa, by listentothewordsyousay. Claire/Jack, four chapters, rated T, 1.2k. Ongoing.

Kneeling beside her hospital bed, he had the sudden, deranged recollection of the prince kneeling beside Snow White’s bed. Some Prince Charming he was, he thought bitterly.

Mistletoe, by listentothewordsyousay. Claire/Jack, two chapters, rated T, 558 words. Ongoing.

He stood directly behind her at the bar, just close enough for him to feel her shiver when he spoke softly into the curve of her shoulder. ‘I like the dress.’

A Dinner in Hot Pursuit, by listentothewordsyousay. Claire/Jack, oneshot, rated T, 599 words.

‘You’re wondering what sort of man I am, too.’

Aftermath, by GilShalos1. Claire/Jack, 10 chapters, rated T, 998 words.

Ten drabbles – a different take on “Aftershock”

In Limine, by GilShalos1. Claire/Jack, 10 chapters, rated T, 7.6k.

What if fanfic and reruns are the afterlife for dead TV characters? Claire Kincaid discovers that her life isn’t what she assumed it to be. But is there anything she can do about it now?

A Bad Idea, by HandwithQuill. Claire/Jack, oneshot, rated G, 559 words.

Jack and Claire in the office on the night they become a couple.

Against All Good Advice, by castles. Claire/Jack, oneshot, rated G, 754 words.

Five Season 5 snapshots.

De Jure, by VelvetMouse. Claire/Jack, oneshot, rated T, 1.3k.

This job got more interesting all the time.

White Knight, by GilShalos1. Jack & OC, 16 chapters, rated T, 7.9k.

Jack McCoy pays attention to the people he works with, especially the women… Even those who don’t want to be noticed.

Set early in the 24 years McCoy worked in the DA’s Office before his first appearance in “Second Opinion.”

Casual, by shonn. Abbie/Serena, oneshot, rated G, 217 words.

When opposites attract.

Case Files, by eastberlin. Abbie/Toni, oneshot, rated G, 247 words.

Abbie is a neat freak. Toni, not so much.

city glacier, by kimaracretak. Claire/Jack, oneshot, rated T, 3.5k. Recommended by @sit-drink-smile!

There’s a comfort to the ritual, Claire on the couch with case files, him on the phone, even the open bottle. All they need is Adam to poke his head in the door and scold them for still being around this late, and it’ll be just like it was before. But they’ve outlasted him tonight, and the building’s late-night quiet seems empty.

[ On survival, grief, and vampirism. ]

all i need is a taste, by faerialchemist (me!). Margot/Claire, oneshot, rated T, 1.4k.

Claire hums in agreement, undoing another two of Margot’s buttons. “Even I could kiss you better than—better than what’s-his-face, I bet.”

It isn’t until Margot’s back stiffens beneath her touch that Claire realizes what sequence of words has left her mouth.

FFN:

N.B. I highly recommend getting yourself an adblocker before reading any of these, FFN is going down the tubes.

I Did It My Way, by defyngravity. Nina/Mike L., six chapters, rated T, 9.5k.

Nina Cassady is relaxing at a bar after a long day of work, hoping for some alone time. But someone comes in from out of the cold…

The Moment to Turn, by snarkhunter. Abbie-centric, oneshot, rated K+, 1.3k.

Coffee, country music, and contemplation.

Aftershock: McCoy, by Cirocco. Jack-centric, Claire/Jack, five chapters, rated T, 38.2k.

“Aftershock,” mostly from Jack McCoy’s point of view.

Aftershock: Kincaid, by Cirocco. Claire-centric, Claire/Jack, three chapters, rated T, 18.8k.

“Aftershock,” mostly from Claire Kincaid’s point of view.

A Run Through Central Park, by LTP-girl. Claire/Jack, oneshot, rated T, 462 words.

Jack and Claire share an afternoon jog.

you remembered, by nevermore199. Claire/Jack, oneshot, rated K+, 105 words.

Happy anniversary. Drabble, Jack x Claire. Written for Law and Order 100.

Delaying The Inevitable, by MandaLou. Claire/Jack, oneshot, rated T, 137 words.

LJ Community Challenge: Footwear.

cold as ice, by nevermore199. Claire/Jack, oneshot, rated K+, 200 words.

It’s all so cold now. Oneshot, Jack x Claire, post-Aftershock.

All About the Coffee, by commasplice27. Abbie/Serena, oneshot, rated T, 904 words.

Abbie & Serena. Flirting. Fluff. Femslash.

Take a Little OneStep, by Bleeding Heart Sacred Soul. Claire/Jack, oneshot, rated K+, 1.1k.

How she did it, he would never know, but somehow Claire convinced Jack to go ice-skating with her. JM/CK. Oneshot.

Bottles And Flowers, by Killer_Moth. Claire & Jack, oneshot, rated K+, 1k.

Second Opinion ficlet. It’s my take on Jack’s “drink” line to Claire.

Over Breakfast, by Sugar Kane. Claire/Jack, oneshot, rated T, 603 words.

Much has been made of Jack and Claire’s first kiss. What about their last?

Lunch Hour, by Teyerin. Alexandra & Jack, nine chapters, rated K+, 6.5k.

A collection of lunch hour gatherings between two coworkers.

L&O: Christmas Memories, by lupinskitten. Claire/Jack, three chapters, rated K+, 3.7k.

Forced to return home for the holidays, and bringing along her lover Jack McCoy, a nervous Claire Kincaid faces more than an icy lane. A Christmas Story for all the JackClaire shippers out there.

L&O: Impulse, by lupinskitten. Claire/Jack, oneshot, rated T, 887 words.

One evening after work, McCoy and Kincaid take their relationship all the way.

L&O: Awakenings, by lupinskitten. Claire/Jack, oneshot, rated K+, 1.2k.

After her first night with Jack, Claire reflects on past relationships and doubts whether their affair can escape the notice of coworkers. Sequel to ���Impulse.”

Last Visit, by Animaltalker. Lennie & Ed, oneshot, rated K+, 531 words.

Ed decides to visit Lennie.

Doing Lunch, by Animaltalker. Jack & Serena, oneshot, rated K+, 436 words.

After she’s fired, Jack meets Serena for lunch and helps her plan out her future.

You Can’t Go Home Again: Trilogy, by fewthistle. Serena-centric, oneshot, rated K+, 384 words.

A drabble trilogy set right after Serena’s firing in Ain’t No Love. A little on the melancholy side.

The Gift of the Magi (The Law and Order Version), by AnneKB. Claire/Jack, oneshot, rated K+, 4.1k.

What do you get for the person who has everything?

Walk and Don’t Look Back, by Cirocco. Deborah/Rey, oneshot, rated K+, 4.3k.

Five months after Aftershock. Angst.