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krys4h · 28 days ago

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𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐄 ☆

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

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

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𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 – 𝐣𝐡𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐢𝐤𝐨

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𖥸

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

𖥸

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s here.”

Her usually always smiling, sweet face frowned.

"Who?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you doing here?”

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

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

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

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

“What the…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I didn't come to ask your opinion.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

────୨ৎ────

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐰𝐬 – 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫

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𖥸

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You should work instead and-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Are you sure?" you asked, frowning.

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

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

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

“For what reason?”

“…”

You shifted, uncomfortably.

“Sae m…”

“SAE?!”

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

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

Her eyes shining with excitement made you feel sick.

“This will be a chance to make up.”

“Mom.”

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

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

𖥸

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

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

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

"Diplomacy is not his strong point."

You chuckled.

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

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

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

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

“I can’t wait, everything’s ready!”

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

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

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

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

You giggled.

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

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

“Hello?”

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

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

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

“…”

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

“I’m all alone, you can talk to me.”

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

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

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

“Really?”

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

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

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

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

“Maybe he just wanted to see you.”

“Have you been drinking?”

He let out a small chuckle.

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

“Why did you call me Rin?”

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

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

You soften.

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

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

“I’m just trying to protect you.”

“I know,” he sighed.

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

“I will, don’t worry Rin.”

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

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

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

────୨ৎ────

𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 – 𝐣𝐡𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐢𝐤𝐨

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𖥸

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

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

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

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

You rolled your eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Spain?”

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

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

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

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

The surety in his voice hurt your heart.

“I won’t be a failure.”

“You already are.”

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

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

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

“Liar.”

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

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

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

"You will be my guest of honor."

He chuckled.

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

His gaze darkened.

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

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

“It’s just...”

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

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

“Right?”

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

“...”

A breeze of wind passed between the two of you.

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

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

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

𖥸

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

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

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

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

“Are you here yet?”

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

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

"Whoever you want it to be, ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚?"

You tensed up.

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

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

“I thought I had you blocked.”

“I guess you didn’t.”

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

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

He huffed.

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

"That doesn't answer my second question."

"There were no questions in your sentence."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Do you want to visit Madrid with me?"

You nearly swallowed your saliva the wrong way.

"W-What?"

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

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

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

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

𖥸

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

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

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

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

𖥸

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You forget that you're Japanese too."

He rolled his eyes.

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

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

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

"Sae."

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

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

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

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

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

"Skewers or olives?"

You groaned, fed up with his behavior.

"Sae!"

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

𖥸

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

"Life is full of surprises."

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

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

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

"It's natural."

You rolled your eyes.

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

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

"Really?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

────୨ৎ────

𝐩𝐫��𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐭 – 𝟐𝟏 𝐬𝐚𝐯𝐚𝐠𝐞

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𖥸

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’ll never guess what happened yesterday?”

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

You chuckled, rolling your eyes.

“Worse than that.”

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

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

“Yeah, I don’t know what to think?”

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

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

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

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

You freeze.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You started laughing again, finding her idea absurd.

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

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

𖥸

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you drunk?”

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

“I’m not into that.”

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

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

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

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

“Sae, we have to talk.”

“About what?”

“Us.”

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

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

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

You rolled your eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

Your heart skipped a beat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I need a reason for that?”

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

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

Another missed heartbeat.

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

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

“I’m lost, Sae.”

“That’s because you’re stupid.”

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

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

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

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

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

“And what if that was the case?”

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

“Don’t...”

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

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

“It’s me, can I help you?”

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

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

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

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

𖥸

Your mind was dizzy.

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

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

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

"Sae, what are you.."

You had so many things to ask him.

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

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

"Did you just..."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sae, I…”

He turned around, his usual impassive face.

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

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

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

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

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

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

────୨ৎ────

𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐞 - 𝐥𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐣𝐢

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

𖥸

𝐒𝐀𝐄’𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐖

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

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

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

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

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

"So..."

"Yeah?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She frowned.

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

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

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

She lowered her head, looking at her water bottle.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He shook his head gently.

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

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

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

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

His face was inches from hers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

𝐎𝐌𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐖

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I still think you were asshole that day.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Idiot.”

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

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

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

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

“Will you let me resolve us?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t do that to me, Sae.”

“Do what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You didn’t respond.”

“At what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You leaned down, your lips near his ears.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sit on you?”

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

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

“You want me to ride you?”

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

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

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

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

He scoffed and grabbed your hips.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You chuckled.

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

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

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

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

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

“I missed you.”

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

He closed his eyes.

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

𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄

────୨ৎ────

𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 – 𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐞𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

𖥸

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"So..."

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

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

You smiled.

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

“Good,” he nodded.

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

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

Your heartbeat quickened.

"A gift?"

"Yes, hold out your hand."

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And…?”

“I…”

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

“I’m still scared.”

“I know.”

“But…”

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

“I’m ready to trust you again.”

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

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

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

You chuckled softly.

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

He leaned down and pressed his forehead to yours.

“So there is an us?”

You nodded, still smiling.

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

You tilted your head, confused.

"What are you talking about?"

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

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

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

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

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

𓍯 𝐤𝐫𝐲𝐬

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

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bonesandchalamet · 1 year ago

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snow melts — Coriolanus snow

masterlist | pairing: Coriolanus snow x reader

summary: Coriolanus likes to keep people at arm distance, but what does it look like when he lets someone in?

warnings: kinda fluffy(?) + BOOK SPOILER OF TBOSAS

a/n: I’m unsure if the one thing I spoiled from the book is in the movie.. if it is someone let me know! I must’ve missed it

the capitol is in walking distance. all you have to do is cross the traffic circle, pray you don’t get hit, and enter the warm building. you can see it now, you can feel the precipitation building up against your skin under the thick layers— honk!

a curse falls out of your lips. too busy daydreaming about the warm welcoming breeze of the capitol, you failed to notice the cars that’s tires crunch under the snow and spread slush around your thick boots.

days like these were meant to sit inside your warm apartment and sip hot tea. they weren’t meant for you to cross in inches deep of snow and bore yourself with lectures and reading.

but there’s one person who might make things worth it. if he’s there. you’d imagine a snow would love this weather, to watch the heavy flakes cover the capitol and dance around making peoples lives miserable, Coriolanus was a lot like snow. a bit evil, a bit cold, but at the right temperature you could melt him into mush.

the traffic clears, and finally, you can sprint across to make your way to class. it had taken far too long for you to cross to the capitol, with traffic, ice, and snow, but once you make it inside you don’t regret coming.

“gosh you look awful.” festus’s comment earns a low growl to escape your lips, it’s hard to ignore him, but coriolanus does so easily, and helps remove your layers.

“how’d you beat me here?” you ask, he’s folding your coat against his arms and flattening your static hat hair. typically, Coriolanus was on time, he’s never early, but today he must’ve had a meeting with clemnesia, or possibly sejanus, that sent him into the unplowed roads and blustery wind.

you can’t imagine how cold he must’ve been. it’s his worst kept secret with you. Tigris had made him a wool coat, but he’d been to embarrassed to wear it, and he refused a coat from your families closet. this then results in him walking in brutal conditions with nothing but his school uniform on.

“meeting with dean highbottom.” its his turn to growl. the two weren’t fond of each other, but with Coriolanus being a student, and a man with scarce amount of money, coriolanus was in no position to make enemies in the capitol. so, he did what any student would do, suck up to the dean in hopes that’ll erase all the problems.

“is it about your demerit?” you whisper the words quietly enough that not another soul could hear you. Coriolanus hadn’t told his grandmother, but only you and sejanus knew of such record.

Coriolanus rolls his eyes muttering a yes, before guiding you through the mass crowds of students into the lecture hall. feeling his hand on your back sends a wave of electricity through your body. you loved his hands on you, in anyway possible, but Coriolanus was a love starved man. it was never easy to get him to show affection.

“I should thank Tigris.”

coriolanus’ eyebrows nearly string together when you turn to look at him, “well you’re not good with showing your affection, I know she has to do with this.” you chuckle a thank you, taking your things from him and watch him march across the lecture hall to his side of the room.

Coriolanus was as cold as snow sometimes, but with you? he was always melting.

#coriolanus snow x y/n #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow fic #coriolanus snow fluff #Coriolanus snow fanfic #tom blyth #hunger games x reader #the hunger games the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games the ballad of songbird and snakes x reader #the hunger games #the hunger games x reader #the hunger games x you #Coriolanus snow drabble

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indulgentdaydream · 6 months ago

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I added these two together. I hope you guys don’t mind! Since I added them together I’m also making this a two parter. My first one ever!!

Comparisons Pt.1

Jason Todd x Jealous!Insecure!Fem!Reader || Angst/Fluff || Word Count: 2,488

Part 2

Warnings: not proofread as of yet. Maybe will after i post who knows

After a six hour morning shift as a dishwasher, you were ready to head home.

It was the early afternoon, your shift having ended at 12. It was sunny. Warm, but not too hot. You were still in your work clothes, simple black pants and a black t shirt, your tote bag full of belongings over your shoulder. It was nice weather for the half hour walk you had back to your apartment. Better than the weather you’ve faired before.

Jason usually picked you up after your shifts, no matter where he was, as long as he wasn’t on patrol. He never wanted you to be seen in public near the Red Hood. He didn’t want you as a target.

“It’s bad enough I come straight here after patrol some nights.” He had said once.

“I’m just that irresistible, eh?” You had smiled.

He laughed, kissing your shoulder, “Damn right, baby.”

This day, though, you knew he was busy with a certain case he was working on. One he wouldn’t tell you about. He had been hard at work on it for the last few weeks, barely able to make much time for you. You didn’t mind. He tried as much as he could, even if it ended up being a five minute phone call, or a visit in the middle of night in between beaten-up thugs.

The sun hits your face and warms your skin in a comfortable way. Your headphones blocked out the Gotham noise, making the moment more enjoyable. Your favourite music instead of honking horns, sounds of engines, distant sirens, and people yelling.

You were stuck in your own world. You began thinking of asking Jason if he wanted to take you for a ride on his bike later. If he was free. You knew it’d be hard for him to say no. He loved taking you for rides. He didn’t have to say anything for you to know that.

You turn a corner, stuck in your head. Thinking about what you were going to do when you got home. You weren’t used to the morning shift.

You start your walk down the road, passing busy storefronts. Crystal shops. Pet stores. Mostly cafés and diners. You briefly considered working as a dishwasher at one of these places instead so you didn’t have to walk as far.

Maybe you and Jason could go to a diner tonight? That was a hopeful thought. There wouldn’t be time.

You’re walking past the third outdoor seating that takes up most of the sidewalk, small bistro tables hidden from the sun by large, white, beach-style umbrellas. Nearly identical to the two others you had passed, only different colour schemes.

You stare straight ahead, the extended seating narrowing the sidewalk and making it harder for people to walk around. You’re nearly halfway past the café when a hand reaches over breaching the shaded area and entering the sunlight to gently grasp onto your wrist.

You’re already twisting, ready to pull the mace Jason had bought you (though you more-so believe stolen from Batman himself, as you could see where he had scratched out the bat symbol on the canister) out of your tote bag and aim, when your eyes land on the owner of the arm, stretched across the thin barrier separating the seating from the sidewalk.

It’s Jason. His face hidden behind sunglasses, a small frown on his lips as he looks up at you from the shade. He waits for you to slip off your headphones before speaking.

“I was waving to you,” his thumb absentmindedly stroking the back of your hand. “You didn’t see?”

“Sorry,” You smile in relief at him, stepping closer to the barricade so as not to impede the flow of foot traffic. “I was more focused on getting around.”

There was someone sitting across from him. You didn’t think much of it at first. You saw red hair. That was regular with Jason, since he was always hanging around with Roy. Or Kory.

That’s who you thought it was. Roy. Nothing different at all. You turned to greet him, a smile ready on your face.

The second you clocked the pretty face, the waist-long, flowing, shiny red hair, your smile faltered.

Artemis gave you a sincere, friendly smile, her fingers swirling her straw in her cup.

Something churned in your stomach, “Hello.”

Jason’s grip on your wrist tightened slightly once, speaking up, “Why didn’t you call me to pick you up?”

You look back to him, “You said you were busy today.”

He frowns again. Technically, he had never said that. But it was true.

“Sit with us,” Artemis said, pointing behind her. “The entrance is there. We’re almost done anyways. Jason can drive you the rest of the way.”

You nodded, sending the best smile back to Artemis that you could muster in the moment.

As you approached, Jason reached towards the empty table behind him, flipping the chair and placing it at their own table, in between him and Artemis, facing where you had just been standing.

Something in the back of your mind noted how he didn’t even stand to do it, his face still pointed towards Artemis, his eyes concealed by his shades, hiding his expression. You sit down, placing your tote bag on the ground beside on, on your right, between you and Jason.

He picked it up and moved it onto the table without a word.

“This is my girlfriend,” Jason introduces you, his hands back on the table, folded in front of him. “This is Artemis. She’s helping me with my case.”

You nod, your mouth suddenly dry as she smiles at you again, “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” she smiles again, stretching out plump lips to present straight, shiny teeth.

Jason’s quick goes back to talking with her about whatever they had been talking about before you had walked past, wrapping things up.

You weren’t even capable of listening at this point.

You trusted Jason. You’d always trust Jason. This was for the case and nothing more. You knew that.

Jason had never really spoke about Artemis before. He had mentioned her once, in the early months of your relationship. You had done something. He had later asked you not to, saying he had a bad memory of it from his ex. He had never even mentioned her name. You knew he didn’t like talking about her.

However, you had been out with Jason and Roy at a bar once. Roy had briefly mentioned Jason’s ex, since she was included in the story. Jason had changed the topic fast after that. Then when he’d gotten up to use to washroom, you’d asked Roy to tell you more about her.

“Just what she looks like,” You reasoned. “So I can recognize her if need be.”

Roy hesitated in telling you, but he still did.

You trusted Jason. However, you were losing trust in Roy. He had never mentioned how gorgeous this woman is.

Her skin was smooth. Not a blemish or wrinkle in sight. You tried not to stare, but you couldn’t help it. Her hair was perfect. Her skin flawless. On further inspection you even realized she wasn’t wearing any makeup.

She wasn’t wearing any makeup and she looked that good?

Artemis lifted her coffee cup to her lips, nodding to something Jason was saying. Nothing you understood, anyways. Even if you were listening. You caught sight of her flexed arm as she finished off the drink. She was strong. Probably worked out nearly as much as Jason, but far more slim than he was. But in a good way.

She smiled again, wide, displaying her pearly whites. You ran a tongue over your own teeth, pursing your lips quietly in thought. Yours weren’t anywhere near that.

Your arms suddenly felt itchy as you looked over Artemis’ again. You looked down. You needed to take your eyes off of her. You were being stupid. Jason had broken up with her. Jason had picked you. He had been dating you for nearly a year and a half.

Your eyes drifted to your own arms, spots of acne along biceps. No definition in sight. Your under eye bags suddenly felt like they were on broadcast. Your face felt gritty, your hand coming up to absentmindedly scratch at the break out you had along your cheek. The frizz of your own hair visible in the corner of your eyes.

You looked back up, looking out at the busy street. Jason had chosen you. Jason loved you. Jason kissed you everyday and always made sure to tell you how much he loved you.

Except in the past few weeks while he had been busy with this case.

Had he been working with her this whole time?

You glanced back down as Jason placed his hand on your knee. He always did this when you guys were out. You look back up at him. He’s leaning on the table with her other arm, straight-faced, nodding along to something Artemis was saying. Even her voice is pretty. Her tone carrying a confidence you were failing to find in the moment.

You looked back down to your own legs, Jason’s thumb moving lightly back and forth over the side of your knee. He didn’t even know he was doing it. He never did.

You looked over to Artemis’ legs, hidden underneath a pair of jeans. Even then you could see how skinny hers were. Could see that her thighs weren’t spilling off the sides of the small metal bistro chair.

Soon enough, she was standing, beginning to say her goodbyes. You swallowed thickly. She was tall too. An amazon, you remember Roy mentioning. How could you forget.

The crop top she was wearing fit her nicely, showing off her toned stomach and even dipping down at the neckline to show some cleavage.

You looked away, your arms folding across your stomach, hiding your own torso.

She smiles at Jason. You quickly look to Jason and find him smiling, too. A genuine smile. One he had yet to give you while you’d been sitting here.

You’re his girlfriend, you remind yourself. He loves you.

She smiles at you and gives her farewell. You can only nod. You watch as she leaves.

God. She was nice, too. Nicer than you had wanted to be to her.

She walks in the direction you had come from. Her hair flowing behind her, an expensive-looking purse hanging from her shoulder. Most men walking past stop to turn and look at her. She ignored them all.

That never happened to you. In fact, Jason had been the first guy to ever even ask you out. You never understood why you were his choice. Not when he was able to pull women like that.

Jason pats your knee and pulls you out of your thoughts, “Want to get anything before we go?”

You can’t even face him. She’s perfect. Absolutely perfect. A fucking amazonian warrior.

You stare down at the table, catching sight of your own hands. Your nails worn from your shift at the restaurant, fingertips still wrinkled from the water.

Why the hell would he ever stay with you if she was still in his life?

“No.” You finally answer. “Thank you.”

He nodded, sighing as he fished out his wallet to pay for their coffees. He counts the bills and change, speaking with his head down, “How many times have I told you not to walk around with your headphones on?”

You lift your head to look at him, “What?”

He doesn’t look at you, his eyes still hidden by his shades. “Your headphones. You get so lost in your music you couldn’t even see me waving to get your attention.”

Your fingers curled around the edge of the table, “I was looking past you. I didn’t expect to see you—”

“I was calling your name, too. If your headphones were off then you could’ve heard me.” He tossed a twenty onto the table, leaning forward on his elbows to look at you. “Anyone could sneak up on you.”

You pursed your lips, your brows tightening at him.

Why did she get a smile and not me?

Jason gestured to your bag on the table, “Same with this. The hell you putting it on the floor for? You wouldn’t notice it was taken until far too late—”

“You don’t have to drive me,” you interrupted. “I’ll walk.”

Jason cocked his head slightly, looking genuinely curious, “Why? Car’s right over there—“

“I’ll walk.” You repeated. Firmly.

You needed the walk. You had to try and work the jealousy out of your mind before you got into it with Jason. You didn’t want to argue. Not now. Not in public.

Jason sighed, running a hand over his mouth, “Don’t be like that.” He started to stand, his keys jingling in his hand, “Come on.”

He reached to take your bag for you, a large brown envelope already in his hand. Whatever Artemis had given him.

You reached out and snatched it from his hand. You stood, throwing it over your shoulder. “I’ll walk.”

Jason stared at you for a moment, seemingly frozen in place.

He sighed through his nose, “What’s wrong?”

You took a deep breath trying to control your emotions. This was stupid. Jason had broken up with her for a reason. Had been dating you for the last year and a half for a reason.

Unfortunately, your mouth was working faster than your mind, “Don’t act like you didn’t start this.”

Jason pushed his shoulders back. He tried again, “What’s wrong?”

You shook your head, frustrated.

“Fine,” he stuffed his free hand in his pocket. “Just don’t be wearing your headphones while walking around.“

You were tired. Your shift had been long. You were worked up from your mind running all the comparisons between you and Artemis. It was still running them, you suppose, as otherwise you wouldn’t have said, “I guess you wouldn’t have to worry about her all the time. She can handle herself.”

Jason’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, his first shown emotion since that smile he’d given her, “Who?” Then they shot up almost just as quickly. “Artemis? Is that was this is about?”

You felt your face heat up in embarrassment at his realization. He’d figured you out.

His shoulders tensed, “Do you really not trust me?”

The way he had said it, his tone, has made it sound like the silliest thing in the world. Now it made you feel even stupider. Of course you trusted him.

You caught people staring in the corner of your vision. You ducked your head back down.

You gripped your tote bag at the straps over your shoulder and stormed off.

You heard Jason call your name as you passed by him again, on the other side of the barrier, headed back to your apartment.

Hope you guys enjoyed!! Pt 2 will be out later this week!!

Update!! Part 2 is here!!!

Part 2

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #dc #red hood #jason todd fic #red hood x reader #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x you #red hood x you #missy writes #ask missy #jason todd x y/n #dc x y/n #dc x fem!reader #dc x you #dc x reader #dc fic #red hood x fem!reader #red hood fic

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evie-sturns · 7 months ago

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Intersection - Matt Sturniolo

summary: after not driving for a few months, you accidentally rear end matts car at an intersection.

contains: crying, swearing, comforting, angry!matt.

-------------└── •✧• ──┘--------------

i haven't drove in the past 6 months that i've been away in Florida, but now i'm back in Boston im slowly starting to get back into it.

8:37pm

i flick my left indicator, swinging round the corner as frank ocean blares through my small white car.

the road is slippery due to the weather recently, the small puddles on the concrete shining from the illuminating street lights above.

i hum to the song as i accelerate, pressing my foot harder on the small pedal as i keep a reasonable distance between the grey van in front.

i check my wing mirrors, there's no cars behind me so i speed up, closing the distance between me and the car ahead.

theres an upcoming intersection, the traffic light is green, i look down at my cupholder for a split second, my bottle of water splashing up out of the bottle with every rock i drive over, "shit.." i mutter, reaching a hand down and fiddling with the cap.

i gasp as i look up, the light is red and the car which is 3 feet in front of me has come to a complete halt.

my heart drops as my mind goes blank.

"oh my god." i shout as the front of my car smashes into this grey van.

i sit in silence for a few seconds, the van drives to the side of the empty road, i follow and park behind, my heart thumps as i drive in total shock,

i've never been in a car accident, not even close.

i instantly start to freak out, how could i not in this situation. i turn off my car, stepping out and wiping my face with my sleeve as i take in panicked breaths.

the door of the other car swings open, a man steps out, he's wearing cargo jeans, a grey crewneck and an assortment of jewellery.

i've definitely seen him on tiktok before..?

i walk over to him, "i'm so fucking sorry my insurance will pay for everything" i ramble, the brunette replies "i know."

his voice is stern, he's definitely mad. i bite my nails as my leg shakes on the spot.

"how the fuck do you not brake? you were a solid 5 meters behind me and yet your car rams the back of mine? are you fucking stupid?" the boy says, staring into my eyes.

"my water spilt and i thought the light was going to stay green, i'm so sorry." i say back, my voice shaking as i start to cry.

he stays silent for a few seconds, scanning my face which is now flushed everywhere with a couple of tears falling from my eyes.

"stop, just give me your insurance details and number" he sighs,

after giving him my number and insurance details i start again, "ill call you an uber, im really sorry." i say, pulling out my phone and attempting to turn it on, soon realising it ran out of battery an hour ago.

"dont worry about it, my cars driveable." he says, i nod. the whole front of my car is squashed, including the engine.

"you got a way home?" the boy asks,

"i mean uh- no but i can just walk." i say with a small sniff,

"come on, ill drive ya." the brunette says, taking my hand and walking me towards his van, the back of it has a medium sized indent, nothing too major though.

"you don't have to i swear its not a far walk" i protest, "i'm not gonna let you walk, honestly its okay." he says, climbing into the drivers side.

i get into the passengers side, he pulls out his phone "i'm gonna call someone to tow your car okay?" he says, his voice soft.

"yeah- okay." i reply.

i've found out this boys name is matt, i knew it was something like that, we're now pulling into my street after apologising thousands of times. aside from the whole 'ramming his car' we clicked well together.

i point out my house, matt jumps out first to let me out of his van, "are you okay now?" he asks with a small laugh, "yeah- i think." i reply with a guilty expression plastered on my face.

"can i have a smile?" he asks, i force a pathetic smile and matt nods.

"ill text you tomorrow, we should see each other sometime?" he asks nervously,

did he just ask me out?

"yes! yeah i'd like that." i say,

matt leans down, giving me a hug,

"i'm sorry for making you cry."

"what? no! i'm sorry for rear-ending your car!" i reply, pulling away from the hug and giving him a warm smile.

----

#nick sturniolo #sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo imagine

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skzdarlings · 2 years ago

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05. sharing a bed series ; skz ; han

masterlist.

sharing a bed series part 5/8. because it’s the cheesiest most classic trope and it’s FUN. -

pairing: han jisung/reader content info: dom!reader. sub!jisung. sexual content. enemies2lovers, sharing a bed trope. past misunderstandings, grudges, bickering. femdom feat: face slapping, face sitting, hair pulling, choking, riding, denial-n-cumming-anyway, kneeling, more pussy eating. this one is a little longer. teehee :)

“Hey, I hope you had a good flight…”

Chan’s voice message crackles through your phone speaker but you can barely hear him over the bustling airport. You wait until you are outside in the pick-up zone to try listening again. It is marginally quieter out here, cars coming and going, light snowfall brightening the winter night. With your luggage at your feet, you replay his voice mail.

“Hey, I hope you had a good flight. Something came up at work and I’m not gonna be able to pick you up. I’m really sorry ‘bout it, mate. Jisung is on his way to get you. I know, I know, but he’ll get you home, yeah? If you’re still mad tomorrow, I’ll take you to lunch and you can kill me there. Buh-byyeeeee!”

Oh, that son of a bitch.

The message ends just as a pair of headlights flash over you. You can see through the front window but despite the direct eye contact Jisung still feels the need the honk the horn not once, not twice, but three times.

You stand there with your arms hanging helplessly at your sides. Snow falls on your head and a frown darkens your whole face. Jisung just smiles and waves like an idiot, honking the horn again.

I am going to kill Chan, you think to yourself.

Jisung loves putting you in situations where you are the unrepentant supervillain of his life, so ignoring him and getting in a cab would just play into his horrible little hands. He might look unassuming in his puffy coat and backwards cap, might look soft and friendly with his fair hair and plushy pink smile, might look innocent with his big brown eyes peering at you with cartoonishly saccharine enthusiasm, but in reality none of that is true.

Han Jisung is the worst.

Han Jisung is your nemesis.

Han Jisung honks the horn again.

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” you shout. You roll your eyes and heft your luggage over your shoulder, stomping with an incredible degree of petulance for a woman of your age. You toss your bag in the trunk then slide into the passenger seat.

Jisung honks again.

“Hello, hello, welcome to Flight H.A.N with Jisung airlines, this is your pilot speaking—”

You turn on the radio to shut him up. You are not in the mood for his shenanigans.

Jisung cringes with theatrical chagrin.

“Yikes,” he says with a bubbly laugh. “Tough crowd.”

“Just drive.”

“Yes, mistress, right away, mistress, Jisung lives to serve his mistress, please don’t hurt Jisung or leave him out in the cold tonight—”

You thunk your head against the headrest, glaring ahead as Jisung smoothly joins the traffic flow despite his nonsensical rambling.

You vaguely remember a time when Jisung was shy, back before he made it his life mission to send you hurtling into an annoyance-induced death. You also vaguely remember a time you liked him, him and his quietness, him and his quirky humour, him and his big, stupid, brown eyes.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Jisung sings along with the radio so you flip the station to one with talking. He strums his fingers on the steering wheel, lips pursed and eyebrows lifted. He casts you a few side glances that you pointedly ignore. When you see him open his mouth, you hold up a finger.

“Do not even think about it,” you say. “Whatever you were about to say or do… Don’t.”

He presses his lips together and makes an obnoxiously loud pop.

“Kk,” he says. “This should be a fun half hour.”

The airport is outside of the city, a half-hour drive to your downtown apartment. Usually. The weather has traffic horrifically backed up. Half an hour comes and goes and you are barely out of view of the airport.

“We could play a game,” Jisung says, looking at you sideways. “I spy with my little—”

“Nope.”

“Okay, cool. Cool, cool, cool.” He nods, strumming the steering wheel again.

The radio blathers on, you barely listening. You scroll through your phone until there are zero notifications, then you scroll through your photo album just for something to look at. Jisung hums to himself and you try not to get annoyed all over again. You exploding at something so inconsequential would give him way too much satisfaction.

The snow comes down harder. It pulls your attention from your phone to the blustery world outside. Everything is a harsh grey, the dark night foggily illuminated by the white snow. Even Jisung is concentrating now, his brow furrowed as he stares through the front window.

“Shit,” he says.

He changes stations to catch a road update. Your jaws drop in unison when the reporter mentions a thirteen hour delay on the main bridge into the city.

“Thirteen fucking hours?” you say. It comes out wheezy. “It’s winter! Why are they always so surprised by the fucking snow! God! What the hell are we gonna do?”

“We’re not going anywhere near the bridge, that’s what we’re gonna do,” Jisung says, flipping the car into reverse and immediately changing course.

“How else are we getting downtown?”

He looks at you like you’re so stupid that he can’t believe it, his eyebrows jumping up his face.

“Uh, hello, welcome back to town, it’s snowing here,” Jisung says. “We’re going downtown tomorrow when it won’t kill us or trap us in a car—”

“I want to go home—”

“Do you want to spend thirteen hours in a car with me?” Jisung asks. “Because that’s what going home will involve right now, k?”

He sounds terse. You feel a little better when he acts short with you too, more justified in your own rudeness.

“Fine,” you say. “What are we doing then?”

A ten minute trip turns into an hour long drive with traffic delays, but eventually you are rolling into the snow-covered parking lot of the only motel with a vacancy sign. You and Jisung do not speak, stepping out of the car and crunching along the snow in silence. The motel parking lot is washed a golden colour, the yellow balcony lights beaming over the white snow. It holds the promise of warmth. You hurry inside.

You shake yourself off in the tiny entryway while Jisung dings the desk bell. Someone appears to check you in.

“You’re a lucky couple,” she says. “Lots of folks have stopped because of the weather. We have exactly one room left available. It’s a nice cozy double bed. Sounds good?”

“Ummm…” You join Jisung at the desk, a million frantic thoughts running through your brain. “Hold on, we’re not—”

“Did you hear that, baby?” Jisung says with exaggerated fondness, because he can’t help but taunt you. “We’re a lucky couple. Isn’t that just our luck the only room available has one bed?”

You step on his foot deliberately and he yelps.

“Is there really no other option?” you ask the attendant with some degree of desperation.

“No, sorry.” She gives you a funny look but shakes her head. “I doubt you’ll have better luck finding a room anywhere else tonight. You can have this one or enjoy a car nap.”

“My beautiful wife and I are happy with a double,” Jisung says, already holding out his credit card. “Right, baby?”

You smack his ass, hard and swift. His eyes widen. You smirk.

“Right, baby,” you say with a snarl.

Tonight’s only saving grace is the hot water; you enjoy a long shower before changing into sleep shorts and a camisole. You join Jisung in the room, finding him sprawled on the double bed with air pods in his ears. He tossed his hat somewhere and is laying there in jeans and a t-shirt – remarkable, as you thought he might strip to his underwear just to be annoying. But no, he lays there peacefully. His fair hair is darker at the root, neatly framing his unfortunately handsome face. He has one arm flexed under his head, the muscle more pronounced than you remember it being. His eyes are closed as he nods along to the music.

You grab a pillow and thwack him in the gut. It startles him to attention, a strangled sound leaving his throat.

“You stay on that side of the bed and you do not move, got it?” you say.

He sticks his tongue out at you.

“Very mature,” you say.

You lay down with your back to him. After twenty minutes, he still has his bedside light on so you snap at him. He whines like a little baby but turns it off, leaving just his phone beaming at his face. You can hear his music but say nothing.

You can’t sleep. You want to roll over but you absolutely refuse to face him.

His phone screen finally goes dark after god knows how long and he puts it aside. There is a long stretch of silence in the dark. You swear you have never been so uncomfortable laying on this side in all your life. Knowing you will not be able to sleep without turning at least once, you decide to roll over. You figure Jisung laid down with his back to you anyway.

He didn’t. He is staring right at you, his big eyes making him look like a pathetic little lemur gawping at a human in the dark.

“Why don’t you like me?” Jisung says.

“Oh no,” you say, immediately rolling onto your back. “Absolutely not. We are not having a heart to heart.”

“Oh come oooon, please,” he whines. “This is the time and place—”

“It really isn’t—”

“It’s a classic story, a boy, and a girl—”

“I don’t like stories—”

“Forced to share a bed and share their secret feelings—”

“Those feelings are disgust, hatred, and revulsion—”

“Opening their hearts and—whoa, wait, what? Hatred? You hate me?” Jisung pushes himself up on one elbow, staring down at you with a completely horrified look on his face.

You try to ignore him and his stupid expressions, glaring at the ceiling as if it can do anything to save you. Your heart is beating fast but it doesn’t feel good. The pounding is coupled with a nauseous turn in your gut.

It is open knowledge that you do not like Han Jisung one bit, but you seldom vocalize it so explicitly. Certainly not to his face. Certainly not beside him in bed.

“That can’t possibly surprise you,” you say.

“Well, it does actually!” Jisung says. “I knew you didn’t like me but hate me? How could you hate me? I’m delightful.”

Even now, the clown is trying to joke. Because that’s all it is to him, isn’t it? Everything is just a joke all the time. Everything and everyone is a punchline waiting to happen. But you aren’t laughing. Your hands close into fists and you dig your nails into your palms to keep your frustration in check. Your neck feels hot and your stomach is still turning. You feel embarrassed about things you haven’t even said yet. Your tongue feels swollen somehow, your throat lined thickly. It takes several deep breaths before you can speak.

“Well,” you say bitterly, “I guess I just can’t help being a massive bitch. The worst you’ve ever met, right?”

There is a beat of silence, then Jisung flips on the bedside light.

You slap your fists down on the bedcovers and glare at him.

“Turn off the light,” you say.

“No way, you were just talking in a voice. What did you mean? Why do you--”

“Jisung, I swear to god, if you don’t turn off that light—”

“Look, can we just—”

You shove the covers down and climb on top of him without thinking, trying to reach the light yourself. He grabs you by the arms and pushes you back. You end up tussling ungracefully, you wriggling around like a worm and Jisung clearly in control but just as clearly trying to go easy on you. It puts you at an impasse. With an angry huff, you push away from him.

“If I said something—” he starts.

You laugh, a joyless cackle.

“If,” you repeat. “You’ve said a lot of somethings over the years, Jisung.”

“I—I didn’t mean it if I—I don’t even know what I—”

You look at him. He seems to be genuinely confounded and more than a little miserable, his eyes darting around as he racks his brain, his brow furrowed with obvious upset. His hand is frozen on his head, a clump of hair feathering through his fingers.

He meets your gaze and you roll your eyes. You feel hot and uncomfortable again, the source of your nausea climbing up and up and up until it is clawing its way past your lips and—

“The day we met,” you say, finally, after years of stamping down the humiliating memory, “you said I was a massive bitch, the worst you had ever met. And it—”

You are not sad. You refuse to be sad. This pain is years old now and it does not hurt you anymore. But you are angry – with him, with yourself, with this whole shitty circumstance, and the angrier you get, the more tears stab at your eyes.

You swallow down a lump in your throat and take a steadying breath. You stare at the wall because his attentive, earnest gaze is too much to bear.

“I know I’m a little awkward when I first meet people,” you say. “I’m shy and weird and sometimes… sometimes people think I’m a bitch when really I’m just quiet. Chan introduced me to you because he said that you were kinda the same, and that we had lots in common, and he thought we would get along. And then we met and—”

“We did,” Jisung says softly.

Your vision is blurry now. You sniff hard, wiping your arm under your nose.

“Yes,” you say. “We did. We got along amazing. We were quiet for a second and then it was like… like we were already friends. As if we always knew each other. I’ve never spoken like that to someone so quickly. It’s like I just forgot to be shy. I was so happy and then—”

“I remember all this,” Jisung says, still sounding confused. “I don’t get it. It was Changbin’s birthday, right? We were talking all night and it was great but then you just left without saying bye. Then the next time we met you already hated me—”

You finally look at him, hitting him with the full force of your emotional expression. He clearly was not expecting the tears because he literally jumps at the sight of you.

“I left after overhearing you talk about me in the kitchen to one of your stupid friends,” you snap. “’That woman is without doubt a totally massive bitch. The worst I’ve ever met.’ And you were laughing. Just… just standing there laughing about it, about me. And I had no idea why. Why? What had I said or done? It was humiliating. And it hurt, and the reason it hurt so bad was because it came from you.” You jab him in the chest, trying to sound angry because your tears are falling now and it just makes you feel pathetic. “It hurt, Jisung,” you say, “because it was you. From anyone else I wouldn’t care. But you were the one person I expected to understand me. The one person who got what it was like. So to hear you saying those things—god. I never wanted to see you again, but then you and Chan started your stupid projects together and I couldn’t get away from you. And you just got more and more in my face no matter what I did—”

“Oh my god.” Jisung slaps both hands to his head. He closes his eyes and shakes his head, as if he can’t believe what he is hearing. “Hold on,” he says, abruptly getting out of bed. “Just… just hold on.”

He runs away. You sit there more confused than anything, your face wet, your breathing uneven. He is gone long enough for you to get angry again, glaring at him when he gets back in the bed.

“Here,” he says, giving you the tissue box he evidently retrieved from the bathroom. “Just… here.”

He takes a tissue and awkwardly dabs at your cheek. You snatch it away from him, frowning.

“Sorry, sorry,” he says. He gets off the bed again, hovering awkwardly at the side while you wipe your face clean. He waits until you are composed, swaying where he stands, clasping and unclasping his hands. When you stop sniffling, he lets out a huge exhale. “Okay,” he says. “Look. I’m sorry. I’m… I’m really, really fucking sorry. And I want to explain, I really do, but… but if I explain, I think it’s only gonna make you upset.”

You give him a very sarcastic look.

“I’m already upset, you stupid jerk,” you say. “Just spit it out so I can go to sleep.”

“Right.” He runs his hand through his hair again. It falls softly down and flutters when he exhales. “God. Okay. This is gonna sound so stupid. But, yeah, okay, I do remember saying that actually. I didn’t know you heard me but… but that’s not an excuse. I know. I shouldn’t have said it at all. I totally do know that. But also… I said it, but I didn’t. What I mean is, what you heard me saying, I was not actually saying.”

You stare at him for a long moment.

“What,” you say, “the fuck?”

He waves his hands around defensively.

“What I mean is,” he says, “and stay with me… but… I actually meant it as a compliment.”

“A compliment,” you say. “A compliment? You called me a massive bitch as a compliment?”

“Yes.”

“Do you seriously expect me to believe that?” you shout, grabbing a pillow and hurling it at him.

His reflexes are fast. He ducks and the pillow sails over his head, whacking the blinds with a clatter. He looks there then looks at you, just in time for you to throw the tissue box. He dodges that too, ducking down again. The box hits the radiator and thunks to the ground.

“Okay, listen—” he says.

He is not fast enough when you chuck the second pillow.

“Okay, okay, I deserved that,” he says, holding the offending pillow up in surrender. He tentatively approaches the bed with it, eying you as he gently lays it back down.

You glare.

“I promise I can explain,” he says. “And you’re gonna love this explanation, because it is going to completely and totally humiliate me and you will have something to hold over my head for the rest of your life.”

“I’m listening,” you say. You feel embarrassed about crying so the least he can do is embarrass himself too.

“Thank you,” he says. He gets back on the bed, kneeling and tipping his head back. It looks like he’s praying, gathering the strength to admit whatever he is about to admit.

You cross your arms. You are annoyed he is taking so long and also annoyed that you genuinely want to know. Han Jisung has no problem blurting every stupid thought that crosses his mind, at least when it comes to you, so you cannot begin to imagine what dark secret he can’t bring himself to speak out loud.

You are halfway convinced he is trying to come up with a lie when he finally throws his arms out as if in supplication.

“I’m a fucking freak!” he says, with all the verve and jubilation of hallelujah. He closes his eyes and nods his head. “I’m a pervert and I think with my dick like ninety-eight per cent of the time. The other two per cent of the time I am honestly probably thinking with my prostate, though I haven’t really worked that one out yet completely—”

“What?” Your whole face screws tight with bewilderment. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I love bitches. No wait.” He shakes his head. “That came out wrong. Hold on. I love… well, yeah, no, bitches. Mean girls. Bullies. Catwoman.”

“Catwoman.”

“That whip… t-cha.”

“Jisung—”

“Look I was telling my friend about you because Minho’s an even bigger freak than me. He’s the only one who knows my secret and—”

“Your secret,” you say slowly. “That you… like bitches?”

“That I love bitches,” he says. “When I told him that you were the biggest bitch I ever met, it was because we both knew that what I meant was: holy shit dude, I just found my soulmate, she’s the most amazing woman I’ve ever met, I’m getting married tonight, and if she asked me to tattoo her face on my butt right now I would do it.”

You hate that you laugh, but the comment is so unexpected that it sputters out of you.

Jisung smiles, releasing a pent-up breath of relief.

“You were… are… funny, and smart, and yeah a bit quiet but you still don’t let it stop you from defending yourself or someone else when something is wrong. Remember when you told off that creep at the party? The one who was bugging Felix? You don’t take anyone’s shit and then you just move on quietly like it was nothing. I was obsessed with you from the second we started talking. Then I was a stupid horny pervert and opened my big stupid mouth and now you hate me.”

“I’m still not sure I really get it,” you say, admittedly flustered at his admission. You had no idea Jisung saw you that way. The woman he’s describing does sound pretty amazing, and he sounds sincerely infatuated. When your heart starts skipping beats again, it feels different than before. “Explain,” you say.

He slaps his thighs in a motion of surrender.

“Yup,” he says. “Okay. Fine. Cool. I like when women boss me around. I like when they are mean to me. I like when they hurt me and make me cry. It… it gets my dick hard, okay? I love bitches. I LOVE BITCHES—”

You reach out to slap a hand over his mouth, remembering it’s a motel in the middle of the night.

Jisung’s shoulders jump and he laughs into your hand, clearly embarrassed as he remembers where he is. You laugh in spite of yourself, lowering your hand.

“Oops,” he says.

“Oops,” you reply.

Oops, you misunderstood your eavesdropping.

Oops, Jisung never hated you.

Oops, you find yourself staring into his eyes for way too long.

“So just to clarify,” you say. “You’re into, like, female domination stuff, and you called me a bitch as the highest form of compliment in your crazy brain, and then you spent the next two years being as annoying as possible because…”

“I thought you were just, like, crazy edging me or something,” Jisung says, making you laugh helplessly into your hands. He laughs too, even while looking a little pained. “I did! I was like shit, she’s so nasty, she’s really taking me for a fucking ride. I would have kept doing this for the rest of our lives if this conversation didn’t happen. I would’ve been at your wedding like damn, she’s really got me going this time—”

“You’re so stupid,” you say, pushing at his chest without any real animosity.

“I know, I really am,” he says. He draws an X over his chest. “But cross my heart and hope to die, everything I have told you is the complete truth. I’d tell you to slap me because you definitely deserve it but honestly, it would give me a boner and I don’t think either of us wants that since we’re stuck in the same bed all night.”

He says it jokingly, of course. But you can hear the twinge of flirtation and truth under his just kidding.

And maybe you’re still on an adrenaline kick. Maybe your emotions are right at the surface. Maybe you hated him so much because deep down you liked him, and you hated that you liked him because of a misunderstanding.

And maybe, just maybe, those big brown eyes have drawn you in from the second you first saw him.

“Slap you,” you say, as if in deep contemplation. “Slap you where? Your face?”

This clearly catches him off guard. He opens his mouth and a garbled sound comes out. He thumps a fist on his chest.

“Uh, yeah,” he says. “Sure. Whatever, you know. You know.”

“Mhm.” You move so you are kneeling too, facing each other. You watch as he swallows hard, the gulp going down his throat. All the adrenaline you built up earlier is suffusing into the race of your bloodstream. Heat simmers below the surface of your skin. “And you like that? Getting slapped when you’ve been bad?”

“Oh my god,” he says. “Are you.. are we… is something happening right now? Oh my god. Hold on.” He says that but then all he does is stand up and sit back down again, rekneeling in the exact same position. “Right, okay,” he says. “Slap away.”

You snort, rolling your eyes but smiling. You lift your hand but he is staring at you so expectantly that it just feels weird, not sexy, and you laugh giddily with amusement.

“Aww, come oooon,” he whines, but laughingly too. “Don’t get shy. You were so good at it.”

“I’ve had years of bitchy practice, I guess,” you say with a quirked eyebrow, making him grin. You shake your head. “I dunno. Just. Do something to earn a slap I guess. It’s too weird to just smack you out of nowhere.”

“Do something?” he asks. “Uh, I dunno. As far as I’m concerned, I’ve never done anything in my life to earn a slap. I’m seriously the most charming and funny and perfect guy ever and I—”

Your slap him across the face. The sound startles you because it sounds harder than it felt, ringing out loud with only the faintest sting on your palm.

Jisung looks genuinely surprised. His head turned with the impact of the slap, his jaw falling open. He blinks himself back into focus and you are about to ask if he’s all right, then he looks at you in a way he has never looked at you before. The desire and desperation of his gaze moves right through you, gathering hot in every intimate place.

“Did you like that?” he asks, his voice a little gravelly as it drops low.

“I don’t know,” you say softly. You reach out to touch his chin, a delicate touch that makes him shiver. You turn his face to look at the faint redness on his cheek. “Can I try again to be sure?”

He nods and swallows again.

You don’t ask for build-up this time. You pull your hand back and bring it down sharply on his cheek.

This time it makes him whimper. It flushes you with heat.

“Oh my god,” you say. “What else?”

“Uh, oh, fuck, um.” He touches his cheek and sucks in a breath. He pushes his hair only for it flop back in place. “Um,” he says. “Choking. F-fingers? Fingers in my mouth... Um, haha, I can’t think. Bondage? Yeah. Erm, denial. Overstimulation. Puuussy… yes, um, pussy. On my face please. Uhh… Punishment. Pulling my hair… Oh, hello.”

You take hold of his shoulders and push, guiding him to lay on his back. He is already panting when you straddle him, his eyes wide when you lean down.

“Do you still hate me?” he asks when you are millimetres away from his mouth.

You pretend to think about it.

“Hm,” you say with obvious theatricality, stealing a page from his book. “Yeah. I hate you so much. You’re my worst enemy. Sorry, baby.”

“That’s hot,” he says with a nervous little giggle. “You’re hot. You know I think—mmmf.”

You interrupt whatever long-winded joke was incoming. He does not protest this interruption as it involves a kiss, a good kiss, a deep kiss, one that pushes his head into the plushness of his pillow, one that has him moaning into your mouth. He lifts his hands to touch you, fingertips barely grazing your bare thighs when you seize his wrists. You shove them into the bed, pinned on either side of his head. He bucks under you, his mouth opening under your kiss. You bite at his bottom lip and drag your teeth, making his hips move even more.

You break away quickly and just as quickly slap him. It knocks a surprised breath out of him, his eyes a bit watery when he looks up at you.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, baby,” you say. “I’m just getting started.”

“Oh my god.”

You try not to smile but Jisung makes it hard. You feel flushed with excitement, hot with power and anticipation. You squeeze his hips between your thighs and push the hem of his shirt up and over his chest. He whimpers again but doesn’t move, his eyes closing when you hold down his wrists and duck your head.

“Fuck, oh god,” he murmurs, a constant stream of mumbled expletives as your mouth runs over his chest, kissing and licking and biting, teasing him until he can’t help but buck his hips for friction. When you feel him fully hard in his jeans you lean back, smirk, then climb off him. “Oh god, you’re too good at this,” he says, keeping his hands where you left them and gazing at you with wanting eyes.

You blow him a kiss and shimmy out of your shorts and underwear. Thoughtlessly he swings a hand down to touch himself, squeezing his dick through his jeans and groaning.

“Did I tell you that you could—” you start, but he puts his hand back beside his head before you can finish. His smile is far too innocent. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” you say.

“Am I?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Shut up,” you reply, getting back on top of him. “I still hate you.”

“Oh god, yes,” he says. His hips buck into the air as you scoot over his chest. “More.”

“I hate you,” you say, moving until your legs are on either side of his head. “ I hate you so much, Han Jisung. I’m going to ruin you.”

“Fuck.”

He already has his mouth open when you lower onto his face. You grip the headboard and rock yourself over his tongue, back and forth until he finds your rhythm and takes over. What he lacks in precision he compensates with eagerness, licking at you without any care for the mess it makes of him, wet and sloppy and hot as his tongue moves inside you then up and down your pussy, circling your clit, sucking, flicking, back and forth, around and around—

“Oh my god,” you say, looking down at where you can see the top of his face, his eyes closed as he works, as he moans, as he squeezes your thighs in his hands and drags his tongue all over you. You grip the headboard tight when you come, throwing your head back and grinding down against him.

You lift your hips off his face, hovering above him on shaky thighs. You shuffle back and sit on his abdomen so you can see him, his eyes wide and wet mouth open as he pants. He licks his lips and murmurs please, please, please in a hoarse voice.

“Please?” you repeat, a little out of breath as well.

You swirl your fingers over his bare chest and fiddle with the t-shirt still bunched under his chin. He moves his face wherever you push it, tipping his head back, tilting it to the side. He goes cross-eyed when your fingers dance in front of him, touching his lips. His mouth falls open and his eyes close when you slide two fingers inside his mouth.

“Please what, Jisung?” you ask, slowly finger-fucking his mouth. “What do you want?”

He can’t speak around your fingers so he just whines, digging his fingers into the meat of your thighs.

“Oh,” you say. Your giggle is filled with genuine delight, even while your voice is rough. “I see. You want to put your dick inside me, baby? Hmm? You wanna say you’re sorry and that you’ll be good and let me ride you?”

“Good, so good,” he says, drooling around your fingers when you slide them out. He swallows hard, choking on nothing, then nods his head. “Please, please. Yes.”

You lean down and kiss his wet mouth, a chaste peck. You rub the corner of his lips, smiling at his closed eyes and wrecked expression.

“Okay,” you say. “Get ready for me then.”

You have a string of condoms in your luggage, always tucked in the pocket in case of emergency. Emergencies like a snow storm trapping you in bed with your former worst enemy turned lover.

When you get back to him, Jisung is laying there completely naked, flushed and stroking himself as he watches you. He lets you take his hand off his dick, holds you obediently when you guide his hands to your waist. He kisses you when you lean down, a hot and heavy kiss as you straddle him again. It ends when you push him flat and sit back, already grinning because you know you are about to short-circuit his brain.

“Wanna see a trick?” you say, and proceed to put the condom on him with your mouth. You laugh when you see his face after, his mouth hanging open as he blinks at you.

“You’re gonna kill me,” he says, but laughs a little.

His head thunks back into the pillows when you guide him inside you. You put your hands over his, holding them to your hips as you rock over him. His chest lifts and falls and his eyes close as he concentrates on not rushing your pace. He keeps holding your waist firmly when you slide your hands over his chest.

“Look at me,” you say.

He blinks his eyes open. You smile.

“Good boy.”

He makes a noise that sounds more pained than when you slapped him. It lights up inside you like fire and you move faster, take him deeper. You get a bit dizzy with how good it feels, his dick curving up to drive against the softest, most sensitive part of you, sending you hurtling towards another orgasm. You rub yourself at the same time, looking down at him as he gasps and moans, as he holds your hips and fucks you back.

You bring your hand to his neck and gently circle it, rubbing yourself harder when he whines with chest-deep desperation.

“I—I’m gonna—oh god—” he says, squeezing your hips so tightly that you think it might bruise.

It feels so good, his rough hands coupled with his dick hitting perfectly inside you. Your whole body draws taut for its crest.

“Don’t,” you say, laughing a little, not even to be mean but because it feels so good that you feel giddy. You squeeze his throat and his hips get erratic under you. “Not yet,” you say. “Me first.”

“Oh my god,” he says, looking up at you with frantic eyes. “I—I can’t—I’m gonna—”

“Jisung,” you say, squeezing his throat harder so he makes a choked-up sound that goes straight to your pussy. “Are you gonna be good or bad?”

“I’m—I’m—oh god.”

You stop touching yourself because you know he doesn’t stand a chance outlasting you. You ride him through his orgasm, choking him as he spasms and moans and cries out. His head lifts for a second, his eyes closed and brows furrowed, then he flops back down with an exhausted heave.

His eyes open again, watery and huge.

“Oh fuck,” he says, voice like gravel as you release his throat. A deep breath shudders out of him. “Oh… fuck,” he says, dreamily, smiling, then pouting. “Oh! Fuck!”

You giggle at him managing to say the same thing in three different voices.

You slip your fingers into his hair and tug, yanking his head up. He follows with a gasp.

“I should hit you again for that,” you say.

You slide off him, carefully. He sucks in a ragged, tearful breath when you touch his dick to deal with the condom. After, you rub your palm on the oversensitive head of it, making him grab at you and cry out. It squeezes a tear out of him and you kiss it away.

“Come on,” you say, grabbing him by the hair again. You get off the bed and drag him to follow. “I’m not done with you.”

He is a little shaky and boneless from coming. His footing is unsteady from the moment he touches the ground, moving with thoughtless obedience. He thumps down heavily onto his knees. When he sways, you straighten him. He blinks up at you, on his knees, already nodding.

You put your leg over his shoulder and draw him in. For the second time, he gets you off with his mouth, his hands on your ass and his face buried in your pussy. You sink your fingers in his hair and let it wash over you, humming happily when you are finished.

You lower your leg off his shoulder. Jisung slumps backwards, leaning against the bed and breathing hard, his face and hair a mess.

“Wow,” he says. He looks up at you. “That was the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me.”

You laugh, feeling hot and flushed but satisfied.

“Me too,” you say, making him smile.

You help him back into the bed because his legs seem a little numb. You lay beside him, rubbing the inside of his thigh as he kisses all over your face. You giggle then fall into a proper kiss, winding around each other affectionately.

“I’m gonna send Chan a gift basket,” Jisung says, making you snort. “I am! Thank you for having a family emergency, your timing couldn’t be better.”

You tip your head and look at him with confusion.

“Family emergency?” you say. “He told me he was working?”

“Working?” Jisung furrows his brow. “Huh? We don’t have anything coming up at work. He phoned me from the road and said he was heading out to visit family? He said he wouldn’t be back all week-end.”

“He told me he was stuck working and would see me tomorrow,” you say, your eyes narrowing as you slowly put two-and-two and together.

“I didn’t even know why he was asking me and not Changbin or something,” Jisung continues to muse aloud. “He said you were wanting to talk to me, though, so I figured—”

“I never said that! I mean, I’m glad we did but…” You sit up, glaring at the wall.

Jisung bursts into laughter, covering his mouth as he looks at you.

“Did Chan hustle us?” he asks.

“He threw us together in a snow storm so we’d be forced to reconcile!”

“I don’t think Chan can control the weather—”

“Oh, he definitely can. I bet he delayed the bridge himself—”

Jisung laughs some more, kissing the side of your face lovingly while you continue to glare contemptuously at the wall.

“Well,” you say, looking at him. You kiss him sweetly on the nose and he smiles at you. “That’s fine,” you say. “A vacancy for my sworn enemy just opened up. Looks like I found a replacement.”

“I’m good with that,” Jisung says. “But… you’re not allowed to enemy-fuck him like that. That’s just for me, right?”

You settle in his arms, forgetting about Chan for the time being, forgetting to glare, forgetting about everything that happened before tonight. You smile at him, brushing a bit of hair off his sweaty forehead. He is still flushed and beautiful, his hopeful eyes locked on yours. He smiles back.

“Yeah,” you say. “It’s only ever been just you, Jisung.”

He visibly melts, his laugh a breathless thing. He leans in and kisses you and you hold his face, kissing him back. You can feel him smiling against your lips and you smile too.

#skz smut #stray kids smut #han jisung x reader #han jisung smut #han jisung x dom!reader #sub!jisung x dom!reader #skz x reader #sub!skz x dom!reader

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lyjen · 9 months ago

Text

When you’re home

A request by @shauna-carsley ☺️

Summary: She always texts or calls him when she’s home safe. But when she doesn’t, Evan gets worried. Until he goes on a call and meets her there. But not in the way Evan hoped to see her.

9-1-1 Masterlist

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“Yes, I did bought you cocoa powder like you asked me to. But you do realise it’s a little bit too hot outside to be drinking hot chocolate right?” (Y/n) said as she walked through the exit of the grocery store. Her phone was in her right hand, holding it to her ear. While a paper sack filled with groceries was resting between her body and her left arm.

Evan chuckled through the phone at her words. “Yeah I know. It’s not for hot chocolate though.” He answered her question. A confused frown appeared on her face as she continued to walk down the street. “Well.. Are you gonna tell me why you made me buy it?” She asked him. “Hmm. You know what? No, you’ll see it for yourself tonight.” Evan’s voice answered back. “Wh-“ As (y/n) wanted to react at what Evan told her, she hears a loud alarm through the phone. “Oh, shit. Gotta go. What did you want to say?” his voice sounded through the phone.

A soft chuckle left her mouth as she shook her head at Evan’s sudden rush in his voice. Somehow, whenever Evan was on shift and called with (Y/n) on the phone, the alarm would go off.

“Nothing, just.. be careful, and I love you.”

A smile appeared on Evan’s face when she said those exact words. It made his heart melt right on the spot, just like it did when she said it the first time about 10 years ago. They met when they went to high school together. In senior year, to be exact.

As Evan wants to say something to end the call, he hears a familiar voice calling his name. “Buck! Quit chit chatting with my sister, we’ve got to go!” Eddie’s voice sounded through the station. “Yeah, yeah! I’m coming Diaz!” He yells back at his best friend. He hears (Y/n)’s giggle through the speaker of his phone which he was holding against his ear. He sighs.

“I love you too. I’ll see you tonight. Text me when you’re home, okay?” Evan says. He always wanted to make sure that she’d get home safe. Even if it was just a small text that contained an emoji of a house, or the exact words, or just a phone call. “Hmm, I will... be safe out there.” and with those words she clicked on the red button to end the phone call.

(Y/n) locked her phone again and put it into the small shoulder bag she had with her. It couldn’t hold much, but held the necessary things such as her: phone, wallet and keys. That was enough. She readjusted the weight she was holding between her body and her left arm, and switched it to her right arm. That was the arm that had more strength and endurance.

She continues her way home, which was maybe fifteen to twenty minutes away. She passes by street after street in the LA weather. (Y/n) comes to a stop when she clicks the button to turn the pedestrian traffic light to green. She waits for a few seconds, but when the lights jumps from red to green, she steps with her feet on the asphalt and starts walking towards the other end of the pedestrian crossing.

She hears the sound of squealing tires coming from not too far from her. Her head shot towards her right, as she sees the source of the sound turning around the corner with a rapidity definitely above the speed limit. The car was swinging from the left to the right like it was possessed. (Y/n) has no time to react to what is happening.

But before she knew it, the bag with groceries was blown out of her right arm and she was facing the blue sky.

Her ears are ringing. An annoying high frequency noise is ringing through her ears. (Y/n)’s vision was blurry and partly overexposed. It was like someone was shining a flashlight in her face, and wouldn’t turn it off. She could hear muffled voices, but she couldn’t hear clearly what they were saying. It was like her ears were underwater. Her head felt like it was beating out of her skin.

She squeezes her eyes shut to try and let her eyes get used to the bright light. But it wouldn’t stop. Until a figure starts hoovering over her body.

Evan hopped down the steps of the truck following Eddie out. His mouth left a sigh, as he shrugged off his florescent jacket and hang it underneath his last name. Before he could let go of his jacket, the loud alarm rang again through the firehouse. His eyes closed as he sighs again. “Ah come on!” he says with a defeated look. He just wanted to take a shower. He felt dirty, his body was sweating, his face was full with ashes from last call.

He could hear Eddie laughing at his reaction. “Okay who said the Q-word?” Evan says as he looks at every person around him now. They didn’t answer, they just put on their jackets and hopped back into the truck. Evan sighs as he rips his florescent jacket from the hook and also took place in the truck.

The drive was quiet. Everyone was tired from last call, they wanted to eat, drink and relax for a bit. “Somebody must have said the Q-word. Otherwise this would not have happened.” Evan says, still sure of his conclusion. Nobody reacted to his words, Evan looked around him in the back of the truck. Waiting for someone to respond to him. “Ravi.” Is the only thing what left Eddie’s mouth. “Yeah I know right! It must’ve been him! I told hi-“ Evan reacts. “No. Ravi.” Eddie cuts him off as he points outside the window.

When the truck came to a stop, they immediately left the rig. Evan saw Ravi walking towards Bobby. “Buck, Eddie, stand by. Hen and Chim follow me.” Bobby ordered. Eddie and Evan had to stay back because if they needed equipment, it was faster. Instead of them running back and forth.

Evan in the meanwhile had now time to check his phone. He let his back fall against the truck as he grabs his phone out of his pocket. He unlocks his screen to take a look at his notifications. “Hmm” he made a think-full noise. Eddie lets himself fall with his back against the truck too. “What’s up?” Eddie asked when he heard Evan’s confused sound. “Before our last call, I was calling with (Y/n).” Evan started. “Yes.. and?” Eddie answered with a confused look projected on his face. “I always tell her to text me when she gets home. But it has been.. what?.. One hour since we called and she still hasn’t texted me.” He tells with a worried voice. “Maybe she went to another store? Or simply forgot.” Eddie tries to calm him down before he makes any other conclusions like the Q-word from a few minutes ago. “Eddie, Buck, I need a backboard and another medic bag here.” He hears Bobby’s voice through the radio. “Copy that cap.” Eddie answered Bobby through his radio, and he patted his hand on Evan’s shoulder.

He nodded. Maybe Eddie was right, maybe Evan was just seeing things that weren’t there. He clicks on the on/off button to lock his phone again and let it slide back into his pocket. He opens the compartment to slide out the backboard while Eddie gets the medic bag. As suddenly Bobby is walking towards Buck and Eddie.

“Something wrong cap? Do you need anything?” Buck asks, while he closes the compartment. “I think you both may want to sit this one out.” Is the only thing Bobby says. A confused look spreads over Evan’s and Eddie’s face. Bobby never said that to him. The only time he said that was when he got back from revalidation, after the fire truck accident. Evan and Eddie look at each other, asking each other without any words what the hell was going on. “Uhm.. why?” Evan asks Bobby. As he looks to his side to try and peek at the scene. “You both are too personal involved at this call, I’m just trying to look out for you.” Bobby says.

Too personal involved? What did that mean? Who was close to Eddie and him? The question was ringing through Evan’s head while Eddie was talking with Bobby now. Until it hit him. Literally a minute ago he was talking about his girlfriend, his guts were telling him something wasn’t right.

Shit.

Bobby ends the conversation with both Eddie and Evan and turns to walk away. When Evan stops him in his movement by grabbing his arm. “Is it (Y/n)?” Evan asks with a trembling voice as he lets go of his captains arm. Bobby’s eyes shot from Eddie to Evan. And softly nodded his head. “Yes. It’s (Y/n).” He confirms.

Evan felt like the world was suddenly on fire and broke down piece, by piece.

Evan grabbed the backboard he had already out and put it underneath his arm. “Too personal involved my ass.” Evan’s voice spoke as he passed Bobby and ran as fast as he could with the backboard he was carrying. As he comes closer, and closer. He recognises the dress out of a thousand. It was the dress (y/n) wore this morning when he left the house to go on shift this exact morning. It’s the dress she wore on their date night two weeks ago. The green dress that made him go crazy. But that green dress was now partly underneath a car. Her groceries were spread over the whole scene. He was sure he passed by a package of cocoa in his speed.

Evan drops the backboard he was carrying when he was close enough to his girlfriend. She was sobbing. Chimney was sitting at her side, while Hen was in the car dealing with the driver. Evan kneeled down on the ground next to the side of (Y/n). “Hey.. hey, I’m here. I’m with you.” Evan says as he grabs her free hand. “Buck?” She cries. She has a neck brace around her neck. “I’m here baby.” He says softly as he brings his mouth towards her hand and plants a kiss on it. He was panicking. “You’re gonna be okay.” He reassured her.

The driver was already evacuated from his car. “Vitals are trembling downwards” Chimney says as he rips his stethoscope from his ears. “Alright, let’s get her out from underneath the car. Get her on the backboard and transported right now!” Bobby orders his crew. Evan grabbed the backboard he had dropped beside him just a minute ago. And put it down right above her head, so they could slide her from underneath the car on the backboard in one smooth movement. “Ready? On three. One.. two… three.” And with that she was on the backboard. The puddle of blood from her head was still lying on the asphalt.

One more time they counted down to three as they pulled up the backboard and put (y/n) on the gurney. The gurney gets pushed into the back of the ambulance.

(Y/n)’s eyes starts rolling as she goes unconscious. “We’re losing her! We’ve got to intubate her.” Eddie says as he rips off his stethoscope. Chimney stops Eddie from getting a tube out of one of the compartments. “When you put that tube in, there’s a chance it will never come back out.” Chimney warns Eddie, it was his sister after all. Eddie looks at Evan, waiting for his answer. Evan closes his eyes for one millisecond. As he nods in agreement to intubate her, he knew that if they waited any longer, he’d lose her. “I’m going with her.” Evan says as he joined Eddie in the back of the ambulance, and the backdoors closed.

_________

Waiting, waiting, and more waiting. Evan feels like he is going crazy. Eddie and Evan have been here for hours, drinking the grossest hospital coffee to stay awake. The rest of the 118 stops by every now and then, with food and drinks.

“(Y/n) Diaz?” A doctor calls through the waiting room. Eddie and Evan both stand up, and walk towards the doctor. “Follow me please.” The female doctor says as she walks through the hall way. This was weird. This has never happened before. Normally they would tell the family the results in the waiting room. Something wasn’t right. “Take a seat.” she says as she points at the two chairs in front of what Evan assumed to be her desk. Both of them take place, as Evan’s heartbeat started to fasten. The doctor sat down in her office chair and flipped open the folder with documents. She shortly introduces herself to the two men, as she continues to bring the news of (y/n). “Due to the accident, mrs Diaz suffered a severe head trauma, together with a broken left leg and a possible spinal injury.” the doctor says. Both Eddie and Evan are silent. Evan’s heart starts pounding like it was trying to leave his chest. And he starts tapping his feet at the ground in a fast rhythm. “Im sorry I don’t have any better news than this now.” She continued as she tries to fill the silence in the room. Evan sighs as he tries to calm himself down. He was scared.

“Okay but.. how is she doing? Is she awake?” Eddie asks the doctor. The doctor is looking down at the documents. “We’ve worked on her left leg, she has now pins and screws helping to heal the bones in her leg. Due to her spinal injury, I’m afraid she may suffer paralysis to the lower body.. I can’t say if this is temporary or permanent. As for your question if she’s awake, I’m afraid she’s not. She’s in a coma, because of the head injury, and she’s also still intubated.” The doctor explains the situation.

It felt for Evan like the world was falling apart. At this moment, everything that was being said turned into muffled sounds. The kind of sounds you’d hear if you were falling a sleep. “How did this even happen?” Eddie asked the doctor. “We did a few tests on the driver, and it turned out he was under the influence of alcohol.” Evan looked up at the doctor, but he doesn’t say anything. A thousand different emotions are projected on his face and rushing through his veins. His heart tightened in his chest at the words that just came out of the doctor’s mouth. Evan could hear his breathing become more and more rapid. He could still hear how Eddie and the doctor were talking, discussing some things.

But for Evan it’s becoming all too much. He has the feeling that he needs to leave the room. Right. Fucking. now. In one fast movement he stands up and storms out of the room. He hears how the door slams shut behind him, as he grabs his chest to try and calm himself down. He walks down the hall and slams with his fist on the first wall he sees. Tears were welling in his eyes. He couldn’t lose her. Not like this.

He lets his back fall against the wall and let himself slide downward. He closes his arms around his knees, as tears rolls down his cheeks. He sobs. He couldn’t believe how his world got turned upside down in a flash.

“I think it’s better for you if you take a break, Buck.” Eddie told Evan. He hasn’t left the room since he came in this morning. Eddie puts his hand on Evan’s shoulder, and gave him a soft squeeze. Evan knew Eddie was just looking out for him, so he knew it was best to not go against Eddie. Evan just nods, leaves a soft kiss on (y/n)’s hand and patted Eddie on his shoulder before he left the room.

“Hey sis..” he starts, as he takes place on the chair where Evan was sitting just a few seconds ago. He sighs. “Mi dios, I don’t even know what to say..” he continued. He lays his right hand on hers, which was connected with the IV tube. He lets his eyes wander over her bruised body and the tube that was in her mouth. He sighs at the sight of it. “It breaks my heart, seeing you like this..” he goes on after a minute of silence. It was his little sister, lying in the hospital bed. He was closest to (y/n) than to any of his other sisters. He could tell her everything.

Eddie takes a look behind him and sees how Evan is standing in front of the window with his back towards the room. Eddie could sense that Evan was struggling with himself, he didn’t know how to act or how to feel.

“You know how Buck is with emotions. But I can see he’s reaching his breaking point.” He says as he turns back towards (y/n). The beeps and other sounds make Eddie feel sick. It felt like Eddie was reliving everything what happened with Shannon all over again. “I can tell you, it’s not just Buck who’s reaching his breaking point.. I’m trying to stay strong for you and for Chris.. but the truth is, I don’t know how much longer I can do this (y/n).” Eddie continues. His voice is breaking, sounding like he could burst out in tears with a snap of his fingers.

It has been a week since the accident, both Evan and Eddie were here for as long as they could each day. Eddie still had Chris to look after, but luckily his Abuela was there whenever he needed her. Chris went on and on asking about his aunt (Y/n), where she was, how she was doing.. But every single time Chris would mention her, Eddie could feel his heart racing in his chest. He didn’t want to worry Chris. So he just told him that she was busy.

“Please.. I need you to fight. Fight to come back to us. Because.. I don’t know if I can survive another loss. Especially if it’s you.” He tries to wipe away his tears with his left hand, while he squeezes hers with his right hand. “Buck can’t lose you. I can’t lose you. Not like this..” he cries. He couldn’t stop his tears.

He cried until there weren’t any tears left to cry, Eddie is still sitting in the chair. His left elbow leaning on his left knee to give him some support, as his right hand still remained on her hand. Eddie was just looking at his feet, thinking about all different kind of scenarios of what could happen. Eddie flinched as someone touches his shoulder. It was Evan with two cardboard to go cups in his hands. “Here..” Evan says as he holds out the cardboard cup towards Eddie. “Thanks.” He says as he accepts the cup from Evan with his left hand, and puts it on the small table next to the chair he was sitting on.

As suddenly the fingers of her left hand he was holding, started to move. He could feel the small movements underneath the palm of his hand. Slowly he moved his head, so he could look at her hand. Her fingers were definitely moving. His eyes shot towards her face. Eddie stood up from his chair as he took place next to the side of her bed. “Eddie? What’s wrong?” Evan’s voice said when he puts his coffee down on the same small table. Evan took place next to the other side of the bed.

“She moved..” Eddie says, not really knowing if this was real or not. “Wait. what?” Evan reacts as he looks at Eddie. “She moved her fingers Buck. Look.” Eddie says as he removes his hand off hers. Evan takes a look at her hand, he could see her fingers twitching.

Evan’s eyes wandered towards her face. Her eyelids were slowly opening. Eddie pushed the alarm button in the room for a doctor or nurse to get in and help. Step by step, her eye lids opened wider and wider. Until she was fully conscious. A smile appeared on Evan’s face when his eyes met hers. But her face went to a scared look when she realised what was happening. Her leg was torturing her and it felt like her head was about to explode. She wanted to scream but feels like she can’t. Panic rushed through her veins. She wanted to feel what was on her face, connecting to her mouth. But before her right hand could touch it, Evan stopped her by grabbing her hand. “No.. no.” He whispered when he grabbed her hand en put it on his chest. Tears are leaving the corner of her eyes.

___________

Temporary paralysis to the lower body. That is what she got from crossing the street with a green light. Together with some cruel nightmares. Every time when she closed her eyes she would relive that same moment. She would wake up crying, screaming and sweating.

(Y/n) is sitting in her wheelchair as she tries to reach for her keys, which were lying on the kitchen island. She reaches out as far as she could, basically pushing her body almost into the wooden construction of the kitchen. She sighs. This isn’t gonna work. Evan was sleeping, he came home late from shift last night. She didn’t want to wake him and ask him to grab her keys if she was so close to getting it herself. (Y/n) just had to push through. She could do this.. right?

The last weeks she had appointments with a physiotherapist, to try and get her ability to walk back again. But there weren’t any results yet. She was getting impatient, it was like everything she did all the trouble she went through, didn’t do anything for her legs.

(Y/n) puts her hands on the arm rests of the wheelchair she was sitting in, and with all her strength she has in her arms pushes herself to her feet. For a second, it feels like she’s the old (y/n) again. But then with all of gravity’s help, she falls to the side with her butt on the ground. “For fuck sake!” She yells, as she pushes the wheelchair with every single piece of annoyance and anger she has in her to the other side of the room. She didn’t want to have anything to do with it. She can walk. She knows it. She did it before this stupid accident so she can do it again. She didn’t need a wheelchair.

A loud bang roars through the room.

Tears were rolling down her cheeks. She feels like a failure. Frustrated she puts her hands in her hair and starts pulling some hairs from her scalp.

Evan shot up at the sound of a bang. With sleepy eyes, which were still half closed. He sweeps his arm beside him, searching for his girlfriend. “(Y/n)?” He says softly as he now takes a look beside him and doesn’t spot her. He pulls off the covers and steps out of bed as he makes his way through his house, searching for his girlfriend.

“(Y/n)?” Her name sounds through the house. His eyes fall on the wheelchair which was now in the corner of the kitchen. He furrowed his brows, as he notices it. Evan hears a soft sob. He follows the sound, but then he sees his girlfriend between the kitchen island and the counter, on the ground. With tears falling down her face.

“Hey! Hey! hey! What happened?” Evan asks with a concerned voice as he rushes to her side, letting himself fall down on his knees. She didn’t answer. He puts a hand on her shoulder, as he tries to make eye contact with her.

Still no answer.

Evan lets himself sit down on his butt next to her, as he crosses his legs. His hand which was on her shoulder, now makes its way towards her back as he makes small circles on it. Once again he tries to make eye contact with her.

“I can’t..” she sobs.

“You can’t.. what?” He asks confused. She wipes her hand underneath her eyes, as she tries to wipe away some tears. “Do simple shit. Like getting my fucking keys from the damn’ kitchen counter.” She cries.

Evan’s mouth left out a sigh. He moves himself to sit more across of her. Pieces of hair were sticking to her face because of the tears. He brushes a few strands of hair behind her ear. His fingers trace down from her ear towards her cheek.

“But.. We’ve come so far..” he starts. “Buck! I’ve been doing this for weeks now, maybe months.. and I still don’t see any fucking progress.” she yells as she bangs her fist on the side of the kitchen island.

“That time will come. You just need to be patient.” Evan tried to reassure her. “Time. Yeah.. sure. How much fucking time does it need?!” she continued on. “(Y/n)-“ he starts. “And don’t you dare to say ‘I know how you feel’ because you fucking don’t!” (Y/n) snapped back at Evan.

Evan shook his head.

“Oh so.. I haven’t been pinned down by a firetruck? I haven’t broke my leg and not been able to work for months, just like you? I haven’t been stuck in a wheelchair just like you?” Evan shot back at her. “It’s not the same.” She said under her breath, as she started fidgeting with her fingers. And looks down at her hands.

“You know what.. you’re right…” (Y/n) looked up at Evan as he said that. “I don’t know how it feels to be stuck to that chair. To not feel your own legs. But what I do know is that I had someone to rely on. And that person was you. You dragged me through that horrible period of my life.” Evan said while he intensely looked into her eyes. He had to make sure the message came over. “So right now. I need you to do the damn’ same. So go ahead, push me away. Punch me, I don’t care. But I will still be here at the end of the day. For you. Because I love you.” Evan ended his speech.

She just looks at him. A moment of silence seemed to be created in between the yelling of (Y/n) and the speech of Evan.

“I’m sorry.” She whispers. As tears were again rolling down her cheeks. “Come here..” Evan says as he reels her into him. He cupped one hand on the back of her head, and rested the other hand around her waist. She sobs into the crook of his neck, a wet spot seems to be created on his t shirt. He plants a kiss on the side of her head.

“We’ll be alright..”

#911 #911 fox #911 imagine #buck imagine #buck x reader #evan buckley imagine #evan buckley x reader #evanbuckley #imagine #911 abc

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jolalibrary · 2 years ago

Text

had to see you

simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

summary: And then, he says, “It’s nice.” “You can tell me if it isn’t, I promise I won’t be offended—it’s not as though I cook often.” “It is nice,” he repeats, giving you a look which tells you to stop worrying as if you have any control over your feelings.

an: eventual smut. angst with happy ending. will-they-won't-they, but they do. smut. he loves you 100%. word count: 5.7k || there’s a part two to this here

simon ghost riley masterlist

You love the rain.

Not so much when you’re away. When you’re strapped up, weighed down by all your gear. The additional weight of being wet makes for an uncomfortable experience, with hair clinging to foreheads and mud sticking to your skin. It also forces things to rub more, chaff. Your skin is often raw from where the buckles and belts sit.

But, at home, it’s refreshing.

It’s why you never hated your nickname, the one given to you in jest—to remind you that you are a female, soft, emotional. Only for it to grow more fitting. Because Rain comes from above, sharp, falling where needed—catching people by surprise, and leaving traces behind, but never enough to know where you’ll land next.

Rain is also one word. One syllable. Short, sharp and easy.

It can be spat, it can be sweetly said and affectionately called.

On good days, it reminds you of long car rides, staring out of windows at passing traffic as you watch beads of its travel down—racing. On bad days, it reminds you of more unpleasant memories, ones born in moments you’d sooner forget, an emptiness in your chest from betrayal, loss and bad choices.

At home, rain itself keeps you rooted. The scent, for one, not allowing your mind to whisk you off too old memories of war and enemy territories. The sound, for another, hits your windows and dulls the silence. All three senses are busied by it. It all blends perfectly together with the crackling of your candles and the low-light vibe you have going off in your flat.

Plus, there’s nothing more British than bad weather.

Each time you’re able to come home, you hope it’s raining. Landing back, greeted with cold and horrid rain. Preferably the kind which looks misty through windows and soaks you in seconds when you step into it. The kind which makes it hard to know which speed to put your car wipers on, and socks get drenched as puddles form quicker than people can account for.

You didn’t care that you looked like a drowned rat when you unlocked your flat door. Or that your wet clothes were difficult to remove as steam filled your bathroom because you were always going to have a shower. A routine—a tradition of sorts.

Hands desperate to wash the months away, let your expensive soaps and scents soak into neglected skin and smother old scars and newly gained ones. Plus, the water was hotter at home, almost scolding your skin as you stood under it, letting each droplet massage a part of your neck and upper back as your living room music drifted through the cracked door.

You dress before you really prune, sliding on silk PJs—the ones which you buy as a treat and wear once, maybe twice a year. Your skin sighs in relief, thankful to forget sand, bullets and bruises, the same as your mind. Busying your hands with preparing a lavish dinner, a large dish too ridiculous for one person—but again, you’d missed it. Home.

The scent of gravy, potatoes and meat.

When asked, you’d been quiet about your plans with the others. Them only having a slight idea of which city you call home. It’s not that you didn’t want to see them—not even sure you’d be able to fall asleep without Soap’s snores, Ghost’s huffs and Gaz’s odd bedtime stories. But, you’d gained new nightmares on the last job—ones which you needed to make peace with before they stole another fraction of your soul.

That’s what it did, eventually. Even to the best of them.

Bad choices, untested intel and wrong moves left little marks before they claimed a piece of innocence, kindness and happiness.

It’s a little different with the 141. Without realising it, you’re sure you all help smother each other's struggles away. But it’s only temporary. You know it, you can feel it in the muscles in your back and in the knots in your stomach. So, if you saw them now when you needed to heal—if you relied on them—you’d go back weaker than when you left. And they needed you; you needed them. A team where you could only trust one another—having been betrayed so often, you were all each other had.

It’s why you were taken back by a firm knock.

Short. Deliberate.

Pausing, allowing whoever they were to realise their mistake. Even if the sound didn’t appear as though they’d chosen the wrong flat or someone who was cherry-knocking. It was purposeful, direct, and your hands quickly dried on the kitchen towel as your feet crossed the tiles and laminate to your front door.

When you’d left, you’d asked a friend to check in on the flat—fix the peephole. Something having forced it to get stuck, leaving you blind to whoever was on the other side. Your friend is good, kind, and sweet but forgetful. Something which also reminds you of home as you snort, undoing the chain, and unlocking the door, half expecting them.

Only to see him.

“Ghost?”

He has a hood up, and a scarf wrapped around the lower part of his face.

His eyes fall over you, taking you in centimetre by centimetre, digging into you as if he’d not expected to see you.

You find it just as odd to see the skin around his eyes not tainted in grey or black and that his frame is still as ridiculously large, even in plain clothes, as he holds a duffel bag in his hand.

Suddenly aware of the thin layer covering your body from him. Especially as his eyes drop from your face to the silk shirt with its three buttons undone and then to your legs, where silk shorts did their best but were futile in hiding thighs, knees or legs from him.

“You lettin’ me in?”

Instinctively, you move, not even questioning it.

Even if he didn’t say it like an order, he was still your lieutenant. Even on home ground, you slipped into your sergeant role too quickly. Watching him pass you, turning to face the direction he moves in before pressing your back against the inside of your door. Fingers sliding to the side of you, turning the lock, the sound filling the small space as you watch him stop at your key hook, slowly sliding his feet from his boots—finding him wearing thick, bobbly socks.

He turns to face you, eyes washing over you again as his hood remains up as he undoes the scarf. It doesn’t matter if you’ve seen his face a handful of times, each time, it still renders you silent, if only for a second.

Clearing your throat, you rub the back of your neck. “I don’t mean this to come out as rude, but why are you—“

“Someone broke into my place.”

You move, almost too quickly, from the door. Your hand brushing his shoulder, wanting—needing—to comfort him, soothe him like you would a friend. Before you remembered who this was.

Almost surprised he doesn’t flinch. Even if he does shoot you a surprised look before you wrench your hand back.

“S-sorry. Habit.” He frowns, and you wish the floor would swallow you whole. “Not with y—when I’m home, I’m… well, I—did they take anything?”

“Not sure.”

Right. “Do you need somewhere to stay?”

He looks at you briefly before his eyes flick away, the tell-tale signs of him processing and thinking. You’ve seen him do it often, especially when Price is talking and when he reads files. As if he’s choosing where to store it in the filing cabinet, he calls his brain.

“Please,” he says, the word almost coming out as a whisper.

As if it’s so rarely ever said.

You’re unsure what to say, even if there’s so much swirling around your brain. So many questions you want to pepper him with, but he’s not Soap, who’ll answer them all or Gaz, who’ll have already told you everything.

He’s Ghost.

Silent. Quiet, Ghost.

Your oven beeps, his head turning to the sound.

Sighing, you rub your arms, suddenly aware of how cold your hallway feels, as you cover your chest with your elbows. “You hungry?”

Silence.

A beat or two blossoming, your eyes unable to move from his face, even if you know you should, before he licks his lips, saying, “Starving.”

You smile, “Good. It's not a lot, just some chicken, potatoes… a bit of veg. Nothing huge. And, not quite a typical Sunday roast, but enough to ease me back in.”

He doesn’t laugh, not that you expect him to.

“Bathroom is there, to your right. If you need it,” you say quickly, almost stepping past him to answer your beeping oven. “I just need to dish up, and… yeah.”

You expect to feel calmer by the time he’s back. Especially with your dressing gown on, loosely knotted at your waist, covering more of you from him.

But you’re more nervous.

Doubting the food you’ve plated, the scent of the candles, whether the low lights make it romantic and whether you should turn up the acoustic songs playing or let the rain be the soundtrack of the evening. Suddenly aware of how fucking odd this is.

Him being here.

And yet, not that odd at all.

“Hope it’s okay…” you mumble nervously as you place the plate down.

He looks like he belongs at your table, even if your table is small and usually for one-person. He’d helped, in as much of a way as a stranger can in someone’s home, grabbing glasses from cupboards you direct him to, making squash for you and water for him.

His hands stuffed into the pocket of his hoodie as he waited for further instruction, catching sight of the hood still being up, having noticed he’d swapped jeans for dark joggers before you told him to sit.

“There’s more gravy… just wasn’t sure how you liked it,” you add.

Ghost doesn’t answer, not even as you slide into the chair opposite. Your hands have a slight tremble to them as you pick up your cutlery, trying not to watch him take a bite—suddenly feeling like a contestant on a judging show.

And then, he says, “It’s nice.”

“You can tell me if it isn’t, I promise I won’t be offended—it’s not as though I cook often.”

“It is nice,” he repeats, giving you a look which tells you to stop worrying as if you have any control over your feelings.

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence, the occasional sound of a fork grazing the plate and the knife slicing through food. It’s almost normal—as though this happens regularly.

“Your place is nice, too,” he mumbles.

Lifting your head, you find he’s looking at you already. “You don’t have to lie, Simon. You can still stay even if you think my decor is odd.”

His eyes widen a fraction before it vanishes like it never existed. A brief moment of you wondering why, until you realise the slip—the way you used his name and not his alias. Making it feel personal. More so than the two of your knees occasionally butting under the table.

“It’s not what I expected.”

“You’ve thought about my place?”

Ghost says nothing, hovering his fork over his dinner as he keeps his eyes down.

You smile if only to yourself, pushing some meat and vegetables onto your fork, continuing—wondering if he’s hoping you would. That silence would settle over the two of you, the storm outside being enough background noise to keep it from being awkward.

“I have to ask,” you say suddenly, keeping your gaze down, trying to still your pulse as you manoeuvre food around the sauce. “Why me? I mean… I don’t mind you being here, but I thought, well, I assumed you’d pick Soap—if you needed a place to stay.”

You try not to look, even when you hear a faint snort, seeing his plate—empty, only traces of broccoli stalks remaining—slide closer as the chair creaks in his movement.

“You were closer.”

Oh.

Your stomach drops, suddenly feeling foolish for thinking there could be any other reason.

Almost wanting to kick yourself for allowing yourself to consider another option, one which you’ve been stuffing down for weeks, months…

It isn’t as though you were meant to fall for him. The man who originally kept his face a higher guarded secret than his own name. But, it stemmed naturally and out of nowhere. He made you laugh as you moved into an enemy building—nerves humming in your bones. He made it worse when he flung himself in front of you before a car exploded, gripping you tightly against him, not letting go for minutes later before his hand cupped your cheek, mouthing words you couldn’t hear as ears rang and rang.

Smiling, you nod, not sure what else to say as you take his plate and yours, turning your back to him as you hear him clear his throat.

“I had to see if you were okay.”

You don’t place the plates down, not immediately.

Eyes trying to peer at him through the corner of your vision, slowly lowering the porcelain to the counter—too afraid to break the moment with a single sound, even as your heart hammered in your ears, in your chest, and throat.

He had said it so softly, you have to wonder how long it’s been churning on his tongue.

Slowly turning, you face him, finding his eyes already on you with an awkwardness in his shoulders as he looks up at you.

“Well, I’m fine.”

“Had to be sure.”

You smile, pulling your dressing gown around you tighter. “Well, that’s because you’re a good lieutenant.”

His brows knit, lips spreading into a thin light before you notice the subtle shift in his nostrils as though he’s sighed before Ghost nods with his usual professionalism. That’s when your stomach drops, fluttering ridiculously near your feet as you feel you’ve made a mistake.

“Tea?” you ask.

Ghost’s face shifts and you’re almost sure there’s a faint smile on his lips.

“Don’t worry, I know how you like it,” you add, pulling open a cupboard as you retrieve two mugs and flick the kettle on. “I’ve heard you berate Soap for his piss-poor tea skills.”

You make him snort.

And it does nothing to stifle the fluttering.

If anything, it adds to it.

Shit.

Even though it’ll be his bed for the night, Ghost refuses to sit on the sofa and doesn’t allow you to sit in the armchair. Practically insisting you sit how you would if he wasn’t here. Even if you’re worried he won’t be comfortable, the ridiculous chair was bought as a filler—an accessory, rather than something people actually used.

“Fine,” you mumbled, grabbing your blanket and curling up across both seats as he clutched the mug in his hand.

You put something crap on the TV, the volume low—just in case he doesn’t feel like talking. Your eyes flick to it occasionally, half-listening as you softly wiggle your toes under the blanket—needing something to focus on. Because you couldn’t keep looking at him.

Not with how your mind was running away from you, imagining ifs and buts and everything else in between.

He fits here. Your home rarely feels warm and comforting, but with his presence, it does. As though your place has always wanted to be enjoyed by two people, not one person who rarely ever visited it.

It doesn’t feel weird, even if it should. It makes you feel unsteady, and dizzy. Suddenly unable to stop focusing on the fact there’s a six-foot-something amount of feelings in your chest, twisting and tightening, trying to unlock everything you stuffed down.

That same instinct and set of emotions which made you try to rip yourself from Soap’s grip when Ghost had entered a blazing building just for a stupid USB; how you’d been so angry, feral—as Soap called it—not able to think, how it had filled you, consuming you. How you’d even told Price you needed benching, unable to even look at your lieutenant, never mind be in the same room.

He eventually cornered you on the base, pushing you, mixing between berating and taunting you until you slammed your small fist into his shoulder as you called him an idiot, a fucking cunt, a liability, a heartless cunt. How your tiny fist hammered into him with each array of insults until he grasped it tenderly, staring at you until tears bubbled in your eyes.

You cannot die.

Why?

But, he had to know. His eyes followed a single tear down your cheek as he released your wrist, allowing you to walk away from him and begin the process of stuffing everything down again.

Then you’d been shot. Through and through. Fire, gasp and fucking pain, your mind rendered uselessly, but he was still the person you called for. Not Soap, who was closer, not Gaz, who could actually stitch you. But Ghost.

Ghost who came in a flash, telling you what you needed to hear—ordering you to do things like look at him, gripping his arm.

“What?”

Blinking, you didn’t even realise you’d been looking at him. Your mind blanking excuses tumbling from your grasp as you offer the quickest smile and a ‘nothing’.

You forget how good he is at reading people.

Especially you. Almost sure you make it easy for him, even if everyone else says they struggle.

Ghost always knows, as though he’s in your head, digging his way through each time he stares at you. You wonder how much you let him in, whether he finds it easy before you want him in there—in your mind, in your heart.

Now, he’s giving you a stern look, one which makes the truth rattle in your chest and snakes up your throat.

Sighing, you shake your head. “Fine, I was thinking about how weirdly normal it is that you’re here. That it doesn’t feel weird, alright? That was it.”

Anyone else, you’d think they’d smirk.

But with him, it’s the slightest movement of his lip which tells you he has heard you.

Ghost takes a sip, purposefully holding your gaze as he does so before filling the silence with, “You thought about it, then? Me being here.”

“Of course I have,” you answer too quickly, wanting to kick yourself as the words hit the air, his brows raising as he sips his tea. “Not… Not like that.”

“How then?”

Shit. Swallowing, you sigh, trying to buy yourself time. Shit, bollocks, shit.

“Should tell you, lying to your lieutenant isn’t smart.”

You give him a sharp look of your own, and he snorts—actually snorts. Your eyes are all set to roll until he says your name.

Your real name.

Not your nickname. Not sergeant or soldier.

“Fine. I’ve thought about it.”

“It?”

You groan, pulling the blanket up further—not that it’ll hide the obvious warming of your cheeks or embarrassment. You’re sure that’s painted across the room, likely even doing a jig at your expense.

“Us. You, me. In a bed,” you mumble. “Happy?”

Wanting to hide your face, almost about to when the sound of his mug meeting your coaster makes you freeze. Your armchair—the one his frame has somehow fit into comfortably—groans as he moves, and you let yourself see him from the corner of your eye. His forearms leaning on his knees, his hand sliding his hood down as he watches you.

He’s silent.

So silent it almost kills you. The adverts in the background do nothing to stop it; the rain, now hammering against the windows, was not stifling it.

Slowly breathing as you place your mug down, standing before you can even consider the options. “I didn’t realise how late it is,” you say, forcing a yawn. “I should… go to bed. Let you make your bed.”

You fold the blanket, throwing it over the arm as you try to shrug, and play it off, but he’s quicker at recognising you—he knows you better than that. His hand comes to touch your wrist, like he did months ago, eyes scanning yours.

For what you’re not sure.

Not wanting to get your hopes up. Not wanting to lose yourself in dreams and imagination.

So, you smile. As sweetly and as believable as you can as you point to the coffee table chest. “Blankets, pillows, the lot are in there,” you say, almost breathlessly, as he releases you. “Have a nice sleep, Gh—Simon.”

He swallows, his face remains unreadable as he chokes out, “You too.”

But you’re already moving, desperately seeking your room—throwing the door open and shutting it as you place your back against it. She’s closing, chest hammering so hard you’re sure it’s trying to escape.

Go back.

Go back to him.

Your eyes slowly open, catching sight of yourself in the mirror as the street lamps partially light your room.

He came to check on you. You.

Rolling your neck, your fingers flex at your side, twisting your wrists, wanting to shake it all from you. Trying, desperately to rid yourself of the tension and adrenaline. Almost doing so until you hear the floorboards outside your door creak.

It doubles your heart rate as a lump forms in your throat, suffocating you. You don’t want to give in, but wish to all at once. Your hand cupping your mouth, trying to hide the extra breaths the sound has forced you to make. Needing him. Wanting his calloused fingers to leave marks over your skin, his stubble to slice against your cheeks as his lips capture your breath, words and soul.

It’s that which makes you shift from the door. Not sure what you’re expecting, what you’re going to see, as your hand twists the doorknob, coming face to face with him all over again.

His hoodie is gone.

Expression torn—that same awkwardness in his shoulders.

Your hallway light touches his unreadable expression, highlighting all the lines and shading of his tattoo that stand out against his skin.

“Tell me to go back to your living room.”

Inhaling sharply, your hand drops from your mouth and falls limply to your side.

You are not thinking, thoughts all scattered, scrambled. Not even sure you can find words to tell him you want anything but. That you want him here, right in front of you; you want him to be rough and also kind, you want him to kiss you like he’ll never have the chance to again.

As though reading you, he moves closer, not even touching you, but your body yearns for him, muscles tensing and spasming at the endless thoughts of what could be—what he could do, what you already know he’d be good at. Suddenly wanting to rid yourself of your dressing gown, of your PJs, of the thin lace between your thighs you’ve already ruined.

“Words, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart.

Your legs almost give way, a smile wanting to bloom and spread across your lips, up your cheeks until it's radiating from you.

“Tell me. Or I’ll kiss you.”

Speechless, your lips part.

Yes. Please, yes.

Not even sure you are even breathing as you imagine his hands on you, his mouth against yours, against your neck, descending down and down—

His hand cups your cheek, pulling your eyes to his as he examines you. He studies you like he’s capturing every fucking inch of you: the curve of your cheeks, the position of your brows, the way your lips are waiting for him. The clear crisis you’re going through is rendered and broken at the mere thought of this becoming a reality.

“Simon…” you manage to whisper.

Hoping it's enough. Needing it to be enough.

He blinks once more before he lowers his head, his lips planting against yours and you’re sure you explode. Your heart furiously beating, ears buzzing and burning all at once.

Barely focusing on the way his arm snakes around you as your mouth moves to meet each one of his movements. His lips are soft, even if his tongue is rough; his grip tight, purposeful—desperate, even if yours are gentle, nervous. The pads of your fingers slide past the healed scar on his cheek, moving into his hair, his groan vibrating against your lips.

Gh—Simon is almost lifting you, moving you back as his foot kicks your bedroom door shut behind him, blocking out the light from the hallway. Only the streetlights dance shadows across your room as kisses grow messier, fingers brushing over skin as he hooks a finger in the waistband of your shorts, then sliding, freeing you, until you’re stepping out of them. Your robe next, falling with a thud as your hands slide under his t-shirt, feeling taut, hard muscle and silver scars which paint stories as your legs find your bed.

He smells different than usual.

Less sweat and fireworks, and more some combination of Ghost meeting sandalwood and amber as the two of you bend down onto your bed, the frame hissing at the weight and movement—not even aware of what’ll be expected to support soon enough.

“Shit, woman. Y’know how beautiful you are?”

His teeth nipping, sucking, leaving an answer to your prayer before you feel him unbuttoning your top, all slow and gentle, as if undoing a present he’s waited desperately for.

“Rip it,” you moan, his teeth grazing over the space between your breasts before he lifts up.

His eyes burn into yours, the smallest evidence of a smirk on his mouth as he slowly shakes his head. “I’ve waited too fuckin’ long to get here, I’m takin’ my damn time.”

If you weren’t already soaked for him, that did it.

All slick, swollen and hungry for him. Not sure if it’ll even take much, not with how precise you can imagine him being—how fucking thick his fingers are, how he’s staring at you like he wants to break you in all the ways he can before sunrise.

And you want it. Desperate for it. So much so that just the fan of his warm breath against your exposed nipples makes you rub your thighs together, needing friction—something he can tell, he must do.

“Wait.”

It’s sharp, authoritative, and he’s going to be the death of you.

Your body is so tense, you’re sure it’ll snap if you keep any more still as he undoes the last button and exposes your skin to the cool air and his breath. So focused on his eyes, you’ve forgotten all about his hand until you feel lace dig into your waist, tightening and tightening—snap.

And he smirks.

The devious bastard smirks.

Your lips part to make a remark—one you’re not even wholeheartedly sure will come out right—but it dies when he touches you, one finger, one thick calloused finger sliding between your thighs, brushing where you need him.

“Fuck…”

“Part them, sweetheart.”

And you do.

You do it like he’s said open-fucking-sésame. Two fingers sliding against you, diving between your folds. It’s intense, teasing and everything all at once. It’s making you burn and shiver, sweat building on your brow as you pant and whimper. His name falls freely, almost chanting it, like a song you’re the only one who can sing it. He captures what he can, tasting each syllable you say of his name until you’re tightening and clenching, and he whispers in your ear how good you are, how perfect you are, and you meet your orgasm with blinding lights and arched back.

The sight of him licking your want from his fingers brings you back, his mouth crashing against yours as you pull him down, knee bent against his hip as his hand comes to rest on your hip—the one you hope he’s bruising. Wanting, wishing for him to leave literal fingerprints as your hand slides between the two of you.

You knew before tonight Simon Riley would be big.

Almost too big.

The weight of him against your palm is something else, the thickness of his cock in between your fingers as you make him hiss, thumb swiping over the head as he groans.

He mixes kissing and nipping at your neck depending on what your hand does, the groans of your name making you desperate—needing him inside you, suddenly empty and desperate all over again, but not for his fingers.

You want him so deep in you you’ll forever feel empty without him. You want to feel every inch of him, want to rock against his hips as you press half-moons into his skin as nails dig into him.

The ache growing, worsening as his tongue draws a line from your neck to your earlobe, his fist clenching around your bed sheets at your side.

“Fuck… stop. Stop,” he groans, a hand smothering yours, halting you as he stares at you before pressing his forehead against yours.

Letting him go, touching his cheek—his eyes full of lust, searing into you.

“I want you.”

“Yeah?”

You nod, his lips sliding up into a half-smirk—a Simon special. “I’ll go slow.”

“I hope you fucking don’t.”

His eyes harden. “I’m going slow. I’ll ruin you later,” he whispers darkly, before capturing your lips, a hand gripping the back of your thigh—shifting it just over his hip.

You're set to argue, and comment you can handle it until you feel him lineup, the head of his cock pushing against your folds.

You gasp as his hips move forward, slowly pushing himself in, your nails digging into his shoulder, into his waist as shivers run down your spine. The stretch being both too much and everything all at once, your toes curling, him slowly burying his cock all the way in as his fingers stroke your jaw.

“So fu—tight. Fuckin'-shit, sweetheart.”

“Simon…”

Your hips roll, moaning at the way it feels, having never felt so full. Never felt so stretched.

He’s slow, as he has been since he stepped over the threshold. His determination to take things slow, to take his time, not lessening now that he’s deep inside of you.

You’re sure you’ve left an array of welts and half-moon marks into his shoulders as he begins to roll his hips, his thrusts purposeful, desperately seeking that spot he already knows.

“Eyes on me,” he says, thumb against your jaw as your eyes lashes beg to flutter, but land on him all the same. “There’s my girl.”

It’s sinful the moan you let escape at his praise, your legs almost jelly as he steals it with a kiss—as though to taste it. Your mouth grasping for him when he pulls his head back, gripping your hip, helping you both to find a steady pace.

He does ruin you.

Not the first time, the second, but on the third.

Legs so sore, boneless and aching you can barely walk without his aid to the bathroom.

You’re not surprised he places you down on the side of the bath, taking a cloth you point him to as he cleans between your thighs as your hisses feel the space. You catch sight of yourself, an array of colours developing across your neck, collarbone and waist—just like you wanted.

A painting in colours of his own design.

You expect awkwardness once you shuffle back, giving him a moment. Finding underwear, sliding it over shaky legs before surrendering the idea of PJs as you slid between your duvet and sheets. When he returns, you brace for regret—for words you wish he’d swallow, face hidden in the scarf or behind a mask, but he’s in boxers and shuts your door with care.

Simon crosses the room, lifting the duvet as he slides in next to you, reaching out, tugging your back to his chest as he places a single kiss on the space below your earlobe.

You want to tell him everything. That you like him, could even love him by now. That you look for him too, that you worry, that you care. You'd tell him that he has pierced your heart, and you welcome the sting, that you'd be there, whenever he needed it. Even with knowing he likes space and distance and everything else in between.

"Stop thinkin' so loud," he grumbles against your skin.

Smiling, you fix your eyes across the darkness, finding the outline of your dresser as his hand finds your hip. Whether to soothe you or silence you, it makes your hands clammy.

Unsure if he knows that someone loves him. Someone wants him alive, wants him uninjured.

“I have feelings for you…” you whisper, fixing your eyes on your dresser as you swallow. “In case it wasn’t obvious.”

He doesn’t tense, doesn’t move.

Blinking, you try to trace the shapes of your handles, keeping your mind busy, the silence building and building.

"Say that again." You turn your head, meeting his stare, watching as he raises his knuckles before he traces your cheekbone. "Please."

His touch is so gentle, so soft that it makes your heart swell—your face relaxing as you repeat it again. "I have feelings for you.

"I care about you and...I like you alive, Simon."

You don't expect a reply, a declaration of his own. The fact he hasn't moved and hasn't pulled his knuckles from stroking your cheek, is enough of a declaration. Your lips turn, meeting them, pressing the softest kiss to them as if saying I know, I don't need to hear it. I know.

Letting your eyes ensure the message lands as you hold his gaze, ever-so-slightly nodding.

“I texted him. Johnny," he says. His fingers spread, cupping your cheek, thumb stroking your cheek. “But, I had to see you. Had to be sure.”

Your eyes lower briefly, feeling your heart almost stammer at his words. “Because I’m your sergeant or because I’m your girl.”

You’re my girl. Mine. Fuck, you’re mine. Mine. All mine. You hear me, sweetheart?

His thumb pauses against your cheek, likely remembering the same words he chanted over and over as he fucked you senseless. His eyes narrow ever so slightly as his lips twitch, and yours try not to smile.

“The latter.”

You nod. Feeling your body flush with warmth, turning your head back away from him, grinning as he pulls you flush against him.

Your heart thumping mine, mine, mine. Hearing him get comfortable against the pillow, a soft sigh blowing past his lips and kissing your skin.

“You make shit tea, though.”

read part two

a huge thank you to @ghostaholics for this absolutely gorgeous graphic. I can’t believe how much it encapsulates the entire piece and is just so me, and so pretty. thank you so much, I appreciate it so much 💕!

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