#this was truly a once in a lifetime opportunity

[sweaters-and-vertigo]

a couple of absolute GEMS being given away at my community center’s donation drive… everything was free and, as a volunteer, i had to wait until it ended to grab my favorite stuff but i was pretty satisfied with my haul :))

[pociondeodio]

if i get to take a picture with amber glenn at the grand prix final next week i might actually pass out :)

[savebylou]

I hope every fan of Zayn has the opportunity to go to his show eventually🕯🤞

[gothgoblinbabe]

She Wolf

A/N: I said I was gonna get this done and it took me way too long and has an absurd word count but I am incapable of holding in word vomit! Inspired by She Wolf by Shakira cause idc its GOOD and it got me thinking' so here it is. Also you don't have to listen to the song as you read but I think It's fun!

Summary: You've got a crush on your best friend and he's a bit of a dick. He regrets it and tries to apologize but you're already trying to push yourself to move on any way you can, even if it's in some shady club you'd never been to before.

Warnings: MDNI 18+, swearing, Logan's kind of an asshole for a minute, Possessive/jealous!Logan, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), friends to lovers cause that's my fave, fem reader, mutant reader, unnamed creepy guy (?) aaaand Logan absolutely has a pain kink. I think that's it but if there's any I missed please let me know!

Word Count: 7K (im so sorry but I'm not though)

divider credit here

“Are you ever gonna tell him?”

You looked up from your desk towards Ororo’s voice, sighing and taking your glasses off your nose.

“God, I don’t know, ‘ro. I don’t think I should. It’s just going to end with me being humiliated and him never wanting to even be in the same room as me again.”

You’d had a crush on Logan Howlett since the day you first walked through the doors of the mansion six months ago. You’d probably be considered best friends by now with how much time you’d spend together, doing jack shit around the mansion on your days off. Just about everyone could tell he had a soft spot for you and that you had one for him. Logan was a classic ‘tough guy’, constantly trying to hide his kind nature with a hard exterior, but it took only a couple weeks for you to crack that barrier. You weren’t exactly a seemingly ‘soft’ type either.

You’d spent the majority of your life before you joined the X-men hoping from couch to couch and hitching rides with strangers, not really having a destination or a place to call home. You’d been dropped off at a church when you were fourteen, around the time you started to turn every full moon. Your parents couldn’t live with having to chain their mutant daughter in their basement once a month, and so they dropped you where they thought you’d find some ‘help’. You’d been passed from foster home to foster home till you were eighteen, each one passing you up the moment they realized you were not like them. It was always a slip of the mask, something setting you off to make you so enraged your eyes gleam yellow and your sharp canines make an unfortunate appearance. You took off the second you could and being on the road came with its fair share of creeps; men with terrible intentions looking for opportunities. You’d never wanted to hurt anyone - truly - but when cornered by a creep, it was hard to think anyone would miss them. A couple of local newspapers caught on, debating where the wolf that tore men to shreds had gone. You weren’t an animal. You just had teeth like one.

Knowing you couldn’t lurk in town much longer, you’d hitchhiked your way to a camp occupied with people like you; lost with no place to call home. It was there that you’d met a couple of mutants who told you about Charles Xavier and the place that seemed completely unreal until you set your eyes on it. That felt like a lifetime ago by now. 

“I think you're underestimating how he feels about you,” Ororo said, bringing you back to reality. She was sat on the edge of your bed, flipping through one of your magazines as you worked at your computer to try and make a lesson plan for the coming week. 

“I think you’re overestimating how he feels about me,” you let out a short laugh, shaking your head.

Just as she was about to retort, you both heard someone shout your names from the hallway. You looked at each other curiously and left the room, hearing shouting again. 

“Are you guys gonna play Monopoly with us or what?”

You both giggled and made your way downstairs towards Scott’s voice. Him, Jean, Marie, Bobby and Logan were all sat in the living room, the game already set up on the coffee table. Bobby and Marie were picking out their game pieces, assigning everyone else to their own piece.

“Okay, Logan, you’re gonna be the dog,” Marie smiled, dropping the little metal piece into the palm of his hand. 

He was definitely not as amused, “why do I have to be a damn dog?”

Ignoring him, she handed another piece out to Jean, “you’re the thimble.”

She then handed the boat to Scott, the top hat to you, and the iron to Ororo. You all began the game after Scott painstakingly over-explained the rules and how to play. 

It was a good bit into the game that you all became distracted with conversation, eventually leaving the board game untouched. The topic of compatibility came up somehow, the conversation focused on the joy of Bobby and Marie. 

“I think anyone would be lucky to have what you guys have,” Ororo smiled, shifting her gaze between the two of them.

“And what we have, obviously,” Scott joked, hanging his arm around Jean.

“Gross,” Logan chimed in, taking a sip of the beer he’d hidden in the back of the fridge.

“I think someone is jealous,” Ororo said in a singsong voice, poking his arm.

“Of having someone hang on me all the time? No, thanks,” he scoffed.

As stupid as it was, it made you a little sad to hear he had no interest in even entertaining the idea. It wasn’t a surprise, but still a disappointment nonetheless.

Ororo brought up your name and your eyes went huge, silently begging her to keep her mouth shut.

“You don’t seem to mind her hanging on you all the time. I think you’d be cute together,” she said, smiling mischievously at you. Scott and Jean agreed and you had never wanted to smash your head into a coffee table as much as you did in that moment.

“Nah, definitely not my type of girl.”

It was just seven words, out quick without a second thought, and yet it felt like you’d been punched in the gut. You couldn’t take your eyes off the monopoly board on the table, avoiding everyone’s gaze. 

Definitely not my type of girl. 

“I think I should head to bed, it’s getting late,” you mumbled, keeping your head down to hide your blushed face as you got up from the couch and practically ran out of the room and up the stairs. 

“What the hell was that?” Scott scolded Logan the moment you were out of sight.

“That was so mean,” Ororo chimes in, backhanding him on the arm.

“I didn’t mean to be,” Logan said nervously , shrugging his shoulders, “…do you think she’s mad at me?”

“Probably more hurt than mad,” Jean said honestly. 

“Shit,” he sighed, putting his beer down to rub his face with his hands, “what do I say?”

“Not that,” Marie replied, “why did you even say that anyway? You could’ve just said no.”

“I think you like her and you’re being mean so that she wont like you back because you’re afraid,” Ororo said after a moment of silence. 

Logan sat quiet for a moment, his hands still over his face.

“Am I that easy to read?” His voice was muffled through his hands.

The rest of them couldn’t help exchanging knowing smiles.

“So you finally admit it,huh? You’ve got a crush,” Scott teased.

Logan moved his hands from his eyes to glare daggers at him, “you shut your fucking mouth or I’ll shove that monopoly board where the sun doesn’t shine.”

“I think that’s a yes,” Jean whispered to her boyfriend.

“Talk to her when you see her tomorrow. We’re not going to let you hurt her feelings just because you can’t accept your own,” Ororo advised, lightly patting him on the shoulder.

“Do you think she’s even gonna talk to me?”

“Only one way to find out.”

───────♡──────────────♡───────

Logan tried to catch up with you the next day, always seeing you as you were leaving a room he was entering or passing by and even then, you ignored his calls of your name.

It was a little after dinner now and because it was a weekend, a couple of kids were up playing the PlayStation in the living room. Bobby and Marie sat with them, taking turns with the controllers. 

Logan entered the room after about three laps around the mansion, mentioning your name to the both of them.

“Have you guys seen her? I’ve been trying to talk to her all day, she keeps running from me.”

“Can’t really blame her,” Bobby muttered, his eyes never leaving the TV screen as he button smashed. 

“She’s in her room,” Marie answered before Logan could come up with a retort, “she went up before dinner, said she wasn’t hungry.”

He groaned, running a hand through his hair, “she’s skipping dinner now too, great.”

“Go talk to her!” She insisted, shooing him away with a wave of her hand.

He made his way to the stairs and up to your bedroom, knocking lightly on your door. Hearing nothing, he knocked again, a little harder. Still, nothing. 

“You can’t avoid me forever, you know. I wanna talk about yesterday, I was a dick.”

Silence. Now he was a little worried. He tentatively grabbed the doorknob and turned, cracking it open a bit.

Your bed was made, your desk was neatly organized and you were nowhere to be seen. He noticed your purse was gone from the usual spot you’d leave it in and your closet was open, a couple garments and some shoes strewn about on the floor. It looked like you’d gotten dressed and dipped. He figured maybe Ororo or Jean might know where you were, leaving your room and looking for them instead. He found them shortly after, huddled in the kitchen. Again, he asked if either of them knew where you were.

“She’s in her room, she went up before dinner,” Ororo answered.

“No, she’s not. And her purse is gone.”

Both women turned to each other with the same worried expression.

───────♡──────────────♡───────

Having tried your cellphone about thirteen times from just about everybody’s phones, they all decided they had to tell Charles. He used his ability to connect with every mutant on the planet to try and locate you, visualizing with his eyes closed. Everyone stood in his study, anxiously awaiting his conclusion. After a moment of silence, he started to silently chuckle to himself.

“What’s so funny?” Logan asked immediately, crossing his arms and furrowing his eyebrows.

“I’m afraid you all have your work cut out for you,” he replied, finally opening his eyes.

“So, where is she?” Ororo asked, worry in her voice. 

“There is a club called The Nightcrawler - “ Charles began to explain, but Logan interjected impatiently. 

“Club? What, like a book club?” He nearly scoffed. There was no way you were at some sleazy nightclub in the city. You were a homebody and an introvert, neither of which made clubbing enjoyable. 

“Maybe we should just let her have fun,” Jean began to say, but Logan was already halfway out the door.

Uncharacteristically, you found yourself dressed to the nines in the middle of a dance floor full of people. You’d spent a while trying outfits in your room, searching for something you could actually wear out that wasn’t sweatpants and a hoodie. You’d settled on a halter top that tied at your neck and in the back and a pair of ridiculously tight pants that you’d bought forever ago and never had the guts to wear. You ended up standing in front of the mirror, choosing a pair of very cute but very uncomfortable shoes and looking over the outfit. If you weren’t Logan’s ‘type of girl’, you sure as hell were somebody’s. Trying to get yourself out there may be the best solution to forgetting the heart-crushing infatuation you had with your best friend who would never see you as anything more. 

“I feel ridiculous,” you chuckled to yourself, turning in the mirror to see the back of your outfit. You did look good, just super out of your comfort zone. You grabbed your bag and ended up slipping out when everyone was eating dinner. That’s how you ended up where you were, pushing your way through the crowd of people with a drink in your hand. You passed the raised lounge area and felt a hand on your shoulder, making you turn suddenly.

“Hey, you wanna dance?”

He was tall, leaning down a little to shout over the music. He was pretty good looking but didn’t look like Logan in the slightest, which you realized was exactly the point of going out tonight. He was dressed nice and smelled like expensive cologne. 

“Sure, why not?”

As you abandoned your half finished drink on a table and let him pull you a little further into him, a familiar song started to thump through the speakers.

“I love this song!” You exclaimed, letting the nameless guy rest his hands on your hips.

S.O.S., she's in disguise

S.O.S., she's in disguise

There's a she wolf in disguise

Coming out, coming out, coming out

“Ironic,” you muttered under the music.

───────♡──────────────♡───────

Logan walked ahead of Ororo, Jean and Scott, his long legs taking him much further at a much faster pace.

“Logan, slow down!” Ororo called out, jogging a bit to catch up with him.

“What if she didn’t even want to be there? What if some guy dragged her there?”

“Oh,” Jean laughed, “ I see. You’re jealous.” 

“No.”

“Yup.”

“Nope.”

“So you’d be fine if we walked in there and she is with a guy?” 

Logan slowed his pace as they approached the entrance, “sure, whatever,” feigned disdain in his voice.

The second the door opened, the bass of the music was overwhelming. It was dim, save for a few colorful lights projecting around the room. The four of them were squished together near the door, trying to pick you out in a sea of moving people. 

“This is gonna be like finding a needle in a haystack,” Scott shouted.

“Not necessarily,” Ororo replied, a smug smile on her face.

“What?” Logan furrowed his eyebrows.

She pointed across the room and he followed her gaze.

There's a she wolf in the closet

Open up and set it free 

There's a she wolf in your closet

Let it out so it can breathe

You didn’t even look like you. He’d never seen you in anything that showed that much skin or any clothes that even hugged you like that, for that matter. 

And you were with a guy.

Sitting across a bar, staring right at her prey

It's going well so far, she's gonna get her way

“So, what did we tell you?” Jean shouted, waving her hand in front of his glaring eyes.

“Just some kid,” he replied dismissively, turning to her, “doesn’t mean anything anyway.”

“You sure?” Scott nudged his shoulder, making Logan look towards you again.

That kid had his hands up the sides of your top with his head craned down to kiss your neck, your back to his chest. You were giggling, playfully smacking his arm. Truthfully, you thought the attention was nice for a change. After trying so hard for too long to get Logan to notice you, it felt good to have someone pay attention to you in that way. 

Not looking for cute little divos or rich city guys

I just want to enjoy 

By having a very good time

And behave very bad in the arms of a boy

You felt his hands squeeze your hips a little harder, enough for his nails to dig into your skin. Out of instinct, you felt your canine teeth start to poke against your lower lip. You tried in vain to tug his hands from you, only making him tighten his grip.

The switch in demeanor was obvious even from across the dark room, your smile turning into a grimace that bared your sharp teeth. You yanked the sleeves of his jacket to make him finally let go, turning around while he still had his arms ghosted around you.

S.O.S., she's in disguise

S.O.S., she's in disguise

“Touch me like that again, you son of a bitch, and I will rip you to fucking shreds.”

You gathered fistfuls of his shirt, bringing him down to eye level so he could see your snarling teeth and gleaming eyes as a hint that you weren’t bluffing. 

There's a she wolf in disguise

Coming out, coming out, coming out

Before anyone could even tell him to stay put, Logan had already disappeared into the crowd of people.

“God damn it,” Scott huffed, following Jean and Ororo when they went after him. 

“Logan!” Jean yelled, trying to grab his jacket to slow him and only having him slip out of her grip. 

There's a she wolf in the closet

Let it out so it can breathe

“Shit, I’m kinda into the fangs. What, you gonna bite me?” He was whispering in your ear, your hands still on his shirt. Before you could do something you were going to regret, you felt someone tug your upper arm and pull you away from him.

“Come on,” Logan snapped, “we’re leaving.”

“What the hell are you doing here? What do you mean we?” You yelled back. You didn’t want to stay anywhere near that guy but you weren’t ready to leave either and sure as hell not with Logan dragging you out like an angry parent.

“Hey, she doesn’t really look like she wants to leave with you, man,” the other guy interjected, keeping a grip on you by looping his fingers through one of the belt loops on your pants. 

“Yeah? She doesn’t want to stay with you either, jackass,” Logan moved his hand from your arm to hold your hand instead, “she’s not interested.”

What the hell had gotten into him? You felt like you were in the middle of a tug of war with two dogs. 

“No one’s gonna fucking ask what I want, right?” You tried to complain, neither of them hearing you. 

“Your little doggy girlfriend here was just about to take care of me. You mad about it?” The other guy laughed and you nearly lunged at him, Logan’s hand tugging you back. He intended to pull you away so he could get to him first, but Scott, Jean and Ororo jumped in just in time. 

“Alright - enough, enough, we’re leaving!” Jean yelled, pushing you all towards the door, Logan dragging you the whole way. When you finally were out in the cool evening air, you angrily yanked your hand from his.

“What are you guys doing here?” You asked, turning to Logan, “and what the fuck was that?”

“What was that? You’re welcome - “ 

“I didn’t ask you to come save me - from what, having a good time?”

“Oh, yeah, it looked like you were having a lot of fun,” he scoffed, “he had you by the hip so hard he probably left a bruise.”

He instinctively reached his hand out to check and you swatted it away, “Don’t - Don’t touch me!”

None of them had ever heard you sound so pissed off and you’d definitely never snapped at Logan like that before. 

You took a deep breath and reached down to slip off your shoes, leaving you barefoot on the concrete. 

“I’m sorry,” you apologized to the rest of them,” but why are you guys here?”

“You left without saying anything, we couldn’t find you and we wanted to be sure you were safe,” Ororo sighed, hugging you in relief, “we’re so glad you’re okay.” 

You hugged her back.

“I just - I wanted to disappear for a while,” you explained apologetically, avoiding Jean and Scott’s gaze. 

“Do you know how stupid it was to run off and not tell anyone where you were going?” Logan scolded you, but Jean clicked her tongue at him.

“Shut it! Enough from you! You’ve done enough damage control!”

The ride home was almost silent, your tired body slumped in the backseat between Scott and Jean, until Ororo spoke from the front passenger seat.

“Honey, I don’t mean this in a bad way, but,” she paused, thinking over her words, “what were you gonna do to that guy if we hadn’t stopped you?”

You understood what she meant immediately. 

“What, you think I was going to kill him?” you asked, crossing your arms and leaning forward in your seat, “I wasn’t. I don’t do that unless I have to and you know even then I hate doing it.”

“I know…so, what were you doing with a guy like him anyway?” she asked, trying to move on from the question that had clearly made you upset, “he seemed kinda shady.”

Logan was gripping the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles were white, dreading the answer.

You shrugged your shoulders, staring at the synthetic fabric of your pants.

“Liked the attention, I guess,” you answered honestly, kind of hoping you could throw anyone off the idea of you being interested in Logan, “it’s been awhile since a guy has liked me like that.”

“He only wanted one thing from you anyway,” he scoffed from the front seat. Ororo glared at him, about to tell him to mind his business before you stopped her.

“And I can’t want it either?”

That shut everybody up and Ororo turned to him again, a look on her face that said ‘you asked, you got the answer’.

You tried to bolt to your room when you all got home but Logan was quick to follow, catching up with you to stand in your path in the hallway outside of your bedroom. 

“What’s going on with you?”

“Leave me be.”

You tried to dodge around him but he stuck his arm out. 

“Logan.”

He raised his eyebrows, waiting for you to continue speaking.

“Move.”

“I’m not leaving you alone until you tell me what’s going on with you. You don’t disappear like that, ever. And I wanna talk to you about last night - “

“There’s nothing to talk about. Goodnight,” you huffed, ducking under his arm and opening your door.

“I care about you, you know, I was worried,” he began to explain.

You tried to slam the door in his face but he stuck his foot out, jamming his boot between the door and the doorframe. You let go in defeat and turned away, gathering your pajamas as if he wasn’t in the room.

“Yeah? Why?,” you scoffed, trying with everything in you to bite your tongue but failing miserably, “I’m not your type of girl. What’s there to worry about?”

Logan’s face fell. He pushed the door closed behind him. 

“Is that what this is about? That’s why you went out?”

“Why do you care?” 

You still had your back to him, furiously shuffling through clothing in your dresser.

“Stop.” 

You felt his hands on your arms as he came up behind you, paralyzing you in your spot.

You let him turn you around gently, almost chest to chest.

“I didn’t mean that.”

“You don’t have to lie to spare my feelings -“

“I’m not.”

He leaned back a little to force you to look him in the eye.

“I only said that - listen, I only said that because - “ Logan paused, biting his lip till it nearly bled, but you shook your head and slipped by him again.

“Please, don’t treat me like I’m stupid, Logan.”

You sounded so exasperated, tears forming in your eyes when you turned your back to him.

“Fuck,” he sighed, “I only said that because I didn’t want you to like me.”

You wiped the tear that rolled down your cheek and turned back to him, a confused expression on your face.

“It worked, are you happy?”

“No, I’m not - “

“Well, guess it backfired. Get out of my room.”

You were face to face again, keeping your mouth in a tight line so your lip wouldn’t quiver. It felt stupid to cry in front of him, but you couldn’t really help it once it started. 

“Oh, god, please, don’t cry,” he begged, leaning down and actually bringing a hand up to your face to wipe away a tear that rolled down your cheek. You wanted to smack it away, tell him again to just get the hell out , but you couldn’t.

“Why would you do that?” You mumbled out quietly, finally letting the overwhelming feeling of sadness cancel out any rage you had for him. You couldn’t look him in the eye again, concentrating on the throw rug you were standing on.

“I’m so sorry, princess, I am. I’m really fucking stupid,” he huffed. 

You were surprised by the softness of his voice and finally tore your eyes from the floor. He’d called you that before, but usually in a teasing way. This time it sounded endearing, like a plea of your name. 

“And what happened there, at the club? ‘She’s not interested’, what was that about?” You continued.

He sighed, still trying to figure out what exactly it was that he wanted to say. He realized there probably wasn’t much of a way to beat around the bush and he groaned, closing his eyes as he stood in front of you to make spilling his guts a little less agonizing.

“I like you - like you a lot, and I was an asshole because I figured if you hated me, you couldn’t like me back and it would save you the trouble.”

Hearing no response, he finally opened his eyes to see you still standing in the same spot, your lips parted.

“Save me the trouble of what?”

You were confused, your eyes narrowed as if you were angry.

“I don’t know…having to deal with me, I guess. I - I’ve never felt the way I feel about you for anyone else and it scares the shit out of me.”

You could hear him swallow hard, his eyes looking everywhere around the room except at you. 

“And earlier, when we picked you up,” he continued, “I acted like that because I was jealous, alright? Can’t stand to see some asshole on you like that, and you were dressed all nice and - I don’t know.”

You’d never heard him sound so nervous in all the time you’d known him.

“You are my type of girl,” he finally choked out, “only type of girl I’d ever want.”

All you could do was inhale sharply, his words echoing in your mind. 

“It’s alright if you hate me, I can’t say I really blame you. Fuck, I’m sorry.”

He began to walk out, convinced he’d fucked up beyond repair.

“Logan.”

Your voice stopped his hand from turning your doorknob and he turned back to you. 

No longer crying, you tentatively stepped forward a bit, nervously playing with the front hem of your top. 

“You’re not something to deal with, you know,” you muttered, letting your hair fall in front of your face.

You supposed this was the point where it was your turn to explain.

“I’ve liked you for a long time, Logan, probably since the day I walked in here and I just - I think I wanted someone to distract me so I wouldn’t wallow in self pity because you didn’t want me.”

“You were trying to get over me,” he realized aloud, a small smile on his face to hide the hurt, “I deserved that.”

After a moment of tense silence, he spoke again.

“Did it work?”

His voice was low and soft, a tone you’d rarely heard him speak with.

You pursed your lips and finally lifted your head, taking a deep breath. 

“No. I don’t think it was ever going to, either,” you laughed a little, “when that guy asked me to dance, the first thing I thought of was that he didn’t look anything like you.”

Your voice trailed off a little at the end, a little embarrassed to confess that even if Logan had already flat out told you he was interested in you.

Without another word, he came close enough to reach for your hands and gently intertwine your fingers with his. He cleared his throat, nervously chewing his bottom lip before he spoke.

“Can I kiss you?”

You must have had this dream a million times over, waking up night after night and feeling so empty because none of it was real. But now, with his hands in yours, it was very real.

You eagerly pressed your lips to his, not wanting to waste another second. His lips were soft and you were encompassed in the scent of his body wash and cologne, smelling of pine and cedar wood. You brought your hands up to play with his hair at the back of his head. Logan moved his arms to wrap around your waist, pulling you further into him. 

When you finally pulled away from each other, you were both smiling like idiots.

“We should’ve done that much sooner,” you giggled.

“Agreed.”

His fingers traced small circles on the exposed skin of your back, making you shiver.

He kissed you again, this time with much more intensity. It wasn’t long before your tongues were in each other's mouths and you both had fumbled yourselves over to the end of your bed.

“Wanted you for so long,” he mumbled between kissing your neck and jaw, his hands still sliding up and down your back, “I was so stupid.”

“We both were,” you giggled a little, cut short into a moan when he licked your neck all the way from your collarbone to under your ear.

“L-Logan,” you gasped, unable to hide your blushing face.

He hummed into your neck, bringing his mouth to your ear, “Can I show you how sorry I am? Let me make it up to you.”

His voice made the hair on the back of your neck stand up and you let him pull you onto him to straddle his lap, lost in the feeling of his hands on you.

“Mmm, uh-huh,” you hummed, mouth hung open as he sucked light marks into your neck. 

“You have to use your words, pretty girl,” he brought his head up to rest his forehead against yours. He cupped your jaw tenderly, almost as if you’d disappear if he let go. 

Before you could answer, he moved his hands to drag your hips over his, grunting when he felt the pressure.

“Y-yes, yeah - please,” you choked out between moans, tugging his hair harder every time he pushed and pulled your hips.

“Please what, baby?”

“You - you can make it up to me,” you groaned into his neck. 

He effortlessly lifted you by your thighs and laid you with your back to the bed. You untucked his white t-shirt from his jeans as he crawled over you, desperate to get your hands underneath it. You lightly scratched your nails along his back, making him groan into your ear. He kissed down your neck to the center of your chest, gently slipping his fingers under the hem of your top and around the back. 

“Can I take this off you, baby?”

You were already sitting up before he could finish his sentence, reaching to try and untie the knot at the back of your neck.

“Eager, huh?”, he chuckled, “let me, sweetheart.”

He wrapped his arms around your lower back to tug at the knot, feeling it come loose in his hands. He snaked his hands up to the back of your neck, doing the same to the tied strings there. When it came loose, the only thing holding the piece of fabric to you was his hands at the back of your neck. He let it slip from his fingers, a smirk on his face when it fell completely.

You threw the garment somewhere to the floor and tugged on the collar of his t-shirt, bringing him down with you as laid back again and pressed your lips to his. He pulled back for a moment to yank his shirt off and immediately return his mouth to yours, making his way down to your neck. He brought both his hands to your chest and swept his thumbs over your hard nipples, eventually bringing his lips to them and sucking. 

“Ah - Logan,” you whined, making him smile against your skin.

“I like it when you say my name, pretty girl,” he mumbled, dragging his fingers down your sides and hooking them into the waistband of your pants. He kissed all the way down to your hips, moving himself to lay on his stomach with his head between your thighs. 

Before he could ask you if it was alright to rid you of them, you were already unbuttoning your pants and pushing them down your hips and thighs. He took them off the rest of the way for you and you kicked your panties off with them.

He hooked his arms around your thighs to pull you closer, licking his lips and resting his cheek on the inside of your thigh.

“I thought about you a lot, you know - like this,” he huffed, his warm breath fanning over your pussy.

You had your hands in his hair already, swiping fallen strands of hair out of his face.

“I thought about you like this, too,” you admitted, sighing as he started to plant kisses right above where you wanted him the most.

“Yeah?”

His teasing voice brought goosebumps to your skin and you nodded, gasping when you finally felt his lips graze your clit.

“This what you think about when you fuck yourself?” He mumbled into you, the vibration of his voice making you tighten your grip in his hair. He growled like an animal, trying to push you even further into his mouth by the grip on your thighs.

You were trying to choke out an answer, distracted by the wet sounds of him messily eating you out.

“Y - ah, yes, yeah - not as good as the real thing, though.”

He laughed with his mouth still attached to you and you tightened your thighs around his head, keeping him in place.

He could have spent hours with his mouth to your cunt, practically fucking you with his tongue while you whined his name. 

A knock on your door sounded through the room, the both of you freezing in place.

“Hey, I just wanted to check on you. Are you feeling okay?”

It was Scott.

 You grimaced, thankful at the very least that your door was locked, but Logan had a terribly smug smirk on his face. 

“Y-yeah, I’m alright, just - just tired,” you managed to choke out, stuttering when you felt two of his fingers slip into you effortlessly.

“You sure?”

You sighed, hating and loving Logan at the same time for what he was doing. 

“Yup, th-thank you, m’ jus’ gonna go to bed.”

Scott responded with a goodnight and you groaned in relief when you heard him walk away.

Logan was curling his fingers inside of you, still lapping at your pussy and letting you use your grip on his hair to angle his head however you wanted him. You felt the pressure in your lower stomach rise and you tried to warn him, tugging on the hair on the back of his head.

“Logan, I’m - “

“C’mon, pretty girl, c’mon.”

His encouragement sent you over the edge, euphoria blooming from your lower stomach and spreading through you. You had to cover your mouth to muffle your pornographic moans, but Logan reached up to tug your wrist.

“Uh-uh, wanna hear you, beautiful,” he mumbled into you, practically pushing your thighs even further around his head.

“Fuck, L-Logan, too - too sensitive,” you stuttered out, trying to pull his face away by his hair and failing miserably because of his grip around your thighs.

He eventually reluctantly detached himself and crawled back on top of you, sucking the taste of you off his fingers. 

“I could do that for hours, you know, if you let me,” he groaned, pulling your hips up to him so you could feel the weight of his hard cock underneath his jeans.

Still sensitive, you reactively gripped his biceps and dug your fingernails into his skin. You were going to apologize and were quickly cut off by the guttural moan he let out into the side of your neck.

“Fuck,” he groaned, rocking his hips against yours.

“You’re into pain, huh?” 

You figured it was your turn to tease him, dragging your fingernails from his shoulders all the way down his back.

“You’re gonna pay for that, pretty girl,” he grunted, moving quickly to undo his belt and strip himself of the rest of his clothing. 

When his cock sprung up and hit his stomach as he took off his boxers, you swallowed hard; already feeling a wanting ache in your stomach again. You figured he was big - he was already a tall guy, after all - but he was far bigger than any guy you’d ever seen. Logan noticed the way you bit your lower lip, resting himself on top of you again and bringing his thumb up to pull your lip from under your teeth.

“What, are you nervous? It’s alright sweetheart, I’m not gonna hurt you.”

His voice was so soft and gentle, a tone you rarely ever heard from him. 

You could feel the weight of his cock against your inner thigh, heavy and already leaking. 

“ ‘m not nervous, I want you, please,” you begged, wrapping your legs around his waist. You reached your hand between your bodies to line him up with your entrance, trying to push him in with your legs around his waist. 

“You sure?” he huffed, trying with every muscle in his body to not slam into you in one thrust. 

You nodded eagerly, scratching at his lower back. 

Logan couldn’t help himself and gave in, slipping himself into you.

“So tight,” he groaned into your neck, pushing himself in even further.

“You - fuck - you’re so fucking big,” you admitted truthfully, nearly drooling at the feeling of him stretching you out. 

“Feels good?”

It was hard for him to speak when you were so wet that he was nearly slipping out of you as he gently rocked his hips back and forth, trying to be gentle and let you adjust to his size. 

“Mm - uh-uh,” you hummed, gasping each time he pushed further.

“Use your words, sweetheart,” he huffed and you groaned, digging your nails into him. 

“Y-yes, yeah - want you all the way in,” you whimpered.

That was all it took for him to be buried in you, grinding his hips into yours so that you were pinned to the mattress. 

He worked up to a devastating pace, practically slamming your headboard into the wall.

“S-someone’s gonna - someone’s gonna hear us,” you managed to gasp out, out of breath every time he filled you and pulled back again. 

“Don’t care, let ‘em,” he pressed his forehead to yours, bringing a hand up to your face to affectionately cup your cheek. It was so sweet and almost disgustingly hot, the caring gesture contrasting the intense feeling of him repeatedly slamming into the sensitive spot inside of you. 

He really didn’t have a care in the world about who heard you both, far too lost in the feeling of finally being able to have you under him like that. You had sweat soaked strands of hair stuck to your face, your eyes squeezed shut, and he was almost sure you’d never looked more beautiful. 

“So fucking pretty,” he huffed, his thumb swiping your bottom lip. He had an idea, one he’d considered many times when he thought of you under him like this.

“Bite me.”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise, threading your hand through his hair, “are you sure?”

“Please.”

You forcibly unsheathed your fangs, letting them tentatively poke at his thumb that was still to your lips.

He moved his hand to your throat, resting it there without tightening his grip. 

“Please.”

His pleading had the heat in your lower stomach rising and you obliged, sinking your teeth into his shoulder. You felt guilty - you didn’t enjoy hurting people - until he was whimpering in your ear, moaning your name over and over again. 

You bit his neck, his shoulders, his lip - all the small puncture wounds healing themselves within seconds. 

Having him so pussy drunk and groaning praises into your ear brought the pressure in your lower stomach to a max and you cried out his name, letting him fuck you through your second orgasm. 

“ ‘s good, huh, princess? Come on me, c’mon,” he was begging, feeling your muscles tense around him. That drove him over the edge, his hips rutting into you and his thrusts becoming sloppy. He finally let himself go, filling you and letting it drip from you onto the sheets. He pulled back a little to see the mess you had both made, your inner thighs painted with a mix of his release and yours. He went to pull out completely and you clamped your thighs around his hips again, keeping him still.

“Want me to stay?”

“Mhm - please.”

The sexual tension was replaced with loving comfort, Logan keeping you to his chest as he laid you both on your side. His chin rested on the top of your head and your face was against his chest with your eyes closed. You smiled at the thump of his heartbeat in your ear, nearly letting it put you to sleep. 

“Hey, pretty girl,” he mumbled into your hair, planting a kiss on the top of your head, “you know I love you?”

The last three words made your eyes shoot open and you looked up at him, worried you’d misheard him or maybe he was just messing with you.

“Really?”

“Of course. You think I would’ve done that with you if I wasn’t in love?”

You thought hard for a second, realizing he was right. It wasn’t that he hadn’t had hookups before, but it had been quite a long time since he’d bothered to even get to know someone like that. He wasn’t the type to lead you on, either - always up front with you, even if he didn’t have to be. 

“I love you too,” you answered, unable to hide the wide smile on your face.

“I should’ve told you much sooner,” he sighed, his eyes fluttering closed as you snuggled into him again.

Before you could both fall asleep from exhaustion, he yanked the comforter over the both of you, hearing you mumble sleepily.

“You can make it up to me some more.”

───────♡──────────────♡───────

A/N: If you made it to the end I love you <3 pls lmk what you think and reblog+like if you enjoyed!! also still navigating how to write smut without using cringe terminology so forgive me if that part sucks

[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.

[morganas-pendragons]

sweet and soft | elrond peredhel

okay LISTEN

I read this prompt about the elves ears DAYS ago and it has not left me alone. it being their most sensitive part of their body along with touching their ears meaning you want courtship.... and I then had a dream about this with Elrond

not a drop of angst in here, I want to kiss him so bad

enjoy!

***

Sunlight cradles the two of you from where you sit among the gardens in Lindon. It is a rare day where the High King has given Elrond reprieve from his duties as Herald, and you both took the opportunity to spend the time together in the gardens where you’d met.

Elrond only had one condition: You had to play for him. As your skill with a violin was renowned, you’d earned your place as High King Gil-Galad’s violinist who was often called upon for important events. It was what had initially drawn Elrond to you, seeing you playing at Gil-Galad's feast.

That was almost six months ago. Now you find yourself enraptured by the Half-Elven man with his head in your lap, your fingers idly carding through unruly curls as you recite lines of poetry from the book he’d brought to read.

Your first mistake in being so engrossed in your poetry is that you miss Elrond’s breathing hitch when your fingers ghost the tips of his ears. He is aware, as are you, what the implications are behind touching the ears of another elf. Elrond has never made the depth of his feelings for you known.

He is cognizant of one detail, at minimum. Elrond wants to court you.

He is also aware that his cheeks are burning as he turns to press his head into your thigh.

Your fingers curl just beneath the neckline of his shirt before dancing upward once again and repeating the same motion. Out of the corner of his eye, Elrond catches the faint smile upturning your lips as you peer down to meet his gaze. His eyes are astonishing already, but washed in the glow of the morning sun, he almost seems as if he is sent straight from the Valar themselves.

“Is something wrong, Elrond?” You ask innocently. He reaches up to snap the poetry book shut, allowing him the opportunity to sit up and face you. “I thought you were enjoying the poetry. This is our weekly routine, after all.”

He takes those next few beats of silence to allow his eyes to sweep across your face. Elrond has known you to be somewhat of a mischievous person, feigning innocence and naivety in situations where repercussions are demanded if fault is admitted.

“I was simply admiring the person who chooses to spend their waking hours with me instead of making practical use of their time,” Elrond remarks, voice stuttering as you curled your fingers into the lengthening curls at his temples to tug him close to you. “And how devious you are.”

You grin widely at him. Elrond is the only person you have ever allowed yourself to be genuine with. Being in Gil-Galad’s favor means that you so often have to wear a practiced facade of grace and poise. There is no room for child like behaviors.

Being with Elrond allows you to truly, truly embrace the very being of who you are. That is one of the many characteristics you have come to love about him.

“Me? Devious? Surely you are joking." You tease. "All I did was-“

He catches your hand before you can do it again. The two of you sit there in silence for a brief moment as you stare at your hand caught in his own. It’s the first time he’s really taken it. Sure, the two of you have walked with one another in these gardens plenty of times, but only as friends.

You have wanted Elrond for what feels like lifetimes. For the sake of yourself and for him as parts of Gil-Galad’s court, you chose to love him from afar. You didn’t want to impose upon Elrond. He already carried enough.

However, given the way he’s looking at you, part of you quietly wonders if he feels the same way and chose not to speak it for fear of your rejection.

Elrond takes each one of your fingers and spreads them apart, laying a kiss on each fingertip before enclosing your hand with his own. Your breath stuttered in your chest as he leaned impossibly closer.

“You know what it means to touch the ears of another elf,” Elrond said lowly. It almost sounds like barely concealed restraint. “Do not tread upon a path you do not wish to walk down.”

You hum softly and grab his chin with your fingers so he will look at you. Trepidation lingers in the depths of the gray irises that stare back into yours. “And if it is a path I wish to tread upon?” You whisper. “Let it be my choice.”

Elrond shudders as your fingers trail upward to tangle in his hair again, and he finds himself unable to breathe as you slowly shift your positions so you can settle yourself into his lap. It's a bold move considering you have done little else outside of resting your head on his shoulder and holding his arm as you venture Lindon's gardens. You're quietly praying that you have not overstepped a boundary.

Elrond doesn’t push you away. He welcomes it. He welcomes you.

He tries to focus on the sights around him to avoid the fear of disappointing you lingering in the back of his mind. You are a sight to behold among Lindon’s gardens. Despite the wonders of the sights around him, none of the flora and fauna that have grown here over the centuries are comparable to you.

“Hey,” You call softly. “Where did you go, nin mel?”

Elrond is not usually one to fumble over his words, but they roll off his tongue before he can stop his rambling, “I do not want to bring any disappointment if I am not what you wish me to be.”

You’d be lying if you said the statement didn’t make you melt. He was so earnest and sweet when it came to ensuring he lived up to what other people wanted but so often gave himself such little credit. “Elrond,” You began, taking his hands into your own to press them against your waist. “I have wanted you for so long. You could never disappoint me, meleth nin.”

You bend your head to the juncture where his jaw meets his neck and place a kiss thereupon. As you anticipate, Elrond groans low in his throat and grasps you more tightly. “Please,” He breathes, breath hot against your ear as you drum your fingers against his neck. “Please touch me.”

It was the closest to a declaration you were going to get at that moment. He wants you to be near to him, to touch him, to be witness to the rawest and most vulnerable parts that he so often hid from everyone else. He had to hide. Who would want to see the human side of the Half-Elven Herald of the King?

You tilt your head and gently graze your fingertips over his ears as he bends his own head to meet your mouth halfway. It's cataclysmic. You've been dreaming about this moment since the first time he asked you to play for him at the very end of one of Gil-Galad's feasts with the other elves who dwelt in Lindon.

Elrond shudders as you come together and lifts a hand to touch your jaw just beneath your own ear.

The action alone causes you to gasp just enough for him to take the opportunity to kiss you more deeply, licking into your mouth with a low groan as you wind your fingers through his hair.

"Elrond," You breathe. The two of you pull away just enough to feel the warm breath of the other on your skin, your fingers twirling circles against his temples as he worked at undoing the braids that hung over your shoulders. You want more of him. You want to bury yourself in his heart and never let anyone hurt him again. "That was-"

"I would very much like to do it again. And again, and again, until you are rendered breathless," Elrond whispers, reaching to the side to pluck a lily from the flower bed before tucking it behind your ear. There is hope lingering on the edge of his tone as he looks at you. A hidden promise for something that you both can chase, not a futile dream he has to chase alone. "But only after I hear you play."

You stand to your feet and motion for the violin case beside him. "One on condition," You reply as you tuck your chin into the base of the instrument and poise your bow against its strings. "There must be more kisses at the end of this song."

You swallow the knot in your throat as the melody begins to echo in the gardens, allowing Elrond the opportunity to lean back on his elbows and peer up at you from his spot on the blanket. "I believe that can be arranged. Is there anything else?" He asks innocently. You raise a brow and pause as his shirt shifts to reveal the skin beneath. Warm, tanned skin that you wanted to... "You're staring. You're going to mess up your song."

"You are distracting me." You retort. "I do have one more condition."

There are several beats of silence between you two as Elrond goes quietly, enraptured by the melody that seems to encompass your entire being as if it comes from the very heart of you. You are the very essence of what makes music beautiful.

When your final note decrescendos into the serenity of the garden's life around you is when you open your eyes to look at Elrond once again.

"What's that final condition?" Elrond asks.

"A date, Elrond Peredhel." You muse, leaning down to return your violin to its case before swooping in to press a kiss to reddened cheeks. "Anywhere and any time. I will leave the rest up to you."

He does not dare move as he watches you walk back towards your rooms. You truly are a marvel, a sight to behold. You are the brightest light that has entered his life since he lost Elros. He would not dare to dim that light.

"Anytime and anywhere," He whispers to himself as he traces his fingers over his cheek. "For all my life-time."

[ceesimz]

Daydream

You go on vacation with Alexia, Mapi, and Ingrid. (Autistic reader)

Set after Wilted, which covers the journey to the UCL final. Other parts of Reverie can be found here. This is a very long but fun one!

Contrary to popular belief, travelling was something you adored - flying especially. Being 36,000ft up in the air, literally having the best view in the world with absolutely zero responsibilities or expectations? Heaven. Working in an industry that took you not only around Europe, but around the world too, really was a dream come true. And it just so happened to be that the Champion’s League Final you would hopefully be playing in, another dream come true, was hosted in one of the few countries you were yet to visit.

Portugal. It had been high on your travel list for a while, and the moment Mapi had suggested a couples’ vacation in said country after the biggest game of your life, there was no way you could say no. 

Initially, you had your doubts though. Going on vacation straight after such a high-profile game, the most important one of the season, might not be the best idea. You had faith in your team, just not in yourself. And with so much at stake, it was difficult not to worry anyway. If you lost, you’d most likely want to lock yourself in your apartment for a week before the utter embarrassment wore off. But at the same time, if you did win, the whole experience would probably be so overwhelming – in a good way, of course – that after endless celebrations, you’d most likely just want to recharge your social battery in bed. 

However, it was a once in a lifetime opportunity that you simply couldn’t pass up on. Recovering from a harsh loss on some of the most gorgeous beaches in Europe sounded like bliss, or exploring a whole new country after winning the most prestigious tournament in the footballing world might be the best reward possible. 

So, after some in-depth discussions with both Alexia and Ingrid, the vacation was booked. The first couple days after the final would be spent in Lisbon, two of the best rooms booked at a five-star hotel that allowed for plenty of time of rest and recovery after god knows how many celebrations. Then, from there, the four of you would make your way to the astounding island of Madeira, the main place that attracted you about the country. 

And when it came to the long awaited day, the dream scenario occurred: not only did you play in the Champion’s League final, you scored in the Champion’s League final. It was the winning goal too.

Football didn't really get much better than that. 

The feeling was euphoric to the highest degree, something you hadn't experienced before. You were addicted to it, wishing you could ride the adrenaline wave forever. This was why you played football, why you got out of bed in the morning, and why you chose to live even when it was difficult to want to.

To top it all off, you were surrounded by the best people whilst achieving your dream. In the changing rooms, a medal around your neck and champagne being passed around the room whilst people danced arm in arm to the music blasting from a speaker, you looked around and let it sink in that these people were your family now. They knew you, truly knew you, and even with all that knowledge they carried on loving you anyway.

You looked back on all your memories so far, when it was so terrifying to be stood in the same building as these football giants, nevermind the same room. But, nearly a year down the line, they were family. You stood in their presence, adorning the same iconic crest and the same gold medal as them all, feeling like you belonged.

That realisation winded you a bit, because it was something you had struggled with all your life. For so long, deep down, you worried that if you did achieve your dream, you still wouldn't feel worthy of it. Yet, that feeling was long gone. There was no negativity dragging you down, no voices pulling you from the moment and suffocating you in anxiety. All that was there was complete and utter joy.

So, when that sunk in, you sat down in your cubby and slumped back against the wall. The festivities continued around you, but you wanted to take a moment to capture it and live in the present. You could enjoy it later, for now you wanted to see it from the outside before you got lost in the celebrations.

You just wished one person was beside you, rather than being stuck with media commitments down the corridor.

"You okay?" Esmee had come over to sit next to you at some point, having noticed you were a little subdued.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm okay. It's... it's crazy, isn't it? To be here, with this team, this medal. I'm just taking it all in." You explained, watching everybody lose themselves in the glory high.

"It is crazy. I remember feeling overwhelmed the first time I won it here. It's amazing but a lot to take in. Don't feel... embarrassed, or something, if you need to step out. I can come with you if you'd like." The Dutch girl told you, suggesting an idea that sounded like something you could do with at that moment.

"I think I will. I'm going to go see what Ale is up to, see if she's finishing up anytime soon. Thanks though, Esmee. I appreciate you a lot." You stated sincerely, pulling her in for a brief hug.

"You too, MVP." She grinned, giving you a gentle shove as you stood up and walked away.

Just as you turned the corner out of the locker room, you bumped into the one person you were looking for.

"Oh, engel, is everything okay?" Alexia asked, her hand holding onto your hip to steady you.

"I'm okay, just getting a bit much in there. Esmee said it best, I think I'm getting a little overwhelmed so I was just going to..." You trailed off, unsure what you were actually going to do next. You didn't know the stadium well enough, nor did you know where you were actually allowed to go.

“We can find somewhere to go. Come.” Alexia took your hand in an instant. 

Little things like this, Alexia saying ‘we’ and opting out of celebrating yet another trophy with her team in favour of helping you, they weren’t little. They meant the world to you.

She led you through a few corridors, smiling and waving at a few people she walked by that lit up at the sight of her. But you were more important to her. A few polite rejections later, and you had made it to a more secluded side of the stadium where the only people there were workers. The midfielder spotted what looked like an empty office, sparsely decorated apart from a desk and some chairs. 

“Are we allowed in here?” You wondered as Alexia ushered you in and closed the door behind her. She shrugged and smiled at you when you sat on the edge of the desk. “How was the media stuff?”

“Same as always.” Alexia answered, taking a seat in the chair opposite you, shuffling it close enough that you could rest your feet on the edge of it. “How does your leg feel?” 

“It aches a bit but it’s okay.” You told her, smiling bashfully when she leaned forward and started gently massaging the underside of your thigh, the one that you injured a couple months ago and had only recently come back from. “Thank you for taking me here.”

“No problem, mi amor. It does get a little crazy sometimes for me too. I’m more than happy to be here with you. You just won your first Champion’s League.” Alexia stated with a proud grin, unable to stop herself from laughing with you when you giggled at the ridiculousness of her statement.

“You just won your fourth.” You reminded her with a shake of your head only for the woman across from you to shrug again.

“Winning it with you, it feels like my first all over again.” She said simply, as if the sentence wasn’t one of the sweetest things you had ever heard. “Did I tell you how amazing your goal was? I’m pretty sure I had the best view in the whole stadium. It was really incredible, engel.”

That compliment didn’t just mean a lot to you because it came from your girlfriend, but because it came from the world’s best footballer. Two time Ballon d’Or winner, two time FIFA Women’s World Player, and so many other awards that would take too long to name, was gushing about how good of a player you were. She complimented you all the time, but this particular moment tugged at your heartstrings so much you felt like tearing up.

“I love you.” You replied, because those three words seemed like the only ones in the world to convey your gratitude as intensely as you felt it.

For some time, the pair of you sat in that room together, in the stadium where your wildest dreams had come together to exist in one space, and relished in the present. Some minutes were spent talking, about everything and nothing, whilst others were spent in silence, simply enjoying the other’s company and coming down from the adrenaline rush that the day had been.

The only downside was that you couldn’t spend forever in an empty office, which you were reminded of when some rushed Spanish caught Alexia’s attention down the hallway outside. It sounded awfully like some of your teammates, and your girlfriend took that as your sign to leave. She told you just as much, though as she got up and headed to the door, you were glued to the wood underneath you.

One thing about falling in love with Alexia is that, over time, it’s become so much harder to hide things from her. Your resolve collapsed so quickly around her. And you were beginning to realise that you loved it. Not only did it make your life quite a bit easier, but you loved that you had a person so dedicated to you that you could be completely yourself around her, that you had a safe place for the bad to go in hand with the good. You hadn’t ever experienced that before like this.

She took one look at you and saw straight through the flat expression you wore when something was plaguing you.

“Cariño.” Alexia hummed quietly, catching your attention properly as she stood by the door with her hands on her hips. “There is something on your mind. What’s wrong?”

“I… I don’t know.” You mumbled with a shrug. Alexia moved then, coming to stand in front of where you still sat on the desk. “I guess…  I am worried about the vacation.”

“Why?” She wondered, and you sighed. It sounded silly to say that, considering you had just achieved your dream yet there you were worrying about your vacation. Luckily for you, Alexia always knew what to say exactly when you needed it.

“I have been on vacation with Ingrid, multiple times. I’ve never been on vacation with you or Mapi before. So… I’m scared, I think, of what you both might, um… think of me. Seeing me in a different light, a different environment, for two weeks straight. That’s a long time.”

Of all things, Alexia couldn’t ever have guessed it was that which was making you so anxious. 

A frown quickly formed on her face, hating that even after months of being together, you still had doubts when it came to your own relationship. If she could take them all away and carry them for herself, she would. She hoped that, one day, you would be able to understand the depths of her unconditional love and realise there was nothing about you that would drive her away.

She delicately cupped both your cheeks and tilted your head up as she towered over you, before she leaned in to firmly but tenderly kiss your forehead. A combination of physical touch and words of affirmation, your two favourite love languages, would have to do for now. 

“I mean it when I say I love all of you. I promise you don’t have to worry about Mapi and I judging you. I have been so, so excited for this vacation because I get to spend time with you away from our busy lives. Away from the pressure and the stress. We can be just us on vacation, we’re not footballers or ‘celebrities’.” Alexia said that word with such distaste, a slither of an amused smile formed on your face. “I normally find it difficult to fully switch off and relax on vacation during the summer break. But I have a feeling that it will be easy this time, because you help me relax. Did you know that?”

“No, I didn’t.” You admitted. Alexia smiled and ran her thumbs along your cheekbones.

“It’s true. When I am around you, it is like all my thoughts disappear. All I can think about is you and how… calm I feel when you are around, like everything is as it should be. How happy you are, how carefree you can be, I love it so much. I’m so excited to wake up with you every morning, to go to sleep every night with you, to spend every day with you. You are my favourite thing in this world, engel, nothing could change that.” 

Her voice was so soft and sincere, it left no room for any more of your doubts. All you could think about after she finished talking was the adoration in her voice when she spoke about you. 

“I’m excited to spend every day with you too.” You whispered shyly, a sheepish smile on your face. 

Alexia beamed with a smile then, and her hands dropped from your face as she sat back down in the chair from before. With confusion etched all over your face, Alexia chuckled before she carefully slid you off of the desk and onto her lap, sitting you sideways and turning your head to face her with one hand under your chin. The other arm wrapped around your waist to keep you secure in the position, and when she knew you were comfy, she leaned in and kissed you. It didn’t last too long simply because of the smiles on your faces.

The blonde rolled her eyes as you laughed quietly, a grin full of unbridled joy on Alexia’s face as you rested your elbow on her shoulder and started combing through her hair in a soothing gesture. You hoped the minor action would communicate how grateful you were for Alexia and how she always knew exactly what you needed to hear, even if your words couldn’t get that point across.

“We will have the best two weeks ever.” Alexia sighed in contentment, her eyes falling shut as her forehead fell forward to rest on your cheek.

“If I carry on doing this, you’ll fall asleep, won’t you?” You teased after a moment of quiet, shaking your head when Alexia hummed noncommittally.

“No, because I am thinking about how I get to see you in a bikini everyday for two whole we- why did you stop?”

“I can’t believe after the conversation we just had that you would say that.”

“It’s the truth, I can’t wait to- ow! Don’t pinch me like that, cariño!”

—

A day as monumental as the Champion’s League final where you were running on adrenaline the whole time, it either led to an energy dump where you slept for twelve hours, or to a night where you didn't sleep at all. 

On this occasion, it was the latter. There were so many feelings coursing through your veins and, not even Lisbon’s top hotel with the comfiest bed you’d ever seen with your girlfriend beside you could lull you to sleep.

Sleep was something you'd always struggled with, even since you were a baby, so you were well versed in dealing with it. When it hit 7am the day after the final, despite the fact you and Alexia had only reached your hotel room after 2am, you got ready for the day and headed out on a walk.

The previous night of celebrations was the cherry on the cake of the biggest win of your life. Most of your teammates were so drunk, you'd be surprised if they even remembered their own names when they woke up, but you remained sober the whole time. It allowed you to take everything in, to bottle up the experience of winning the one title you had dreamed of all along so that you could remember the feeling forever. 

So you walked mindlessly around the city of Lisbon, looking around in awe at the sights and scenery around you, until you found yourself along the coastline. You found a bench and sat with the beautiful view and your thoughts. With the city waking up behind you as the waves lapped against the cliffs below, it was then that everything sunk in. You weren’t sure how long you stayed there, deep inside a daydream about how far you’d come. 

You thought about your time in Norway and all the challenges you had faced there. You thought about Germany and everything you overcame even when it seemed impossible. You thought about Spain and how much you’d achieved but not in terms of football, even though a quadruple was pretty damn impressive. Instead, you just smiled, because all you could think about was the fact that yes, you’d had meltdowns and days where you couldn’t physically bring yourself to get out of bed, but those were things that would happen no matter what. What was different was how open you were, how you allowed people in even when your brain tried to reject the vulnerability you desperately wanted. Those things and many others had enabled you to perform better than you ever have before, as well as letting you get close to your team in ways you never had in the past… literally.

It was only when you heard a certain Spaniard calling your name that you realised you had been sat there, watching the world go by for god knows how long, paying no mind to your actual life instead of the endless stream of daydreams going through your head.

“Hola, preciosa! What are you doing here?” Mapi slid into the space beside you with a cheerful grin, a pair of sunglasses seated on her nose with the string you always teased her for around her neck.

“I went for a walk, couldn’t sleep.” You told her with a smile, watching as she nodded before averting her eyes to the view in front.

“No, I didn’t sleep much either.” She hummed distantly, a hint of a smirk on her face that had you scoffing.

“I think I can imagine why.” You muttered, shaking your head at how her smirk only deepened.

“Sí, they have really great champagne at our hotel, you know? Makes for a fun night.” With a roll of your eyes, you elbowed the defender in the side and grinned at the yelp of pain she let out. “You are just jealous.”

“Sure. The only thing I’m jealous of is the fact that Alexia is back at the room sleeping still.” You grumbled, crossing your arms over your chest. Mapi’s excitement faltered a little then, a small frown forming on her face as she slung an arm around your shoulders.

“You did not sleep at all?” She wondered in concern.

“No. Not for a second.” You sighed, leaning into Mapi when she pulled you closer to her side.

“That is what vacation is for- staying in bed the whole time.” She said, before pausing. “Ay, I did not mean for that to sound… dirty.”

You rolled your eyes yet again, though you smiled regardless. You really valued your friendship with Mapi. She didn't have to be your friend just because you knew her girlfriend, but she chose to anyway. That wasn't something you took for granted.

“How'd you know I was here anyway?” You asked out of curiosity because really you had no idea where you were.

“I was going to get some coffee for me and Ingrid from a place a few streets away from here, then I saw your location so I came to check on you.” She replied simply, a sweet smile on her face that emphasised the kindness embedded in her words. “So, how are you?”

“I'm tired but okay. I'll live.” 

The defender to your right nodded in understanding, though the two of you fell silent after that. All that could be heard was the coastal city waking up behind you and the waves hitting the rocks below. It was peaceful, perfectly serene, and exactly what you needed after such an intense day. In fact, the landscape around helped to ground you. Not everyone has the chance to experience playing football in front of tens of thousands people packed into one stadium, which also means not everyone understands how strange it is to go from that company to this silence, save for the sound of the passing world. Those two contrasted each other so heavily, even after being in this career for over a decade, it was still hard to get your head around it. That was one of the reasons why you eventually decided that this vacation would do wonders for you.

It served as a perfect, necessary reminder of what your life actually was away from the football pitch when you were getting so wrapped up in the intensity for it. If you basked in that intensity for too long, it would do more damage than good. So yes, the vacation was a tremendous idea, because being sat there with one of your closest friends and taking in all of the calmness that the earth had to offer was so important to you and your mental health.

“What about how you feel after winning your first Champion’s League?” Mapi turned back to you and asked a question she hoped she would hear a positive answer to. Ingrid and Alexia had both been aware of your struggles with impostor syndrome and feeling like you belonged, so the query was a bit of a loaded one. She couldn’t have been happier for you when she heard your response.

“I feel good. I’m overwhelmed, but not… not in a bad way? Like, I don’t feel anxious at all, which is new. I just feel happy. It’s all sunk in this morning and I don’t feel like I’m drowning under all the new emotions I feel. I’m… happy. My chest doesn't feel suffocated like it does when I feel anxious, it feels light because I know I'm happy. And I'm proud of myself.” 

You were proud of yourself. 

That was a statement you had probably never made and meant it until that moment. But you were proud. You made this life for yourself and you allowed yourself to reap the benefits and thrive, anxiety-free. This might be the peak of your career and you weren’t even afraid of that fact, it didn’t fill you with fear or doubt. It filled you with pride.

“You should be so proud of yourself. I am so proud, Ingrid I know is so proud she could cry. She did cry actually, when we were walking back to the defence after you scored yesterday, I looked at her and she had tears in her eyes.” Both her arms came to wrap around you as she squeezed you tight, somehow resting her chin on top of your head despite being the shorter one.

“She's gonna be mad that you outed her like that.” You said, but there was love swelling in your chest at the thought of your best friend being so happy for you, she basically cried. That was unfathomable to you.

“Hm, well, she's done worse to me. She will forget about it when I bring back coffee and breakfast in bed to her. You want to come with me, get something for Ale? It is easy girlfriend points.” She grinned at you and it was easy to give in, not that it would have taken much convincing anyway. 

“Sure. You have to lead the way though, I have no idea where I'm going.” 

Mapi did lead the way, taking you to a café hidden away in a side street that had the most amazing pastries on display in the window. Even hours later, Alexia hadn’t called yet, which you knew she would when she woke up, so you took that as a sign that the blonde was still asleep. She’d had a few drinks at the party but not much, though you figured she would still wake up feeling a little rough. As you waited for Mapi to order, stood in the queue behind her, you smiled at the thought of Alexia still snoozing away back at the hotel. And as ridiculous as it was, you couldn't wait to get back to her.

A while later, you let yourself back into the hotel room, a cardboard drinks tray in one hand and a paper bag in the other. The door shut too heavily for your liking behind you, and you grimaced at the disgruntled huff that came from the bed in the main room. Though, you couldn’t help but laugh quietly at it as you padded your way over to where the sound came from. After placing everything down on the bedside table, you slipped your shoes off and clambered onto the bed. Alexia lay on her stomach, her arms crossed under her pillow as she hid her face to block out the light.

“Alexia.” You hummed, lying beside her and leaning up on one elbow whilst your other hand softly ran up and down her bare back, save for the sports bra she wore. “Wake up, Ale.”

“No.” She grunted, not moving an inch. You laughed again at her, to her annoyance, and she turned her head in your direction to glare at you with one eye. 

“It's ten in the morning, lazy bones.” You whispered, shifting down the bed and copying her position, your faces now right in front of each other.

“Shh. No hables.” She grumbled, closing her eye again and letting out another huff. “Sleep.”

“I can’t sleep, sleep is boring. Waking up to make your girlfriend happy is so much better.” You couldn’t see her mouth, but you saw the way the corner of her eye creased, a sign that she was secretly smiling. She unfolded one of her arms from under her and slung it across your back, pulling you a little closer.

“You did not sleep?”

“No.” You responded dejectedly a few seconds later. Alexia could hear the frustration in your voice, even in her tired state. “I went for a walk instead. And I got breakfast too.”

“Hm, what did you get?” She opened her eyes properly then, and you smiled at how sleepy and peaceful she looked, more than all the times you had seen her in the mornings beforehand combined. If this was the version of her you got everyday for the next two weeks, you weren’t sure you could let it go.

“Coffee for you, and some food. You can decide what you would prefer though it might be the end of us if you choose wrong.” The midfielder hummed and smiled over at you, her hand moving to cup your cheek and stroke the skin there with her thumb.

“You brought breakfast.” She murmured, looking at you so earnestly soft, you didn't know what to do with yourself under her gaze.

“And coffee. For my amazing, lazy girlfriend.” 

The blonde didn't even retaliate to your claim this time, she was too wrapped up in you. And as you turned over and sat up to reach over to the bedside table to grab the food and drink, a strong arm pulled you back by your waist.

“Good morning, campeona.”

She smiled lazily before surging up to slowly, tenderly kiss you. It distracted you, pulled every thought from your mind, and you gladly indulged in it, because you could. Because you were on vacation, and you had all the time in the world to kiss your girlfriend as much as you wanted for the next two weeks, just like she had promised. 

“What did you get?” She wondered when she broke it off, not a hair out of place meanwhile you were breathless and a little mindless at her actions.

“Um…” You breathed out. “I-I got you a coffee, and then some pastries and a smoothie bowl. Your choice what to have.”

“I think I remember you saying you will break up with me if I have the pastries so I will choose the smoothie.” She smirked, though rather than sitting up she simply just laid back down again. “But I would prefer to lay with you for a bit because I think it is unfair that you left me before I woke up.”

“Unfair? I got bre-” You were cut off by two hands carefully pulling you further down the bed and a body landing heavily on top of you. “Ale, what about breakfast?”

“Breakfast can wait. I want to cuddle with you.”

There was a part of you that knew these next two weeks could quite possibly be the best of your life.

—

The couple days in Lisbon were exactly what you hoped for them to be. A lot of time was spent relaxing, whether that be beside the pool or in the spa or in your hotel room. On the final night, the team held a celebratory dinner at a nearby restaurant that was as chaotic as anyone would expect. All of them went out afterwards to some bar or club, but you decided to slip away quietly with nothing more than a simple text to the group chat and another to Alexia. However, just as you rounded the street corner to get back to the hotel, a hand grabbed your arm and scared the life out of you.

When you turned around, there Alexia was. 

“You didn’t tell me you were leaving?” Alexia frowned, a little breathless from running as she came to stand in front of you.

“Those things aren’t really my scene. I thought you would have wanted to stay and celebrate with the team.” You said shyly, crossing your arms over your chest and looking anywhere but at her eyes. If you had been looking at her then, you would have seen the utter confusion on her face as she frowned impossibly more. 

“No, amor, I want to celebrate with you.” She stated firmly, gently pulling you into a tight hug and kissing your cheek. “You are part of the team, you are my family. I am pretty sure you are my soulmate, so of course I want to celebrate with you. There’s no fun going to a bar and watching them all get drunk when I know I could be with you. You are always my first choice.”

You couldn’t help the bashful smile that forced its way onto your face where you rested your forehead on her shoulder, and you unfolded your arms from between you both to wrap loosely around her waist. Despite the guilt you felt at dragging her away from your teammates, you couldn’t help but revel in the fact she had chosen to stay with you instead. Even if it was just another evening spent in the hotel room, neither of you could deny that it was so much better than being surrounded by twenty-something drunk people, especially with a flight to Madeira the next morning. 

Said flight was painful for a certain Spaniard, and it wasn't your girlfriend. You and Alexia arrived bright and early at the airport, checking your bags in before heading for breakfast at one of the restaurants they had there. About half an hour after you arrived, Ingrid showed up with an amused look on her face, which was initially confusing before a rough looking Mapi rounded the corner. She had sunglasses on, headphones, a hat, and her travel pillow around her neck. You and Alexia couldn't help but laugh.

“Don't annoy her. She's threatened to cancel the villa booking since it's in her name.” Ingrid murmured, sliding into a chair beside you as the defender slowly made her way over. 

“Oh, she wouldn't dare.” Alexia grinned, and you could tell by the glint in her eyes that she was about to fully take advantage of the situation approaching her. That situation being a very grumpy, very hungover Mapi León.

As soon as the shorter woman sat down, Alexia patted her on her back in ‘greeting’ before slinging her arm around her shoulders and yanking her headphones off. It only got worse from there. 

The seats for the flights were in pairs, two in one row and another two behind them. Rather than sitting with you, Alexia quickly side-stepped Ingrid and took her seat next to Mapi. This side of her was something you didn't see often, but you couldn't lie and say you weren't loving it. She had turned into a menace towards her best friend, there was no other way to describe it, and if Mapi wasn't so annoying like Alexia was now all the time, you and Ingrid might have felt bad. But you didn't.

In fact, the in-flight entertainment provided by your captain was better than any movie you could have watched. You knew Mapi would get Alexia back when she wasn't feeling like she'd been run over by a truck, but you kept your mouth shut for your own selfish wishes to see them both bicker it out for two weeks. Ingrid barely blinked an eye at the two’s behaviour, she had seen it for the past four years she'd been at Barça, whereas it was still a novelty to you and you thought it might always be.

“I’m not sure those two will make it out of this vacation alive, nevermind as friends.” Ingrid commented, making you laugh as you heard Mapi scold Alexia once more whilst your girlfriend pleaded her non-existent innocence. 

You both watched the pair of them for a little longer before you dived off into conversation of your own, leaving those two fools to their own accord. It was a fairly short flight, so a little over two hours since you found your seat, you were heading down the steps with Alexia behind you as Mapi stormed off ahead. 

Not that you were entirely surprised, the taxi ride to the villa was mostly silent, even when you arrived outside the beautiful house that had been rented for your time here. The shorter defender gave a very brief, mumbled explanation of the layout before trudging away to the bedroom she had apparently designated for her and Ingrid. The door slammed shut behind them, and you had a feeling they, or Mapi at least, wouldn’t resurface until the evening. That left you and Alexia to your own accord.

Your girlfriend was glancing around the room still as you looked over at her with a shyly excited smile, your hands fidgeting with the straps of the rucksack on your back like a child on their first day of school. Alexia took in your silence and sensed your gaze, so turned to look at you, a grin of her own forming.

“I think it’s about time we did some sunbathing, hm?” You suggested, noticing the glint to her eye much the same as the one back at the airport and giggling as she nodded emphatically. 

“And I think you should let me choose which bikini you wear.” She murmured, reaching out to link your fingers together and nodding her head for you to lead the way to the bedroom. 

It was beautifully decorated, exactly as you pictured a Mediterranean AirB&B to look like, and the view outside was even better. There were some sliding doors leading directly out into the backyard, where there was an outdoor kitchen you could already imagine Alexia and Mapi fighting over who was the chef, as well as a pool and some garden furniture you wouldn’t mind having in your future home one day. Hopefully with Alexia. And maybe even in Barcelona, permanently.

A small amount of unpacking was done, but you both were honestly too eager to transition into vacation mode to focus on boring details like that. As promised, you let Alexia choose which swimsuit to wear and she ushered you into the ensuite to change whilst she picked out one for herself. You finished up before her, so you opened the door to find her staring out the glass at the view of the ocean beyond the garden whilst she finished tying the last knot of her bikini bottoms. She hadn’t heard you, as far as you were aware, so you quietly padded through the room to come up behind her.

Gently, without spooking her, you wrapped your arms around her bare torso and settled against her back, sighing contently. Your hands sat on her hips where there was only a small string separating you from her soft skin, and her larger hands covered yours when she moved them. Neither of you spoke, both more than happy to indulge in the silence and the company of the other. 

This, you could quite confidently say, was bliss in all its entirety.

Hundreds of miles away from home with nothing planned but to spend time with your girlfriend and two of your closest friends. Doesn’t get much better.

—

“Alexia, for the last time, hurry up!” You groaned whilst pounding your fist on your shared bedroom door. 

You, Alexia, Mapi, and Ingrid were all set to go for dinner on the third night, finally deciding to actually spend time as a four rather than staying in separate sickeningly-sweet loved up bubbles as couples. However, Alexia had kicked you out of the room as she finished getting ready, leaving you stuck in the lounge with two women that could hardly bear tearing their eyes away from the other.

“What is she doing in there?” Mapi asked in amusement, a smirk to her face that only added to your frustration.

“I have no idea but she is going to make us late.” You sighed, slumping down on one of the sofas. 

Still, a few more minutes passed by and there was no sign of Alexia. The three of you could hear her in the other room, yet you were left alone with two women that looked like they wanted to jump each other’s bones everytime they caught the other’s eyes.

“Can’t you guys stop eyefucking each other for more than five seconds?! God.” You scoffed, shaking your head as Ingrid blushed and Mapi grinned manically. 

“I cannot help it. Look at her!” The defender argued, only for the bedroom door to open as she was talking.

“Look at who?” Alexia wondered, trying to hide her smile when everyone in the room turned to her, especially you. “We can go now.”

“Finally.” Ingrid grumbled, grabbing Mapi’s hand and leading her outside where the taxi was waiting. 

Meanwhile, you were still hung up on the sight of Alexia. More specifically, the dress she was wearing. There hadn’t been many other occasions for her to wear something like she was now, considering you had gotten together in the Winter and had been busy with the tail end of the season… until now. Maybe your behaviour was a little objectifying but you knew she wanted that reaction out of you. Well, she had gotten it.

“Engel?” She hummed, trying to avert your attention back to her eyes. “Oye.”

“Hm?” You blinked up at her, rather gormlessly. Then you snapped back into reality and out of your… daydreams. “Sorry! You just… ugh.”

“I guess that is a good reaction?” She smirked when you dropped your head into your hands. 

“When the hell did you buy that?!” You exclaimed as you abruptly stood up, eyes almost bugging out of your head.

“After the Madrid game! You were in bed next to me when I was ordering online!” Alexia laughed at the situation she found herself in; deep down, a tiny part of her was weirdly proud of herself for guessing that you'd react like this. She was learning, something she worried about. Even if this occasion was unrelated to it all, and only about your… attraction. To her.

“Well, I- it's ridiculous! Ridiculous that you are dressed like that! And I thi- this is unfair! Taking advantage!” Safe to say, your mind was in overdrive. 

“I'm taking advantage? I had to tell you to look at my face!” This back and forth, it was addictive. It wasn't arguing, it was a love language.

“Because you look too fucking good for me to react normally!” You pinched the bridge of your nose and took a deep breath, attempting to regain some composure. All it took was one look back at Alexia for it to fly straight out the window. “Okay, we have to leave, like, right now.”

At that, you turned on your heel and started marching towards the door. Only, there were footsteps following behind you that sounded awfully faster than your own. That thought became a fact when a hand grabbed yours and stopped you in place by the front door. Before you knew it, a body was in front of you and two hands were on your face, tilting your head up as lips crashed against your own.

It was the kind of kiss that melted your mind completely, your mouths moving together in a perfectly rehearsed harmony, charged with hunger. You didn't have time to think as Alexia controlled it, deepening it and suppressing her grin when you whimpered desperately. Dinner was the last thing on your mind at that moment, but the same couldn't be said for your girlfriend, who pulled away just as you had caught up. 

“Come on. Let's go.” She said simply, using her thumb to wipe away a bit of smudged lipstick before turning to open the door. You were frozen on the spot still, since your world had stopped turning when the blonde had kissed you and it was taking a little while to start spinning again. 

“You… kiss me like that again and we'll never get anything done, ever.” You replied breathlessly, staring up at her like she was the only person that existed apart from you.

“No, I can think of many things I would do.” Alexia shrugged, the corner of her mouth twitching with her stupid smirk.

“The universe hates me.” You grumbled, pushing her out of the way to open the door and storm out.

And it was just your luck that you opened the door to the taxi and the last seat available in the back was next to Mapi. Alexia had already taken up the front seat beside the driver.

“Can't you guys stop eyefucking each other for five seconds.” The shorter defender mocked in a high pitched voice under her breath, yelping and almost scaring the driver when you elbowed her sharply in the side.

After that incident, the four of you made it to the beach-side restaurant thankfully unharmed. When you arrived, the sun had just begun to set, turning the sky a hazy orange colour that perfectly matched the beautiful set-up of the restaurant. 

Your table was right beside where the golden sands of the beach began, trailing off into the distance where the calming ebb and flow of the waves began. You knew, as you took your seat so that the view was on your left, you would most likely spend more time gazing off into the horizon than partaking in the dinner conversations. What was even better, though, was the fact that none of the three you were with expected anything less, yet they still chose your company time and time again. Alexia sat beside you to your right, and once the starters of the meal had been decided, your eyes immediately averted to the left. It didn’t take long before a hand settled on your thigh, palm facing upwards for you to hold with one of your own whilst the other took turns fidgeting with her rings, her bracelet, or just mindlessly tracing shapes across her already tanned skin.

There was something so comforting about being in a group of people that were your closest friends, knowing that the rest of them would happily take up slack of the conversation whilst you sat and listened. It was weirdly relaxing, being surrounded by people you love, and who loved you enough to let you unmask and bask in their company in whatever way you wanted to that day. Turns out, you were in a quiet and content mindset, having let go of the inhibitions that held you back in most other settings and being whole-heartedly yourself. Not for a second did Ingrid, Mapi, or Alexia shy away from that, and whether you were in a mood where you could talk for the whole of Europe, or you just wanted to mindfully enjoy the setting you were in with the presence of your favourite people in the world, they were happy because you were happy. 

Shortly after the dinner orders were placed, the starters came and went, the other three passing their dishes around for each other to try them whilst you were more than content with your own… even if Mapi did try and steal some off your plate. It was then that one of the waiters came over and said the main meal might be a little longer due to it being a busy evening, something that didn’t bother any of you, not much could in such an incredible location. But, you decided to come up with an idea to pass the time after seeing others scattered up and down the beach doing the same thing.

“Ingrid, come with me to take some photos on the beach. The lighting is perfect.” You suggested, your best friend nodding eagerly and immediately standing whilst reaching for her own.

Before Alexia and Mapi could get a word in, you and Ingrid were already out on the beach, shoes slipped off and left behind as you walked closer to the sea. The two Spaniards allowed the silence to sit between them as they both watched the women they loved, separate soft smiles on their faces that held the same meaning. They let it be for a while, occasionally sipping from their wine and laughing at something you and Ingrid did, until Mapi spoke whilst her eyes stayed glued to her girlfriend.

“Those two are something, no?” She commented, Alexia humming in agreement as her smile grew wider, cheeks starting to ache. Mapi turned to look at her then, though there were no teasing tones to her voice, only sincere honesty. “I heard a movie director say something once. He said that time goes on but friendship doesn’t age. When you have known someone from when you were younger, no matter how old you turn, when you’re together again you instantly revert back to being the ages you were when you met. Those two met when they were teenagers, and when they’re both in this mood together, it’s like they’re sixteen all over again.”

Alexia looked at her friend, her eyebrows raised a little, not expecting the defender to say something… quite so profound. She’d hit the nail on the head with it though, because when she turned back to her two favourite Norwegians, all she could see was a joy that wasn’t quite childlike, but something strangely akin to it. The realisation made her heart ache, unknowingly raising a hand to rest over the organ that had been unnoticeable to her before you came along. You had stoked the fire and made it come alive, she believed, even if that made no sense at all.

“Since your girl moved here, I have seen a different side to Ingrid. I feel like I have fallen in love with her even more because of it.” All Alexia could do was nod, because she was truly speechless. Anything she could say in that moment wouldn’t live up to the pricelessness of the conversation.

Meanwhile, some hundred metres away, you and Ingrid were none the wiser.

“What is happening over there?” You said to Ingrid, distracted by the two left back at the table as they… stared at each other? 

Ingrid, behind the camera as she photographed you in front of the ocean and the setting sun, stood up straight and turned around. She huffed in amusement at it and shook her head, turning back to her phone to look at the photos so far.

“They’re probably in some kind of stand-off. Idioter.” You smiled at the Norwegian term directed at them both, but it didn’t exactly seem like they were arguing.

“No, it looks like they’re both in some American movie, like they’re about to stand up and dramatically hug the life out of each other. Like it’s the first time they’ve seen each other since coming back from the war or something. So dramatic. I’m weirded out, and a little scared to go back over there.” Ingrid laughed and you did too, laughing at the ridiculousness of your words and whatever was happening back at the restaurant. 

You joined them not so long after, the Spanish pair seemingly have gotten over whatever it was that was happening and brushing it off. You figured that it didn’t matter and forgot about it as soon as your dinner was placed in front of you later, though Alexia had pulled your chair a little closer when you had sat down, something that had you blushing unnecessarily, which Alexia didn’t miss. 

However, Mapi’s words had sparked something in Alexia, adding fuel to the fire of a thought she'd had for a while already. You could tell there was something on her mind throughout dinner, when you weren't distracted by the scenery around, but you decided to leave it until you got back to the villa later. 

The thing is, from the moment Alexia realised that she might actually have a chance to love you, she was worried that she wouldn’t be the right partner for you. So she made an oath to be the best version of herself, the most selfless and dedicated and caring partner she could be. It had worked out so far, though she was only human after all. The doubts still crept in, sometimes keeping her up at night, anxious that she didn’t know enough or that she wasn’t trying hard enough. She worried, overall, that she wasn’t enough. If only she knew.

“Alright, what’s up with you? What’s on your mind?” You hopped up on the bathroom counter later that night as Alexia stood in front of the mirror to take off her makeup. 

“Nothing, why?” She brushed it off, saying the one word that meant the exact opposite to what it tried to convey.

“You have been oddly quiet since dinner, Ale, I wanna know you’re okay.” You told her, watching the tiny frown that tugged at her lips at how she’d been caught out. 

She washed her face quickly, drying it afterwards on the towel before sighing and turning to lean back against the countertop as she figured out what she wanted to say. Opening up about months worth of anxiety wasn’t what she planned for vacation, she had spent so long shoving them down and hiding them, she never really… planned for them to become a shared thing. Just a burden she didn’t want to drop upon anyone else. 

“You don’t need to hear it, it’s nothing, really.” She shrugged. You saw right through her, like always.

“No, what I need is for you to be okay, and not encumbered by thoughts that would be much easier on you when you can tell me. A sorrow shared is a sorrow halved.” You told her, smiling softly when she turned her head to look at you. She nodded then, and you didn’t miss the gulp when she averted her eyes away again.

“I make you happy, right? I… am I a good girlfriend?” Her voice, even in the quiet of the bathroom, could hardly be heard. But you heard it all, from the vulnerability and fear in her tone to the gravity of her words.

“Come here. Stand in front of me.” Even though she was confused, she did as you said and stood between your legs, unable to stop herself from leaning into your touch when your hands settled on her cheeks. “I can’t fathom that you have these thoughts, Alexia, because loving you and being loved by you is the best thing to ever happen to me. Nobody makes me feel the way that you make me feel. Nobody makes me feel more seen, and… normal. Like I’m more than the label I got stuck with. You don’t make me feel like I’m childish for needing more help with things than most people my age, you don’t make me feel stupid for not being able to cope with certain environments, and you definitely don’t make my meltdowns seem so scary when… I know you’re there to help me pick the pieces back up. You make me the happiest I have ever been, and, to me, you are the best person in the world.”

Alexia didn’t quite know what to do with herself, under your gaze as you spoke the most meaningful words she thought anyone had ever said to her. Her eyes burned with the threat of tears, and to hide that, she turned her head to quickly peck your palm before moving forward and wrapping her arms tightly around you. She carefully slid you closer to her on the counter, so you crossed your ankles behind her back and returned her heartfelt embrace, knowing it was the one thing she could do in that moment to try and express her gratitude.

One conversation wasn’t enough to entirely dispel her doubts, you both knew that, but Alexia was caught off-guard at the effect your words had on her. Then again, she was always happy to be surprised by you and each unravelling of your character, because like Mapi had said earlier that evening, she just fell more and more in love with you.

“What would I do without you?” She breathed out into your neck, smiling when she felt goosebumps rise on your skin. 

“Well, maybe you wouldn’t be a four-time UCL winner, so that’s one thing.” You couldn’t help yourself, and it was worth it when the blonde lifted her head up and laughed. “But, really, please don’t hide these things from me. I can handle it, all I want to do is help, and I don’t like the thought of you going through stuff like this alone.”

“I know you can handle it, engel, I don’t doubt that you can. Sometimes, being open like that doesn’t come so easy to me. I’m not really… used to it.” She looked down as she spoke, her hands on your thighs messing with the hem on each leg of the shorts you wore.

“I know. And I don’t take it for granted when you are, it means a lot to me. I just want to help you and care for you in the same way you do for me.” The midfielder glanced back up at you and smiled, her thumbs tracing light circles on your sun-kissed skin.

“You do. You really do. I love you.” Alexia stated with a glint in her eyes that told you exactly how she was feeling… as did the fingertips that slowly started making their way higher up your thighs.

“Te amo, Ale.” You hummed against her lips as you linked your arms behind her neck and quickly pecked the corner of her mouth. When you went to move back, there was a hand under your chin that gently pinched your cheeks together and pulled you in for a mind-numbing kiss like the one earlier. You weren’t quite so willing this time. “You taste like garlic.”

“Qué?” Alexia breathed out, eyebrows furrowed as she looked at you in confusion. You just shook your head which Alexia responded to by trying to kiss you again, only for you to cover her mouth with your hand. The blonde tugged it away by your wrist and you had to stifle your laughter at the outraged look on her face. “I can’t kiss you now?”

“Absolutely not. I hate garlic and that’s all I can taste. Disgusting. Brush your teeth please.”

“I have to brush my teeth to kiss my girlfriend!?” She exclaimed, huffing and cursing under her breath as you finally laughed at her.

“If you want to have sex tonight, then yes.” You grinned cheekily at her whilst she glared at you, eyes wide with nostrils flared and all. At that, you hopped off of the counter and scurried away back into the bedroom, leaving a somewhat frustrated but mostly amused Alexia in the ensuite.

—

With this vacation, there were perhaps two things you didn’t think about. The second thing settled a little heavy in your chest as the vacation neared its end, but the other was a welcome distraction. That being that Mapi didn’t really think before she acted sometimes, a trait that was funny… most of the time.

“Wake up, wake up! You will make us late for this hike, and I will not b-” As soon as she was one foot in the room, she cut herself off with a sharp gasp, slapping a hand over her mouth before laughing giddily.

“Fuera! Fuera ahora mismo!” Alexia shouted, clutching the covers tightly against you both so that Mapi didn’t have to see anything else she really didn’t need to see.

“Vale, vale! Lo siento, por favor! Mis ojos, dios.” The defender quickly backed out of the room, shutting the door with a heavy slam. “Get out of bed and get ready!” 

You and Alexia stayed silent as the footsteps ran away from outside your room, until you knew the coast was clear. When you knew it was, Alexia slowly pulled the sheets away a little and looked down at you, grins on both your faces that quickly turned into full-blown belly-laughing. Your cheeks were red, completely and utterly embarrassed by what had just happened, whilst Alexia ducked her head into your neck where her lips had been before the interruption. It wasn’t your proudest moment, being caught by Mapi then of all times, but that was long forgotten when Alexia’s mouth resumed her ministrations, only she began moving lower this time.

Another example of Mapi’s spontaneity was when she was so bored out of her mind, seemingly having had enough of R&R, that it meant that nobody else could have an ounce of peace until she was entertained. Really, the three of you should have realised this before the inevitable happened. The previous day had been a long one, the hike was much more difficult than any of you expected, probably as a result of the burning hot Portuguese sun. It had been decided that the day after it was solely designated for recovering, since each of you had aching legs and a healthy side of sun stroke too. Mapi wasn’t best pleased at that decision.

One moment, you were heading inside to get bottles of water for everyone, the next, you were in the water. You had stepped out of the open doors that led into the backyard and thrown two bottles over to Ingrid who was on one side of the pool, a magazine in front of her that she was flicking through, and another two to your girlfriend. She was on the other side, laying on a sun lounger, the one beside her empty where you once sat. The grin on Mapi’s face should have been enough warning for what was about to happen.

Alexia watched the scene before her with a quiet laugh, knowing you would try to fight for her to be on your side, whilst Ingrid barely blinked an eye at it all. Meanwhile, you resurfaced from having been pushed into the pool, gasping for oxygen that promptly left your lungs before being plunged into the warm water unexpectedly. 

“Mapi!” You shouted, pushing your hair out of your face and glaring at the shorter woman who was keeled over, laughing so hard she was completely silent apart from the sharp breaths in every so often. “I’m gonna kill you! Why?!” 

She ignored you still, so whilst she was thoroughly pleased with herself and distracted by her own hilarious joke, you got out of the pool and gave her the exact same treatment. You heard Alexia laugh behind you too, making you grin whilst Mapi flailed around in the water in the same way you had. Ingrid, unhappy with the commotion now and the splashes that had been sent her way twice already, closed her magazine and glared over at the two of you.

“Children. Honestly.” She grumbled, moving further down the sofa in the hopes of escaping the chaos and trying to stay dry. She had only washed her hair the day before, she refused to get it wet. If only.

“Wait, fuck, look at that over there, is that smoke?” You gasped, pointing off in the distance, immediately averting Mapi’s attention away like the toddler she was. With her focus elsewhere, you turned to wink at Alexia quickly before diving into the pool beside Mapi, a cannonball that sent water everywhere. 

Your girlfriend’s approval in the form of some of the loudest laughter you’d heard from her was well worth it, even when Mapi forced you back under by pressing on your shoulders. This back and forth of utterly childish fighting went on for only a minute, in which probably about a quarter of the water was thrown out because of it, and one person eventually had had enough. 

The sound of feet slapping against stone could be heard as Ingrid stormed off inside with a huff, Mapi noticing and immediately turning to look in that direction.

“Ingrid, princesa, where are you going?” She asked whilst you and Alexia shared an amused glance.

“To shower, because you two are so annoying.” All it took was two words for Mapi to shoot off after her girlfriend, leaving the two of you outside on your own as they slammed the doors shut behind them.

“Alexia.” You hummed, moving to the edge of the pool and crossing your arms on it. “Get in with me.”

Alexia thought she might have never been happier than she was in that moment, after diving in in the same way you had a minute prior and getting to hear the giggle you let out as she did so. Seeing you so carefree as your true self, not afraid of what anyone thinks, is something she cherished and hoped to witness for the rest of her life. 

The third and final instalment of Mapi’s behaviour was her delight in bickering with your captain. In any setting, any scene, she will find a way to push her buttons, and it never got old for you. 

On one of the last days of the vacation, when it was a particularly warm evening, it was decided that the outdoor kitchen would finally get used. Yourself and Alexia had gone shopping together to get everything for the night, and Alexia had been chosen as the cook. Something Mapi was not best pleased with. 

Throughout the whole duration of the night, you and Ingrid sat on the sofa outside and watched them fight over who did what. It quickly turned into a competition, of what kind you weren’t exactly sure, but it was enough cause for concern for you and Ingrid to come up with a plan that the Spaniards would probably get angry at. 

When the smell of burning slowly overtook your senses, you knew it was the right idea. 

“Why is there someone at the front door?” Mapi scrunched her nose up in confusion after hearing the doorbell go, meanwhile you jumped off out of your seat and ran inside to get it.

“You two are probably getting told off by the neighbours for being so loud all the time.” Ingrid told her, kicking off yet another argument between them, each one saying they weren't loud and that it was the other's fault. It was like a broken record was playing over and over, every time they spoke.

They went silent the second you stepped outside with two boxes of pizza in your arms.

“Here you go, Ingrid.” You beamed, heading over to the taller woman and handing her one of the boxes. Alexia and Mapi stared at the two of you like you'd just committed a truly awful crime. 

“La audacia.” Mapi gasped quietly, Alexia putting her bottle of beer on the countertop with a rather loud clunk. 

“No lo creo. Increíble!” Alexia exclaimed, shaking her head whilst you and Ingrid pretended to ignore them. 

“Why have you done this to us?!” Mapi shouted, her eyebrows so high on her forehead you wondered how they hadn’t shot off yet.

“María, open that grill. Now.” Ingrid said. Her girlfriend looked at her sceptically before doing precisely that. A not so healthy amount of smoke flowed out immediately. “You spent so long arguing that you burnt everyone’s food. I don’t know about you two, but we are not going hungry tonight.”

“And no, I am not sharing my pizza with anyone. Every man for themselves.” You smirked, purposefully meeting Alexia’s eye as you took a bite and groaned at the taste.

“I am never going on vacation with you again, Mapi.” Alexia grumbled, dramatically slamming down the dish towel that had been on her shoulder onto the counter, beside her beer, and walking away from her shorter friend. She came over to you and went to snatch a slice, only to have her hand slapped away and the lid of the box slammed closed before she could even try again. “Engel, this is not fair!”

“Hm, well, you guys should have thought about that before having an ego-off.” 

Mapi and Ingrid were left to their own devices as you deflated a little, watching Alexia roll her eyes and walk away back into the house. You couldn’t help but feel a little guilty, worrying you had perhaps taken it a step too far this time. Apparently Ingrid wasn’t so happy with your lack of determination to make a point.

“Hey, don’t go in after her, they have to learn!” She argued, but you shook your head and stood up.

“I have to do damage control, I’m sorry! My relationship is still fairly new, you two are like an old married couple! Ale doesn’t mind me being autistic but maybe she draws the line when it comes to food, who knows?” You rambled, only making Ingrid and Mapi laugh as they watched you run after Alexia.

The blonde was in the kitchen, grumbling under her breath and staring into the fridge like her anger was enough to kickstart a miracle in the form of a plate of food magically appearing in front of her. There was a small seed of anxiety beginning to grow, genuinely concerned you had annoyed her, but fortunately for you the solution for that was already planned.

“You are evil. You had no faith in me. Evil.” Alexia complained, closing the fridge and turning to you with an especially grumpy face. 

“Well, no, you don’t have any faith in me.” She scoffed at your smug face, though her attitude changed instantly when you reached into the microwave and pulled at a takeout container. You looked at her with a grin and passed it over to her, watching her reaction closely as she took the lid off and breathed out sharply.

“You got my favourite pasta? Even though Mapi and I were acting like stupid teenage boys?” She wondered, a shy smile on her face, seemingly having realised how ridiculous she had acted.

“I did, because my superstar footballer girlfriend can’t go unfed even if she did burn the food I bought.” You grinned. There was a pause, only briefly, until Alexia placed her food down and stepped over to you. Her arms were around you in an instant, sweeping you off the ground and hugging you way too tightly for what was just a serving of pasta. 

“So I found someone that finally puts up with my stupidity?” She murmured into your shoulder, nuzzling her nose in the juncture between your neck and collarbone. 

“You put up with a lot more than I do, so I should probably put a limit to my teasing at some point.” All she could do was chuckle into the thin material of your shirt and smile, because she was so overwhelmed with complete contentment that her mind was too high on that joy to do anything more complex than that. 

Yet, it was that point for you when you realised the second thing you didn’t think about before booking this vacation. The days passed by way too fast for your liking, and a thought you had never had in your life slowly became more and more prevalent.

 You didn’t want to go home. It wasn’t feasible in the slightest, but you wanted to stay here forever. 

That might not be strange to most people – it was to you. Every vacation you’d ever had, there was always a point where you started feeling a little homesick and burnt out. That couldn’t be further from the truth in this case. 

When you got back to Barcelona, you had two days before Alexia was off to international camp before the summer’s tournament, which meant you’d be stuck at home alone with nothing to do but get up and go to pre-season training everyday. Otherwise known as your least favourite time of the year. It was always a challenge to get through, and even though you had Mapi and a few others in training, it would still be lonely. And undoubtedly difficult. 

Normally, knowing that you always had football to go back to no matter what brought a great amount of comfort to you. However, on your last day in Madeira as you packed your stuff back into your suitcase, all you felt was a healthy mix of dread and anxiety. The sight Alexia walked in on after doing an emergency shop ruin exemplified that perfectly.

“Min engel, what is happening here?”

Packing for a vacation was something you perhaps weren’t so skilled in, especially when you were feeling how you were. The way you did it, it was an art form. It was a completely and utterly confusing thing for everyone on the outside of your mind, and Alexia received the full brunt of that when she walked in on a scene that could only be described as the aftermath of some kind of natural disaster, or a run-in with the Tasmanian Devil. 

You were sat on the floor of the bedroom, with what looked like every single item of clothing you had brought strewn around the room. Not to mention your suitcase, a new one borrowed from Alexia, was in front of you but completely empty. Why, Alexia wasn’t sure. 

“I am packing.” You mumbled dejectedly, which was enough for Alexia to feel alarmed.

“This does not look like it is going successfully.” Alexia commented lightly, regretting the words as soon as they left her tongue.

“You think?” You muttered, dropping your phone to the floor and bringing your knees up to your chest, crossing your arms atop them and resting your chin there.

“It’s okay, I can help.” She moved beside you then, glancing around at the chaos and quickly coming up with a plan to get this done as quickly and pain-free as possible. “We can do this, amor. One bit at a time. Do you have your list on your phone?” 

“Mhm.” You replied, though didn’t show any intention to pick it back up again.

“I’ll find everything if you just read things out to me, then we’ll figure out getting it all to fit. One step at a time.”

With her years of experience when it came to packing, a not so fun perk of her job, Alexia helped to get the job done in much less time than it would have taken had you done it on your own. You didn’t really do much, too clouded by the swirling cycle of thoughts running rampant through your mind, but Alexia didn’t mind. She never did.

“Bueno! It is closed, finally.” She let out a breath as she set your suitcase upright after taking a while to get it closed. You were sat cross-legged on the bed, eyes averted downwards to where your hands fidgeted with a thread on the cuff of your girlfriend’s joggers that you had stolen from her. 

“Good.” You glanced up at her briefly and smiled for a second, before going back to what you were doing a moment ago. Now that the main task was out of the way, Alexia could finally focus all her attention on you. 

A quiet sigh escaped her as she sat next in front of you on top of the white sheets, her hand reaching for yours and pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles.

“Are you sad to be leaving?” She asked tentatively, and it surprised you a little that she seemed to already know what was disturbing you.

“Yeah, basically.” You mumbled, closing your eyes momentarily when her other hand gently tipped your chin up to meet her gaze. When you opened them again, you saw her sad smile, one that always managed to entice the words out of you, no matter how much you didn’t want to.

“Tell me what’s wrong.” The midfielder whispered. It was like clock-work; your thoughts came pouring out then.

“We’re going back to Barcelona, and we’ll have two days together before you go away for god knows how long. And it’s for football, so I’m excited for you, but I’m… I’m sad. I don’t want to be without you for the summer. It’s kind of stupid how much I’ve come to rely on you but I hate pre-season and when I get home I’ll be burnt out from this vacation even though it was perfect – like honestly perfect – and I’ll be alone and stressed and out of routine, and I just- I’m scared. I don’t want to do it.”

You were rambling, and there was a shakiness to your voice that wholly encapsulated just how anxious you were about it all. When you were finished, you let out a sharp breath and shook your head slightly, biting your lower lip to hide how it trembled. Alexia’s thumb carefully tugged it down to stop you from doing that, before stroking along the skin of your jawline. 

“You won’t be alone. I won’t be there in person, but I promise that you can text or call me whenever you need it. No matter when or what it’s about, just call me. And it’s not stupid that you ‘rely’ on me, that’s just what relationships are. I adore you too much to think you rely on me too much or that you’re clingy or whatever, I’ll happily take all that I can get of you because I ‘rely’ on you just as much.” She admitted, a comforting smile on her face now. “We’ll get through this summer, we’ll learn how to cope with the change, together, and then I’ll be back before you know it. Before I go, I will do anything you need me to do to help you adjust back into your routine at home, okay? Not only that, but the team will help you with pre-season too. As will Mapi and Pina and everyone else that will be there with you. You won’t be alone, engel, that I can promise too.”

You knew a lot of your anxieties were irrational, that was one of your most prominent traits. You’d dealt with them all your life, yet they still got under your skin every once in a while. This was one of those occasions, and thankfully it was the type where getting them off your chest lessened the burden of them. Alexia’s words were the bandaid you needed, a temporary fix for now, and some of the tension in your body left with the sigh you let out. 

Everybody needed a reminder, every once in a while, that the challenges that faced them weren’t quite as daunting as they seemed at first glance. That’s exactly what Alexia had done for you, and you had a certain feeling she always would. The love she provided you with was second to none, it was the greatest treasure you had come across. Being loved by her truly was an honour, just like you had told her when she was the one with doubts. She made you feel like her equal, like you meant something, which most people did the opposite of for your whole life. That wasn’t something you would forget anytime soon. 

There was one thing, however, that your doubts couldn’t dispel:  your humour, and for that, Alexia was glad.

“If you’re leaving me for so long, you better win the damn thing.” 

—

feel bad that this doesn't exactly have a strict plot point like all my other stories do, since this is just 12k of fluff and that's not my usual style (?) but i wanted to write it anyway so why not post it if it's being written regardless. it's definitely way too long than it needed to be and im not expecting it to be so well loved but i had fun writing it and it brought me a lot of comfort during two very awful weeks. a very self-indulgent one but i hope there's some people that enjoy it :)

[chelseaknoo]

Hey! So, imagine it’s the 2000s, and Eminem has this huge crush on a super-famous pop singer. In an interview, the interviewer asks his opinion on her, and he openly admits that he finds her attractive, which gets everyone talking. Then, they end up collaborating on a song together, and the music video they make is super hot. Fans completely lose it because they can totally tell there’s something going on between them!

2000s Eminem x pop singer! Reader

Caution:sexual content <3

During an interview, Eminem was asked about the up-and-coming pop singer Y/N, and he didn’t hold back his admiration. “I think she’s incredibly attractive and makes really good music,” he said, a slight smile hinting at something more. For a while now, Eminem had found himself drawn to her—her beauty was undeniable, but it was her warm, genuine personality that truly captivated him.

Though he’s known for his tough, edgy persona, Eminem couldn’t help but soften when he spoke about her. Y/N was different from anyone he’d encountered in the industry. Her presence was refreshing, a mix of talent and kindness that seemed to come naturally to her. He’d been following her rise to fame, noticing the way her fans adored her and the way her music connected with people. Eminem couldn’t deny it—he was crushing on her, and the thought of a collaboration had even crossed his mind more than once. Little did he know, his candid words in the interview would spark rumors and excitement among fans who couldn’t wait to see what might happen between the rapper and the rising pop star.

When you found out about what Eminem had said about you during the interview, you were completely taken aback. At first, it didn’t seem real—it was hard to process that someone as big as him would openly talk about you like that. The words played over and over in your head: “I think she’s incredibly attractive and makes really good music.”

You were shocked, but at the same time, you couldn’t help but feel a rush of warmth spreading through you. It was flattering, sure, but also a little overwhelming. You’d always admired Eminem’s music, his talent, and his larger-than-life persona, but the idea that he had noticed you, let alone had a genuine crush, sent your heart racing.

You couldn't help but feel a little flustered. His words were unexpected, and the attention was something you weren’t quite used to, especially coming from a major artist like him. You thought about it all day, the weight of his comment sinking in. Was he just being polite, or was there something more behind his words? Either way, it definitely left you with more questions than answers.

A week later, you received a message from none other than Eminem himself. He reached out to ask if you’d be interested in collaborating on a song. The moment you read his message, your heart skipped a beat. You couldn't believe it—Eminem, the legendary rapper you had admired for so long, was asking to work with you.

Without hesitation, you excitedly agreed. You had no doubts, no second thoughts. This was the opportunity of a lifetime, and the idea of working with him, especially after everything that had happened with the interview, sent a rush of excitement through you.

You immediately replied, expressing how thrilled you were at the prospect of collaborating with him. The thought of creating something together felt surreal, and you couldn’t wait to dive into the creative process. You knew this was going to be huge—not just for your career, but for you personally.

Our teams met to discuss the creative direction of the collaboration, and the conversation quickly took an intriguing turn. They proposed making the song sensual and centered around the complexities of a relationship—intense, passionate, and unapologetically raw. As they laid out the concept, I felt a warmth rise to my cheeks. I couldn’t help but blush at the idea.

The thought of creating something so intimate, especially with him, was both thrilling and nerve-wracking. It would be a bold step, a departure from anything I’d done before, and the prospect of exploring that kind of connection through music was electrifying. I glanced over at him as the conversation unfolded, trying to gauge his reaction. He seemed unfazed—confident, even—his expression suggesting he was more than ready to dive into the challenge.

After finishing the recording sessions for the song, the next step was to film the highly-anticipated music video. The energy on set was electric, a mix of excitement and nerves hanging in the air. You sat in front of the mirror, makeup artists diligently working to perfect your look. Brushes moved with precision, adding the final touches of shimmer to your eyes and gloss to your lips. The anticipation built with every passing second, and you could feel your heart pounding just a bit faster.

You adjusted the robe draped around you, its fabric soft against your skin. Beneath it, you wore delicate, lacy black lingerie chosen specifically for the shoot—a bold move, but one that fit the sensual vibe of the song. It felt both empowering and a little nerve-wracking to know what was coming next.

One of the makeup artists stepped back, admiring her work. “You look stunning,” she said with a smile, giving you a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

“Thanks,” you replied, managing a small smile in return. “I just hope I don’t trip over this robe or something,” you joked, trying to shake off the nerves.

The door to the dressing room opened, and he walked in. Eminem, in all his calm, cool confidence, took a quick glance around before his eyes landed on you. There was a spark of something in his gaze—approval, maybe even a hint of surprise. “You ready for this?” he asked, a playful edge to his voice.

You nodded, tightening the belt of the robe instinctively. “As ready as I’ll ever be,” you said, your voice steadier than you felt.

He stepped closer, lowering his voice just enough that only you could hear. “It’s gonna be fire. Just do your thing.”

His words sent a jolt of confidence through you. “You too,” you replied, meeting his eyes for a brief moment before he turned and walked out. The weight of the moment sank in. This video was going to be unforgettable, and you were ready to give it everything you had.

You took a deep breath and stood in front of the mirror, taking one last glance at yourself in the lingerie before slowly sliding the robe off your shoulders. The cool air of the room hit your skin, but the heat of anticipation made you feel warm all over. With one final look at your reflection, you stepped toward the door, ready to face what was ahead.

As you opened the door and stepped out, you found Marshall already waiting for you. He was sitting on the bed, his shirt off, his toned chest and arms on full display. His tattoos, which you had noticed before but never fully admired, seemed to tell stories with their intricate designs, each one adding to his raw, unapologetic energy. The way the tattoos stretched over his muscles caught your attention for a moment, and you couldn't help but admire the way he looked.

He glanced up at you, his expression unreadable at first, but as his eyes traveled over you, a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You look incredible,” he said, his voice low and almost hushed.

You smiled, sitting down beside him on the soft bed, the sheets rustling under you as you settled into place. The room was charged with an electric tension, and the crew started setting up the cameras, ensuring everything was in place for the shoot. The anticipation in the room grew as you waited, a sense of nervous excitement bubbling up inside you.

Once everything was ready, the cameras began rolling. Without missing a beat, Marshall started rapping, his words flowing effortlessly as he moved closer to you. He didn’t need a microphone—the raw power of his voice was enough to fill the room, his lyrics sharp and intense. As he rapped, he reached out and pulled you closer, his hands confidently guiding your exposed body toward him. The camera captured every movement, every kiss, as he leaned in and pressed his lips against yours. His hands roamed, tracing the curves of your body as if the song was meant for this exact moment.

The kiss deepened, and you felt the heat rise between you. His lips moved with yours in perfect sync as the music played on, his touch both tender and commanding. His body pressed against yours, his rhythm matching the intensity of the song, and for a moment, it was just the two of you, lost in the moment. The cameras captured it all—every kiss, every touch, every second of undeniable chemistry.

The atmosphere in the room was palpable, the energy of the shoot merging with the passion of the music. As Marshall continued rapping, you couldn’t help but be swept up in the power of the moment, your body responding to his, and the song taking on a life of its own.

His hands moved lower, tracing the line of your body as the music echoed through the room. The entire world outside the set seemed to fade away as you both got lost in the moment, the only thing that mattered being the connection between you and the music.

You brung your soft manicured hands up to your soft breasts engulfed by a lacy bra and squeezed them to appear more sexier to the camera as Marshall flipped off the camera.

This would most definitely be the thumbnail for the video.

The director called "cut," signaling the end of the scene. You and Marshall both took a step back, the intensity of the moment slowly dissipating as the crew moved in to adjust equipment and set up for the next shot. You exchanged a quiet smile before heading to your designated room to relax for a bit.

After a few hours, you wrapped up your recording, feeling a mix of accomplishment and exhaustion. The excitement of the day was still buzzing in your veins, but now you were looking forward to some downtime. You changed out of your wardrobe, slipping into something more comfortable, and made your way outside to your car.

Just as you reached the door of your vehicle, you heard someone call your name from behind. You turned to see Marshall walking toward you, a playful glint in his eyes.

"Hey," he said, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "So, I was wondering... would you want to grab a drink sometime? Maybe go out... on a date?"

The question caught you off guard, but in the best possible way. His voice had a casual tone, but you could sense there was something genuine beneath it. You paused for a moment, taking in the sincerity of his expression, then smiled back at him.

"A date, huh?" you replied, teasing him slightly. "Are you asking me out, Marshall Mathers?"

He chuckled, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, I guess I am. I mean, we’ve spent all this time together on set, and I think you're pretty cool. It’d be nice to get to know you outside of all this craziness."

Your heart skipped a beat, the warmth of his words settling comfortably in your chest. It felt like a simple question, but in that moment, it carried a weight that made everything feel real.

"Alright," you said with a smile, feeling the excitement rise in your chest. "I’d like that."

Marshall grinned, clearly pleased with your answer. "Great," he said. "I’ll text you the details. We’ll figure something out."

As you got into your car, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of anticipation. Something had shifted between you two, and this date felt like the beginning of something new—something that, at the very least, would be interesting to explore.

When the music video dropped, it immediately sent shockwaves through the entertainment world. The buzz was undeniable, and the media couldn't get enough of it. News outlets were abuzz with headlines discussing the video, focusing on the undeniable chemistry between you and Marshall. The press quickly latched onto the idea that there was more than just a professional collaboration between the two of you. Everyone seemed to think that what they saw on screen was more than just a performance.

Magazines, tabloids, and news articles were all over the story. Some claimed the chemistry between you two was off the charts, while others speculated about a potential romance, pointing to the way your bodies intertwined during the video and the flirtatious energy that seemed to linger between every take. The media was fascinated, and the public couldn't stop talking about it. Fans and critics alike were all over the speculation, analyzing every glance, every touch, and every word exchanged between you both on screen.

Interviews with both you and Marshall quickly followed. Journalists from all over lined up to ask about the video, the song, and, of course, the undeniable tension between the two of you. Everyone wanted to know if it was real—if what they saw in the video was an accurate reflection of what was going on behind the scenes. And while you both kept things light and playful, the questions kept coming, making it nearly impossible to escape the growing rumors.

The attention, both positive and negative, was overwhelming. The video had clearly left a mark, one that many believed was the beginning of something far deeper than just a professional relationship. Whether you were together or not, the world seemed to be entranced by the idea of the two of you.

And of course we decided to keep the people guessing <3

[aouiaa]

INTRODUCING

barista!abby x trainee!reader

warnings and disclaimers included the following

## content of sexual wlw content [mdni 18+], a slight cameo of ellie williams and joel miller, a classic frenemies with ellie pie and abby bear, a mention of parental death, a mention of male genitalia, smut with somewhat plot, softdom!abby, sorta loser!abby (cutie pie), sub!reader, public sex (break room of coffee shop), usage of petnames (pretty girl), praising, orgasm denial (once), fingering, nipple play, cunnilingus, face sitting, cum eating, aftercare (fucking finally i write some), strong language.

barista!abby who’s also a student in business dreams of opening her own coffee shop in aspiration of honoring her father and love for books.

barista!abby who argues that she’s killing two birds with one stone since she’s building skill and working for her degree.

barista!abby whose such a SHOW OFF in front of girls she finds attractive, it so feeds into her ego when it works, and the girls are all ogling over her mastery at coffee art. yeah, it’s totally not the arms that are doing it for them.

barista!abby who hates that little red or whatever color haired fuck, ellie. the two have curated non-verbally a competition on basically whose dick is bigger. who makes the best batch, who makes this, who makes that. it’s never ending with these two.

barista!abby who’s convinced ellie in another lifetime was a king’s jester with her profound tricks that amused no one, but herself. the tricks themselves could threatened the woman’s head off alone, finding herself in a fetal position, in a pit of her own laughter. when abby eagerly sits on a unsuspecting “prize” during lunch, only to hear what can be described as a gust of wind. her flushed countenance instantly transformed into anger when the palm of her hand held a whoopee cushion.

barista!abby who went so warm when she saw you talking to the manager after ellie confirmed you were a new employee that if you stuck a thermometer under her tongue in that moment, it’d earn a hospital visit. and with ellie on sidelines teasing her for the state she’s in wasnt helping, unnecessarily quoting if she’s under weather, then rain on your home.

barista!abby who at the end of your shift on your first day surprised you with a free pastry as a warm, warm welcome. a small gesture, unfortunately, came with the price of a dispute with her boss, and money taken out of her week’s pay. amidst said scolding, a surprising opportunity came up. a good one at that, to train you at the expense of ellie’s days off of work to visit in her father, joel in their hometown, wyoming. despite the fact that she hardly listened after the inviting words of you, buzzed her mind with endless possibilities. it had her practically salivating at the numerous scenarios swirling around in her head.

barista!abby who’s a few weeks into training you, was losing her MIND over the taunting questions of you flirting or not. the causal strokes of your fingertips against her biceps alone were making the job harder. she had to get to the bottom of this, and like a detective corner you and have you plead for mercy.

barista!abby who, with an ironic twist, was usually consumed with thoughts, now found her mind solely preoccupied with you. her gaze fixed on the firm grip you maintained on the wooden handle, watching how your movements harmonized with its every swing as you rigorously mopped the floor. the purpose once held by the rag now seemed inconsequential as she leaned against the counter, arms folded, absentmindedly chewing on her lip. she imagined those hands of yours grasping onto her with the same unwavering hold they wielded when she stretched you out.

"take a picture, it'll last longer." you quipped, confidence resonating in your tone, and looking over your shoulder to show off the smirk that truly sells it. you knew she had been watching the entire time, and now had the satisfaction of catching in her act. she scoffed lightly, attempting to cover up her evident embarrassment, clearly trying to play it off.

“my phone’s in the locker, care to help?” she taunts.

barista!abby who watches you, utterly mesmerized by your frenzied movements against her fingers, pinned against the locker, using your hands as support to hold yourself up. the sounds you emitted resembled a blender running at full speed, loud enough to reach the nation if anyone had been nearby. thank god, it was just the two of you for the closing shift, dissipating the risk of scaring any customers away.

her ring and middle finger slid diligently in and out of you, while her right hand teased your hardened nipple between her pointer and thumb. her chin rests on your shoulder, leaving a trail of kisses on the bruises that dotted your neck. the gorgeous blues remained fixed on your mouth, agape to let her hear the sweet sounds of your pleasure. the corners of her lips curl into a satisfied smirk as she watched you tremble at the touch of her curling fingers on your g-spot.

abby's precise movements brought you closer and closer to the brink, the sensation was almost too much to bear. but just as you were about to succumb to the pleasure, her fingers slipped from your grasp. confused and frustrated, you’re flipped onto your back against the metal, meeting the gaze of the master puppeteer.

"you think i’m was gonna let you come and not see this gorgeous face?" she teased, admiring your disheveled state.

you frowned in protest, "i was just about to cum, asshole."

"careful, or you won't at all." she warned, taking your hand and leading you to a bench nearby. "sit on my face, pretty girl. no holding back." she commanded, her eyes filled with anticipation.

this time, with no complaints, you willingly complied with this new plan. abby's capable hands gripped the plush of your thighs, guiding you down onto her waiting mouth. the moment her tongue made contact, a moan tore itself from your larynx as a newfound sensation washes over you. your hand streams through her mane, tugging at the strands as she laps through your petal soft lips.

your hip, limited to their range of motion, rut back and forth against her prominent features, your body orchestrating itself towards it’s imminent. it wasn't long before the tension building in your abdomen snapped, sending you through the throes of your orgasm. your release painting the lower half of her face.

talk about a clean up in aisle seven!

barista!abby who makes sure you’re beyond comfortable, delicate caresses and praises when taking care of you. she, even going the extra mile, makes you hot coco, watching the liquid slosh within the mug, as she approaches you with a soft “there you go.” in response, you flash a smile and gratitude. she stood there, hands on her hips, observing you savor the drink. a grin tugging at her lips as she took in the sight of her oversized jacket draped over your shoulders.

intrigued by her smile, you raise an eyebrow and playfully inquire, "hey, what’s got you smiling over there?"

she chuckles softly, a light hue of pink painting her cheeks as her gaze momentarily wavers. looking everywhere but you, she brushes it off with a scoff, scratching her cheek. “nothing, just…” there's a brief sight of contemplation before she inevitably hesitates, shaking her head with a sigh. "nothing, forget it.” she dismisses.

you let out a hearty laugh, setting your mug aside. leaning forward playfully, you tease gently. "are you really going shy on me? like werent you just eating me out a second ago.“ a smirk adorning your features as you tilt your head.

her smile grows nervous, scratching the back of her neck as her blush deepens. mumbling a curse under her breath, she gathers the courage to ask, "i was just wondering if you'd like to go on a date with me?"

i’ll let you be the judge of that. part two?

REBLOGS AND COMMENTS ARE APPRECIATED !

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[channieismyboy]

chanel chance

{dilf!seonghwa x f!reader}

synopsis: When y/n is alerted that there's been a flood in her apartment and no one can take her, what will she do when Mr. Park asks her to stay with him?

masterlist | part 3 | part 5

warnings: age difference (y/n is 21, seonghwa is 29), eventual smut, language, kind of slow burn, sad attempts at humor - wc: 2.3k

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ

Everyday, a man lives a debilitating cycle. He wakes up, goes to work, sleeps, and repeats this endless circuit. He has gotten used to this schedule over the last few years. The only joy in his life would be brought on by his little daughter, whom he loves with all his heart. He tries his very best to put on a facade of happiness whenever he spends time with her. Wanting to protect her innocence from vague feelings of misery for as long as he possibly can, until he eventually matures.

There was no room for love in his life anymore. Romance is certainly unattainable for him due to his lack of availability. It is not like he does not have opportunities to date, there are plenty of women and men who often throw themselves at him. However, it is merely for his title or money. They want to gain something from him.

This man views love differently than the people who he converses with on a daily basis. Most of those individuals view marriage, or dating as a contract. As an opportunity to enlarge their company’s resources, get more publicity from the media, or even to trick the public to buy more of their products. Since this man has seen this happen numerous times in his lifetime, even had a hands-on experience of it in his home, he has made a choice that he would no longer give romance a chance. As those couples that marry for money, or titles, almost certainly end up unhappy, divorcing quickly after marrying, or scandals of them cheating on one another are posted publicly on the news.

However, this man’s principles had begun to change once he had met someone different. Someone who he found beautiful in every way imaginable, who made his heart skip a beat in a way he never knew it could…

This man is Park Seonghwa.

-

You check the time, it is now 11:37 PM. You're lying awake, staring aimlessly at your ceiling, with the fairy lights illuminating your otherwise dark room. Replays of a few nights ago rerun in your head. You think about how gentle Mr. Park was with you, and how caring he is with his daughter. It makes your heart ache. You sadly have never got to experience a proper father-daughter relationship, or even one at all. However, you're grateful you have your uncle and your aunt. They've truly made your life special in every way imaginable. Your eyes begin to feel heavy, and the familiar wave of tiredness hits you until you're asleep.

It is now saturday morning, today you will babysit Jieun and today you will finally see Mr. Park. You get slightly too excited about that last part, and shake your head at your thoughts. You have been thinking about him a lot recently, you really shouldn't, for the sake of keeping your job.

You wake up and check your phone, scrolling aimlessly through your socials and texts from Minho and Jisung. Replying to the endless amounts of texts they've sent along with pictures of them on their vacation to Jeju Island. You struggle to get through the pure amount of them.

The afternoon passes calmly. You quickly make yourself some dinner and shower after precisely picking out your outfit to go see Mr. Park while on a facetime call with both Minho and Jisung. as annoying they are, they are never caught wearing a bad outfit.

"Are you calling us so you can look great for Mr. Hot ceo?" Minho asks with a deadpan tone, which juxtaposes with the cute cat in his lap that he's petting every so sweetly. "You wanna impress him?" Jisung adds while wiggling his eyebrows.

"It's not that, I just want to look presentable is all" you fib, while showing them the black skirt, black stockings with a deep burgundy Ralph Lauren knit sweater that jisung had picked out. Minho looks at you with an 'I'm not buying it' face and you cave in.

"Okay fine! Can you blame me for wanting to look nice when babysitting a good looking ceo's daughter? Plus I do have to look professional for this job, I can't just show up in sweats. and he probably thinks I'm a kid, so it doesn't matter anyway" you say, opting for the look you have on.

"Honestly, I would do the same" jisung adds after applauding your look.

-

After your shower, you get dressed and put on just a bit more makeup than usual, and spray on your 'Chanel Chance' perfume. It won't hurt to look nice for the man anyway. You board the bus and sit down while listening to some music. you're now deep in thought, thinking back to minho's comment. it won't hurt to look good for the man anyway. He's literally a high power ceo, regardless of how he looked, you had to go to his home and look presentable anyway. with a posh neighborhood like his and such a fancy house like his, you would look like the odd one out not arriving dressed in the very few expensive clothing items you own.

Your stop arrives and you head out quickly, mentally preparing to meet John again and explain why you are there. You feel slightly awkward just walking up a hill with nothing else but your purse and phone in hand. You wish you had a car that can drive you around, but it broke down on you and is in the shop being replaced. You try not to think about the bill ahead of you, that's too many scary thoughts in a row.

Trailing along, you are soon met with John at the gate. He looks at you up and down. "Can I see some ID?" he demands. You open your purse and show him your driver's license. He lets you through, luckily Mr. Park's home is close to the gate, so it's not a far walk. You stop at the familiar home. it's 6:25 PM, you're grateful that once again you're early. You quickly double check your hair and retouch your lip gloss before knocking on the door. You wait a bit until it opens.

This time you are greeted directly by Mr. Park, and he glances at you up and down before welcoming you with a polite smile. You do the same, and note how nicely dressed he is. The black buttoned up shirt with just a few buttons undone tucked into his black trousers complement the glasses he's wearing, he look's so professional with them on.

"Hello Ms. L/n, it's nice to see you." he says with a slight smile on his face. "Hello Mr. Park" you greet back with a bright and polite smile.

"Laura, my housekeeper isn't here on Saturdays so it's just going to be you and Jieun for today. Please come in," he gestures into the home. You take off your shoes and enter the place after closing the door. You look around his place once again, still in shock by its size and beauty. Mr. Park sure has taste. You walk behind him and follow him to the living room, where Jieun is already sitting, watching cartoons.

He turns to face you, eyes directly on yours. Suddenly it's quite hot in the room. "I'll leave you both here and I'll be back just before 9:00 PM, call if anything happens, although I know she's in great hands" he says to you before saying goodbye to his daughter.

"Enjoy your meeting Mr. Park!" you say. He exits before lovingly wishing his daughter goodbye.

-

Your time spent with Jieun is always pleasant. She's as bright and playful as ever, telling you about her latest works of art (cute scribbles) and her excitement to learn more at pre-school. She has such a bright future ahead of her, you think. The time passes quickly as soon it's almost 9:00.

You hear the familiar pitter-patter of raindrops beginning to fall down, and you silently curse to yourself. You did not bring an umbrella with you and now you'll have to walk down in the rain until you reach the bus stop. Your thoughts are interrupted when you hear Jieun scream out for her dad. You raise your head up and you greet Mr. Park.

He places Jieun down and tells her to get ready for bedtime. She does just that after saying goodbye to you with a warm hug that you so happily reciprocated.

"Alright," he says while reaching into his wallet and pulling out many bills. "This should do it for the night" and he gives you the money. You check the amount and your eyes bulge out a little at the amount. 150$ you count and recount again quickly, this is much more than last time. You shake your head and attempt to give him back the money.

"Mr. Park, this is way too much. I cannot accept this amount."

"Please, just take it. It honestly isn't a lot for me and I'm just happy you made Jieun smile so brightly." His tone and expression are so genuine you have no choice but to give in and accept it.

"Okay, I'll accept it this time Mr. Park. Thank you very much."

You head to put back on your shoes and prepare yourself to walk back in the rainfall. He watches you intently, with his head turned to the side as he leans on the wall. You feel as though you're being watched by an eagle, as you feel his eyes never once leaving your form. your cheeks burn slightly.

"Are your friends here to pick you up?" Mr. Park speaks up. "No, it's just me on my own this time" you answer.

"You're not walking home are you? I didn't see a car parked in the driveway when you came." He asked with concern laced in his soft spoken words.

"No. I'm just going to walk to the bus stop nearby-"

"I'll drive you there then" he cuts you off. He sees the familiar look of 'you don't have to' already on your face, the one he just saw moments ago while paying you. Before he lets you speak, he explains himself. "I just don't want you to get a cold out in the rain. I need my babysitter to be in perfect condition, you know."

Yet again, Mr. Park has made it impossible for you to refuse him. "Alright, if you insist, then I have no choice but to say yes" you say with a smile, and you see him laugh slightly at your words.

To say his car is nice, would be a great understatement. You have no knowledge of cars, but even to a novice like you, this car is down right spectacular. The nicely polished black outside with leather seats, just how rich is this man?

Mr. Park opens the door for you and ushers you in gently. He gets in quickly after, and you glance at your phone, after realizing it's been buzzing for quite a while now. You see all the missed calls from your Landlady. Panic surges through you, did you forget to pay your rent? No you remember sending out the amount just a week ago. what could it be then? Mr. Park can tell you're anxious.

"I'm sorry," you mutter. "It's something to do with my apartment, could I quickly make a call?" you ask. "Of course, be my guest," Mr. Park says, gesturing for you to dial the number.

The phone rings and she picks up quickly. "Hello?"

"Ms. L/n, there has been a minor flood in the apartment. You must come quickly and evacuate all of your belongings. We'll need to undergo repairs for about 3 days." You let her speak, and your face drops.

You face Mr. Park and judging from his expression, he's heard everything from your call.

"Were there any damages to my apartment room?"

"Luckily your floor had no damages, it was the floors under you that mainly got affected. Still you'll need to leave for a few days. Please come quick and find a place to stay until then. Goodbye."

You hang up the phone and think to yourself silently. Wondering who you could stay with. Mr. Park asking you the same question out loud. Minho and Jisung are too far away and you don't have a key to their apartment you explain to them.

"What about your uncle?" Mr. Park asks.

"I wish but, they're having renovations and there's barely any room for them in the house." you answer.

It's silent for a moment, the raindrops splattering heavily as the rainfall speeds up, a storm is starting to form outside. You think about any other people you know that you can stay with. The list is already quite short.

"Stay with me," and you turn your head to meet, a shocked expression to his lighthearted smile.

"I really can't. I don't wish to intrude like that." you shake your hands in defense.

"Unless you have anyone else to turn to, I'm your best bet Ms. L/n. You won't be intruding anyway. I'm not uncomfortable with it and I think Jieun would be delighted to have you over for 3 days." he shrugs, waiting for you to answer.

This is the third time he has persuaded you this night. No wonder he's a successful businessman, he can talk you right into doing whatever wants, and you're not opposing any of it.

Staying with him won't be too bad right? I mean he must have room in this mansion of his. Plus he is always busy and I have class so we won't interact as much right?

Your face begins to heat up at the thought of being in such close proximity to Mr. Park. Wait, why are you thinking of that right now?

You exhale and look at him as you've made your decision.

"I'll stay with you."

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ

a/n: hey yall! so long time no see. i'm going to continue this series after not touching it for almost 2 years. i'm sorry for the delay but even i had to know how this was going to end. i hope some of yall are interested in it still (praying actually). anyways please enjoy this part, i'll see you soon!!

please let me know if you wanna be added to the tagslist!!

tagslist: @miamyre @flowersiinherhaiir @vvsmydiamonds127 @prodsh00ky @jhmylove @sunwoosberrie @jenotation @seonghwasstar @zwiehe @nagadiluc @kodzukein @heavenly-mobo @nevieatiny @smeetb0ne3 @yeosxxx @koalakoala8 @imalildelulu @sookacc @lunaa2210 @asjkdk @wal-nutt @iheartyeonjunnn @yoonsanbin

[verdantwyrm]

On the topic of Mouthwashing though, I really do wish we got more time as Curly's POV to get a better understanding of the rest of the crew and their personalities.

Jimmy's pov he views Anya as weak, constantly fawning, a nervous wreck, incapable of thinking for herself. He views Swansea as this drunken, fat oaf who's never spent a day in his life being successful at anything other than one bottle down the drain away from complete spiral. He views Daisuke as his rich boy who's never had to work a day in his life and has absolutely everything— including the internship, handed to him on a silver platter. And he views Curly as this absolute. A thing to idolise, a thing to destroy, a stepping stone but also a helping hand. He utterly loves hating Curly, and he loves the hate that comes from it.

Jimmy rarely talks bad about Curly, only ever swapping the blame off himself but he never once talks badly about him the same way he does to the other crew members. Curly is his paragon, something he spent years and years of chasing, being so far and yet so close to, and when he finally feels like he could finally surpass him, or even simply be equals for once, Curly gets the opportunity of a lifetime at a job he hates. How selfish, how utterly pathetic and selfish for Curly to hate a job that makes Jimmy feel powerful. He likes it there, he is in control. And that resentment starts to truly build when Jimmy realises how selfish Curly is for wanting to escape from something that enables Jimmy so much.

But when we finally see through Curly's eyes, Anya is fun, she is enthusiastic, she loves to make jokes, she loves to draw, read, and even has what seems to be an budding relationship with Curly himself, taking to his comment about being fit to fly in her eyes like it's a common exchange of flirting between the both of them. She is at ease around him, her walls have dropped, and she feels safe to talk to him, and even attempts to try and get him to open up more to her.

Daisuke is capable, he is enthusiastic, a hard working Intern who really enjoys what he does, engineering. Curly is receptive of this, and isn't even the one to reprimanded him when he sets off the sealant foam because he can see the good in him, because he can see that he was genuinely trying to help. He never once comments about him being stupid, or lacking, or in any light that could implicate that he hasn't worked hard to get where he is, even if he did have assistance from his parents, he still met that mark of passing for internship.

And although not much is expressed with Swansea, we know that they're capable of being honest with eachother, and allow themselves to joke between the both of them. And when Curly does have to step in and act like a Captain, he even goes as far to trust the axe directly to Swansea himself. In a ship where absolutely everything has to go through him, everything needs clearance and everything needs to be triple double checked, he trusts Swansea with the axe.

And onto Jimmy, Curly can see his faults, the cracks and the damage Jimmy has on the surface, but insists on seeing something deeper within him too. Constantly reminding him that "They'll figure it out" and just to take "One day at a time" because he is genuinely reaching out to Jimmy and attempting to give him support. Despite the ugliness, he is looking at Jimmy with a lens of the bigger picture, his overall achievement of being his co-pilot, his friend. Curly was genuinely proud of Jimmy for accomplishing what he has, and acknowledges that it wouldn't have been wasted considering he has had it rough back on earth.

We can see both of their stark personalities in also how we see the ship itself. Everytime we are through Jimmy's perspective, the ship is destroyed, blanketed in a red hue constantly, it is crowded, suffocating, rusting and breaking apart at the seams. Even right before the ship is actually crashed, it is not long before his entire senses are overloaded with the red flashing lights of an emergency warning. He lives in that sunset, in that firey essence of destruction and death.

But through Curly's eyes? We see sun, clouds, happiness, warmth, we see the moon, the twinkling stars. The beauty of a lived space, the calmness and the comfort of the Tulpar. Celebrating birthdays, playing board games, reading books, enjoying life to their fullest on the ship. We know he enjoys simple food, trucker food. That caffeine keeps him up, that he refers to Polle with joy, referring to the statue as "Ponyboy", mentioning that he loves Anya's and Swansea's music choices on the radio.

And then suddenly his whole life is utterly consumed by that red, firey inferno. Constantly blaring in his eyes, burning away at his skin and even more constant reminder of the white, hot death that awaits him.

Everything in this game is through the lense of a cynical, self absorbed unreliable narrator who sees kindness as a weakness and lashes out accordingly. I would kill to have seen and experienced more as Curly, but I think the lack thereof is intentional. A nod to just how truly empty and vulnerable he has become, stripped away of all things that made him, him. Both in appearance and personality, all taken from him by the one person he thought he could trust.

[pedroscurls]

training partners (pt. 12)

summary: without another word from jack, you and hugh continue your relationship without any issue or distraction. filming comes close to an end and there's one scene that hugh needs your assistance with. pairing: hugh jackman x fem!reader warnings: smut (18+, mdni), lots of oil (duh, someone's gotta lube hugh up for that end scene), dirty talk, teasing, sex in hugh's trailer, oral - f & m receiving, unprotected p in v, swallowing, missionary, hugh covers your mouth (to keep you quiet), implied age gap (hugh is 55, reader is in late 20s-early 30s), no use of y/n. word count: 3.6k a/n: ok, this is complete filth lol. i had to write something about this scene because when hugh said that there were people whose sole job was to lube him up??? well, let's just say my mind went places lol. hope y'all enjoy! (needed some good fluff / smut before we get back into the angst hehe) as always, this is purely fictional! i mean no disrespect to hugh jackman. prev part. - next part.

Filming continues and you’re grateful that Jack hasn’t tried to reach out to you nor does he try to look for you either. Knowing that he got the hint that you no longer are giving him control of your life, it gives you relief. You feel like you can finally breathe again, can finally move forward with your life, with Hugh. 

Without worrying about Jack coming back, you’re able to get back to enjoying your day-to-day responsibilities of continuing to take photographs on set of the movie. Every day, you wake up feeling immensely grateful for Hugh, Ryan, and Shawn for giving you this opportunity. While you normally take photographs of couples who have recently gotten engaged and have occasionally worked a small wedding, being an on-set photographer and capturing behind the scenes content is so much more enjoyable. It gives you a glimpse of how movies are made, shows you the passion and dedication of each cast and crew member. 

But Hugh… you had always been a fan of his work and being able to see him in his element left you speechless every time. The way he’s able to switch into character so easily and become Logan Howlett - a character that you’ve always loved. 

Throughout filming, you’re just in awe of everyone on set and to be able to see the movie unfold right before your eyes is an experience that you’re sure will only happen once in a lifetime. 

And as the end of filming fast approaches, you embrace every second of every day you’re on set. You find that you fall more in love with Hugh, watching him interact with every single person and making sure that they feel seen and heard - he truly is perfect, and a really good man, and you have to wonder what you did to deserve him. 

Hugh hadn’t brought up Jack in months since the last argument you both had and you’re grateful. You never wanted Jack to ever be the reason to get in between you and Hugh. While you feel partially responsible, you have come to realize that it was bound to happen eventually. It was naive to think that Hugh wouldn’t have reacted the way he did. 

“So,” Hugh says, pulling you from your thoughts as you both remain lying in bed, limbs entangled after yet another intimate session of lovemaking. 

“Hm?” You ask, turning to look over at him as your fingertips run across his bare chest. 

“How are we going to go back to New York and not be with each other every night and morning?”

You arch a brow in his direction. You know what he’s implying and he’s just staring at you with a small smile. A hopeful smile. “I don’t know about you, but I’m glad to have my own space after–,” you tease, trying to keep a straight face. 

Hugh narrows his eyes and moves to hover above you, hands grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your heads. You’re both still naked and he makes sure to press his hips into you. You can feel him getting harder and harder by the second. 

“Wanna say that again, baby?” 

“How are you getting hard again?” You ask, lifting your hips to roll against his. 

“You make it easy,” he winks. “Now, don’t go and change the subject.” 

“Well, that’s really difficult when you’re literally distracting me!” 

Hugh smirks, his grip around your wrist tightening as he leans down to brush his lips against yours. “You ain’t gonna miss me?” He whispers, moving his hips as his tip brush against you. “Not gonna miss sleeping next to me and waking up next to me, baby?” 

“Hugh…” your eyes flutter and your legs wrap around his hips, locking your ankles at his lower back. “I will… I will miss you. I was just teasing and–”

Hugh grins and slides into you in one thrust, growling as your walls surround him. “That’s what I thought.” 

—

Later that week, you’re staring up at Hugh who’s grinning down at you. You’re in his trailer and he’s already in his Wolverine suit - albeit a little dirtier than when he first put it on and his arms now in full display. 

“You’re telling me that I will need to oil you up?” You ask, eyes wide. “For what? Why? Oh my god, I’m gonna– How will I do that?!” 

“Well, you put oil on your hands and–”

“Okay, ha ha.” You roll your eyes playfully, feeling his hands move to your hips. “Hugh…” 

“What? You want someone else to oil me up? That it? First you say you won’t miss me when we go back home, that you want your space, and now you don’t wanna touch me?” He teases with a smirk. “What’s next, baby?” 

“Oh stop, you’re being dramatic.” You laugh quietly, looking into his eyes. 

“So, you’ll oil me up?” He grins. 

“If I must,” you tease. “But you owe me.” 

“Oh, baby, just you wait.” He winks. 

“What does the scene even consist of where I have to put oil on you?” 

“You’ll see.” 

“Not even a hint?” 

Hugh shakes his head and leans down to peck your lips lightly. “Nope. I will say, though,” he whispers, moving his lips along your jawline to your ear. “I’m gonna try my very best not to get excited when your hands are all over me.”  

“Oh my god, you’re going to be shirtless, aren’t you?” 

His lips grow into a wide grin as he gently nips along the side of your neck, hands gripping your hips. “Yeah, baby.” 

You look at him from top to bottom, biting down on your lower lip as your gaze darkens at the thought. You clear your throat and look back into his eyes, slowly shaking your head. “Yeah, you owe me because I don’t know how I’m going to oil you up without wanting to–”

“Oh, I know,” Hugh chuckles, interrupting you. “Good thing it’s the last scene to shoot before we call it a day.”

“So, what I’m hearing is that after that scene, you’re going to take me back to the hotel and…” you wiggle your brows together. “You know.”

Hugh smirks, hands slowly moving from your hips to wrap around your waist, dipping low to rest on your backside. “I don’t know,” he lies. “Why don’t you tell me what I’ll be doing when we get back to the hotel room?” 

“You’re gonna let me have my way with you,” you grin, nodding excitedly. 

“Oh, I’m gonna let you, will I?” 

“Yes.” you answer, matter-of-factly. 

“Love the confidence, baby,” Hugh grins as he leans down to peck your lips lightly. “Gotta get back on set. I’ll see you later.” 

“You’re such a tease.” 

“Am I?” 

“Yes, Hugh,” you answer, pulling back and looking up at him with a small pout on your lips.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he winks. “You know I will.”

“You better.”

“I promise,” Hugh says. “I love you.” 

“I love you too,” you smile. 

—

Throughout the rest of the day, you find yourself distracted with the thought of having to oil Hugh up for the last scene of the day. While you’re still in awe of the acting from both Ryan and Hugh, you can’t help but your eyes deviate to Hugh’s arms as he says his lines. 

And even as that scene approaches, Shawn is the first one to walk up to you, a teasing grin on his lips. “So, you’re okay with oiling Hugh up for this last scene?” 

“I think it’d be weird if I wasn’t,” you tease, biting the inside of your cheek in anticipation. 

“That’s true,” he chuckles. “Ryan’s been teasing him all day about it,” Shawn points out. 

“Oh, I don’t doubt it,” you smile. “How much oil will I have to put on him, by the way?” 

“Um,” Shawn grins. “Quite a lot and depending on how many takes we’ll need to get the right one…”

“Okay, so we might need more than one bottle.”

“Oh, we have plenty.” 

“And this scene…” you begin, playing with your camera strap. 

“It’s a good one,” Shawn finishes for you. 

“I mean, it wouldn’t be Wolverine if there wasn’t at least one shot of him without a shirt, right?” 

Shawn laughs quietly. “That’s right… Speaking of the devil,” he nods his head over your shoulder and you turn slightly to see Hugh without his shirt, simply dressed in only the yellow and blue pants with the matching boots and cowl. 

You clear your throat at the sight of him, his muscles clearly defined as you bite your lower lip. Your eyes linger on his chest and abdomen, moving along his strong arms and shoulders. Ryan’s voice breaks you out of your thoughts and you turn your gaze on the other man, who’s dressed in his entire Deadpool gear.

“You might want to pick up your jaw off the floor,” Ryan chuckles. 

“Oh, shut up,” you reply, gently smacking his chest. “I see this every day, it’s nothing new to me,” you lie.

Hugh places his hands on his hips, staring at you with a slight tilt to his head and a small smirk on his lips. He can see your eyes flitting back to him, can see the way you're gently gnawing at your lower lip and he knows exactly what kind of look you’re giving him. 

“I know,” Ryan sighs dramatically. “Lucky you.” 

“Got the oil for you,” Hugh says, handing it to you and breaking you out of your thoughts. You take it from him slowly, fingers brushing against his. 

“Right. So, we’re doing this now.” you say, gripping the bottle of oil tightly in your grasp. 

Shawn nods and then looks over at you. “Don’t put too much,” he advises. “Just enough to make his skin glisten, like he’s sweating.” 

“Right, right,” you nod, clearing your throat. “Not too much, but just enough.”

Ryan and Shawn quietly chuckle to themselves before giving the both of you some privacy. You look up at Hugh and bite your lower lip, eyes lingering on his lips as it moves down the side of his neck, to his chest and down his abdomen and back up. 

“You nervous, baby?” Hugh whispers. 

“N– No,” you stammer. “I just don’t want to mess up.”

“I don’t even think that’s possible,” he chuckles. “I’m ready for you, love.” 

You nod slowly and then open the bottle of oil, squeezing just enough onto your palm. You set the bottle aside and rub your hands together to evenly distribute the oil before you reach out to place your hands on his shoulders, slowly moving them up and down before you move to his chest. 

Hugh smirks, flexing his chest for you and he lets out a quiet chuckle when he hears you quietly gasp. “Love feeling your hands on me, baby,” he whispers. 

“Stop distracting me,” you tease, pouring just a bit more oil onto your hands before you reach out to spread it along his chest down to his abdomen, feeling each ridge and muscle of his abs. Your hands move dangerously closer to the waistband of his pants, feeling Hugh’s hand immediately dart out to rest on your hip. 

“Careful, baby.”

“Just making sure I got everything.” Slowly, you pull away and look at him, his upper half glistening with the oil you just applied. “I think– I think you’re ready to go.”

Hugh smiles and leans down to peck your lips lightly. “Thank you, baby.”

“I miss seeing your eyes,” you point out, motioning towards the cowl that’s placed atop of his head. “But I can’t lie… this is just as good a view.” 

Hugh opens his mouth to say something, but hears his name being called by Ryan and Shawn. “Duty calls.”

“Try and get this in one take so you can take me back to the hotel.”

Hugh smirks. “Impatient, aren’t you?” 

“Do you see yourself? I’d jump you right here if I could.” 

“Naughty girl,” he whispers lowly. 

“Hugh!” Ryan calls out. “Come on, buddy. I’m sure she will oil you up soon enough.” 

“Go,” you say quietly. 

Hugh nods and then turns on his heel to take his place on set. 

—

It takes more than one take to complete the scene. After about two and a half bottles of oil and intense sexual tension radiating off you and Hugh, Shawn finally calls cut. Hugh walks over to you and takes the towel from your hands to wipe off the immense amount of oil that’s dripping from him, but he can’t help but watch your eyes ogle him. It always made him feel so special and borderline shy when your eyes linger on him, especially with the way you’re staring at him now. 

“Just gotta head back to the trailer and change,” Hugh says. “Then we can go back to the hotel.”

Anticipation courses through your veins as you keep a tight hold on Hugh’s hand, fingers laced together as you walk alongside him. Once at his trailer, Hugh shuts the door and locks it behind him. 

Before you can even ask what he’s doing, Hugh turns to face you and removes the cowl to set it aside. His gaze darkens at the sight of you and in just a few strides in your direction, he’s wrapping his strong arms around your waist and lifting you off your feet. 

Your legs immediately wrap around his waist and your arms move around his shoulders. Letting out a quiet gasp, Hugh gently rests you on your back against the couch, kneeling on the floor between your legs.

“Hugh, what are you–”

“Been wanting you all day,” he says, his large hands moving to your jeans and undoing the button and zipper of it all too quickly. “Can’t wait anymore.”

“Baby–”

“Shh,” Hugh whispers, tugging your jeans down your legs and tossing the fabric over his shoulder. He looks up at you and then moves his hands to the waistband of your black lace panties, slowly tugging them down your legs as well. Once your lower half is completely exposed for him, Hugh holds your legs apart and growls at the sight of your slickened sex. He leans in and brushes the bridge of his nose against you, hands gripping your legs tightly. “Goddamn, baby. You’re already so wet for me.”

“It was because of all that oil,” you whimper, moving your hands to rest in his hair. “Please…”

“And here I thought you were gonna have your way with me,” he grins, pulling back just enough to brush the pad of his thumb against your bundle of nerves. Hugh looks up at you, watches you tilt your head back and your eyes fall shut at the lightest of touches.

“Oh, I will,” you groan. “But first, how about you do what you need to do and–”

“So demanding lately,” he grins, leaning in to lick a stripe along your soaking heat. A loud moan escapes your lips and Hugh smiles, pulling away. “Baby, you gotta stay quiet for me. There are still people on set and we can’t have them hearing you, hearing what I’m doing to you.”

“Fuck,” you whimper, nodding and moving your hands from his hair to cover your mouth instead. “I’ll try my best,” you mumble.

“Atta girl,” he praises and leans back in to lap at your juices, your wetness slowly beginning to trickle down his chest. Hugh grips your hips, holding you firmly against the couch as he moves his lips to your clit, flicking his tongue against it as he brings one hand between your legs. Without hesitation, he slides in two fingers as he sucks at your clit, beginning to pump his two digits in and out of your depths. 

The sounds of your wetness squelches with each thrust of his fingers and he stares up at you to see how hard you’re trying to stay quiet. He smirks against you and slowly adds a third finger, a loud whimper escaping your lips at the intrusion. 

Hugh turns his head and places soft kisses on the inside of your thigh as he leans back, continuing to move his fingers in and out of your depths as he leans over you. With his free hand, he gently removes your own from your mouth and leans in to brush his lips against yours. 

“Feel good, baby?” he whispers, keeping his fingers deep within your depths as he begins to curl them inside of you. “Oh yeah, I can feel you trembling…”

You stare up at him, biting your lower lip as you try to hold back your moans. “Hugh, baby…” 

“Doing so good for me, staying so quiet,” he grins, his fingers curling inwards as your walls begin to tremble and he knows you’re close. Knows that you’re about to reach a heightened pleasure that he leans in and presses his lips against yours in hopes to quiet your moans. 

You reach down and grip his wrist, fingertips digging into his skin as you arch your back. You moan against his lips, feeling his tongue slide past your own and the sensations are just too much, too overwhelming. Hugh pumps his fingers in and out of you to help you ride out your climax, slowly pulling away to hold up his fingers in your direction.

“Look how wet you are for me,” he grins. 

You look up at him, biting your lower lip as you watch him suck on his fingers, cleaning your slick free from his digits. “Hugh…”

“So fucking good,” he winks. 

You’re breathing heavily, but you reach down for his pants and tug on it, seeing the length of his manhood pressing against the yellow fabric. “Take these off.”

Hugh smirks. “Yes, ma’am.” He makes quick work to remove his boots and his pants, kicking them off to the side carelessly. He looks down at himself, his manhood at attention and he settles himself once more between your legs. He holds onto the base of his length and runs his tip across your sex, growling lowly. 

“Gonna fuck you now,” he groans. 

“Please,” you whimper. 

“Being such a good girl, baby,” Hugh smirks, slowly sliding into you in one thrust. He groans at your wetness, your warmth walls surrounding every inch of him. He leans down and rests his forehead against yours, pulling his hips back before he slides back in. 

“Hugh, I don’t think…” you moan, moving your hands to his shoulders. “I can’t– I can’t stay quiet and–”

“Shh,” he whispers, moving his large hand over your mouth as he delivers a sharp thrust. “Yeah, you can, baby.” 

You let out a loud moan, muffled by his hand as you stare up at him. Hugh pulls out to his tip and slides back into you in one thrust, your legs moving to wrap around his waist. 

Hugh rests his forehead against yours, staring into your eyes as he keeps his hand over your mouth. Your moans and whimpers are muffled by his large hand and with each thrust, he can see the way your eyes flutter. Hugh’s thrusts continue at a rhythmic pace, your walls sliding along each inch and vein of his manhood. You’re so wet, so tight and warm and Hugh knows he can’t keep this up any longer. 

“Fuck, baby, I’m gonna–” Hugh’s hips begin to stutter, but you reach down and push him away from you, causing a loud groan to escape his lips. He’s quick to grasp his manhood to slide back into you, but you shake your head and sit up on the couch, urging him to stand up. “What?”

“I want you to come in my mouth,” you tell him, biting your lower lip. “That’s one way you can keep me quiet.”

Hugh growls and nods, standing up like you asked. He brings a hand down to your cheek, brushing his thumb across your soft skin and gently tucking a fallen strand behind your ear. “Well?” 

“Now, who’s impatient, hm?” you grin, reaching up to wrap your hand around his slick coated base as your lips move to his tip. Wrapping your lips around him, you begin to bob your head, hollowing your cheeks as your hand strokes the rest of him. You keep your eyes focused on him, watching as he tilts his head back and a hand moves to tangle his fingers into your hair. 

“Oh, baby,” he groans, the grip in your tightening as you continue to bob your head in time with your strokes. Hugh can feel the tightness build once again in the pit of his stomach. He looks down at you and groans at the sight, your eyes staring up at him with his cock in his mouth. 

God, if he could spend the rest of his days like this, Hugh would die a happy man. 

“I’m close, I’m gonna–” Hugh’s voice cuts off as you take him even deeper into your mouth and he can feel the tip of his length hit the back of your throat. He groans loudly and gently brushes your hand away from him as he takes a hold of his base. He strokes himself once, twice, three times before spurts of his come release into your mouth. 

You feel his warm spend fill your mouth, a mixture of salty and sweet taste. You swallow it eagerly, slowly bobbing your head as you feel him shudder against you, his hand in your release loosening its grip. When he pulls away, you smile up at him and gently place a soft and light kiss on his tip. 

“Did you really just–”

“Swallow?” you finish for him and nod. “Yup… Is that okay?” 

“Is that okay?” Hugh repeats. “Baby, you’re fucking perfect.”

---

taglist (if links don't work, i'm sorry!): @corvusmorte - @dragonqueen89 - @whimsiwitchy - @kellyxo1

@wolviehugh - @moonxknightx - @sullyselena - @angelofthorr - @spectorrrhgf

@needz1nk - @fandomxo00 - @godlypresley - @kythefangirl25 - @callsignyourmom

@sue8724 - @squishyfruitloop - @sylviavf - @emotrash1 - @dissentientss

@sir-thisisadndserver - @absolutepie - @millajay - @itsallyscorner - @haytchee

@wolverigrl - @its-in-the-woods - @d3ad2you - @definitely-not-chill - @khxna

@jules-and-gemss

[fluentmoviequoter]

More Than Meets the Eye

Excellent idea inspired by 5x18 with Tim and his wife from @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 ! I hope you enjoy!!

This is a documentary-style fic! All scenes in italics are the interview scenes, and the non-italic portions are body cam footage, additional scenes, etc.

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!cop!wife!reader (+ they have twins: a boy and a girl)

Summary: You and Tim go undercover as your criminal doppelgängers. When the case is turned into a documentary, the interviewer and viewers learn that there's often more than meets the eye.

Warnings: interview scenes in italics! fluff, angst, murder, credit card fraud, violence, threats, slightly suggestive in parts (bc Jake Butler) but SFW!

Word Count: 3.4k+ words

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

Death, deception, and doppelgängers. When the Los Angeles Police Department responded to an urgent 911 call, no one expected what would happen next.

“911 what’s your emergency?”

“Send help! He’s- oh my lord, I don’t know- there’s blood and he… I heard a scream, but not the shot!”

“Sir, where are you?”

A single scream, no witnesses, a silent shot, and a once-in-a-lifetime interaction between suspect and officer. This is More Than Meets the Eye.

When you and Tim walk into his office, where two chairs are waiting, you’re surprised to see three people and a camera shoved into the small area behind his desk. You smile at the interviewer as you sit, and Tim waits for you to settle before he lowers beside you.

“Hello! We’ll start right away. I’ll introduce you first,” the interviewer says. “Whatever feels best, and then we’ll get into the dirty details of the case.”

“Like they’re ever clean,” you mumble.

“This is Sergeant Tim Bradford of the LAPD, and his wife-“

“Don’t do that,” Tim interrupts. “She’s not my wife in this case, she was instrumental to solving it. Use her position title.”

“My apologies.”

You send the interviewer a kind smile as your elbow taps Tim’s in thanks. Tim doesn’t really want to be here, you know that, but you appreciate him standing up for you regardless. When your introduction is complete, you straighten your shoulders as the case is introduced and travel back in time to one of the weirdest days of your life.

“Sergeant Bradford, you were the first responder at the scene. But when you returned to the station is when this case truly took its first turn, correct?”

Tim sighs before he answers, “Yes, that is when this became more than just a call for me. For all of us, really.”

“Can you tell us more about that moment?”

“I walked into an interview room and saw a guy who looked like me on the other side of the glass. There was an opportunity, and our detectives were quick to jump on it.”

“Tim, switch to a private channel,” Angela requests. “I know you’re on a Metro patrol, but dispatch just alerted us to a suspected murder. You’re nearby.”

“I’ll check it out,” Tim answers. “Did the caller give any other details?”

“One of interest. He said he heard a scream but no shot. Apparently he mentioned more than one shot suffered by the vic.”

“He heard a scream but not numerous shots?”

“That’s what the call said. He told the dispatcher a name of a neighbor who had some sort of argument with the vic yesterday, so we sent another unit to pick him up.”

“Got it.”

“Thanks, Timothy. I owe you one.”

“Just one?”

“Two baby ones. Let me know.”

Tim rolls his eyes as he sets the radio aside. He reaches the address quickly and knocks on the door. There’s no answer, even after his yelled introduction as a police sergeant. Because of the exigent circumstance and probable cause of the phone call, Tim enters the house without a warrant. Inside is a blood bath, with one body spread in the tile of the entryway. Tim alerts Angela to the dead body, and she asks him to stay close to the scene and guard it until Nyla arrives.

“But the moment she gets there, come back to the station,” Angela adds.

“10-4,” Tim replies.

He clears the house, then closes the door behind him as neighbors gather near the front yard. One neighbor tells the others about what happened, and Tim assumes he is the caller. Several minutes pass before Nyla arrives with a CSU team, and Tim waves as he returns to his shop.

When he steps into the bullpen, Angela jogs to Tim’s side.

“Don’t freak out, Tim,” she says.

“I never do,” he argues.

“This- this is different Tim. So, just consider everything before you say no.”

Angela leads him into the interview observance room. On the other side of the one-way glass is a man who strikes an uncanny resemblance to Tim.

“It’s creepy, right?” Nolan asks. “He looks just like you!”

“Why are you here?” Tim counters.

“I brought him in. His name’s Jake Butler, though I fully expected his prints would come back as a Bradford.”

“He doesn’t look that much like me,” Tim argues.

“He really does,” Angela says. “I thought it was you for a split second.”

“I agree,” Wade interjects from the open door. “But whether you can see it or not, you’ve got an opportunity here, Bradford.”

Tim looks back to the window just as Jake stands to examine his hair in the reflection. Face-to-face, Tim can see the unsettling resemblance, though it pains him to voice that aloud.

“Fine, we- there’s some things in common,” he mutters.

“I’ll take it. I want you in the room with me,” Angela responds. “Shake him a little bit and find out what he really knows.”

“He saw me and immediately asked if the victim was dead,” Nolan fills in. “And his front door had blood all over the knob.”

“I’ll try not to let your wife see the competition,” Wade jokes.

Tim rolls his eyes as he follows Angela into the interview room. Neither of them speaks before Jake sees Tim and gasps.

“Yo,” he breathes out dramatically. “Your face looks like mine, man! Hey, do you have a long-lost twin? ‘Cause I’ve always felt this connection and-“

“No,” Tim says firmly.

In another part of the station, you hear about Nolan’s arrest of a murder suspect and decide to offer your assistance to Angela. A dead body in a nice neighborhood will need a lot of hands willing to do dirty work, and that’s something you don’t mind. Nyla looks up from her computer as you approach Angela’s empty area and smiles like she knows something you don’t.

“Hey,” you greet. “I was just looking for Lopez. If you need help, let me know.”

“Oh, we do. Our suspect has an acquaintance of sorts that I think you could help us find. Come with me?” Nyla replies.

You follow her to an interview room and don’t question when she asks you to walk inside. Once the door is closed behind you, you see Tim and Angela, then-

“Baby!” the man at the table cries.

Your eyes widen as he stands and steps toward you with his arms up. Tim pushes his hand against Jake’s chest and points to his chair.

“Give us just a moment, Mr. Butler?” Angela requests.

“Why you wearing a uniform, sweets?” Jake asks you. “C’mon, don’t leave me alone in here.”

You ignore his plea to stay and follow your husband into the observation room. Looking through the window, you suppress a shiver at how eerily similar Jake Butler is to Tim.

“Baby?” Tim repeats loudly. “What was that?”

Nyla raises a tablet with the criminal file of a woman who looks nearly identical to you. The name is different, and she’s currently in holding after being arrested on a warrant for missing court.

“Jake Butler’s girlfriend. Tell me that’s not lucky,” Nyla jokes, her smile wide as she observes the concealed horror on your face.

“This is too weird,” you mumble.

“It is,” Angela agrees. She lays her hand on your shoulder and smiles before she asks, “Want to go undercover for me?”

You look at Tim, who sets his jaw and lifts one shoulder slightly. He’s letting you choose. Neither of you are undercover officers; given the situation, it’s likely the only chance you’ll have to close the case.

“Only if one of you agrees to watch the kids,” you answer. “I need someone I trust with them if I’m going to pretend to be…”

“Shop,” Nyla answers with a giggle. “And that genius in there is Dim.”

Tim drops his head as he shakes it. You understand the nicknames, especially when compared to your lookalike’s credit card fraud scheme, but it only makes this more real. You’re going undercover as another version of yourself with another version of Tim. You’ll need a lot of help to get through this case.

“Neither of you are undercover officers,” the interviewer points out. “Yet you seemed eager to be launched into a dangerous situation, even if it meant leaving your children for an indefinite period of time.”

Tim clenches his jaw, and you lay your hand on his knee, below the camera's framing.

“We’re cops,” you argue. “Every morning when we kiss our twins goodbye, we know that we’re walking into danger and risking never coming home to them. What made this moment different was that we knew the outcome. With our team behind us, we could be pulled out at any moment, and the whole ‘lookalike’ thing gave us an advantage to call more shots than most UCs.”

“We didn’t abandon our children for some crime spree through the hills. It was a job, a performance, and it had a clear end date,” Tim adds. “Being a cop is the job. Our son and daughter, though, they’re our lives and we keep that line very clear.”

“Then that must’ve made what happened next hard. If your children, your relationship, are your life… how did you turn into - um - Dim, also known as Jake Butler, and…”

“Kaylee Longworth,” you fill in.

“That’s not what you called her, is it?”

“No. She was dubbed ‘Shop.’”

“Why? Dim is a play on Sergeant Bradford’s name, and an insult to Butler’s intelligence. What’s the connection from Kaylee to Shop?”

“It rhymes with cop,” Tim answers. “And she had a shopping habit that caused her financials to take a nosedive. We never would’ve found her if she’d stopped shopping sooner.”

“How was Longworth brought into custody initially?”

“A report of a stolen credit card,” you explain. “She was arrested in a Los Angeles Victoria’s Secret for using the stolen card.”

“Okay. So, you effortlessly become Dim and Shop. Where did those parents you seem to identify as go during your escapade through the hills?”

“What are you asking?” Tim interrupts. “If we feel guilty about pretending to be other people to catch a murderer?”

“Dim and Shop was just that, an act, pretend, and keeping this city safe for our family was the only thing on our minds,” you finish.

“The act went well, didn’t it? Was there any moment where you struggled or thought you did a bit too well?”

“Both,” you and Tim answer together.

“Hey, this isn’t the minor leagues, Butler! Get your head in the game or get out of my way.”

You roll your eyes at Jake’s criminal handler as Tim tightens his grip on your hips. He presses his chest against your back and licks his lips as he smiles at the man before you.

“You try controlling yourself with a woman like this,” Tim argues. “We got it handled.”

“Got something handled,” you murmur, turning your chin over your shoulder to see Tim.

“Focus,” the man snaps. “I need ten more credit cards by tonight. If you can’t do that, then maybe you’ll have to find a new girl, Butler. Can you get that through your girl-centered mind?”

Tim straightens and steps around you. As he crowds the shorter man, he drops his voice and slaps on a fake smile that does little to hide the anger in his eyes.

“I got it, pal. We’ll get it done. And when we do, you may want to find a new way to keep me in line.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it.”

Tim wraps his arm around your shoulders and leads you out, whispering an apology as you turn a corner. It’s just a cover, you remind yourself. When Tim acts like someone you don’t know, you remember that you’re playing a part, too. This isn’t you. Though it’s hard, the case is all that matters.

“Jake,” you whisper harshly as another hand wraps around your arm.

“I got the account number,” Tim grunts. “What more do you want?”

“A promise that you’re not the one and done lucky loser you look like,” the man holding a gun against Tim’s temple answers.

“The only lucky thing about him is me,” you call. “You seriously think he can manage to fall into coincidence after coincidence? He only seems like that because that’s what he wants you to see. You can’t replace us, and you know it.”

“Oh. He’s lucky to have you, huh? Then maybe we’ll keep you here for the next score and see if Jake can deliver on his own.”

“Sure. Just make sure it’s not a man he’s ripping off.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because, like I said, I’m his luck. I can press men easier than he can, if you can understand that.”

He presses the gun harder into Tim’s skin, and you level your expression. After a moment, he drops his hand and signals for the men behind you to release you.

“Let’s go, Jake,” you say.

“Where are you going? We’ve got a casino hit tonight.”

“We’ll be back,” you promise. “I doubt a little unlucky boy like you would understand.”

“You’ve got an hour.”

“More than I need,” Tim brags.

“But all those attempts to maintain your covers together fell short,” the interviewer adds.

“How so?” you inquire.

“The interruption in the park. You were millimeters from adding another felony to the arrest when an unexpected interruption occurred.”

“You mean our kids?” Tim asks. “They came up and called me dad, and we did our jobs to maintain our covers and get our guy. So, no, it didn’t ‘fall short.’”

“What are you saying?” you question. “You want me to draw him back to a room so you can pop one in him?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. I’m sure getting men to follow you into private spaces can’t be too hard. So, lure him to my room and I’ll make sure this payday is doubled for you.”

You glance at Tim where he stands on the other side of the semi-circle of criminal conspiracy.

“Dad!” a young girl yells.

You bite your tongue when you hear the familiar voice and look over slowly to maintain your composition and cover. Your daughter stops between you and Tim, and her twin brother pauses beside you. He furrows his brows as he looks at the tattoos covering Tim’s skin but doesn’t ask.

“Dad,” she repeats. “What are you doing here?”

Your son looks up at you, but you keep your eyes on Tim. Raising your eyebrows in faux accusation, you cross your arms and ask, “You have something you want to tell me, Jake?”

Over Tim’s shoulder, you don’t see Nyla or any sign of someone who should be watching your kids.

“Yeah,” the man beside you agrees. “Do you?”

“Man,” Tim drawls. “Do I look like I have something to tell? Unless his mama didn’t do her part after I bailed out, she’s just a confused little kid.”

“She’s not confused!” your son defends. He’s a few minutes older than her, fiercely protective, and he doesn’t stand for anyone talking down to her. “You’re not being kind.”

You look at the man beside you and shrug. Someone – you and Tim – taught your children too well. Gently, you tug the back of your son’s shirt to get his attention.

“Go back to where you’re supposed to be, alright? You shouldn’t run off,” you encourage.

He nods eagerly, grabs his sister’s hand, and runs back the way they came. You watch them go up a hill, then see James meet them at the top. Jake’s handler needs a performance now, so you look at Tim and tilt your head as your smile grows. You step toward Tim, loop your arms around his neck, and push yourself against him. Tim swallows at your sudden and awkward attention but recovers quickly as his hands drop to your thighs and slide up slowly.

“You may not have anything to tell now, but… It does give me an idea,” you flirt.

Tim cocks his head to the side quickly and then angles his face toward yours. “Tell me more, baby.”

“On your own time,” the handler interrupts. “Car, now, or we miss rush hour at the casino, and you can kiss your cut goodbye just like those kids.”

In the second part of your interview, set up in your living room, the interviewer asks, “And then what happened? You arrest the handler, who turned out to be the killer after a credit card robbery gone wrong. Plus, you apprehend everyone involved in his criminal racket. But a character like Jake and Kaylee can’t just disappear, right?”

“It can,” Tim assures. “That hair grease and the tattoos washed right away. You wouldn’t be asking these questions if we were trained UCs, but we had a team walking us through every step. This wasn’t something we just threw ourselves into.”

“I understand that. You performed well and closed the case. You got your spouse and kids back as you returned to your normal lives."

"Right. The job ended, and we returned to our real lives," you agree.

“You mentioned that the roles were hard to play at times, but your attraction and obsession with Butler seemed effortless,” the interviewer says.

“What are you implying? That I developed feelings for a felon who played a role in the murder of an innocent man?” you reply incredulously. “I was playing a part.”

“Well, sure, but there was no script. Everything you did was your choice, was it not?”

“Stop,” Tim warns. “What we did had nothing to do with the real people. If you can’t see that, you’re not looking in the right place.”

“My mind was never on Butler, it was on the truth. I did what I had to and what would get us the evidence we needed,” you defend.

“Those played up moments were completely necessary in your mind then?”

“Imply that she cheated one more time and we’re done,” Tim interjects. “Ask something about the case or you can finish this documentary on your own.”

“We’ll take another look at your cover identities, then. The moment in the park with your son had to have threatened that act and your composure,” the interviewer muses, changing the subject.

You nod at Tim before you answer, “Well, sure, but police work is everything expect predictable. Things happen in police work, but the detectives and a tactical team were nearby, plus Tim was right there, so there was never a real safety concern in my mind.”

“You trust Tim that much?”

“With my life.”

“And your children’s apparently. They didn’t sign up to go undercover, so how can you justify having them in that-“

“How can you justify a question like that?" Tim interrupts.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, you’ve made more than enough implications. If you think that we willingly let our children stand in a dangerous moment or put them in the path of any sort of harm, then this interview is over.”

“There’s just a few-“

“We’re done. We’ve covered the case,” you agree.

The door behind you opens, and you turn quickly. You and Tim smile as you walk to greet your children, who are returning from school.

“Mom!” your son calls as he hugs your legs. “We learned about dolphins today! Did you know they can see themselves in a mirror and know that it’s them?”

“Dad!” your daughter squeals as Tim pulls her up to hug her.

“I missed you today,” he tells her. “Do you think we should just stay here and play forever?”

“No!” she says with a giggle. “You have to stop bad people and I need to go to school.”

“I’ll stay home,” your son offers.

You laugh and take his offered drawing of a dolphin. The interviewer and the camera behind you are long forgotten as you interact with your children. This moment, the real you and Tim in your own life contrasts the limited information the documentary makers have about your parenting style.

“Alright, go put your stuff away and we’ll make dinner,” Tim instructs.

“My favorite?” your daughter asks.

“No, it’s my turn!” your son argues.

“You have the same favorite.” Tim chuckles as he directs them down the hall before he turns back to the camera crew in your living room.

Your children run to their rooms, and the interviewer asks, “Just one more thing, please. Why do all of this? You aren’t specially trained or viewed as an officer who has to do this. It’s outside of your scope, so what made this case worth it?”

“Everything we did, everything we continue to do, we do out of love for our kids and our city," you answer. "No matter what you say or how you try to twist this case, we acted from our sense of duty and from love.”

“Not that you’d understand,” Tim sighs. “Being a parent, being a cop... there’s always more than what you see from the seat you’re in outside of it all.”

[divinesolas]

Always together

r.q: hi lovlie, hope your doing well :) I was wondering if you would consider a jacaerys x starkreader? were there parents sent them to live with rhaenyra as child to learn. there they meet jace and become super close. but then driftmark happens and there sent back north. (jace isn't happy abt this and begs his mother to let them stay.) years, years later jace is sent north to remind cregan (your brother) of there oath to rhaenyra. and he sees you there and is awstruck, like heart eyes and everything. just lots of fluff and maybe a smut if thats okay💗🫶🏻🫶🏻💗

w.c: 6.2k

c.w: porn with a lot of plot like barely any smut tbh, a lot of fluff, mainly young jacaerys and young stark, vermax apperances, aegon is an ass for like one scene, p in v, fingering (f!receiving), mutual pining, worries abour the future, not proofread

a.n: can you tell how much i love jacaerys <3 🫶

You were no more than seven when you first stepped foot in the red keep. You had been exhausted, it had taken you a full moon cycle to make it to king's landing. Without the comforts of your older brother or your parents it was the first time in your life you had been alone without your family and anytime you hadn't been sleeping you were probably crying. You missed them, your mother, your father but most of all your older brother.

‘I will miss you brother.” you press your head into his shoulder, already wet from the tears you had been weeping into it. He pulled you away from him, hands on your shoulders, he attempted to look strong and firm but you could see the teary glaze over his eyes. ‘I shall visit you i promise’ you sniff as he brings his hands to your cheeks and wipes away your tears, ‘you mean it?’

‘i do. And should anything happen to you I will ride out at first light and bring you back home.’ Despite being only a couple years older he always tried to act tough and he truly meant what he said, he even got on horseback and trailed behind the carriage you were in until he could not travel any further.

Your most trusted handmaiden, Eliza, was doing her best to make you look presentable as you were approaching closer and closer to the keep. “You must remember-” “i know you have told me a million times i must be proper i must bow i must refer to them correctly and i must not overstep.” “And you must train hard, girl. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity that many would kill to get.”

You are quiet and stay quiet up until you are escorted to princess rhaenryas chambers and presented before her. “This is Lady Y/N Stark, your grace.’ you bow as low as you can go and fold your hands in front of you. “I am pleased to meet you, your grace, I must thank you for the opportunity to do this. I shall train hard.”

“Looks like she does not need your training. She is a righteous girl already.” rhaenyra slaps the man standing next to her on the arm before smiling at you. “I am pleased to meet you y/n, please ignore my husband ser laenor,” the man smiles at you and dips his head in greeting which you do back, “and my sons, jacaerys and lucerys.” she gestures with her hand to the two boys standing next to her. Lucerys who looked a mere year or two younger than you clung to his mothers leg and stared at you. Jacaerys puffed out his chest a bit and firmly nodded at you causing you to chuckle and dip your head to him. He reminded you of your brother when the two of you were a bit younger which brought you a sense of comfort.

“I will have one of the girls show you to your room and allow you to get settled in for a day or two before you begin. The trip here must have been rough.” Soon enough you are escorted out of the room and taken to your room. Your new home in a sense for you had no clue how long. You had thought you would cry as you had been this whole trip but with how kind the family seemed to be you felt as though you would do just fine without your family.

You went to bed soon after arriving and slept into the next day, Eliza had told you she was shocked you had not slept longer due to the long travel. She had gotten you ready for the day there was a firm knock on the door. It had been the lord commander Ser Harwin who had apparently been tasked by lady rhaenyra to show the two of you around the keep. Eliza had quickly finished dressing you for the day, your attire was very different from what you would wear back at home, it was so warm in the keep you had no need for your furs and almost felt naked without them.

The two of you walk out of the room and notice Ser Harwin is chatting with someone next to him. “My prince!” the two of you bow and he nods at you. “Good day.” “I hope you do not mind that he is to accompany us today.” “of course it is of no issue ser.” he smiles down at you, “you are a well spoken girl.” “thank you ser.”

The four of you begin to walk around the keep where ser hawin would point out the different routes and attempt to show you how to get around. The keep was massive. You had no clue how you would be able to remember how to get anywhere. Other than that you noticed how lifelast the place seemed to be, everyone was walking around with bored looks and the place even had a weird smell though you did not comment on it. It was so different from your life at winterfell where most smiled at each other and chatted and did not smell so strange. Harwin and Eliza would chat back and forth while you occasionally added a comment. The prince next to you said nothing, just kept his hand folded behind his back and kept stealing glances at you.

You grew worried that you had done something to upset him as whenever you would look his way he would turn his head away from you. “Did I do something to upset you, my prince?” you ended up asking him while harwin and eliza seemed to be deep in conversation about how many staircases there were and how obnoxious that was. He did not answer for a moment, playing with his hands before he looked you directly in the eyes. “I think you are very pretty.”

You are startled by his answer and look at him alarmed as he immediately looks back down at his feet and kicks at the floor. Harwin and Eliza chuckle as the two of you give each other a knowing glance while you get flustered and gulp before snapping out of your sorry state and reply to him. “Thank you, my prince. You are also very handsome.” does not look up at you but a wide grin falls on his face at your reply.

From that day onwards the two of you are inseparable. Whenever you are not doing your work you watch him train and the two of you spend so much time together you even begin to get invited to their family dinners where the two of you would continue to chat until you would be forced off to bed.

It had been a year into your time with the royal family and they had been more than kind to you. And your brother kept his promise to you, coming down that year for your nameday and promised he would be here for any future ones you do not celebrate in winterfell. Though you missed your family dearly, the family was so kind you barely noticed their absence. The princess especially seemed to put a lot of effort into helping you even after getting pregnant for the third time. You had just finished up for the day as you hear your name being called down the hall and smile as you turn already knowing who it is. “Jace what is it?” He had begged you to call him by his name and reluctantly you agreed after a couple months of being there and soon enough you began to call him Jace feeling all too comfortable with the prince. “You must come with me y/n.” he grabs your hand and begins to walk you down the hallway with him. “Where are we going jace?” “to the dragonpit you are to meet vermax.” “Your dragon, are you mad?” you attempt to pull your hand away from but he keeps a firm grip and continues to march his way to the pit with you at his side. “It is the task to show that I can properly introduce vermax to someone without him freaking out.” “And are you confident you can do this? What if I get burned to a crisp by him jacaerys!” “So I am jacaerys now?” “when you are attempting to lead me to my death i will call you whatever i please!”

The two of you stop and he grabs your arms, forcing you to look directly at him. “I promise I shall allow you to come to no harm. I swear on it in my life. Don't you believe in me?” he gives you a brave look and seeks an answer from you. You know he would never lead you somewhere where he knew you would be harmed, “i trust you, jace.” he smiles and thanks you as he continues to walk you to the pit.

The maesters greet you as you enter the pit and soon enough you are standing right next to jacaerys gripping his hand for dear life as they begin to lead vermax out.

“You scared pup?” Aegon made a comment beside you and you scoffed at him. “A wolf fears nothing, my prince.” you made an effort to not interact with the hightowers, no more specifically aegon. You had no issues with heleana who was kind to you and someone you would consider a friend though aemond avoided you you also had no issue being kind to him but aegon was a monster whom you avoided at all costs. The other training girls with you had warned you aegon was a bit,, inappropriate. Though due to your younger age they never gave you a firm answer when you asked what they meant.

“Dragons eat wolves, you know?” “but a dragon would have to be sober to take me down, my prince.” he scoffed at you and turned away from you and you miss the small smile on aemonds face as the maesters silence you all and vermax comes into sight. He is beautiful though he snarls at the sight of you and you take a step back gripping onto jacaerys arm. “Do not worry he will not harm you.” he says a couple words in valyrian which you do not understand which seems to calm vermax down and soon enough jacaerys is leading you closer and closer to vermax. You will die. You watch as vermax huffs in your direction, his eyes locked onto you. Jacaerys speaks again and vermax continues to watch you as jace takes one of your hands and guides it up towards vermax. Vermax smells you snarling again and you fear you might begin to cry from your nerves but trust jacaerys he places your hand on top of vermaxs nose. He hums and seems to relax. “Well done jacaerys!” your hand is taken off of vermax who is soon led away and you let out a long breath that you were holding it. “That was terrifying.” “you did well lady stark.” Jacaerys was grinning at you and laced your fingers with his, “I told you i would do it.” “I'm sorry I doubted you, jace.”

In the next year of your training you did not get to meet vermax again thankfully but you and jacaerys continued to spend more time together. As lucerys was no older he also began to accompany the two of you and followed you guys around. Jacaerys called him a pest but you would always hit his arm and tell lucerys that he was more than welcome to join you much to jacaerys dismay. He loved his brother he truly did but he liked getting his alone time with you and you ended up having to promise him you will always like him more than lucerys causing him to smile. You loved him, you were sure about it and it began to worry you though you assured yourself that it would be a problem for future you to worry about.

Your life seemed to be going great. Until the death of lady laena and ser harwin. You comforted jacaerys while he cried into your shoulder. You did your best not to try and only focus on jacaerys who needed you right now. You had heard the rumors, of course you did but you had done your best to avoid them. It did not matter to you if they were true or not though you would be blind to not see the truth in them as jacaerys had begun to develop curls in his hair just as harwin had. Many thought the prince was mourning the loss of lady laena though you knew better than that. And soon enough he was forced to go off to lady laenas funeral and begged his mother to allow you to come but you couldn't as it was a family only affair. You watched him leave with a heavy heart not knowing it would be the last time you see him for a very long time.

You and Eliza instead end up attending Ser harwins funeral where you finally allow yourself to cry over him. You had grown fond of him and he was a truly kind man you could not believe he was gone. The two of you stayed in the area for awhile and had just begun to pack up your things ready to head back to king's landing when you received a letter from princesses rhaenyra stating that the family would not be returning to king's landing and you were dismissed from your services saying you had done well with your training and she wishes the two of you will meet again in the future. All you could do was cry. Cry and cry and cry all the way back to winterfell as you think of jacaerys. You would never see him again, you were sure. It almost killed you to think about. You missed him so much just on the way home that you could not even imagine what it would be like to live your life without him. When you arrive back at winterfell with a celebration you try your best to look happy but all you could do is sob.

Almost over a decade has passed since you had last been in king’s landing, since you had last been in the red keep. Since you had last seen jacaerys. You replay your final moments together in your head often, if only you had known that that would be the last time you saw him you would have done it all differently so many different things you would have said and done. But it is in the past and there is nothing you can do now but mourn the relationship you once had and try your best to move on.

As a woman grows, many men would try and gain your favor, many even bold enough to ask you for your hand but you reject them all, a small hopeful part of you wishing you could be with jacaerys. You know one day you will not be able to avoid it and it scared you thought you were grateful that for now your brother seemed to be in no rush to see you married.

You were doing your tasks as you had everyday, treating today like you always did until Eliza bursted into your room, “eliza!” she rushes towards you and fixes up your hair quickly ignoring your questioning as she grabs your nice furs from your closet and dresses you in them. “Whatever is happening eliza?” She does not answer and instead grabs you and drags you to the main hall where despite your questioning she does not answer and urges you to go stand next to cregan who was also dressed up standing next to your father and you the hall is scrambling making sure everything looks tidy. “Brother what is happening?”

He opens his mouth to answer but immediately shuts it and stands up tall as the doors open.

“Prince jacaerys velaryon!”

Your mouth goes dry as you see him. Standing tall in the middle of the room the prince you had been seeing in your dreams for years was now right in front of you. He was taller and definitely more handsome. He had curls that fell down to his shoulder and he wore a dark outfit. His face is firm and confident. It reminded you of when he tried to look like that years ago but unlike that time now it looked so right on him, like it wasn't some pretend act he was putting on.

You are in a daze and only snap out of it when you feel your brother's hand on your neck and dip you into a bow before pulling you back up. “My prince, it is good to see you once more.” jacaerys nods and seems to grip the scroll in his hand even tighter. “I'm sure you remember my sister y/n.” you notice his eyes go wide and he turns and finally looks at you. “y/n..” he mumbles in shock and takes the steps towards you. The only thing you can hear is the pounding of your heart as he soon stands right in front of you, his eyes darting all over your face, “is it truly you?”

“It is good to see you, my prince.” you resist the urge to call him jacaerys as you had all those years ago. You wish to touch him, lace your fingers with his, cup his face in your hands, anything but you do not. As if he can read your mind he grabs your hands and places a kiss on the back of it. You let out a breath as his hands linger with yours before he drops it down and he takes a step back. You take the moment to glance at your brother who has a smug look on his face which causes you to promptly look away from him.

“We are honored to have you here, my prince. Though this is rather unexpected.”

“I have important matters to discuss with you lord stark, involving the oath you swore to my mother.”

You are dismissed from the room to allow the men to talk though you almost wish to plead to stay so you can bask in jacaerys presence for a bit longer. You do not and are instead left to pace back and forth in the courtyard near the hall as Eliza attempts to urge you to sit down. “You will hurt your feet-” “do you think he remembers me?” “it clearly looked like he remembered you my lady please sit-” “whatever could he possibly be here for, eliza do you think he is betrothed.” “What does that have to do with his visit here?” you groan and run your hands along your face. You had thought you had gotten over him, but once you had seen him you once again felt like a lovesick fool just like when you were a child. He could not possibly be here for you right? No he had mentioned some oath your brother had sworn to his mother. The one thing you hated about winterfell was how hard it was to hear any news about what was going on with the royal family simply for the reason news took far too long to reach winterfell and by the time it did it was old news. You had heard nothing about jacaerys all these years or even the rest of the family. Other than of course the marriage between prince daemon and princess rhaenyra and the death of ser leanor which also pained you dearly. You worried for him.

In your pacing the doors to the hall open and Cregan and jacaerys walk out together with smiles on their faces as they joked around a bit together. Once they shall you they both paused and you watched patiently as Cregan said somethings to jacaerys who nodded before walking away leading jacaerys to come towards you.

“I am told you will show me around?” your brother and his meddling,, though this time you were more than happy and eagerly nodded. You wave away Eliza with that smug grin on her face as you begin to walk him around. Other than the occasional comment from you about where you were, the walk you share is quiet. It feels oddly reminiscent of when harwin has shown you around the keep, with your hands folded in front of you and you can see him glancing at you out of the corner of your eye and he looks away once you look at him.

The two of you now stand in the crypts of winterfell, completely alone so you feel brave enough to tease him “You have not changed.” he laughs and looks at the ground, “or maybe you just make me feel like a young boy again.” feeling bold you lightly place your hand on his forearm causing him to look up at you. “I have missed you, ja- my prince.” as if your words had brought a sense of relief to him he wraps you in a big hug. His head tucked firmly in your neck as he deeply breathed in your neck. “I have missed you more than you know y/n” you two stand there for you have no clue how long, simply basking in each other's presence you do not even notice you begin to cry. “Jacaerys,,,” “I know Issa prūmia. I'm sorry I was so upset to leave you.” you whine as he pulls away from you and cups your face to wipe away your tears. “I begged my mother to send you to Dragonstone, I had no clue how to write to you gods, I was so worried I would never see you again. I had even planned for one day to fly out here myself, I guess my wish came true though I wish it were with better circumstances.”

You sniffle and smile at him. He wanted to contact you, he had dreamed of seeing you the way you had him. He presses his forehead against yours and sighs, still rubbing his thumbs over your cheeks. “Avy jorrāelan” he mumbles to you before he pulls away. You had remembered him mentioning he wanted to become fluent in valyrian and had plans for you to learn alongside him once he began to study but due to the circumstances you never had learned any. You don't ask him what it means though you are curious he would tell you if he wanted to.

“We should continue your tour.”

Suddenly you feel as though you were eight again. Chatting with jacaerys just like when you were younger, showing him around where you grew up and he was more than happy to hear you rant about winterfell. Once the tour is finished you guide him back to the main hall where a feast had been prepared for him. He appeared shocked by this, “you shouldn't have lord stark.” “we have a prince in our mists, we must honor you.” he shakes his head and you laugh. The three of you head to the main table and take a seat. “When you mentioned it earlier I had forgotten to extend my congratulations about the betrothal-” “I am not betrothed.” jacaerys rushed out and looked at cregan alarmed. He took a glance at you as well before looking back at cregan, “I meant your brother.” jacaerys lets out an oh and looks down at the plate in front of him as you try your best not to laugh. “Yes, I am very happy for him, my lord.” “But you are not betrothed? Is there a reason?” you hold your breath as cregan asks the question you had in mind. He pauses for a moment and glances at you once more before looking at cregan. “I,, have had a lady in mind since I was younger though I do not know if she likes me as well or if even her brother would approve.” you look down at your plate and freeze as cregan roars with laughter, you do not even glance up at the two of them as you feel jacaerys stare burn into the side of your head.

he must be talking about you. You are not stupid. Your heart is pounding out of your chest. Despite this being all you have ever wanted it feels so sudden. So you stand up and do not even notice the alarmed faces on cregan and jacaerys face as you rush out of the hall and even out of the walls of winterfell it all feeling so constricting. You run for a while while your head spins. You had just gone from dreaming of seeing the prince again to him basically asking for your brother's permission to wed you? You finally feel as though you are far enough and lean against a tree, your breath rapid as you close your eyes. You do not know how long you stand there, lost in your thoughts but it is certainly long enough for you to clear your head a bit. You loved him. Your time spent together today showed you clearly still did, that time has not changed you or him one bit. More so a part of you was scared of the reality of it, if you were to marry him you would one day be queen. Even the thought of marriage and motherhood terrified you, what of being the wife of the man ruling the seven kingdoms?

You hear a loud snarl and your eyes shoot open and you see a sight you know you haven't seen in over a decade. If you had thought he was big as a child he was truly terrifying now. Vermax stared at you as you were frozen where you stood. Every bone in your body shouted for you to yell but it was like the ground under you had turned into quicksand and you were stuck in your spot.

“Gīda ilagon vermax!” a voice cuts through your thoughts and suddenly jacaerys is standing between you and vermax. “Ziry iksos naejot sagon issa ābrazȳrys, ao jāhor daor ōdrikagon zȳhon” you have no clue what he says but it seems to work and vermax huffs in defeat and deflated to laying down on the floor simply staring at the two of you. Once vermax has settled jace makes his way over to you and cups your face feverishly checking you, “are you alright my lady?” “im okay im okay i promise.” he lets out a sigh of relief and presses your head to his shoulder, pulling you into a hug. He seems so worried and guilt begins to build up in your stomach. “I'm sorry.” “you have nothing to apologize for-” “i should not have run out of the room like that.”

He pauses for a moment, seemingly unsure of what to say as he continues to slowly rub your back. “If what i had said in there made you unforgettable, I'm sorry forget i had even said anything. Please just don't let this ruin the friendship we have built. I will get over it if I must."He's given you an out, you could say you did not feel the same and you would not have to worry about one day being queen or one day having to be a mother to the future heir, but you wanted him. You wanted so desperately to be his wife, “I am scared.” He pulls away from you and holds your face to look at him. “Of what?” “that i will be a bad wife, a bad queen, a bad mother-” “i will not pressure you to say yes but just know i know that you could never be any of those things. You have every right to worry, be nervous of what's to come but dare I tell you I am afraid too. When my mother was on her birthing bed, covered in blood and sweat looking as if she was about to die she had said I will claim any inheritance that she has and it terrified me. Not only for the thoughts of my mother dying but I am no way prepared to be king. But that is what time is for, i shall learn, you shall learn lest you allow it, but just know you are not the only one who is scared. But I will be there for you every step of the way should you want me to.”

You swear you had never seen someone look at you with so much love in their heart as jacaerys had been right this moment. You knew the words he said to you were true, the spoken and unspoken promises he swore to you he would fulfill until the day he died. The unspoken truth, those three simple words. “I love you.” they fall off your lips so easily it is as if you were born to say them, say them to him. And you swear you had never seen him look so happy as he did when he heard you say that, “Avy jorrāelan.” I love you. He had told you that earlier that day. He had always loved you. So when the two of you walked back into the main hall which was dead quiet, everyone including your brother looked upon the two of you eagerly and when jacaerys nodded at cregan the hall erupted into cheers.

The feast quickly turned into a celebration as people came up to congratulate the two of you and many more would have until you announced you would be going to see and jacaerys said he would walk you to your room leading you to dodge the look cregan had on his face.

“You have made me the happiest man in all the realms today, y/n” soon enough the two of you are standing face to face for a while just admiring each other before you take a step back towards the door. “I should head to bed.” “Of course.” Neither of you move to leave, he continues to stare at you and you end up leaning against your room door. “Would,” you pause, contemplating if you truly wish to push your limits like this, but fuck it. “Would you like to come in?” “i shouldn't.” he takes a step closer to you as you open your door and take a step inside he follows you right after, the look on his face unreadable as you smile and step further into the room until you are both in, simply just staring at one another you barely notice he closes the door and takes a long step towards you and pulls you into a heated kiss.

Almost ten years of build up to this moment and it was completely worth it. He cups your jaw and feverishly pushes his lips against yours, your hands grip his hips and he walks you back until you fall back onto your bed with a squeal. You wanted to comment that he could have warned you but he quickly climbs on top of you and continues kissing you. “We shouldn't be doing this.” he mumbles against your lips as he lazily begins to grind his hips into yours and you moan. “You're right we shouldn't.'' Instead of doing anything about it his hands begin to rub up and down your sides as he lips fall down your jaw and begin sloppily sucking on your neck. His thrusts grow quicker and more erratic by the second and your clothes suddenly feel as though they are burning your skin. “Undress me.” He wastes no time pulling and tugging at your dress until he is able to slide it down your body until you are bare before him and he stares at you with wonder. “Gevie” his hands run all over your body as he begins to kiss any inch of skin he can get his hands on, worshiping you as if you were a god sent down to him to bless him. Soon enough you are begging him to do something, though you have no clue what you are begging for, you do not know anything about what goes in bed between a man and a woman other than he sticks his cock in and you come out pregnant as told by your brother when you asked him. He sits up and begins to tug off his clothes, giving you a look of worry. “I am sorry if this will not be good. I do not know what I am doing.” “Neither do I, but we’ll learn together, isn't that what you said?” “It seems I did.” he slides the rest of his clothes off and kisses you once, one of his hands slides down and cups your sex causing you to gasp, “is this alright?” your head begins to spin as he rubs two of his fingers up and down, the squelching sound being covered up by your moan. “It is more than alright.” he has a satisfied look on his face as he continues soon adding another finger, you are so wet at this point you would not be shocked if there was a pool under your legs. If this was sinful than you shall be a sinner for life because you have never felt a greater pleasure than you had right this second.

“Can I put them in you?” “please.” Your plea is desperate as your body begins to crave more from him. He slides a finger in you and he lets out an estranged noise while you continue to moan. “You are so tight.” one finger soon turns into two which turns into three. He cannot get enough of the way you grip his fingers so tightly he believes if he were a weaker man he would not be able to pull them out of you. Though he is not confident, the way you moan, groan and plead for him to do what you are not even sure of and beg for some sort of release encourages him to be bolder, curl his fingers and begin to pump faster. He had never been so unbold, he is usually a very thoughtful man, someone who plans out his moves before doing them, unless he is blinded by rage which happens more than he would like, but with you he loses all his senses and acts in ways he swears he never would have before. He finds himself doing things he is unsure of including trying to pleasure you, though it seems to be working in his favor and you release all over his fingers.

You notice that he seems to be pausing, holding off on taking your maidenhood and you question him. “What if I am no good?” “Then as I said and as you said, we shall learn, together.”

You ignore the nerves you feel as he slowly begins to press into you and it hurts, it hurts like hell but you're sure if you wait it out it will be worth it. He laces his fingers with yours and allows you to grip his hand tightly as he works himself all the way in, “are you alright?” you take many deep breaths once he has fully pushed himself into you, “just give me a moment.” “Take as long as you need.” He kisses your collarbone and neck lightly as if his lips were feathers on your skin as he waits for you to give him the okay.

He hides it well but he is barely containing himself, your walls hugged him so tightly he feared that when you did give him the okay he would not be able to pull himself out of you. He loved you. He loved the way you felt, he loved that troubled look on your face, he loved the way your hands felt in his. He loved you so much he felt he could not breathe. Once you gave him the okay it took him a couple moments to compose himself before he began to move. With every thrust he imagined his future with you, he imagined taking you back to dragonstone to have a traditional Targaryen wedding, he imagined you round with his child who would be his heir, he imagined growing older with you and ruling by your side. Despite his fears about the upcoming war or his future he knew he could do anything as long as you stayed with him. He loves you, and he knew you did too as you allowed him to spill his speed in your and seal your union with a kiss.

Valyrian translations (all made with a translator i have no clue if these are correct)

Issa prūmia - my heart

Avy jorrāelan - i love you

Gīda ilagon - calm down

Ziry iksos naejot sagon issa ābrazȳrys, ao jāhor daor ōdrikagon zȳhon - she is to be my wife you will not harm her

Gevie - Beautiful

[edenesth]

The Way to His Heart [14]

Pairing: general!Seonghwa x wife!reader

AU: arranged marriage au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 3.8k

Summary: Life has been hell ever since your mother's passing many years ago. Despite being from a prominent family, you've never received the privileges associated with it. It only got worse with the arrival of your stepmother and her daughters. When the intimidating General Park was in search of a wife, your father seized the opportunity to dispose of you, simultaneously securing a connection with the powerful general—killing two birds with one stone.

Part 13 | Fic Masterlist | Part 15

"J-Jinjoo? Is that you?"

Your breath caught in your throat as you observed the scars scattered across her body, wounds that hadn't been there the last time you saw her. The severity of her punishment was evident, and judging by the marks, it seemed unlikely they would fade anytime soon, if ever.

The younger girl smirked bitterly, "Are you happy now? All five of us have been beaten nearly to death, left with scars that will likely never fully heal in this lifetime. Mother will serve until the day she dies, and the three of us will pay for a good chunk of our lives!"

As if anticipating your inquiry about the former minister, she shook her head and balled her fists, "Father has endured enough beatings and torture to render him almost paralysed, and guess what? He's been exiled to god knows where. If you want more details, perhaps you should ask your husband about it."

Your heart sank at the mention of Seonghwa, "Wh-what do you mean? Your punishments were determined by His Majesty. Why would my husband be involved—"

She scoffed incredulously, "Did you truly forget who General Park really is? He sat back and enjoyed the show while we suffered, allowing the torture to happen. That absolute monster—he did this to us; he ruined our lives forever. I mean, sure, we weren't great to you either, but look at you now, Lady Park. It's all thanks to us that you're who you are today."

Noting your silence, she continued with a sly edge, "Though I wouldn't celebrate too soon if I were you. Who's to say when he'll show his true colours once he's grown tired of you?"

Before you could respond, Hongjoong appeared at your side, his tone laced with disbelief, "Worry about yourself first, peasant. Oh, the audacity of this young lady. Do you even realise who you're addressing? How dare you try to twist this around and play the victim? You and your family got what you deserved. Count yourself lucky that you're still alive and well, hm?"

The dressmaker turned to signal the factory owner and the elderly man immediately rushed over anxiously, "S-sir, what brings you to this part of the factory? P-please, allow me to escort you out."

Halting the man, Hongjoong gestured towards your stepsister, "This one right here was being disrespectful to Lady Park. Would you mind teaching her a good lesson for me? Otherwise, I may have to reconsider our choice of fabric supplier."

Suddenly realising her mistake, Jinjoo trembled like a leaf under the owner's stern gaze. He bowed repeatedly at you and your friend, "O-of course, sir! Rest assured, I'll ensure she never forgets her manners again. You have my word!"

As Hongjoong guided you out of the store, you remained silent, your thoughts swirling from the disturbing revelation that the general had been involved in the punishments of your family.

Walking alongside the dressmaker, the weight of the revelation bore down on you like a suffocating blanket. The image of Seonghwa, once your loving husband, now tainted with the sinister aura of someone who could watch others suffer without flinching, haunted your thoughts. Sure, you were there to witness him extracting the confession from your father, but you never fathomed that he would actually be involved in the subsequent punishment.

Your stepsister's words echoed in your mind, stirring up a cocktail of dread and uncertainty. Could it be true? Have you really forgotten the true nature of General Park? The man you had once trusted implicitly now appeared in a new, unsettling light. The realisation sent shivers down your spine as you contemplated the implications.

Fear gnawed at your insides as you entertained the chilling possibility that if he could inflict such cruelty upon your family, what would stop him from doing the same to you if ever he grew displeased? The thought sent a chill down your spine, leaving you questioning everything you once believed about the man you loved.

Throughout the remainder of the day, you remained unusually quiet, your thoughts clearly elsewhere. Hongjoong opted not to pry, deciding to wait until you were back within the safety of your home before broaching the subject. Despite his efforts to lighten the mood and draw a smile from you, it seemed futile. He was acutely aware of the impact Jinjoo's words must have had on you, especially given your delicate emotional state. After enduring years of mistreatment, he could see how trusting others fully must be an immense challenge.

Later that evening as you sat down for dinner together, he finally broke the silence, setting down his chopsticks with a sigh, "What's on your mind, Lady Park? You know you can talk to me, right?"

You paused at his question, pondering whether to confide in him about your inner turmoil. How would he respond? Would he be disappointed in you? After all, the general was his close friend. It seemed likely he would take Seonghwa's side and defend him. Though your husband hadn't given you any reason to doubt his affection thus far, his decision to hide this information from you must carry some significance.

"It's nothing, Hongjoong. Maybe I'm just feeling a bit weary after our day out," You mumbled, resuming your meal and hurriedly stuffing more food into your mouth to avoid conversation. He frowned at your behaviour and gently intervened, placing a hand on yours, "Hey, hey, slow down. The food isn't going anywhere; it's all yours."

With his arms crossed over his chest, he shook his head disapprovingly, "Who are you trying to fool with that lie? You might be able to deceive anyone, even your dumb husband, but not me. You were perfectly fine until you ran into your... into her."

You froze, caught red-handed in your attempt to deflect. You should have known better than to think you could fool Hongjoong with such a feeble excuse. Instead of scolding you, he softened, uncrossing his arms and leaning in, his eyes full of understanding.

"Listen, I'm sorry I wasn't there by your side to defend you earlier. I should have prevented all of that from happening today; it's entirely my fault. When I heard what she said to you, I knew it would affect you. And now, seeing you like this, I can tell I was right. Don't you dare believe any of her ridiculous words, you hear me?"

Setting down your chopsticks shakily, you turned to face him, despair etched clearly on your features, "But Hongjoong, what if there's truth in what she was saying? Wh-what if he eventually grows tired of me? Will I end up suffering like all of them too?"

The dressmaker didn't have the heart to berate you, understanding your doubts despite the internal frustration he felt at your stepsister for undoing all the trust you had in Seonghwa with just a few words.

He released a deep breath and offered a smile, "Have you forgotten everything I've told you about how he's different when it comes to you? He would never do anything to hurt you; I can vouch for him. As ruthless as General Park can be, he reserves that side only for those who deserve it. Your family deserves every bit of the punishment they received for the harm they caused you. You shouldn't feel any guilt for them, you know?"

Hongjoong leaned in closer, his tone softening, "Trust me, she's just jealous of you. It's obvious she's envious of the life you have now, and she's intentionally trying to stir up trouble between you and your husband. Don't let her get to you. You and Seonghwa have something special, something she'll never understand."

As his words sank in, you felt a slight sense of relief wash over you. It did make sense that Jinjoo would resort to such tactics out of jealousy. After all, her resentment towards you had always been evident. You felt ashamed for entertaining the possibility of your husband hurting you when he had only ever been good towards you.

However, the memory of the scars on your stepsister's body lingered in your mind, knowing the ones on your father and stepmother were even worse than what you've seen. While you recognised that your family deserved the consequences of their actions, the realisation that Seonghwa had played a part in their suffering made you feel sick to your stomach. Your emotions were in disarray; it was difficult to act nonchalant after learning the unsettling truth.

Despite the turmoil raging within you like a storm, you didn't want to add to your friend's concerns. Putting on a smile, you nodded, "You're right, Hongjoong. I must be silly to let her words affect me like this." You forced a light chuckle and went back to your meal, hoping to change the subject.

Though the dressmaker felt somewhat reassured that you acknowledged his advice, he sensed you were still troubled by what you had learned. He could only hope that with time, you would be able to move past Jinjoo's words. The last thing Seonghwa needed upon his return from war was to find his beloved wife fearful of him.

Damnit, I shouldn't have taken her there.

"General Park hasn't arrived yet, you say? Well, who would have thought he'd become such a loving husband? This Lady Park must be quite remarkable for him to—"

Rolling his eyes, the general heard the familiar deep voice gossiping about him from outside the main tent, where meetings would take place. With a loud clear of his throat, he pulled open the flap and entered, his presence immediately causing everyone in the room to straighten up, "I'm here now, Mingi. It would be great if you could cease your idle chatter and get to work at once."

"S-sir! It's been a while, you look good—"

"Save it, Officer Song."

Acknowledging the command with a salute, the taller man swiftly proceeded to the central table, laying out numerous documents detailing the strategies he had developed, "Yes sir, here are some of the plans I've drafted thus far."

Seonghwa nodded approvingly and approached him. As he listened to his colleague's explanations, a satisfied smirk graced his lips, affirming his keen judgement in promoting the right individual.

General Officer Song had risen to become one of the most esteemed military strategists in Joseon, all thanks to General Park's recommendation. Your husband was notoriously difficult to impress, but Mingi's exceptional talents caught his attention during a particularly challenging battle many years ago. Despite being a mere low-ranking soldier at the time, he devised a brilliant plan that ultimately turned the odds in their favour, leading to an epic victory.

"Ruhon is known to be rash in their decision-making; their impulsiveness is evident in their sudden attack plans," The taller man explained, his fingers tracing over strategic points on the map, "We can capitalise on this by striking where they least expect us. Through my research, I've identified blind spots that will catch them off guard. May I have authorisation to deploy troops to these locations, sir?"

The general nodded decisively, "I have faith in your judgement, Officer Song. You've never let me down in all our years together; I'm confident this time will be no exception."

"Thank you, sir."

Once all the necessary arrangements had been finalised and everyone had been briefed on their roles, the meeting came to an end. While the other officers and soldiers hurried off to relay the information discussed and carry out their assigned duties, Officer Song lingered behind, sharing a knowing look with the general.

Taking a seat beside the person he considered his friend and mentor, Mingi offered a genuine smile, "Congratulations on your recent marriage, hyung-nim."

Returning the smile, Seonghwa gave the taller man a pat on the back, "Thank you, Mingi-yah. I hope you've been well these past few years. Once this is all over, might I hear news of your own wedding?"

Blushing faintly, the strategist shook his head, "Unfortunately, I haven't found my one yet. But I am happy for you, general. Everyone in Joseon seems to know about your new wife and her difficult past. I'm just glad you found each other. I heard you were granted a few days with Lady Park before coming here. How is she holding up?"

The mention of his wife brought a pang of discomfort, evoking memories of your heartbreaking farewell. Throughout his journey to the war site, your husband couldn't shake the image of your tear-stained face, "She's... she's handling it better than I expected, or maybe that's just what she's showing me. When I told her about my departure, she didn't break down. Instead, she smiled at me with understanding and simply asked when I would be leaving."

"Huh, did she really?" Mingi mused, a hint of admiration in his tone, "I suppose now I understand why you're so smitten with her. It seems she's truly as delightful as the rumours claimed." Even from the snippets of what he had heard, the strategist could tell that Lady Park was indeed an extraordinary person, and he could see why Seonghwa held you in such high regard.

With a nod, the general's expression grew sombre, "Indeed, she truly is. But I won't lie and say I'm not worried about her," He admitted, "When she first arrived, I treated her poorly. I mistook her for just another spoiled brat, only to learn she's suffered a life far worse than mine. I'll never forgive myself for that. From that moment on, I vowed to give her nothing but the best. You know, I had plans for a grand wedding, a chance to make up for everything..."

Officer Song's face mirrored your husband's solemnity as realisation dawned, "Then this war happened..."

"Yeah, but that's not all," Seonghwa continued, his voice heavy with worry, "I just... God, what if I don't return to her? I've only just found her..."

Bowing his head, the general felt overwhelmed by his concerns. Mingi placed a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder, "Have you forgotten who you are? You're General Park of Joseon, the King's most trusted warrior. If anyone can make it out of this war unscathed, it would be you. Trust me, you will make it back to Lady Park. And you better invite me to that wedding of yours." The strategist said, his words laced with a touch of humour.

Despite the weight of his worries, your husband chuckled softly, nodding gratefully at the reassurance, "Of course, Mingi."

Before the two could continue their conversation, a soldier barged into the tent, panting heavily, "General Park! Some of Ruhon's troops have been spotted approaching. We need you out there!"

Alright, let's get this over with.

Meanwhile, back in the general's estate, you found yourself in your usual spot in the pavilion. Lady etiquette books lay scattered around, forgotten as your gaze drifted distantly over the tranquil lotus pond.

Regardless of the overwhelming emotions that had consumed you the day before upon learning the truth about your family's punishments, you couldn't deny the longing in your heart for Seonghwa's presence. Being alone in the pavilion now felt even lonelier than before. Accustomed to his warm embrace, his absence left a void that seemed impossible to fill.

However, as you contemplated the absence of your husband's comforting presence, conflicting emotions surged within you.

No matter how hard you tried, you simply couldn't shake the unsettling realisation that the same hands that held you close were also stained with the blood of countless others. Hongjoong's reassurances echoed in your mind, yet a nagging doubt persisted. While he assured you that the general would never harm you, your moral compass grappled with the knowledge that he was capable of inflicting pain without hesitation, regardless of justification.

It just felt so... wrong.

"Ah, is this the famous lotus pond you've mentioned, Miss Jang?" The unexpected voice startled you out of your thoughts. Turning to confirm your suspicions, you let out a loud gasp at the sight of the fourth prince standing before you.

You scrambled to your feet immediately, performing the formal bow, "Y-your Highness! What brings you here?"

Rushing up behind Yeosang, the head maid panted heavily, bowing deeply before you and shooting an apologetic glance, "Mistress, I am so sorry for not alerting you of our guest! His Highness showed up spontaneously without making an appointment prior and wouldn't allow any of us to announce his arrival."

Eunsook nearly had a heart attack when one of the maids informed her that the prince had arrived unannounced, waiting to be greeted at the entrance of the estate. Jongho was absent, having gone out with a few other servants to replenish household essentials. Rushing over, she found that Yeosang had insisted on surprising you personally, leaving her flustered and anxious. With her master now at war, it was evident to her that His Highness was attempting to make an advance on you.

The prince couldn't help but grin at how adorably confused and caught off guard you looked, "Yes, that's right. I wanted to surprise you, Miss Jang. Are you surprised?"

Quickly regaining your composure and summoning the poise of a noblewoman, you nodded, "I guess I am, Your Highness," You said before turning to dismiss the elderly woman with an assuring smile, "It's alright, Eunsook. I was growing slightly bored anyway. Come, Prince Yeosang, let me show you around, and you can tell me why you've decided to pay us a surprise visit."

Recalling his fondness for flowers, you led him through the winding paths of the estate's gardens, each turn revealing a new burst of colour and fragrance. Sunlight danced through the leaves, casting dappled patterns on the well-tended flowerbeds, "Now, I know our humble garden obviously cannot compare to the ones in the palace, but I am very proud of our servants' hard work. What do you think, Your Highness?"

While your eyes remained fixed on the colourful flowers, the prince's gaze was captivated by you, his admiring gaze lingering on your graceful movements amidst the blooms.

"I agree; I think it's absolutely enchanting. While it may be humble, it surpasses the beauty of any of the palace's gardens." He remarked, his words carrying a subtle double meaning. He wondered if you could discern the implied compliment; he was indirectly comparing you to the royals in the palace. In his eyes, you outshone any of his sisters, his father's concubines, and all the potential candidates ever presented to him.

Yeosang found himself torn between amusement and slight disappointment as you appeared genuinely oblivious to the deeper meaning of his words. Your reply, however, pleased him, "Thank you, Your Highness. It seems you have good taste," You attempted a joke. Fortunately, he laughed in response, "I think I do too, my lady."

He halted his steps and turned to you, "I have a question," He said, and you nodded, encouraging him to continue, "Go on. Ask away, Your Highness."

"Even with all these beautiful flowers here, is your favourite still the lotus?" Your heart skipped a beat at the mention of the lotus, a symbol closely tied to memories of your husband. Determined not to show any hint of turmoil, you nodded and answered steadily, "Of course, my prince."

The prince kept his smile intact, "Hmm, I see. Is it solely because the general dedicated a pond full of them to you?"

When you remained silent, he clarified, "What I mean is, if you had the freedom to choose, which flower would truly be your favourite? Instead of accepting what's given to you, I believe you should have the right to make your own choice." It was another subtle suggestion that you should be able to choose your own path, including your life partner, rather than conforming to arrangements made for you.

It appeared that you had grasped the underlying meaning of his words this time. You blinked rapidly as you gathered your thoughts before letting out a chuckle, "Ah, I suppose that hadn't crossed my mind," Shifting the topic, you continued, "Anyway, let us move on from idle chatter. Why don't you enlighten me on the purpose of your surprise visit, Your Highness? With my husband away, I'm unsure if there's anything I can assist you with."

Sensing your slight discomfort, Yeosang decided to get straight to the point, "Right, I'm aware General Park is currently away, bravely fighting for our country. That's precisely why I'm here—I was hoping you would be able to represent him at my upcoming birthday banquet. Her Majesty, the Queen, has also expressed her desire to meet you in person."

Your eyes widened at that, "Sh-she has?"

« Preview of Part 15 »

Feeling like you were left with little choice but to agree, you accepted the prince's invitation to his upcoming birthday banquet, scheduled just a week away.

Since bidding him goodbye, you had confined yourself to Seonghwa's study, burying yourself in your studies. The weight of the upcoming royal event weighed heavily on you. It would mark your debut in royal circles, and facing it without your husband by your side added to your nerves. Could anyone fault you for feeling anxious?

You contemplated seeking help. While Eunsook was supportive, her knowledge of palace affairs was limited. Would Hongjoong or Yunho be able to offer insight? Perhaps Jongho, with his years of service to the general, might have some valuable advice.

A light bulb went off in your head when you remembered San, the King's royal secretary. Surely, he would be the most knowledgeable about the matters you needed help with. However, your enthusiasm waned when you realised you had no means of reaching out to him. Moreover, you doubted he would have time to spare for a little woman like you, given his busy schedule.

Palming your forehead tiredly, you suddenly noticed a shadowy figure loitering suspiciously outside the study. Their silhouette, visible through the paper walls, didn't resemble anyone familiar, and it sent a shiver down your spine. If it had been one of the estate staff, they usually would have announced themselves.

Jumping to your feet, you instinctively grabbed the inkstone from Seonghwa's desk, preparing to defend yourself. With cautious steps, you approached the entrance where the unknown person lingered, apparently trying to catch a glimpse of you, "Who's there? I know you're not one of my staff. If you do not reveal yourself, I won't hesitate to hurt you!"

Your yelp escaped when the individual abruptly swung the door open in response to your words, "Woah woah, it's just me!" He reassured, causing you to pause with the stone halfway raised as you blinked in recognition, "O-oh, it's you..."

Scratching the back of his neck sheepishly, he apologised, "I'm sorry for startling you, Lady Park. In case you forgot, my name is Wooyoung. I'm here on the general's orders to assist you should you need anything."

Dun dun dunnn! Wonder what Prince Yeosang has up his sleeves heeheeee anyway, I just wanted to tell y'all that I'm about to have another crazy week ahead. So, like this part, the next one is probably gonna take a while too😭

Also, Happy Lunar New Year to those of you who celebrate it! As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

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[luneboop]

₊ ⊹ 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓈𝑜𝓊𝓁'𝓈 𝓅𝓊𝓇𝓅𝑜𝓈𝑒?

✶ deck(s) used: wild unknown tarot and woodland wardens oracle deck.

remember to use your intuition and leave the messages behind that don't resonate.

𝓅𝒾𝓁𝑒 1 - country house

I was blown away by how strong this pile was. And I’m not just talking about physical strength because this isn’t about that. This energy that I felt has got so much to do with your mental and emotional strength. This pile was giving me heavy warrior vibes for some reason, regardless of your gender. This was because I got the feeling that most of you are truly wise souls that have learnt so much in your past lifetimes and this one too.

Have trust in your intuition is another message I got. Some of you may doubt your intuition but have faith that it’s stronger than you think it is. You may be able to predict things, being able to foresee things before they happen, therefore this gives you the ability to move on from situations quicker and perhaps even easier than others. It’s not only because of your intuition that you’re able to do this — you have the ability to see things from a more positive perspective. You see challenges as opportunities for growth and that is why you appreciate life for the way it is. You embrace all parts of it, the good and the bad. You may be also quite tactical and reliable because of this too. This pile has gone through a lot but somehow you were always able to come out on the other side, wounded but still strong and standing. It’s beautiful really, and people are always amazed at how resilient your spirit is. Because of this strong energy, you may inspire others and this may be part of your soul’s purpose - to inspire others to ‘rise up from the ashes’ in a way and guide them to change. Almost like a life coach, if you will. 

Your presence provides a safe space for people to be themselves in their most vulnerable state, to be able to learn from you as well. You may naturally have leadership qualities too because of your wise and strong soul. A lot of your soul’s purpose is to truly experience life for the way it is.

𝓅𝒾𝓁𝑒 2 - cherry blossom tree

There is some disconnect between your true essence and your exterior currently, pile number 2. The cards have shown me that you’ve gone through so much loss and heartbreak that I’m not even surprised that you feel the need to have a wall around you, to protect your heart. To retreat. But that’s not who you truly are, isn’t it? And I can tell that you guys know that it isn’t but you can’t help it, you just don't want to feel that hurt again. 

You are naturally very artistic, you’re able to make something out of nothing, even when it comes to manifestation. You are very gentle when you’re in your true essence, very soft, very vulnerable. But because of the things you’ve gone through, you may have a lack of boundaries with people or people may have taken advantage of your kind, empathetic nature, making you feel very guarded and defensive. You have a beautiful, vivid imagination, pile number 2 and once you’ve tapped into this energy, you’re going to be able to channel this into creating something. Everything we create from our hearts is art, whether that be writing, baking, singing, dancing, painting, etc. these are all forms of art so no matter what you’re naturally drawn to, once you’ve truly tapped into your heart centre and open it up just a little more, you’re going to feel so much more aligned with your purpose and you’re able to manifest the things that make you truly complete. 

Allow yourself to be vulnerable, allow yourself to be loved again, pile number 2. You will feel in your element once there is a connection between your heart and your soul’s purpose, you just need to have faith in love again.

𝓅𝒾𝓁𝑒 3 - beautiful berries

For some reason before I started shuffling the cards for this deck, I got such a happy grin on my face, and I immediately understood why — this pile is vibrant, outgoing and just… refreshing. 

You may approach life with a certain kind of innocence but not in a naïve kind of way but in a way that makes you feel truly excited to experience everything and anything. Even if you don’t feel that way now, that is what your soul is truly craving for. By experiencing everything, it boosts your confidence, fueling your zest for life. I was also being drawn to say that you should have the confidence to be the naturally adventurous, curious person that you are as it replenishes your life energy. You must learn to build on your self-confidence because this path that you walk is going to be met with a lot of resistance and judgement from others and society in general, which is why I was being drawn to say that this path you’ve chosen is one that is completely unique to you and that you shouldn’t be afraid to immerse yourself in it. Really. Just follow your heart and see where it leads you, pile number 3.

At times it might get a bit lonely but trust that once you step into that energy of your higher purpose, that you will start to attract like-minded people and leave those behind that don’t see what you see. No one is supposed to tie you down emotionally in that way, you’re supposed to be free, almost like a little bird. Release any past beliefs, everything that people have imposed onto you, as these are the things that are holding you back. Romanticize your life and see how beautiful life can be. You may be attracted to pursue a lot of things too. Pick something that makes you feel happy and free and it will always lead you to your highest good, pile number 3, just have faith and keep shining brightly<3