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nadvs · 8 months ago

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watch and learn (part seven)

pairing fratboy! rafe cameron x female reader

rating explicit 18+

content warning drug and alcohol use

summary it takes one conversation with your college dorm neighbor to know you won’t get along. rafe is loud, rude, and short-tempered. after he overhears you talking about a disappointing fling, he loses his confidence in his sexual abilities and suggests you start hooking up to both improve your skills in the bedroom. you can’t stand him, but it’s too good of an offer to turn down.

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The next morning, you sleep in, recovering from the party. Your head is still foggy as you scroll through your phone in bed, thinking about last night.

You spent a lot of time with Blake. He was nice and charming and all you did was talk and share innocent touches. He’s nothing but green flags.

Yet your mind kept reminding you of Rafe. And it kept replaying the sight of him kissing another girl.

Something between you two shifted the other day, when you dropped by after his dad’s visit. You agreed that you were friends. And then did something that friends definitely don’t do.

Then, of course, he took a few days to be a jerk. But last night, he mustered up a sorry for you, flirting with you again.

It’s almost like he’s leaving breadcrumbs, making you think he has feelings, with the possessiveness and the compliments and the looks he gives you. But time and time and time again, Rafe proves to you that he’s a douchebag who’s not looking for anything more than sex.

And neither are you, you remind yourself. Not with Rafe. He would break your heart if given the chance. And you’re not giving him the chance.

You see a text from Rafe from a couple of hours ago: you up?

You reply: i am now.

You open Instagram to see that Blake posted a story a few minutes ago. It’s a photo of a sign on the side of a building. He’s at a paintball range with his frat brothers. It must be another bonding event.

The text on the photo reads: let’s goooo red team.

You reply to the story: putting all my money on the red team.

He responds: I’ll win for you :)

Rafe has never played paintball before, but it couldn’t have come at a better time. His gun is loaded with blue pellets and he has Blake in his sights before the starting bell even rings.

This will be the best way to release his anger over the fact that he’s losing you. Well, other than getting naked with you and fucking until he can’t think straight. But you weren’t answering your phone this morning. So, this’ll do.

The field is vast under the cloudy sky, cluttered full of obstacles and barriers and embankments. When the game starts, Rafe has one goal and one goal only.

He hates how you were smiling at Blake last night. He hates how you touched his shoulder. How you laughed. How close you were.

Mere minutes into the game, he’s behind a colorfully splattered wall and finally finds Blake in his crosshairs. His finger presses down on the trigger over and over and over again, each pop loud and echoing, coating the front of Blake’s vest with bright blue drops of paint.

“Jesus, Rafe, I think you got him, man!” one of his teammates shouts with a laugh.

Even though one of his buddies on the red team nails Rafe in his arm a couple of times near the end of the round, the game ends in a blue team victory.

As the boys make their way back into the building, Blake shoves Rafe’s shoulder.

“The fuck was that, Cameron?” Blake asks, pointing to his vest, sheathed in blue. His smile is wide, but his tone is sharp. He’s trying to hide it, but he seems actually pissed off. Good.

“My bad, man,” Rafe half-chuckles, lifting his helmet off his head. “Got lost in the game. I love to win.”

The high from winning this stupid game is so intensely gratifying that Rafe wants to keep beating Blake in everything. Including in getting your attention.

When Rafe checks his phone as they leave the range, he sees you finally responded. He’s craving you now, but he’ll see you in a few hours at tonight’s party. And he wants Blake to see you with him.

He was stupid to think he could stay away from you. He’s going to see you as many times as you let him before your touches with Blake have more meaning behind them.

The “anything but clothes” party is slated to start at the Sigma Chi house in a few minutes. You and Liv decide to show up right on time to hang out with the guys and drink before the liquor runs out.

You made a stop at a party store off-campus to buy rolls of caution tape together, deciding to wrap the bright yellow nylon into haphazard tube tops and mini skirts, stuck together with clear packing tape. You’re careful so that the sticky tape is only on the caution tape, not directly touching any skin at all.

When you enter the house, you follow the noise in the kitchen. A group of frat boys are in the dining room, setting up the keg and putting out cups.

Blake and Rafe are standing with four other guys, talking as they set up.

Rafe should’ve put more effort into what he wore. He has a towel around his hips and when you walk in wearing next to nothing, he regrets it immediately. A boner would be way too fucking obvious.

Blake greets you with a side-hug and Rafe cracks his knuckles under the table.

“Hey, how was paintball?” you ask. “Did you win?”

“Lost and I’m wounded.” Blake’s wearing a plastic bag over his chest and another around his hips. He puts his hand over his sternum, the bag crinkling beneath his fingers.

“What the hell happened?” you laugh, placing your hand on his. He pretends to wince in pain when you touch him, making you laugh again. The sight makes Rafe scowl.

“Rafe went all Scarface on him,” Sam says. You look to Rafe, and at the same time, glass shatters in the kitchen behind you.

“Shit!” a guy shouts.

“So glad tomorrow’s thing is outside,” Blake mumbles. “This place is a mess and it’s only gonna get worse.”

“What’s tomorrow?” you ask.

“Family day,” Sam says. “We’re having a barbecue.”

“Do you guys have something going on every weekend?” Liv asks.

“Pretty much,” Blake in a bragging tone.

“And when do you study?” you say.

“During the week, fun police,” Blake mumbles with a playful smile. You hate the label and think back to a conversation you had with him over text about nicknames.

“Don’t call me that, babe,” you respond. Blake told you before that he loathes being called babe.

Rafe doesn’t know you’re saying it ironically. And he’s trying not to lose his mind. He looks down at his beer and takes another sip.

A moment passes and he doesn’t notice that Blake is trying to get his attention until he realizes seven pairs of eyes are on him.

“What?” Rafe asks.

“Who are you bringing tomorrow?” Blake repeats.

“I’m not coming.” Rafe can’t imagine even mentioning the event to anyone in his family.

“What? Why not?” Blake says. “I need to meet who raised you to be so fucking competitive.”

Rafe looks away the same way he did when you confronted his dad for yelling at him. It’s not exactly annoyance in his expression, like you’re used to seeing. It’s discomfort. Embarrassment.

You don’t want anyone to grill him. Not about his family. You can still hear the way his father snapped at him, asked what he was crying for.

“Sounds like you’re just mad that you’re such an easy target,” you say to Blake, primarily to take everyone’s eyes off of Rafe.

You earn a few jeers, heads turning back in your direction. Rafe’s eyes find yours and you glance at him to see a softened expression, the hard lines in his face suddenly gone.

“I’d like to see you try to play paintball,” Blake says.

“Yeah, you’re really selling it,” you respond sarcastically, snapping your gaze back to meet his.

“What other events do you guys have planned?” Liv asks.

As Blake goes into the schedule for the rest of the year - including a community service drive, a Sadie Hawkins formal, and a camping trip - Rafe can’t keep his eyes off of you.

He can’t forget how you stood up to his father, a total stranger, and told him to calm down. He can’t forget how happy your silly little gift made him.

Maybe you were just flirting with Blake, but he wonders if you purposely took the attention off of him, knowing what you know about his family.

You two are friends that have great sex, he knows that, but he’s staring at you like you’re more. You can be irritating and a tight-ass, but you’re kind and thoughtful, too.

Rafe looks away. These thoughts make him uneasy all over. He’s not a feelings kind of guy. And Blake is so obviously your type and Rafe is nothing like him.

He’s not stupid. Anything more than sex between you two would be ridiculous.

The house fills up with partygoers quickly, air thickening, music loud and conversations even louder.

Later on in the night, Rafe’s buzzed and standing by the keg, watching you dance with your friend. The way you roll your hips reminds him of how you move when you’re on top of him and he needs to force himself to look away before he gets hard. Again.

Eventually, he notices you head towards the back of the house alone and he takes the opportunity to talk to you.

When you leave the bathroom and head down the dark hallway back towards the party, you notice Rafe leaning by the wall, a beer bottle in his hand. There’s only a handful of people around, engaging in quiet, private conversation as the music throbs around you.

“Hey,” he says. He wishes he thought of something more clever to say, but he’s pretty close to being drunk.

It’s kind of sweet that he’s waiting here for you. But then you remind yourself he’s just horny.

“Hey,” you say, eyes flitting down his athletic body and to the navy blue towel sitting at his hips. “Pretty lazy of you to use a towel.”

“Nah, it’s smart,” he quips. “That tape is perfect for you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you say.

“You can read, can’t you?” Rafe simply says, his hand ghosting over the bold CAUTION on your chest. You look down at the way his long fingers just barely brush over your breasts, imagining the way they were massaging you earlier this week.

The reminder sends a swirl of warm passion in your core. You want him again. And again. And again.

“Are you trying to say I’m dangerous? I’m not the one attacking people during an innocent game of paintball.”

“I got hit, too, okay?” Rafe complains. He brings his right arm forward, showing you his flexed bicep.

“I don’t see anything,” you laugh.

“These red marks are turning into bruises,” he says, pointing to his skin. “I’ll need you to take care of me.”

“I think you’re just being a fuckboy,” you respond.

Rafe’s smirk is playful and inviting and you realize you’re only inches away from each other, eyes connected and smiles mirrored.

You want to see him naked again. Neither of you had any pointers last time you hooked up, but that doesn’t mean you’re done learning, right?

“I’ve never gotten a ‘you up?’ text at ten in the morning,” you say. Admittedly, you were a little dejected that he didn’t reply to your message earlier today.

“You woke up late,” Rafe says, eyebrows quirking up for a second. “When’d you even get home?”

In reality, he wants to know if you were with Blake. He didn’t see you at last night’s party after he made out with a girl just to unsuccessfully make you jealous. Maybe you messed around with Blake and stayed up late with him.

“I don’t remember,” you admit with a defeated laugh. “I think I need to cool it on the partying. You frat boys never stop. I can’t believe how many things you guys have going on.”

Rafe breathes a sardonic chuckle, looking down, and you’re immediately reminded of tomorrow’s event.

Just like that, the air between you shifts. You’re both thinking of the same thing. You’re painfully aware of it.

Silence settles between you and you nervously scratch your arm.

“I wouldn’t want to bring him, either,” you finally say. Rafe’s eyes meet yours. He instantly knows you’re talking about his father.

Now he’s sure you weren’t just carrying on conversation with Blake earlier. You purposely took the attention off of him. Because you’re friends. Friends help each other.

“Yeah,” is all Rafe can say.

“Did you…” you say softly. “Do you not have anyone else you’d want to come?”

Rafe thinks of his life back home. His father, who never shies away from expressing his disappointment. His step-mother, who he has no relationship with. Sarah, who’s the clear favorite. Wheezie, who Rafe actually likes and sort of misses, but wouldn’t be able to visit on her own.

“No,” he admits. “It’s… I don’t have that kind of family.”

“Must be why you’re into this whole frat thing,” you say. You can’t stop yourself from trying to understand his complexities.

Rafe didn’t think about it that way. But the sense of camaraderie he has with his frat brothers, except for one in particular, does give him a sense of belonging he’s been chasing forever. He didn’t even realize it until you said it.

But that’s what you do. You make him think and feel things he hasn’t before and it’s so uncomfortable and exciting at the same time.

“You’re…” Rafe tugs at his earlobe. “You’re a really nice person.”

“What?” You laugh in disbelief. Is he being sweet to you outside of the bedroom?

“You did that on purpose, didn’t you?” he says. “When he asked me why I’m not going tomorrow, you changed the subject.”

He can’t say Blake’s name.

“Guilty,” you say. You settle into eye contact that’s unlike anything you two have shared before. Rafe huffs, wanting to force away the tension sitting in his chest.

“I think you’re into this whole frat thing, too, by the way,” he says. He leans even closer to you, blue eyes focused on your lips.

“Not at all,” you joke, shaking your head. “I hate you guys.”

“Really,” Rafe mutters, his tone low. “Even me?”

“Especially you.”

“You don’t remember what you said last time we fucked? When I asked if I could put it in?”

Your skin burns as you think back to the way he asked you if you were ready before burying into you.

“You must be thinking about another girl,” you say. He won’t even entertain the thought.

“You said please,” he rasps.

“Well, at least I have manners,” you reply, looking him in the eye as anticipation curls in your stomach, refusing to shy away.

“You gonna beg me for it again?”

“I did not beg,” you respond.

You want to tease him even more, tell him you thought you were experts now, so what’s the point of hooking up anymore? But you don’t need it to be instructional to have sex with him. He doesn’t seem to need it, either.

“Don’t tell me you’re still shy about liking it.” His smirk is taunting. This cracks you, a smile spreading on your face again, your eyes trailing down his bare chest.

“Maybe,” you tease. It’s a lie. You’re not shy at all anymore. The sense of shame you felt around sex before is gone. At least with Rafe, it has.

“How can you be shy when you’re wearing that?” Rafe asks. “Showing fucking everything.”

“You’re one to talk,” you say, nose crinkling. The way you cock your head as you gaze at his body, your lashes fluttering as you blink, makes his gut warm and his groin tighten. Wow. He really doesn’t even need to touch you to get hard.

“And don’t act like you don’t like my outfit,” you say, meeting his eyes again. You shock yourself with your forwardness. He looks pleasantly surprised, too.

You hear your name being shouted. Liv rushes towards you, hands pressed over her chest.

“My tape broke,” she laughs. “I almost flashed everyone.”

“Really?” you gasp. Rafe is annoyed that you got interrupted, but he finds that he really likes what caring for somebody looks like on you. Your eyes deepen. Your brows lower. Your guard is down. You’re stunning.

“We should’ve brought extra tape,” Liv says.

“We can borrow a shirt,” you suggest. “Let’s find Blake.”

Rafe is seething. Blake. Of fucking course.

You offer Rafe a tight smile before taking your friend’s hand and walking in front of her to shield her.

When you find Blake, he leads you and Liv upstairs to his room, scrambling through his dresser to find a shirt for Liv.

“I’m not gonna get kicked out for wearing clothes, am I? It’s against the rules,” Liv says.

“No, only ‘cause you’re friends with fun police over here,” Blake replies, smiling over his shoulder as he hands a black shirt to Liv. “Special privileges.”

“I told you not to call me that,” you say with a laugh. Liv pulls the shirt over her head.

“Thanks!” she calls as she walks out of the room, a grin on her face. You know she’s purposely leaving you alone with Blake.

You meet Blake’s eyes, standing in the middle of his quiet, private room.

“Study fort’s gone,” you notice, looking down at his bare floor.

“Oh. Yeah,” he says stiffly. It’s awkward between you and you’re not sure why. “You look…”

Blake doesn’t finish his sentence. You knew he was a bit on the shy side, but he’s actually nervous.

You would normally find it endearing. But because of the intoxicating way Rafe was talking to you downstairs, how he’s so unafraid of telling you how attracted he is to you, you feel tense around Blake for the first time.

Still, intrigue coarses through you. You like him. You want him to flirt with you and to touch you and to finally kiss you. But he’s still.

Rafe spots your friend in the crowd with a t-shirt on. And you’re not next to her. He pushes through people to stand beside Liv and ask her where you are.

“Upstairs with Blake,” Liv simply responds. Rafe glances up the staircase, lips twisting as he nods. He stalks away, storming through the house with no real idea of where to go.

He paces around for a few minutes. He wants to rush upstairs and hurt Blake. Badly. Without a paintball gun this time. The thought of you being up there in his room, of his hands on you, of him on top of you… It’s too much. He’s grinding his teeth so hard that it hurts.

Rafe has had enough. He heads back towards the front of the house, not sure what the hell he’ll do if he walks in on Blake on top of you, but before he can go upstairs, he sees you in the crowd, chatting with your friend.

“I left you alone up there for a reason,” Liv says quietly when you approach her.

“Oh, I’m aware,” you laugh. “But the vibe was weird, so I left. I think we were both nervous.”

After Blake couldn’t finish his sentence, you thanked him for helping your friend and split.

“Do you not like him?” Liv asks.

You do. But you think you like someone else, too. And it’s terrifying.

Rafe weaves through the crowds, approaching you, his fingers gently wrapping around your wrist. You watch him duck to speak into your ear.

“Leave with me,” he says so only you can hear him over the music. You look at Liv, who has a sly, knowing expression on her face.

“I can’t abandon my friend just to hook up with you,” you say to him. A painful pang of rejection twists inside him.

“But do you want to?” Rafe asks. He needs to be sure. What if your next words are that you’re with Blake now?

Your pulse is racing. The promise of another night with Rafe is electrifying.

“Yes,” you admit. He smiles to himself, pulling back to look at Liv.

“You gonna be okay if she leaves?” Rafe says, tilting his head towards you.

“Of course, if she wants to,” Liv replies with an amused laugh.

Rafe pulls you towards him, out of the crowd. And for once, he’s actually glad to see Blake, who’s standing by the keg with a few friends.

He wraps his arm around your waist, mumbling to you that he’s going to rip that stupid tape off of you, as he glares at Blake, who’s staring at you two with a disconcerted grimace.

He leads you out of the rowdy house, grip tight on you as if he could lose you again.

The second you’re in Rafe’s dorm room, his hands are on your ass, fingers dipping under the tape. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, kissing him heatedly as you stand by his bed.

You can smell his cologne and his shampoo as his tongue runs over yours.

“You know everyone was looking at you tonight, right?” he says between kisses.

“No,” you scoff. While he’s helped you gain some confidence, you can’t imagine thinking of yourself as the most desired girl in a room.

“I told you not to do that,” he says against your lips. You feel the nylon around your ass lift off your skin as he tugs it away, pulling apart the material, tape unsticking.

“Do what?” you mutter. He grips your ass, feeling the fabric of your underwear on his palms. You lower a hand to undo the knot keeping up the towel on him.

“You pretend like you’re not beautiful and it pisses me off,” he says. Beautiful. He said hot before. But not beautiful. He never used that word with you. “How hard do I have to fuck you for you to get it?”

“Rafe,” you gasp with a giggle.

“How hard?” he asks. “Until you can’t talk?”

His towel drops and he kisses your neck, tugging at the tape bound around your chest. You shift to wrap your hand around his length over his boxers, aching for the feeling of him inside of you.

Rafe loves that you touch him like this now, without any hesitation. He rips the tape off of your chest, his fingers burning.

While you wore panties just in case, you’re glad you went without a bra simply because of the way Rafe breathes when he looks down to see your bare chest.

He fondles your tits with eager, rough movements, squeezing as he clenches his jaw.

“Every guy was staring at you, but only I get to do this.” His lips are against your neck, breath hot.

You tense for a second. He shouldn’t say shit like this. His words are possessive and tender and way too fucking heavy.

But you push yourself out of your head, focusing on how you feel physically, forgetting the emotions that have slowly been tacking themselves onto you like the crumpled tape on the floor.

You dip your hand into his boxers, wrapping your hand around his girth. Rafe inhales sharply, squeezing his eyes shut as you stroke him slowly. You drag your hand to his tip, feeling the warm precum and spreading it with your thumb.

“Fuck,” he groans.

“You like that?” you whisper with a smile. It’s exciting talking like this. You were always quiet when hooking up with a guy, but Rafe has pushed you completely out of your shell.

“Get on my bed,” he says gruffly, pressing your hips back. You lie down, watching his cock spring out of his boxers when he tugs them off.

Rafe almost asks to skip the condom, but it feels too intimate. Too serious. And he’s sure you’d say no.

You pull your panties off as he rolls on the latex and gets on his knees, sinking onto the mattress, hands gripping your ankles. He shifts and rests your ankles on his broad shoulders, his hands skimming down your legs.

He drags a thumb over your wet clit, gazing down at you with yearning as he spreads your slick arousal over you. You moan at the sensation, realizing just how sensitive you are from how long it’s been and how much you missed him.

“You’re fucking soaked,” Rafe rasps. “Who got you like this, baby?”

“You did,” you reply. The words coming out of your mouth are so fucking soothing. He can’t think about anyone else doing this to you. Only him.

Rafe pulls his hand off of you to grip your thigh and holds his cock at its base with his other hand, tapping it over your middle. You look at him, eyes meeting in an exquisite, mutual longing.

“Say please,” he teases.

“You say please,” you reply, smirking. Rafe shakes his head in disbelief and awe and desire, his hair falling over his forehead.

He can’t wait. He guides himself into you, slipping in so easily, feeling just how drenched and tight and warm you are. He groans as you take him in with a deep breath, tilting to feel the curve of his cock.

“That’s so fucking nice,” he whispers, watching himself push into you. “Your pussy is so fucking nice.”

His fingers dig into your thigh as he pulls back and pushes in again. You throw your head back as he shoves himself into you, filling you completely, the pressure hard and incredible.

Rafe’s thumb is on your clit again, rubbing in circles as he thrusts, making you tremble. Your mouth is agape, your hands above your head as he pleasures you.

It’s such a phenomenal view to him. Pleasure written on your face, your tits bouncing, your chest heaving, your body jolting.

You feel your stomach tighten, the rising sensation making you moan. Rafe starts to go harder, rubbing faster, a smile curling on his lips as he watches you.

“I…” you breathe. “Fuck, I…”

“Can’t talk?” he rasps, amused. You bite your bottom lip and moan a giggle, willing yourself to look at him before he has to tell you to.

His gaze is piercing into you as you feel yourself dissolve into ecstasy, your body going numb before it heats with the most amazing feeling you’ve ever had.

Rafe feels you clenching around his cock and he leans over to get as deep into you as possible, your legs bending as his shoulders push you forward.

After you come down from your orgasm, he places his hand on your cheek, dipping his thumb into your mouth.

You stare at him as he drives into you and you wrap your lips around his thumb, tasting yourself. Rafe might just go crazy. You take him so much better than he’s ever had before.

He tightens and you watch the euphoria wash over his face, his brows furrowing and his lips parting. You love that you can do this to him, that a man so commanding and dominant and brash crumbles like this when he’s inside you.

He cums in hard pulses, hips bucking with every jerk, seeing stars. When he slowly pulls out, you close your eyes, sighing in pleasure.

Your palms rest over your eyes, feeling high off the feeling as you feel him shift off the mattress. When you catch your breath, you open your eyes to see Rafe offering you a towel.

“You have fun?” he asks. You can tell he’s trying to do the whole aftercare thing, but because it’s not genuine, you’d rather not play along.

It’s clear he wants you to leave with the way he’s holding out the towel, surely wishing you’d cover up and go. You’re not surprised. You sit up, taking the towel and wrapping it around your body.

“C-minus,” you say.

“What?”

“Kidding,” you laugh. You stand to leave and decide to let him deal with the mess of caution tape on his floor, desperate to be alone so you can pull yourself together.

You go so suddenly that Rafe watches his door shut with confusion. He thought you’d wipe yourself down with the towel he gave you, maybe sit a while with him.

He oddly wanted you to stay a little bit. He liked joking around with you earlier tonight. It was fun.

But you were so eager to go. Probably because Rafe is the kind of guy you fuck and forget, and Blake is the kind of guy you make love to and stick around for.

He knows that he’s in a competition he’ll eventually lose because he can’t offer you a relationship. You said yourself he’d be the worst boyfriend ever the night he told you not to cuddle him.

But he’ll happily take these nights with you for as long as possible. And he’ll keep fighting for as many as he can.

When you make it to your dorm, you sit on your bed, breathless. Just when you think the sex can’t get any better with Rafe, it does.

He almost disappointed you with his lack of emotion afterwards, but you’re glad you didn’t give him the power to. He’ll always let you down in that department. As long as you keep any feelings for him at bay, you know you’ll be fine.

After you feel a bit calmer, you check your phone to see five texts.

Liv: didn’t get a chance to tell you but rafe is down BAD for you

Liv: when i told him you were upstairs with blake he looked like he was about to kill someone

Liv: hope you have fun lol :)

Liv: i sure am… i made out with sam after you left… oops

Then you see a block of text in the next notification.

Blake: Gotta be honest. I wanted to kiss you when we were in my room but you make me really nervous haha. Can I take you on a date? A real one. Not just a study date lol. All good if you’re not into it. Let me know.

(part eight)

author’s note: thank you anon for this iconic idea!!

if you want notifications on when i post my fics, follow @xorafe-library and turn on notifications 💘

#ps if you saw me say this series will be eight parts i updated it to ten!!!#rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe x reader #rafe cameron x reader #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #obx smut #rafe x y/n #rafe cameron smut #rafe x you #rafe cameron and you #rafe cameron and y/n #rafe cameron and reader

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redvexillum · 30 days ago

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Hot damn, I can't believe it took me this long to finally get around to answering this ask. I would like to dedicate this story to @todash-darkness and Ms. 🍑. Thank you for being my friends and always cheering me on even when I get whiny and say "writing too hard!"

TAGS/WARNINGS: f!reader, p in v, rough s♡x, possessive!alastor, alastor is bad at feelings, dual pov, reader is a sweetheart, established relationship, alastor is allergic to feelings, rough ♡ral s♡x, finger♡ng, miscommunication, one sided (alastor) denial of feelings

In the vast, unfathomable uncertainties of Hell, Alastor’s mind was a sanctum guarded by his own design, his kingdom of carefully orchestrated chaos. He adored unpredictability, yes – but only when it danced to his tune, his rhythm, his control. Anything else, anything beyond his boundaries, was sacrilege.

There was no greater agony, no venom deeper, than the sensation of his world teetering beyond his grasp. His order, his routine ...demolishing right before his eyes.

One such certainty he held with unwavering conviction was this: your soul belonged to him, irrevocably. He had claimed you in ways that transcended mere words. Every part of you – your thoughts, your desires, your body, and even the delicate cadence of your laugh – was woven into his web, bound and stitched to his very being.

So why, then, were you here, laughing with that cur, the very embodiment of mediocrity beside you? Why did the melodic lilt of your voice drift toward that miserable fool’s ears instead of his? The sight of you smiling at such filth was an affront to everything he held sacred, and yet you persisted. You continued to share laughter with that loser, indulging his vapid words, his feeble presence.

From his seat on the single couch, Alastor’s grin cleaved his face, a mask of delight that undercut the roiling fury within. Around him, other souls babbled, meaningless, and insipid, but he paid them no heed. His gaze was fixed solely on you – typically nestled by his side, hanging on his every word as if he held the keys to your reality.

You, who would meet his stories with wide-eyed fascination, as if his very words spun magic into existence. You, who would follow him, entranced, into his realm.

But now, now...his hand dug into the flesh of the couch, claws piercing through its plush surface as he fought to restrain himself, to keep from dragging you to his side where you belonged. In his mind, he could feel the invisible chains around your neck, the ones you had so naively accepted, binding you to him to the moment you surrendered your soul – for a little of wretched Hellmutts, no less.

You were naive. Weak. Ridiculously innocent.

But you were his.

His eyes tracked every move you made, his gaze darkening with each soft smile that graced your lips for someone else, each glimmer in your eye cast in that foul creature’s direction. And then – then that trash, that waste of a soul, had the audacity to touch your shoulder.

Alastor’s heart stilled, a visceral freeze rippling through him as he watched your fingers lift, as if in slow motion, to meet that filthy hand.

And within him, something snapped.

An uncontrollable twitch seized his left eye, a slight tremor echoed in the clench of his jaw. Rage coursed through him, an intense, molten fury tightening every muscle until he vibrated with it. A violent energy was held back only by a grin that split his face, frozen, even as his eyes bore into you, unblinking.

Come to me, he thought, his voice a dark whisper in his mind, willing you to hear, to obey, Come here, darling. Come...

Yet, you didn’t hear him. Not a single glance in his direction, as if the tether binding you to him had snapped. You, with those disgustingly bright eyes, filled to the brim with such boundless, grating cheer – those eyes that never strayed from his, were now fixed on someone else. They were facing the wrong way.

The ownership he held over you was absolute, and he was certain there was nothing of value in this world next to your name – nothing but your soul. And that? Well, that belonged to him. You were his in every sense, a fact as unshakeable as death itself.

The thought simmered, rolling over in his mind like a storm. He’d planned to speak with you tonight, to remind you of the boundaries that came with selling your soul to him. A gentle “discussion” about your arrangement, perhaps a reminder of the dangers of your reckless naivety, especially around others’ wandering intentions. After all, what did you understand of the hunger that prowled in the depths of Hell?

But then you laughed. That joyous sound, brimming with warmth and energy – the very light he’d basked in so possessively – spilled from you for someone else. In that instant, something dark clawed up from within him, overriding every fragment of patience he thought he’d possessed.

The lights flickered; sinners looked up and whispered, confused, looking up as the room dipped into pitch-black darkness. And in that instant, Alastor’s hand seized you, pulling you into the shadows before anyone would notice.

The darkness folded around him, dragging you both from their prying eyes, and when he materialized in his room, any pretense of control shattered entirely.

You’d been talking to a gentleman about butcher shops in Cannibal Town, a respectable topic considering he was a proud consumer of sinner flesh. Though you yourself didn’t indulge, you knew Alastor had a certain...fondness for the taste. This stranger, to his credit, offered genuine recommendations – shops known for prime, fresh meat. You listened attentively, committing every word to memory, already imagining the gleam in Alastor’s eyes when you surprised him with a choice cut of fresh deer sinner’s flesh.

The best part? Each piece came with the sinner’s full consent. Nothing could be more natural, organic, and you supposed, humane in a macabre way, than that.

Your smile grew brighter as you pictured his reaction, and out of courtesy, you kept the conversation flowing. After all, Alastor had always instilled in you the importance of politeness, of maintaining grace, especially in the realms of Hell. When the man touched your shoulder and praised your kindness, you felt a warmth spread through you. Kindness was a rarity down here, and it was refreshing to be in the company of someone who appreciated it without ulterior motives.

But then the lights flickered, and instantly, the room plunged into darkness. Panic flared, voices rising in confusion, and before you could fully process what was happening, a cold hand clamped around your wrist. A sensation, chilling and immediate, enveloped you, and the world melted away.

When you blinked, you were in Alastor’s room.

The sudden brightness left you blinking against the light, your vision adjusting. But when you finally looked up, you were met with a sight that sent a shiver down your spine.

Alastor stood there; his eyes ablaze with a crimson fury that bordered on madness. His grin stretched wider than you’d ever seen, jagged and vicious, as if it had been carved from his very rage. His gaze cut through you like a knife, every muscle in his frame taut with anger. Twin streams of red trickled from the corners of his mouth, and in that silence, you could swear you heard the crackling of something deep within him breaking.

Before you could even form the words to ask why he seemed so upset, Alastor summoned the soul chain. A sickly green chain flickered into existence, snaking around his wrist, and in the next, you felt a sudden, brutal tug around your neck. Your teeth gritted at the sharp pull, and he yanked you forward until you were barely an inch away from him, his nose almost brushing yours as he bent down to meet your gaze.

The dial in his chest swung wildly, ticking back and forth like a metronome set to a frenzied beat.

“Uhm, Alast-” you started, confusion clouding your mind. You knew he was eccentric, yes, prone to outbursts and fits of emotion, but they always carried some purpose, a hidden logic that only he could fully understand.

“Who do you belong to?” he demanded, his voice frigid and sharp. The chain clinked as he pulled you even closer, the heat of his body blazing through the air between you.

“Y-you,” you stammered, searching his eyes, your hand trembling as you gently touched his sleeve. “It’s you.”

For a fleeting second, your answer seemed to calm the storm raging in his gaze, his crimson eyes softening back to their usual dark slits. “That’s right,” he whispered, his voice low and deceptively soft. “You belong to me.” His hand slid to your waist, his fingers digging in possessively. “And yet,” his voice dropped to a hiss, “you had the gall to let another sinner touch you.”

A wave of bewilderment washed over you, leaving you scrambling to make sense of his anger. Physical contact was far from uncommon in the hotel – just yesterday, Angel Dust had clapped you on the back after you told him a joke. Surely, Alastor wouldn’t be so enraged over something so trivial?

But Alastor pressed himself against you, his body taut and seething with an intensity that left you breathless. “My, my,” he murmured, voice pitched with a mocking chill, “thinking about that wretched sinner already? Right here, in my presence?”

“That’s not-” you started to protest, realizing with a sinking dread that you’d indeed just thought of Angel Dust. But surely, that alone wouldn’t justify this terrifying fury, this raw possessiveness radiating from Alastor?

He let out a bark of laughter, sharp and scathing, before pressing his forehead to yours, his lips grazing dangerously close to your own. “I own your soul, darling,” he whispered, his voice laced with a dangerous, velvety edge. You felt his claws inching up your skirt, his fingers scraping against your bare thighs, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. “I don’t share what is rightfully mine.”

Unexpectedly, his mouth crashed onto yours, urgent and bruising, teeth grazing with a hunger so fierce it stole the breath from your lungs. You whimpered against him as his sharp tooth nicked your lower lip, the sting mingling with the taste of blood as his hot tongue lapped over the wound, a low groan reverberating from his chest.

When he finally pulled back, his lips stained crimson with your blood, he gripped the front of your dress, his eyes blazing. “Who do you belong to?” he demanded again, his tone laced with desperation, as if even your words might not be enough to satisfy him.

“You. It’s always you, Alastor,” you whispered, your hands gently cupping his face, placing a soft, tender kiss on his lips – a striking contrast to the bruising passion he’d unleashed moments before. “The contract says forever, remember?” You tried a slight, playful grin, but his gaze held none of his usual amusement, his eyes fixated on yours with an almost haunted intensity.

“The contract,” he repeated slowly, his fingers loosening their grip on your dress. “Yes...that’s right.” His hands trembled for a fleeting moment before he forced them behind his back, his posture rigid. “I own your soul,” he said, voice hollow, “your servitude, I suppose.”

It was as if he were no longer fully present with you, his gaze dark and distant, a hint of revelation in his eyes that seemed to tear him apart even as he chased it. You could see it, how this realization – this twisted revelation – pained him, even though he seemed oblivious to its source.

You’d been here before, watched him spiral from bursts of passion to bitterness and then back to his lonely solitude. So, as always, you took that first step forward, drawing closer until your arms circled his waist. You smiled up at him, that bright, open smile he so often brushed off with sharp words, though you knew it softened him beneath the mask.

He stiffened for a moment, then relaxed, a breath escaping as he murmured, “My, you're suddenly so clingy.” But you caught the waver in his voice, hiding behind his usual teasing edge.

“Because it’s you,” you replied simply, hands trailing up his back until they slid into his hair, guiding him down to meet you. “Besides, you haven’t kicked me to the curb yet, Alastor.” You giggled, only for the sound to be cut off as his lips claimed yours.

His movement slowed, each kiss lingering, his fingers finding the front of your shirt, hesitating there. “I don’t share,” he murmured against your mouth, his claws grazing the sensitive skin of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. “This chain,” he whispered, tracing it with reverence, “it binds you to me. I own you.” With each word, he deftly unbuttoned your dress, his gaze smouldering as the fabric fell open.

“I know,” you answered softly, sinking beneath him as he lowered you to the hard floor, his arms and legs caging you in. “I haven’t forgotten,” you murmured, your fingers trailing down the front of his red-pinstriped suit, savouring the rough texture beneath your touch.

He stiffened, a flash of raw anger crossing his features. “Then why,” he snarled, his voice dripping with possessiveness, “why let that waste of breath near you? Why laugh, why smile, why seek his company when I was right there?” His words tumbled out, unbidden, raw and unrestrained.

At that moment, as his heated words filled the space between you, you caught a flicker of shame and horror in his eyes, as if he hadn’t meant to reveal this part of himself. But before he could pull away, you wrapped your arms around his neck, anchoring him to you.

“No one touches me like you do,” you whispered, pressing soft kisses along his cheek, to the corner of his mouth, until you kissed him fully. And I don’t think anyone else can make me smile until my cheeks hurt.” You laughed softly, fingers combing through his hair, each touch soft and grounding.

His response was immediate, his lips pressed against yours, his hips grinding against you with desperate fervour. His soft groans mixed with your sighs, and he gently took your wrists, guiding your hands back to the front of his pants. His lips never left yours, his hands tracing a slow, searing path as you undid his pants, feeling the heated weight of him pressing against your stomach as you freed him.

“Darling,” he hissed as our fingers wrapped around him, stroking from his tip down the length of his hardened cock, slow and tantalizing. The fire in his eyes darkened, his pupils widening to pools of obsidian as he shuddered beneath your touch. “How should I make you remember,” he murmured, voice a low growl, “that you belong to me always?”

His lips traced down your jaw, his breath hot against your skin as his hands slid up your thighs, pushing your skirt to your waist with a deliberate slowness that made you ache. “Perhaps,” he breathed, his fingers pressing against the damp cloth covering you, feeling your desire seeping through, “I’ll make your body remember.”

Without hesitation, he tore your underwear away, his fingers grazing the slick curve of your inner thighs, drawing a gasp from you as his touch lingered there. “Enough times,” he muttered, his voice thick with want, “That you never forget who I am to you.”

Two fingers slipped inside, filling you in one firm stroke. The sensation sent a sharp tremor through you, and your breath hitched as your walls clenched around him. “Alastor...” His name fell from your lips in a shiver, and his eyes darkened at the sound, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

“Shh, darling,” he cooed, his voice a velvet command. His fingers moved slowly, plunging into you with an unhurried intensity, dragging your slice over every sensitive spot before plunging them back in. His head dropped to your shoulder, lips brushing over your skin as he pumped his fingers, his own arousal pressing hot and hard against your thigh. “Tonight, I’ll make certain you’ll never consider anyone else.”

Pleasure flooded through you, erasing everything except the feel of him, each pump of his fingers building heat within you. You wanted to tell him he was always in your mind, to confess that you’d never once thought of leaving his side. But words tangled and dissolved into moans, as if even trying to say them would break the spell.

Things like, I like you.

Things like, I cherish you.

Things like...

A gasp tore from you as his mouth latched onto your breast, tongue flicking over the sensitive peak as he hummed in satisfaction, the wet sound of his fingers moving within you intensifying with each movement. You arched against him, hips moving of their own accord, desperate for more, clinging to every sensation.

And just as you teetered on the edge, his fingers slipped free, leaving you throbbing, gasping from the loss of him. He rose above you, his cock fully erect, tip glistening. He lifted his fingers, coated in your desire, to his face, watching with fascination as he pressed them together. A glistening thread stretching between them before he spread too far apart, breaking it with a hungry grin.

Then, without looking away, he brought them to his lips, sucking each finger clean with slow, deliberate motions, a satisfied groan slipping from his throat as he tasted you.

“Who do you belong to, darling?” he murmured, eyes heavy-lidded as he gazed down at you. His hands moved to pin your wrists above your head, pressing his hips forward, his cock nudging against your slick entrance, sending a shiver of pure heat coursing through you.

Your breath caught as he began to push in, the head of him stretching you with a slow, delicious pressure. Instinctively, you tried to shift your hips, to take him deeper, but his grip tightened, keeping you firmly in place. “Say it,” he whispered, his voice edged with a fierce tenderness, his eyes locked onto yours, demanding.

“You,” you whimpered, voice trembling, and Alastor rewarded you by sliding himself just a bit deeper, the stretch trying to accommodate him making you gasp.

“That’s right,” he crooned, his grin sharp, eyes narrowed to slivers of wicked delight. “Tell me,” he murmured, his lips brushing hot against your ear, the words like fire igniting every nerve, “tell me how much you want me. Go on.”

When you hesitated, struggling for breath, he drew his hips back, leaving you painfully empty. Every nerve in your body was alight, humming, craving more. Embarrassment coloured your cheeks, but the heat, the need, drove the words from you. “Please,” you whispered, voice soft and fragile, “please Alastor, I-I want you.” Your eyes closed, the vulnerability tightening in your chest, sending waves of desire flooding your veins.

The moment the words escaped your lips, Alastor surged forward, filling you to the hilt, his hips flush against yours, a shuddering groan escaping him. His length throbbed inside, stretching and filling you perfectly, leaving you breathless as he began a steady rhythm, each thrust pulling a whimper from your lips.

“That’s right,” he rasped, finally finding his pace as he withdrew and slammed back into you, your breasts bouncing with every relentless stroke. “Say you want me,” he breathed, his voice rough, almost breaking, with the intensity of his need.

One hand pinned your wrists above your head, firm and unyielding, while the other squeezed your breast, his thumb brushing over your nipple, sending electric shocks of pleasure through you. His hips moved in a hypnotic rhythm, the wet, smacking sound of skin on skin mingling with the sharp cries and moans filling the air. Each one tore through you as you clung to him, helpless against the power of his thrusts.

“I want you,” you cried, voice trembling, head tilted back, your body limp and yielding beneath his strength. Every nerve was alive with a searing stretch, his cock grinding into your most sensitive spot as he drove deeper, forcing pleasure to crest higher and higher. His name fell from your lips in broken cries, each syllable dripping with the intensity of your desire.

With a raw groan, Alastor shifted, grasping your hips firmly as he rose onto his knees, lifting you with him. Your body arched upward, shoulders and head the only parts still anchored to the floor as he drove into you harder, faster, every thrust meeting no resistance. He slammed his hips against yours, the force of it stealing your breath, pushing you to the brink, an overwhelming spike of pleasure building with every powerful relentless motion.

Your lips parted, gasping, as his grunts filled your ears, his low, primal sounds mixing with the wet, sinful noises of your bodies colliding. The world around you faded to nothing but the feeling of him, the ecstasy of his touch, and the unstoppable climb toward a blinding, shattering release.

His eyes locked on the place where your bodies joined, a hunger darkening his gaze as he thrust into you, each movement hitting that perfect spot, dragging every pulse of pleasure from deep within you. Your stomach tightened, thighs shaking, and as he drove in again, the pressure burst.

You came with a shattering cry, your fingers scraping at the wooden floor, desperate for anything to hold as your walls clenched around him, wave after wave of ecstasy crashing through you.

He pulled out suddenly, letting your body drop as he rose to his knees, his cock slick and throbbing against your parted lips. His hand wrapped around his length, pumping himself with frenzied strokes as he looked down, his gaze fierce and covetous.

“I should mark you,” he rasped, his voice thick with need, his cock grazing your lips as he leaned forward. “Make sure my colour stains that smile.” His grin was wild as his hand moved faster, his muscles tense, his breaths shallow and ragged.

You lifted your head, mouth open to take him in, your lips wrapping around the tip as your tongue swirled, savouring the mingling taste of him and your own desire. A moan tore from him, and he let his head drop back, his hands cradling the sides of your head, guiding himself deeper as his hips moved in slow, deliberate thrusts. His length stretched your lips as he pressed to the back of your throat, the guttural sound of his groans and the slick noises filling the air.

Your own moans vibrated around him, spurring him on. His hips moved faster, his hands clinging tighter as his moans grew sharper, each thrust sending him closer. With one last hard thrust, he shuddered, and the first hot pulse of his release spilled down your throat. He withdrew, letting the rest spill over your lips, dripping down your chin in thick streams as he marked you. His eyes locked on your face, a wild satisfaction softening his gaze as he watched.

The warmth of his release lingered on your skin, drying as your breaths filled the space between you. Your tongue darted out, tasting the lingering saltiness on your lips, and he groaned, his cock twitching in his hand as he watched, his chest rising and falling in rhythm with yours.

As if coming back to himself, he gently cupped your face, wiping his release from your skin with his sleeve, his expression caught between wonder and something deeper. His touch was unexpectedly soft, eyes holding a vulnerability he rarely let surface, the unspoken question hanging between you as his gaze searched yours.

“We could be more,” you whispered, heart pounding as his fingers tilled on your skin, “if you want, Alastor.”

His movements halted, his gaze slowly focusing on yours, a flicker of confusion slipping beneath his usual veneer of confidence. “I already own your soul,” he murmured, his voice edged with something darker, guarded. “There is nothing more you could give me.” His words were resolute, as if trying to cling onto their simplicity, yet the way his brows furrowed, and his head tilted betrayed a hesitation – a lack of understanding for the weight of what you meant.

For all his power, Alastor had taken your heart without ever offering his own in return. The notion of “more” was something he danced around, something he coveted without daring to hold. He wanted you fiercely, hungrily even, but in ways he could still control – never in ways that would strip him bare and vulnerable.

You placed a gentle hand on his thigh, feeling the tension coiled beneath his skin. With a soft sigh, you felt the truth of it settle heavy between you; until he could meet you on level ground, until he was ready to open himself as wholly as he demanded of you, this fragile back-and-forth was all you’d have. This quiet ache, this unspoken ache, would remain hidden, cloaked in omissions and denials.

It wasn’t entirely his fault, either, this painful standoff. After all, there were things you held back too – things that lingered on the edge of every kiss, every touch, words that clung desperately to the walls of your heart, refusing to release themselves. The word that waited to change everything.

Things like, I like you.

Things like, I cherish you.

Things like...

I love you.

Follow #vexitober 2024 to read my questionable kink/fluff stories!

350 notes · View notes

sukirichi · 4 months ago

Text

[ DUSK ‘TILL DAWN : 015 ]

“we who bear the burden of the crown do not need to love. you only need to stay here, with me, in power, in greed, in lust – in victory.”

cw. modern royal au. angst. physical violence (not to the reader.) manipulation. lying. angst. hurt and a little bit of comfort ig??

notes. feedbacks / reblogs/ comments are appreciated <3

wc. 10.4k

series masterlist

[ FIFTEEN ] scattered ‘cross my family line, i’m so good at telling lies – that came from my mother’s side, told a million to survive. . . i can’t forget, i can’t forgive you. ‘cause now i’m scared that everyone i love will leave me

“This was a mistake. We should get divorced.”

The tranquil song of the sea was deceptive. A vast expanse of silver under the soft glow of the full moon caressed Rintaro’s face, his handsome face heartbreakingly heartbroken. The moon hung low in the sky, casting a serene, almost ethereal light upon the two of you. On the distant coast, a lighthouse flickered, its beam briefly piercing the darkness before vanishing. The momentary light was enough to let you see – the truth, the split-second show of vulnerability within his eyes before it left only the memory of its glow.

Rintaro stood in front of you, at an arm’s length away but your heart worlds apart. The long line of spray marked where the sea met the land, its boundary evident. There, where the moon’s loght turned the sand into a luminous carpet beneath your feet, the waves lulled your racing hearts into quiet murmurs swallowed by the breeze.

You listened to his words – words that carried the weight of an ending unforeseen. Disbelief clouded your mind. You refused to accept what you just heard. Turning your head the other way, you bit down on your lip, hard enough you tasted the coppery tang of blood.

The rhythm of the sea was like the lilt of your heartbeat, steady yet trembling. It began, ceased, and began again, each cycle mirroring this endless round of circles you and Rintaro ran in – to loving, to hurting, to forgiving. Was this how ended? In a poorly-timed farewell?

You always knew this moment would come. Someone would have had to say goodbye. You just never thought the words would come from his mouth.

Your feet rooted deep in the sand, you listened to the melancholy refrain of waves crashing against each other. The moonlight reflected in the water, a silver path stretching into the unknown. You stood there, letting the sea speak the emotions too deep to be said out loud.

And what a moment it was – with the beauty of the night, the serene majesty of the sea, and bittersweet flicker of candles behind you.

It would’ve been easier if the sea held your sadness, with the moon as your witness in your quiet despair, the cliffs holding onto their stone each memory you knew you’d keep for many years to come. The night air, sweet and cool, carried away and brought with the wind your unshed tears.

This was a mistake. We should get divorced.

Rintaro’s words echoed in your mind, a cruel reminder that some stories, no matter how beautiful or tragic, all had its end.

“What did you say?” you licked your lips, forcing a smile despite the wobbliness of your knees. It couldn’t be, right? The night was going well. Fate couldn’t be so cruel – he’d just begun to love you. “I must have heard you wrong.”

Your husband turned away from you, his grip on the bouquet tightening. You watched as the flowers crushed between its force, its beauty drained with one just hand.

“You didn’t. I meant what I said – we should end this.”

“Why?”

His head snapped your way. “What do you mean, why?” he hissed, the bouquet slammed on the ground as he gestured to the air. His eyes were blown wide, frantic and desperate. “Look around you. Don’t you realize none of this feels right? Let’s drop the act, Princess. Neither of us truly want each other, and don’t tell me I’m wrong when I see the way you look at me.”

You reeled back, unknowingly clutching at your chest. “And how do I look at you?”

“Like you’re thinking of ways to get rid of me,” he spat out with a laugh, “Like-like you’re looking for the man who courted you two years ago, the one you truly wanted to marry. Well, I’m sorry to disappoint, because you’re not going to find him. He never existed in the first place. Whatever it is you’re looking for, you won’t find it in me,” his eyes blazed with fury, but then, as if the fire within him had been doused, his hands fell limply at his sides. “But you may find him in someone else.”

Rintaro’s gaze dropped to the floor. Sorrow filled his eyes, his expression softened before he spun on his heel. Turning away, your husband stepped forward.

“Take one more step–” you threatened him, hands balled into fists. “–and I will make you regret it.”

“Do your worst,” came his tired reply, his shoulders slumped. “I couldn’t care less.”

His steps were quick, as if he couldn’t waste any more time in getting away from you. It made blood boil within your veins. Before you could notice, you’d already crossed the distance in one breath, furiously grabbing him by the elbow and spinning him to face you. You were certain you look crazed – your face flushed, your cheeks damp with tears rolling down. He must’ve seen it too, his face falling at the sight of you.

“No! You think you can walk away from me? You think you can do all this–” you gestured to the beach around you, finding it harder to breathe with each word you spoke. “–buy me a house, tell me you envisioned a future with me, made love to me, and even prepared this dinner–”

“I didn’t do it for you. It was Kiyoomi who came up with this idea because he wanted to make you happy.”

Shaking your head, you shoved at his chest. “He wouldn’t do that. Kiyoomi wouldn’t be so cruel!”

“Oh, but I am for going along with it?” he snapped, closing the distance until his wrath enveloped you. “Get out of your head. Just because I did all those things for you, doesn’t mean they meant something. Are you forgetting I spent two years of my life trying to win you over, and I never once felt something for you other than tolerance?” When your face fell, triumph washed over his features. “That’s right. You remember now, don’t you? She’s the one I want. Everything I do is for her. Don’t forget your place.”

“My place? I am your wife. It’s my ring that you have on your finger. What place should I be forgetting? All of this is for me, you did this for me–”

“Oh, wake the fuck up, Y/N!” he bellowed, grabbing at his hair before he turned to glare at you. “I’m so tired of you going around acting like everything I do meant something. Has it never crossed your mind I could have just been bored? It didn’t, did it? Because you’re honestly foolish enough to let your guard down and believe that I wanted you!”

“Then why do all this if you didn’t?” you retorted, “You could become King as long as you married me and I gave you a son. You didn’t have to buy me a house, o-or act like you cared behind the cameras–”

“Well, are you? Are you with child?”

“No, but why does–”

“Then you have no hold over me. Marriage means nothing. This ring? This stupid fucking thing?” You glanced at the gold band at his finger, the one you watched roll over the floor on that day you gave it back to him. Rintaro hadn’t taken it off since, but now he looked at with resentment – like it suffocated him, choked him. “It means nothing. You cannot make me King if you don’t give me a child. And as long as you’re walking around without a baby in your belly, then you mean nothing to me. You have no purpose in my life.”

“So that’s what this is, then? Because she’s pregnant and I’m not?”

Rintaro’s face morphed into despair for a fleeting moment, so quick you questioned if you saw it at all. But almost as quickly, Rintaro’s posture straightened, his eyes hardening with steely resolve. Your breath caught in your throat – your suspicions confirmed.

So it was true. He knew.

And all of this – this house, that mocking conversation of building a family with you – it had been nothing but a cruel joke.

A strangled gasp escaped your lips. Stumbling back, your hands instinctively clutched at your chest as if desperately holding together the pieces of your shattered heart. The attempt was all for naught. The weight of betrayal crashed over you like a thundering wave. Each thought was a daggered stabbed to your soul as the pieces fit together – your husband, the one you loved, and his true love, now carrying his child.

Tears welled up, blurring your vision. You tried to hold them back, refusing to let him have the satisfaction that he’d succeeded in hurting you.

And it had been so easy, wasn’t it? He knew you so well, knew you like the back of his hand, that it came without too much effort that it was so easy to have you wrapped around his finger. One kiss, one tender touch, one proclamation of his so-called affections, and you would’ve broken your back bending to his will. He knew. He knew how easy it would be to win you over, and time and time again, you fell for it like the fool you were.

Everything burned. The pain was too raw, too overwhelming.

“You are cruel, Suna Rintaro. I regret the day I danced with you,” you gritted your teeth, digging your nails into your palm. Hard. “Perhaps you are right. We should get divorced.”

Rintaro sighed. “It’s for the best, even if it’s not what you think.”

“Because you can finally be with her, right? Your dream life is already coming true. You’re going to be a father, you’re going to spend a future with the one you love, and I’m hopelessly in love with you enough that I’ll just let it happen,” you smiled for him, clapping your hands together slowly and mockingly. “Congratulations. It’s everything you wanted. Things are finally going accordingly to plan. Should we open a wine to celebrate?”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “Stop acting like a child. You knew what you were getting into when you caught us together and still proceeded with the wedding.”

“You still blame me for that after everything I did for you?”

The silence hung in the air. Somehow, his lack of response already spoke a thousand words.

Unable to help yourself, you glanced at the beach house behind Rintaro. It stood proudly against the backdrop of the setting sun, its white walls glowing warmly in the fading light.

The memories came flooding all at once – the laughter you shared, the stolen kisses when he thought no one was looking, the whispered promises of a life you’d never life. You could almost see them dancing in front of you, like ghosts of the past, lingering in the shadows of the porch and taunting you with the fact it had been too good to be true. So many dreams built, so many dreams shattered.

Your heart ached in ways it shattered you bone-deep. It echoed from your chest and reverberated down to your feet as you recalled the nights you spent wrapped in his arms. His hands on your cheeks, a small smile on his face – when he still looked at you like he loved you and meant it.

But now? Now, that love felt like a cruel illusion – a beautiful dream turned into a living nightmare. The betrayal cut deep, deep enough it left behind the harsh hand prints on your soul. The wounds stinging hard that it might never heal. You forced yourself to tear your gaze away from it – from the swing on the porch swaying gently on the evening breeze, the window that once framed your silhouettes when you welcomed the sunrise together. Each detail was a stab to your already broken heart.

A stray tear fell on your cheek. Brushing it away, hands trembling, you took a deep breath – forcing the salty air to fill your lungs. “Was… was any of it real?”

Turning away from the house was the hardest part. Each step felt heavy, as if the weight of your memories were trying to pull you back. You cast one last, longing glance over your shoulder, your heart silently breaking anew.

Deep down, you already knew his answer. Still, it did not soften the blow when the words left his lips. It didn’t hurt any less when regret crossed his features, like somehow; a part of him wished it had been. “No. None of it was.”

“Okay,” you resigned, your body turned away from him, so he wouldn’t have to see be so pathetic anymore. When you finally spoke again, your voice came out as a breathy whisper. “You should go.”

You heard a slight shuffling behind you, followed by his mumbled words. “I never wanted to stay, anyway.”

When Rintaro walked away from you, each step he took was daunting, final. You didn’t know what hurt you more – the fact he never looked back, or the fact he never hesitated. But there was one thing that was made crystal clear to you now: it was never going to be you. How deeply unfair it was, that a man could say things he did not mean, do things he did not want to. How he could marry you and buy a house, and then turn you away at the next moment.

Love truly was a dangerous thing. It made you break down your walls, hopelessly and blindly handing your heart in the hands of someone, all while silently hoping they wouldn’t break it. And when it did, who would pick up the fallen pieces? Who would gather the shattered shards of your soul as it spilled like blood through his fingertips?

You didn’t have an answer for any of these.

Knees buckling, you fell into the sand, your palms sinking on it with its weight. You cried your heart out – the skies hearing your anguish as it echoed in the dead of the night. You screamed, begged, and called out for a God who never listened. The betrayal left a bitter taste on your tongue, a relentless ache that gnawed at your insides until it felt like nothing was left. As if you’d been hollowed out, bled out to dry, and discarded to the side.

You laid there for who knew how long. The flames of the candle had gone out, the food forgotten and cold. Sand had made its way into your joints and your hair. Your cheek felt crusty and hard from the dried tears. You cried and cried until there were no more tears left – watching from the horizon as the skies deepened into a darker shade.

Just then, a jacket fell on your bare shoulders. Stiffening, you raised your head from where you rested it on your drawn knees – blearily blinking at the figure before you. The man stood tall even with his legs bent, the faintest hint of spice mixing with the breeze.

Behind you, the Second Prince stood, his face devoid of any emotion. Yet, his eyes said it all. You are briefly shocked by how much you saw of yourself within him at that moment. The longing, the sadness – Kiyoomi wore his grief proudly. At the sight of you, his face softened. He offered his hands, one you took with no hesitance, and allowed him to pull you up to your feet. You two stood like that for a few minutes – unspeaking, and just staring at each other.

Kiyoomi was the first to look away.

“You’re cold. You shouldn’t stay out here,” tightening his jacket around you, the Prince suddenly pulled you in for an embrace. It happened too fast, faster than you could react. Before you knew it, your face was pressed against his chest, his heartbeat – strong and mighty – the only sound audible aside from the howling breeze. And you sunk into his hold as your tears stained his shirt, realizing a little too late how much you needed this – to be held so tightly like he feared letting you, like he could squeeze you hard enough and it would hopefully – eventually – piece back together the heart his brother had broken.

“Shhh. I got you, Princess. I’ll always be here for you.”

You’ve gone past the point of believing such flowery words. But when it came from Kiyoomi, you never doubted he’d keep the promises he’d made.

The once-vibrant beach house, filled with laughter and endless conversations, now stood in silence. Its walls held the unspoken truth that forever was not going to last. The gentle breeze that had always carried a promise of endless days spent in joy now whispered farewells through the rustling palms.

Rintaro had begun his farewells. Now, it was your turn to leave everything behind.

The Princes and their companions moved with quiet efficiency. Ever since that dreadful night, things hadn’t been the same anymore. No one spoke about what happened, but it didn’t take a fool to understand that romantic dinners weren’t supposed to end with you and Rintaro returning to the house hours apart – both miserable and mum. One quick look at you two, and the Princes began packing up.

Everyone knew their time had run up.

Casting a final, longing glance at the house, you breathed in the salty breeze one last time. The memories clung to you, each step you took feeling like a betrayal to the woman you could’ve been – the wife he could’ve had, and the mother you would’ve been. With a heavy heart, you watched as everyone loaded their luggage back to their respective vehicles, each one of them driving off. Their movements – along with yours – had been mechanical, as if the finality of their departure had numbed everyone to their core.

You looked out the window. The sun had began to greet the world with its morning kiss. The sea, once shimmering and glistening with spark-like waves, now seemed to mourn with you. The beach, scattered with the footprints of a happier time you’d said goodbye to, would soon be swept clean by the tides.

Any traces of the memories you made would be wiped clean by the world itself. If only it could give you a new beginning, too.

The journey back to the palace was somber. The rolling hills and distant forests passed by in a blur of muted colors – the world passed you by, in both the literal and metaphorical sense. If anything, the ride back felt like walking into your own death. A death march of duty and purpose. Speaking of duty… your hands cradled your belly. You weren’t pregnant, nor were you experiencing any symptoms. Rintaro knew this, too, otherwise he wouldn’t have thrown it in your face that you were merely nothing but a breeding mare for him – and a failed one, at that.

The palace loomed ahead, its grand spires and imposing walls reminding you of your reality.

Back at the beach house, your emotions were valid. There, you were a brokenhearted person who longed for true love. Here, though? None of that mattered. The Palace was not a place for emotions. It was a pillar, the foundation of what the Crown held – power, victory, wealth, control. Here, you were a Princess, and a Princess should always hold her head high.

You couldn’t do it. Bile rose up your throat each time you pictured yourself walking down its grand hallways, the gold shimmering and blinding you. Just the mere thought of the Queen studying you with her observant gaze made you squeamish.

You turned to Rintaro. “Can we please head to my parents instead?”

He looked at you like you’d grown two heads. The Palace was already in view. Still, his gaze darted at you, and back at the Palace, as if seriously considering it. Then, he pinched the bridge of his nose and slumped against his seat. “If you are doing this as an act of revenge–”

“I’m not. My parents truly did want to see us.”

Rintaro contemplated. Absentmindedly, he spun the ring on his finger, gazing down at it with an unreadable expression. His voice was light, and whisper-like as he said, “You cannot tell them about the affair.”

You pursed your lips. You never planned on doing so in the first place. Crossing your arms against your chest, you huffed. “Don’t worry, Your Highness. I never planned on ruining your perfect image.”

Rintaro didn’t bother with responding. Instead, he asked the driver to head back to the Yuzuru Estate, and quickly informed Her Majesty on the detour. It didn’t take long enough before you were surrounded by the familiar grove of trees that led to your place. The sound of wheels on cobblestone mingled with the soft murmur of the midday breeze. Outside, the manicured gardens and stately mansions blurred into a comforting embrace, their elegant silhouettes nostalgic. You couldn’t help but feel the need to reach out, to run your fingertips over the freshly mowed grass, or admire the shapely bushes designed to perfection.

You missed your home very much – one of the few places you felt solace in before your life turned upside down.

Pulling up into the driveway, your butler immediately opened the doors for you. There was a round of warm welcomes and joyful smiles. You’d missed them, too – all the loyal staff who took turns watching over you, even when they remained hesitant to properly acquaint themselves. Nevertheless, it was home. You greedily breathed the fresh air in, letting it fill up your lungs as you breathed out the darkness pooling at your chest.

The double doors opened, and the two of you were ushered in. A few minutes later, your mother came rushing past – a shawl drawled at the curves of her arms. A smile instantaneously, rising up from your seat to meet her halfway.

“My daughter, oh, how I missed you!” she laughed, the sound of it light and coloring up the room. Pulling back from the embrace, she cupped your face with her gloved hands – all her previous smiles slowly wavering. “My goodness, have you been eating well? Sleeping well? You look… different.”

You winced. It would be hard to hide things from her, but you had to try.

Leaning into her palm, you gave her the biggest smile you could muster – teeth flashed and all. “I’m okay, Mother. The Palace can just get a little exhausting sometimes.”

“Does your husband not help you with your duties?”

It was your father who spoke this time. He must’ve come straight from trimming the bushes; a sunhat covered his head, and he wore gardening gloves that were stained with grass and a miniscule of dirt. You didn’t miss the way his gaze leered at your husband. Rintaro was stiff behind you, having stood up as well as soon as your mother entered. “He does most of them, so I believe he is more tired than I am,” you supplied, pointedly ignoring Rintaro’s relieved sigh. Clapping your hands together, you walked towards your father with open arms. “But let’s not discuss any of that – how is everyone doing? I feel like it’s been forever since I last stepped in here.”

“Ah, no,” your father complained as he held you at an arm’s length away, “My clothes are soiled, and you are pristine. Do not bother yourself with getting dirtied.”

You pouted; your mother giggling behind you.

Being back at home was an instant medication. You hadn’t been here in months, yet the effect was evident – your shoulders felt lighter, your smile more natural. You’d stopped trying to think of Iris, too, yet you remained warily aware of your husband. And it was clear Rintaro was unsure of himself. He lingered longer on the doorways, his interactions with your parents more formal than it had been compared to the first time he called upon you. You couldn’t blame him for his discomfort – the question of his affair lingered on the air.

It was only a matter of time before someone addressed it.

A few hours later, with your stomachs filled with warm, homemade meals, you all moved out towards the back gardens. The garden stretched out in a lush expanse beneath the golden glow of the setting sun, each corner rich with the memories of your precious childhood.

Winding stone paths meandered through vibrant displays of blooming flowers – roses in shades of crimson and blush, peonies in soft pastels, and clusters of fragrant lavender. Elegant statues and an ornate fountain stood in the middle of it, their waters cascading beautifully. Majestic oak trees, their branches spreading wide in a serene embrace, provided cool, dappled shade – your signature reading spot from your teenage years.

You’d made many memories here; time spent with your father chasing you and your mother around as your gurgled giggles echoed through the air. It was also where your father taught you to use weapons (much to your mother’s distaste), and eventually, even a date spot when Rintaro wanted a reprieve from the public eye.

Rintaro and your father went ahead. Your father claimed he hadn’t properly worked out in a while, and that perhaps your husband could help him warm up. Beside you, you and your mother watched as the two men rolled their sleeves up to practice sparring. It’s a silly thing, but one you knew Rintaro enjoyed. He often spent time with your father like this when he was still courting you. They toyed with weapons, hunted birds, and sparred with one another. It was your father’s way of gauging Rintaro’s strength at first. Now, they simply did it as a way of bonding.

You smiled despite yourself.

You could still remember those times vividly, where warmth crept up your neck upon the knowledge your parents liked this boy you adored. You appreciated all his efforts, never once backing down from an absurd request from your mother, or another challenge from your father. Rintaro had proven to them, without fail, that he was dedicated in winning your heart.

He’d succeeded. It would be impossible if he didn’t.

He came every day, always at seven in the morning, with a bouquet of flowers that led you into reserving a room just to turn it into an indoor garden. He’d brought flowers for your mother, too, and you knew the moment she shed a tear at his sweetness, that he’d also won their hearts. The sweet ‘yes’ he’d been working hard finally came a year during the courtship. It was on that memorable night he’d driven you out for dinner – no drivers, no servants, no anything. Just you and I, he’d said with a smile, placing a kiss upon your knuckles.

It was the first night you’d kissed him, and the first night you stayed up awake as you lost the battle of trying to calm your racing heart.

If you’d known that early that his heart had already been occupied… No.

Even if you knew, even after you knew, it was too late. You were doomed from the moment he’d picked you out from the crowd. You’d resigned yourself to your fate when the throng of people parted for him as he made his way to you, wearing the most dazzling, lazy smile befitting for a Crown Prince.

You didn’t stand a chance.

You might’ve fallen in love the moment you stepped on his toes, and all he did was laugh.

“My dear,” your mother’s silken voice pulled you out of your trance. Smiling at her, you turned her way, silently sipping on the tea the servants had prepared. Before you, your mother twitched, playing with her fingers splayed on her lap. “I don’t mean to suddenly spring this up on you, but surely you’ll understand a mother’s curiosity and concern. So, tell me. Is it real? Is it true the Crown Prince is cheating on you?”

Your body froze. You’d seen this coming – known she would’ve asked one way or another.

“No, Mother,” you shook your head, dropping your gaze onto your lap in the hopes she wouldn’t see right through you. “His Highness would never. That article was already proven to be a hoax.”

“I see…”

You shared an uneasy silence. Seated across from each other, you stirred your tea absentmindedly, gaze drifting over the manicured hedges that framed the secluded nook. Your mother, poised and composed, sipper her tea with deliberate slowness. You could tell without looking at her that her inquisitive gaze searched for answers on your face. For signs of the truth you struggled to conceal with each passing minute.

The gentle clinking of porcelain and the soft rustling of leaves did little to alleviate the tension, the silence between you two growing heavier with each unspoken word.

Finally, your mother set her cup down and sighed. “I still remember the day the Crown Prince came to call on you,” she began, her words delicate and careful. Her gaze flitted to the two men before you, still elbow-deep in their sparring. “Your father and I didn’t want to believe it at first. You were always beautiful, of course, but you were such a shy, little thing. We worried you might grow old without striking a conversation with any man, but a Prince? A Crown Prince, no less? We were over the moon,” she shook her head at the memory, a small smile playing on her lips. “But then your father and I both agreed you didn’t deserve any lesser man. There couldn’t have been anyone else for you. The Crown Prince was perfect.”

He was, you wanted to agree, he used to be.

“I remember that day, too,” you mused, the image of the Prince with his slicked-back hair and three piece suit flashing in your mind.

You’d expected he would look out of your place in the Estate, whatnot with the royal crest on his chest, yet he never looked more fitting – surrounded by your family portraits and delicately gazing at your childhood photos.

“He was especially handsome – I’d say even more so than when he showed up for the Palace’s royal events.”

“Well, I wouldn’t be surprised. It was clear he wanted to impress us, and you, especially,” teased your mother with a slight poke of her elbow, her face softening. “I remember it all, my dear. How he would always share with us his plans for the dates he’d take you on, how he always took you home at the exact time he promised he would. He was a perfect son, the perfect addition to our small family. And I could never, ever forget how you changed when you met him.”

“I changed?” your brows furrowed, before you shrugged in agreement. “I suppose I have. Being with someone like him… I had to be conscious and aware of everything I did. Do you remember that, Mother? When I begged you to come shopping for clothes for me when you knew I never was interested in any of it?”

Your mother giggled behind her hands.

“I was so happy that day when you asked me to come with you! I thought my sweet girl was finally growing into a mature woman. But that wasn’t the change I was talking about,” she continued, sliding her chair closer to yours. Her palm landed on top of your knee, and she slowly caressed there – just like how she did when you first scraped your knees. And how healing it was, a mother’s tender touch on top of your wounds. It made you want to rip your heart out and shove it between her fingers, to silently beg her to make it all okay.

“…When you met him, you became radiant. In love. You smiled more often, and you opened up a whole new world that the Prince showed you. There wasn’t a day you didn’t speak fondly of him. And you had that look on your face, sweetheart–” she ran a finger down the side of your face, her eyes glistening with tears. You couldn’t understand why she looked so broken. “–it was in your eyes. Everyone could tell how much you loved the Prince.”

You swallowed, the smiles you wore becoming more and more faded. “Mother, I still love him.”

“I know, sweetheart, I can tell,” she cooed. Prying the cup from your hands, she immediately held your hands in hers, her warmth soothing as it seeped through her gloves. “But I also know you’re not happy anymore.”

Your resolve began to crumble.

“Mother…”

Your eyes began to glisten with unshed tears that you struggled to keep at bay. Despite your best effort, the façade of composure slipped. A single tear escaped, trailing a path down your cheek – and just like that – a dam had opened. The door holding your secrets unlocked. It was hard – painfully so – to pretend everything was okay when it was not. You felt like a little child again. A little girl craving her mother’s soothing embrace, and you couldn’t help it – you launched yourself into her arms, burying your face in the crook of her shoulder as your body shook with each sob.

“Oh, sweetheart,” your mother patted your back. Judging by the way her body quivered under you, she’d been crying, too. “It’s okay, I promise. Please, tell me what’s wrong. I can’t handle seeing you like this.”

“Mother, it’s…” you bit at your lip, trying to muffle the whimpers that passed your lips. “I’m sorry, it’s true. I didn’t want to lie, or have to hide it from you, but Rintaro loves you both a lot and I was afraid you’d hate him–”

“Oh! Oh, my poor baby. Never apologize, okay? It wasn’t your fault.”

You clutched her tight, her dress balled into your fists. A part of you told you that you should feel pathetic, that your actions weren’t Princess-like. That Her Majesty would frown at the sight of you and tell you to act your age. But you couldn’t muster the strength, not when your mother’s embrace was the only thing keeping you together – the only thing that told you it was safe enough to fall apart. And so you cried, your tears soaking her dress and the fabric wrinkling under your grip.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Your mother’s sniffles was the last thing you heard before the sound of a fist connecting with skin resounded in the area. Pulling back, you gasped at what you saw.

Rintaro was lying on the ground, your father on top of him. Your father grasped Rintaro by the collar, delivering blow by blow to his face until blood spattered to the grass. Somehow, you managed to scream. The sound was ear-splitting as your heels hit the ground, clutching the ends of your dress as you ran for him. Rintaro wasn’t putting up a fight – his arms limp by his side, his head swaying with each merciless punch on his face.

“Stop!”

“You cheating bastard,” your father glowered, rearing his arm back for one final blow. “How could you do that to my daughter?”

“Father! Please, stop!”

The commotion caused servants to pour from every corner. The guards arrived, pulling your father back by the elbow as he struggled to free from their restraints. Meanwhile, your mother stood beside him – crying and dabbing her handkerchief at his blood knuckles. And you? You fell on the ground, uncaring that the grass had stained your dress, and loomed over your husband. “Rin,” you called out. A low groan was all you received, but it was enough. You breathed out a sigh of relief, immediately calling for the servants to bring some ice and towels.

“Get out of here! You aren’t welcome here anymore!” your father kept kicking and screaming, the sounds of your mother’s pleas falling on deaf ears. “I swear by the Gods your title won’t keep you safe, boy, you will regret it–”

“Get up,” hooking your arm around Rintaro’s elbow, you grunted at his weight. “Rin. Come on. Let’s go.”

Still dazed from being beaten, Rintaro’s legs wobbled underneath him. He groaned, finally wrapping an arm around your shoulders as you limped back to the house. Your father was still a screaming mess, but you knew your mother would calm him down eventually. For now, you needed to tend to his cuts.

You brought Rintaro up to your room. A servant had left an ice pack and some towels there already. Making Rintaro get rid of his bloodied shirt, he changed into one of your father’s – his wince displeased yet left with no choice. Once he’d changed into something clean, he sat at the edge of your bed, shoulders slumped and his handsome face bloodied and bruised.

The air was thick with uneasiness in the dimly lit confines of your room.

The soft glow of your candlelight flickered across the ornate furnishings and Rintaro’s wounds. You worked quietly before him, finding there was no need to speak. His face, usually lacking in interest and graced with slow, lackadaisical smiles, was marred by a collection of bruises and cuts.

Your hand trembled slightly as you carefully dabbed a cloth soaked in cool water against a swollen cheek. The Crown Prince, despite his physical pain, looked even more vulnerable under the soft lights – his usual demeanor replaced by quiet resignation.

With delicate movements, you applied salves, ensuring your touch remained tender and soothing. It wouldn’t erase the hurt from his body, but maybe your care would make it ache less. Each gentle stroke of your fingers served as a silent apology for the pain he endured. And the room, filled with the faint scent of healing balms and the soft rustle of fabric, suddenly felt all too intimate.

The silence between you was heavy, punctuated only by the occasional rustle of the bandages and the soft sighs coming from him. As you finished tending to his wounds, your eyes met, and for a moment, it felt like he was that young man from two years ago – fresh-faced, and red-cheeked upon entering a maiden’s room for the first time. He’d been so nervous back then, his hands clammy and drenched with sweat. In reality, that man was just a fragment of who he truly was now – your poor, bruised husband who winced at every tender, caring touch. As if your love wounded him, and cut him in ways he couldn’t heal from.

As if he just waited for that finishing blow to come from you instead, to be his final damnation.

But it never came.

In that fragile moment, Rintaro closed his eyes, leaning into the caress of your palm as it hovered beside his face. This gesture you remembered – of him accidentally cutting his palm open with a letter opener years ago, and when you’d wrapped bandages around his wound. He did the same thing and leaned into your touch, only to kiss the insides of your wrist. He’d looked up at you from under his lashes, his lips full and ready to be kissed. And kiss him you did, because then he’d been yours, and you’d been his.

You didn’t pull away then. You couldn’t pull away now.

Using your thumb to stroke his swollen cheek, you sighed, the sound tired and heavy. “Did you tell my father? Is that why he beat you up?”

“No. We barely spoke during the spar,” he informed, tongue darting out to lick the dried blood off his lips. “But he kept looking over at you and your mother. I reckon he was just waiting for you to reveal the truth eventually,” just then, Rintaro chuckled, wincing when the motion made his cuts split further apart. His smile remained, however, and you drunk his features in – the way he tipped his head to the side, his eyes hooded, with just the barest hint of a playful smile. “You were never a good liar, you know that?”

“Is that so?”

“Hmm,” he hummed, “On our second date, you told me you didn’t want to watch the movies because you were worried people might crowd us. But it was written all over your face how much you wanted to.”

That, you remembered, as well. You found it impossible how a Prince – a Crown Prince – could simply saunter to the theaters like he was any regular man. He was right; you did want to. You’d never been to the theaters since it was always crowded, and you never did well in the dark. But you soon learned the dark wasn’t so scary when he had his arms wrapped around you. If anything, it felt elating – having the Prince play with your fingers, his gaze never really focusing on the movie.

Rintaro’s jaw clenched, more so in thought. “You always kept things to yourself, always did things for me even when it made you uncomfortable. Was it because I’m the Crown Prince that you felt you couldn’t be honest with me?”

“Not entirely. I guess I was just afraid that if I didn’t do what you liked, then you would lose interest in me.”

“That would never happen,” he interjected, “The moment I laid my eyes on you, I knew you were the one I wanted to marry.”

The realization dawned on him a little too late. His words carried weight with its double meaning, and he winced. The moment was broken. The thread snapped right in front of your eyes. Pulling away from him, you quickly gathered the bloodied towels and set it aside. You made yourself busy, fully aware of his eyes on you, but you wouldn’t dare look back. You had a feeling that if you did, your mind would run rampant again on the last time he’d been here in your room, when your sheets still smelled like him, and he’d fucked you hard enough on your bed that your bodies left an imprint.

You wouldn’t look at him. You couldn’t.

“I’m sorry about what my father did.”

“It’s fine. I deserved every punch,” he shrugged it off, then smirked. “Although I’m probably less appealing in your eyes now. Bruised and all. I don’t look very Prince Charming-like.”

You snorted. “Since you wish for my honesty, then I’ll tell you now the whole Prince Charming act never suited you.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I liked you better when you finally became more comfortable around me. You weren’t as poetic as when you first started courting me, but you were more… yourself. You were funnier, and a lot more charming when you weren’t trying so hard,” you broke that rule all too easily, and you did look at him. You looked at him, even if you could never see through him. “To me, it felt like I wasn’t dating the Crown Prince at all. I liked the unfiltered version of Suna Rintaro better. The one who enjoyed silences, instead of filling it with flowery words to get my heart fluttering. The one who preferred phone calls over texts because you wanted to hear my voice before going to sleep. The one who I considered my closest friend, the one I knew I wanted to marry, too.”

He was beautiful like this – his shirt hanging loosely at his broad shoulders, his arms slightly leaning back as it dipped with his weight on the mattress. His hair was tousled, the dark locks beautifully framing his face. And his eyes – hazel and more brown than green as the orange ember glows kissed him – were something you could lose yourself in for hours. For forever, even.

Suddenly, you wanted the world to end this way. You wanted time to stop if it meant picturing him like this, frozen and unguarded, beautiful and smelling like your perfume. You would’ve died a happy man if it meant this would be your last moment. With him on your bed, his clothes on your floor, and your ring on his finger.

You yearned for him so badly your body ached.

“Princess,” he mumbled after a pregnant pause, his voice coming out small as he said, “Why don’t you hate me?”

“Who says I don’t?”

The smile you pulled from him is lighthearted; unresevered. “Let me rephrase my question. Why do you still love me?”

Because isn’t that what love is? To know someone’s flaws, and to accept them as who they are? To see all your bad mornings and watch you stumble into the bathroom, clumsy and hazy. To see you at your worst, to choose arguments with you than silence with you. I thought that’s what love meant – to see the ugliness in another and to defy the impulse to turn the other way in search of another, the ‘someone better.’

You don’t tell him that. Instead, you offer another truth. “I wish I knew how to answer that myself.”

“I’m afraid,” Rintaro admitted, voice vulnerable and small. “I fear that one day, your hatred of me will consume you, and you will forget why you ever loved me.”

The candles cast soft shadows off his face, flickering like the fleeting time of the time you had with him. Each flame pulsed with the restless ache in your heart as you recalled the moments of closeness and intimacy that was half-heartedly reciprocated.

Your gaze drifted toward the space where he’d once lain beside you, the indentation in the sheets a painful reminder of the absence that now filled the void. You wanted to tell him you hadn’t changed the sheets since he last slept here. The scent of his cologne still lingered in the air, he still had his own pair of socks in your drawer, he’d left a wristwatch or two behind. He was here everywhere in your room, even if his heart wasn’t.

And it was so hard – so fucking hard – to accept that he didn’t love you.

Want me, you pleaded silently, at least want me. Just a little bit.

With slow, deliberate steps, your hand rested lightly on the bed’s edge, your fingers brushing against the cool, smooth fabric, as if permanently pushing the warmth of his presence back to the bed. Your heart ached with a bittersweet yearning for a heart that was never fully yours, a yearning that clung to you until it wrapped its fingers around your throat.

He was here now, wasn’t he? He wasn’t leaving. He said he would divorce you, he said it was always going to be her, but he was here – in front of you, in your room. If you dared to reach out a hand and crawl close enough, you could fall into his lap and cradle his head to your chest. And it was exactly that passionate longing that would ruin you – because you couldn’t resist. You couldn’t resist from trailing your fingers up his arm, all the way to his face. His eyes were unreadable; his pupils dilated and his lips pulled apart.

God, you wanted to kiss him.

So you pulled him close. Grabbed him by the collar, and slid yourself into his lap until Rintaro was forced to scoot backwards to balance you both, his large hands coming to rest on your hips. You breathed hard, shaking your head at yourself before your forehead knocked with his.

“Rin… Your Highness,” you corrected, rasping out the words. “I’m sorry. I know it’s wrong, and I know I could never have your heart but could you just – could you please hold me? Just for a minute, please. Pretend that you’re in love with me, I just–” your breath hitched when he squeezed your hips, to stop you or encourage you, you couldn’t tell. “–I just want to feel it again. That happiness I had with you.”

Rintaro hitched you up higher on his lap. Your chest crashed with his, and his lips followed. He tasted of blood and sugary biscuits. His taste, and his scent, flooded your senses until there was nothing to perceive but him.

And the kiss? It isn’t gentle. It isn’t soft. It’s desperate – lips bruising lips, teeth knocking with teeth, and tongues passionately grasping at one another. Your hands fly everywhere after that. Tugging at his hair, grabbing him harder by the collar to deepen the kiss. He swallows every sound you make, breathes them in like he needs them to live. So you give all you can and moan out his name – not Your Highness – and revel in the way he keens. He melts like snowflakes in the heat of your palm, like your touch burns him. You’re seconds away from dragging him back up on the bed when Rintaro suddenly shoves you off him. He flings himself upright and crosses the other side of the room in quick strides, the quick rise and fall of his back facing you the only thing visible from the dimly-lit room.

He didn’t need to say it out loud.

He’d regretted that kiss. Your heart broke once more as you sat at the edge of your bed. His rejection stung, even more so when he wiped his lips with the back of his hand. Rintaro was shivering now as his head knocked against the window. Each breath he took seemed labored, as if even the act of drawing air was a struggle against the overwhelming sorrow that enveloped him. The air around him felt dense with the gravity of his internal torment, and your heart sank as you finally voiced out what he could never say out loud –

“…You really don’t love me.”

The silence falling over the room wrapped around the space like a heavy, suffocating shroud. the absence of sound was deafening. It pressed in on the walls and made each breath feel louder. Every creak of the floorboards or distant murmur from the outside was amplified, heavily echoed in the thick air. And when Rintaro finally spoke, it came with a tone of finality and unconcealed regret.

“I’m sorry.”

You swallowed, blinking back the tears as you fixed your appearance. “Pardon me for a moment,” you began to exit the room, your hands hovering on the handle before you you’re your decision. “Your Highness… is it okay if I stay here at my parents? It’s just for a few days. I don’t think I can handle returning to the Palace anytime soon.”

“Of course. Take all the time you need.” Rintaro did one final sweep of your room with his eyes. Something unreadable passed over his face. In the next moment, he cleared his throat, and opened the door himself. “I should leave. Goodnight, Princess. Please tell your parents that I left already, and I truly am sorry for the mess I caused.”

Rintaro was gone before you could say anything.

Just before his back disappeared from your line of sight, you saw something you thought you would never witness – Rintaro took two steps at a time on his way down, his frown pronounced as he wiped the tears off his face.

It unfolds like a badly written tragedy.

One moment, Rintaro is standing in the confines of your room, his heart racing with a desperate urgency that pulsed through every fiber of his being. He’d wanted to keep kissing you. Pulling away, and resisting his desire had to be one of the greatest pains he’d experienced, but he had to. He couldn’t keep doing this to you. His conscience wouldn’t let him.

That’s why he had to resort to doing the only thing he could think of in that moment – to run away and leave you behind.

Storming through the stately halls and out the grand doors of your estate, Rintaro pushed through. The weight of his regrets made each step harder to take, a burden that dragged him toward the waiting car parked outside the chill beginning to settle.

He jumped into the vehicle, ignoring his driver’s confused queries before slamming the door shut behind him. Inside, the car felt like a confining cell, its leather seats and polished surface now an inescapable prison of his own making. His hands, trembling with a mix of frustration and despair, gripped the steering wheel with a white-knuckled intensity.

In a sudden, raw burst of emotion, his fist struck the steering wheel with a deafening thud. The impact reverberated through the car and sent a shiver down his spine.

Still, he kept going – each strike of his fist minimal in comparison to his anguish. He reveled in it, the sharp pain in his knuckles a fleeting distraction from the deeper, more consuming agony that began to eat away at him.

His breaths came in ragged gasps, each inhalation a struggle. The air inside the car felt stifling, thick with the heavy scent of leather and the acrid tang of the remnants of blood at his face. His tears began to flow uncontrollably, streaming down his face and mingling with the sweat that dampened his brow. In the suffocating silence, his mind raced through a myriad of memories – from when he’d first kissed you, when he first held your hand, and the tender embraces he held you in. Each memory served to remind him of what he had now – nothing but a fractured connection, a strained marriage, and your fragile heart which he couldn’t protect.

Each image passing through his mind were tinged with bitterness. He recalled the warmth of your presence, the way your smile could light up the room, and the feeling of your hand in his.

He wished he could take it all back – to start from the beginning, to re-introduce himself to who he truly was. But he couldn’t. He knew he couldn’t. It was too late.

He’d gotten Iris pregnant.

Rintaro hadn’t mean to. Sure, he was careless and never used protection, but he thought little of it. Iris’ cycles were irregular and they never worried if she missed her period. She was always on the pill – all because of him, since Kiyoomi wouldn’t have touched her anyway. In another lifetime, Rintaro might’ve felt happy. Instead, he was filled with crushing dread. He couldn’t be a father, he didn’t want to be like his father.

And why hadn’t she told him? All this time… he foolishly thought she’d began ignoring him because it was a mutual, unspoken feeling that they’d just gotten tired. He never handled the media’s criticism well, and Iris wasn’t any better. She cared about her image and reputation more than anything – so why hide this from him? If he had known sooner…

What? his mind taunted, What would you do if you knew sooner?

Rintaro’s head dropped to the steering wheel. The voice in his head was right. He wouldn’t have done anything. Had he known four months ago, he would’ve celebrated. Had he known two months ago, he would’ve been upset, but choose to take responsibility in the end. But now? Now his decision was clear. Without giving it a second thought, Rintaro pulled out of your driveway and headed straight for the palace, dialing Iris on his way.

She picked up on the third ring.

“So it’s true,” he spoke to the phone, driving past the other cars on the highway in full speed. He should drive more carefully, but his blood was pumping loud in his veins – your touch lit a fire in him, and he needed that fire stoked. “You’re pregnant.”

A pause came from the other line. “How did you know?”

Rintaro gripped the steering wheel tighter, glaring at the phone even if she couldn’t see. “You’re heartless, Iris. How could you let my wife find out about it first before I did? Why did she have to tell me?”

“She told you – what? I never planned on letting you know about it, Rintaro. I don’t even know how she found out!”

“What, you were going to use that baby against me? Is that what you planned?” he growled at her, “You’re not keeping that damned baby – you’re getting rid of it right now. I’m not letting you fuck up my marriage.”

“I wasn’t going to keep it anyway! You’re absolutely insane if you think I’m planning to give birth to your filthy child–”

“Shut up!”

Rintaro ended the call. He’d had enough of her and her greediness. How dare she keep something like that from him, aborting his child before he even knew of its existence?

He stepped harder on the gas.

The engine roared in defiant response to his intense, almost reckless driving, its powerful growl a stark contrast to the stifling silence that enveloped the car. The air inside the car was thick with the acrid scent of tension and frustration, each breath he took feeling heavier and more labored as he fought to keep his rage contained.

His thoughts raced with the echoes of the argument, each harsh word and biting remark replaying in his mind like a relentless loop. The sting of her anger gnawed at him, fueling the fire of his own resentment. The images of her face, twisted in frustration, seemed to haunt the darkened windows of the car. Iris seemed to do that often – haunting him both in his dreams and a nightmare.

Rintaro couldn’t fathom why it was too late when he realized she’d never been a good person to begin with.

She was never his friend.

She only approached him because Rintaro was malleable. He was a blank canvas of a man, a lost Prince. He was nothing but an experimental toy for her. She’d kissed him, stolen his heart, and fed him lies that she’d give him what he wanted if he did what she liked. And he did – every fucking time. He drunk himself wasted, because Iris didn’t like drinking alone. He smoked packs of cigarettes for her even when he hated the taste of nicotine, because Iris got antsy without smoking. He fucked her hard and deep, and spent countless nights in her bed, because her husband never wanted to touch her. And what did he get in return?

Fake smiles. Sarcastic, mocking comments. A dry reply from his enthusiastic texts. A quick, good fuck if they were bored enough.

Iris never wanted him. She only ever wanted one thing: security. And when she was married to a Prince, and had another wrapped around her finger? She could do no wrong in the eyes of the throne.

As he drove, the powerful beams of the headlights cast fleeting shadows across the road.

The palace loomed ahead, its silhouette a distant promise of refuge that seemed increasingly out of reach. The anger that coursed through him was a force unto itself, a seething urge that refused to be quelled.

As he approached the grand gates of the palace, his emotions were spilling all over the place. He only had one place in mind: Belleview Manor.

Rounding a corner in the dimly lit hallway of the palace, Rintaro came to an abrupt halt. The reaction of his body was instantaneous: his breath caught in his throat, his muscles locking into place. Before him stood the Queen, her regal presence magnified by the soft, flickering light of the sconces lining the walls. Her silhouette, framed by the rich, opulent draped and the gleaming marble floors, seemed almost otherworldly.

She stood there, unmoving, like she’d somehow known he would be coming any minute now.

Rintaro’s head pounded in his chest. Cold dread washed over him, an icy hand clutching at his insides. The Queen’s serene yet inscrutable expression was nothing but an act, that he knew. In reality, her expressions were alien and foreboding. Her eyes, deceptively warm and reassuring, stared back at him like dark abysses, their depth hinting at the hidden complexities and secrets Rintaro had never cared to consider before.

He felt as if the ground beneath him had shifted, his already unstable world rocked by the revelation of a hidden side to his mother that he never perceived.

He stood frozen, a tangible sense of fear and anger enveloping him as he confronted the unsettling truth: the queen, his mother, was a mystery he had never fully unraveled.

The secrets she harbored, once a vague notion in the back of his mind, now loomed large and menacing, casting a long shadow over his perception of her. The fear that gripped him was profound and disorienting, a jarring contrast to the reverence he had always felt. His whole life, he’d only wanted one thing – to please his mother, to make her proud, to be a Queen’s son worthy of becoming the next King. His whole life he’d only done what he was told.

But in that moment, he was consumed by the chilling realization that the mother he had known and loved was a stranger, and the weight of her concealed truths left him trembling with a profound, unsettling fear.

“You,” he breathed out, his fear now overtaken by his sight going red. He felt mocked, humiliated, used. “Why did you never tell me?”

The memory of that night on the beach was seared into his mind.

He could never forget it – Iris’ sneer, the way her lips curled in contempt, as though he were something beneath her. Her words had cut deep, bleeding into his every being until the truth pounded at his veins. She had looked at him with disdain, her eyes cold and unfeeling, as she spat out how she’d never wanted to be with him, how she’d used him to cure her loneliness. A rejection born from a sick, twisted confession.

And now that he’d fulfilled his purpose in the bleakness of her world, he was nothing more than a disposable distraction. She’d called him worthless, a joke, someone unworthy of her attention – a prince in name but never in her eyes. The wind had whipped around him, cloaked around him like a glacial storm, but it was her biting words that had left him feeling exposed and small.

She’d delivered a stab to his heart that no amount of time could erase.

I never wanted to be with someone like you in the first place.

Didn’t you know, Rin?

You were never the King’s son.

#suna x reader #suna x you #suna rintaro x reader #haikyuu x reader #suna rintaro angst #suna x reader angst #haikyuu angst #kiyoomi x reader #kiyoomi x reader angst #kiyoomi sakusa x reader #sakusa x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #suna rintaro x you #kiyoomi x you #haikyuu x reader angst

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kingofbodyrolls · 3 days ago

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To Catch a Merman (m) | pjm

You don’t really enjoy your work on a trawler, but it pays the rent. When you hear some ruckus out of the deck, you go out to investigate, only to be met by an unreal sight: a blonde merman with a sparkly golden tail caught in the net, struggling to get free.

→ Pairing: jimin x reader (female) → AUs: mermaid!au, fantasy!au, magical!au → Trope: strangers to lovers → Genres: fluff / smut / romance / tiny angst → Rating: mature/explicit/R18 (this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.) → Word count: 17.7k → Warnings (general) + triggers: multiple povs (I tried to keep them apart, but there’s some sections where they mix), a shitty ex (not Jimin or one of the tannies), blackmail (because of said stupid ex), low female rage (it’s very minor, but let me just say that reader can defend herself if need be 🤭). → Warnings (explicit): unprotected sex (please be safe), multiple orgasms, cockwarming, fingering, oral (male receiving), biting/marking, merfolk intercourse (it’s like a mating dance, lol), dirty talk. → Read on AO3? [link] → Author’s note: I’m baaaaack 🥳 I really love how this one turned out and I hope you love it as much as I do! And now there’s only two more mermaid stories left 🥹 This has truly been special, and i’m so glad I stuck with it and didn’t abandon it like I feared at one moment… Anyway, any kind of feedback will be very much appreciated—it fuels my inspiration, you know? Like just one single comment or reblog can make my heart soar, make me smile and feel like ‘yeah, someone on the internet likes my writing and stories as much as I do’ and it truly helps me to keep going, especially at times where I second guess myself (happens rather often I’m afraid). Please let me know okay? And happy reading ✨

[s.masterlist] → this is part of a collection of series that are stand-alone one-shots, but all of them are set in the same universe. They are slightly connected though 🤭

“Don’t you think we’ve gone too far out?” Jungkook’s voice wavers, uncertainty woven into each syllable. His dark eyes dart toward the fading silhouette of home, but Jimin doesn’t pause, doesn’t even glance back. His golden tail gleams like sunlight trapped in the sea, cutting through the azure depths with an effortless sway.

“Nah, don’t be such a guppy!” Jimin laughs, his voice buoyant with adventure, rippling through the water as he propels himself faster. Each stroke carries him farther into the unknown, where the current whispers secrets only the bold dare to uncover.

Jungkook lingers, his chest tight with unease. “I really don’t think this is a good idea,” he calls, the words almost swallowed by the vastness. “We’re so far from home…”

Jimin suddenly halts mid-stroke, his brown eyes narrowing. Above them, a shadow looms, dark and colossal, breaking the soft shimmer of sunlight on the waves. The water feels heavier now, the salty tang sharper.

“What is it?” Jungkook asks, dread curling in his gut.

“It’s a big boat,” Jimin murmurs, the words bubbling to the surface as if reluctant to leave his lips. His curiosity pulls him forward, closer to the shadow that stretches like a specter above them.

“Yeah, and we should stay away,” Jungkook snaps, his hand darting out to grab Jimin’s arm. “Come on, let’s go.”

But Jimin shrugs him off, slipping through his grip like quicksilver. His golden tail fans wide, propelling him onward, closer to the unknown.

“Just a little closer!” Jimin calls, his voice light, but his gaze locked on the shadow overhead.

“Jimin!” Jungkook shouts, the name tumbling from his mouth like a plea. He spins in the water, struggling against the tide—and his rising anger. His voice cuts through the deep with raw emotion. “You’re going to get us killed!”

But Jimin only laughs again, a sound like the tinkling of glass against the endless blue, as the shadow above deepens, and the world below seems to hold its breath.

“It’s okay!” Jimin calls, his voice barely rising above the whispering waves. He hovers just beneath the surface, closer to danger than Jungkook would ever allow if he had his way. But Jimin’s curiosity burns brighter than his caution. The lure of the unknown pulls at him like a tide. Slowly, almost reverently, he lifts his head above the water, the ocean’s surface breaking around him in ripples of light.

His breath catches. The boat looms above him—a hulking beast of wood and iron, its hull painted in hues of brown and white, weathered by years of salt and sun. Massive cranes stretch skyward like skeletal arms, and heavy nets drape across its deck, glinting faintly under the midday sun. It is not beautiful, but it is powerful, a thing of human hands and ambition, utterly foreign to the delicate harmony of the sea.

Jungkook materializes silently at Jimin’s side, his presence a sudden ripple in the water that startles the older merman. Jimin glances at him, guilt flickering briefly in his wide eyes before giving way to fascination again.

“Jimin,” Jungkook hisses, his voice sharp, his gaze sharper still, like an anchor seeking to tether him. “Turn back.”

But Jimin doesn’t move. His voice trembles, not with fear but with awe. “I’ve never seen anything like it.” His eyes dart to the figures moving along the deck, their shadows shifting like specters against the glare of sunlight. “There are people up there.”

“Hide!” Jungkook snaps, grabbing Jimin’s arm and pulling him sharply downward. The sea envelops them both again, cool and heavy, muffling the world above. “That’s a trawler,” Jungkook says, his voice low and urgent, every word a warning. “They catch fish, Jimin. You shouldn’t go near it.”

Jimin nods absently, his head bobbing like seaweed caught in the current, but his thoughts are far away, drifting beyond Jungkook’s grasp. The boat has hooked his curiosity like a lure, and no amount of scolding can break its hold.

Jungkook sighs, frustration etching lines into his usually calm expression. “You’re impossible,” he mutters, wrapping his arms around Jimin’s tail and tugging him backward with a determined kick of his fins. Jimin lets out a half-hearted protest but doesn’t fight him, his gaze lingering on the shadow of the boat until it fades into the distance.

As they swim back to Naraeum, Jungkook glances over his shoulder, his unease like a weight dragging him down. The ocean feels too still, too silent, as if even it is holding its breath. Beside him, Jimin smiles faintly, his mind adrift in a sea of wonder.

Days have passed, yet Jimin cannot shake the image of the trawler from his mind. The boat lingers in his thoughts like a siren’s call—an enigma draped in nets and cranes. He remembers the humans, their shadows etched against the light, and wonders what it would feel like to stand among them, to know the world above the waves. His curiosity churns like the tide, restless and unyielding.

Which is why, against better judgment, his whimsical heart leads him back to where he last saw it. Alone, this time. Jungkook’s warnings echo faintly in his memory, but he brushes them aside like grains of sand. Jungkook doesn’t understand—how could he? To Jimin, the pull of discovery is stronger than fear.

The sun is high, its warmth seeping through the water’s surface as he breaks through the shimmering line between ocean and air. The trawler looms in the distance, its silhouette stark against the azure sky. No voices, no footsteps. The deck looks empty, silent. Safe.

Jimin swims closer, his golden tail cutting through the waves with an eager flick. He dips beneath the surface again, the water cool against his skin as he circles to the far side of the vessel. His heart flutters with anticipation, the world narrowing to this single moment, this single mystery.

But as he moves to rise once more, something catches. A sudden, taut pressure coils around him—a net, rough and unyielding, tangling his tail and pinning his arms to his sides. Panic flares. He thrashes, but the more he struggles, the tighter the net pulls. The world tips and tilts as he’s dragged upward, the ocean slipping away below him, the sun blinding above.

When he finally breaks the surface, it is not in freedom but captivity. He is hoisted into the air, suspended with a writhing chaos of silver-scaled fish. Their bodies slap and squirm against him, cold and frantic. Jimin grunts, his pride stinging almost as much as his skin. Of course, he thinks bitterly. Of course I’d get caught. He’s the kind of merman who can’t even balance on a rock without sliding off. Clumsy to his core. Jungkook had warned him—warned him with exasperation and those sharp, knowing eyes—but he hadn’t listened.

Now, he lies in a heap on the deck, the net a coarse prison pressing against his skin. The trawler’s wood feels foreign beneath him, its surface warm from the sun. For a moment, there is no movement, no sound but the rhythmic creak of the boat and the faint slap of water against its hull.

No humans. Not yet. He exhales shakily, a flicker of relief warming him. Lucky, for now. But luck is fleeting, and the net is unrelenting. He twists and pulls, his tail flicking in frustration, yet the woven threads refuse to yield.

As he struggles, the vastness of his predicament begins to sink in. The boat, the net, the world of humans looming just beyond the corner of his vision—all of it feels too big, too foreign. Yet, even in the face of danger, a part of him remains defiant, his curiosity undimmed. I’ll get out of this, he thinks. I have to.

But the trawler sways beneath him, a silent giant, and the horizon stretches wide and uncaring. The sun blazes overhead, and the sea he loves feels suddenly, painfully far away.

You hate this job. The endless hours, the stench of fish, the grinding noise of the trawler’s machinery—it all gnaws at your soul. But the money is good, and good money keeps you coming back. Still, as you stretch awake in the middle of the day, the remnants of last night’s shift clinging to you like a haze, you can’t shake the feeling that you’d rather be anywhere else.

Weird noises from the deck break through your grogginess, jarring and unfamiliar. You yawn, dragging yourself from the cocoon of your cramped bed, the lazy heat of the cabin making every step feel like a chore. Rubbing your eyes, you shuffle to investigate, the bright daylight spilling through the doorway catching you off guard.

The moment you step outside, the world hits you. The sun blazes mercilessly above, its golden rays turning the sea into a blinding mosaic of light. The air hangs heavy, hot and thick, clinging to your skin like a second layer. And then you see him.

A man—no, an angel—caught in the center of the deck, tangled in the coarse weave of a fishing net. Blonde hair gleams like spun sunlight, cascading over his shoulders. His chest is sculpted, every curve and ridge kissed by the sun, tapering to a tiny waist. Your gaze falters at sturdy thighs, only for your brain to screech to a halt at his dick. Completely naked. Utterly surreal.

His head jerks up, startled brown eyes locking with yours. A loud, high-pitched shriek escapes him, the sound jarring and almost inhuman. He thrashes in the net, his movements frantic as the silver-scaled fish trapped with him flop and slide against his skin. You freeze, your breath caught in your throat, every nerve firing in chaotic confusion.

What the hell is happening? You want to ask something—anything. Maybe ‘do you need help?’ or ‘who are you?’ or even the more pressing ‘how the hell did you get here?’ But your words die on your lips as he suddenly wriggles free of the net. For a moment, he’s all unsteady limbs, rising awkwardly to his feet. Then, like a fleeting mirage, he dashes for the edge of the boat, his movements fluid and oddly graceful despite his wobbling steps.

He pauses just long enough to clap his hands together in a makeshift diving pose. And then he leaps. Quick, but slow enough that you catch a glimpse of a tattoo of moon phases down his spine.

Time slows as he arcs through the air, a golden blur against the deep blue horizon. The water accepts him in a shimmering burst, and he’s gone. You gape, your voice finally finding freedom in a startled yell. Heart pounding, you rush to the edge of the boat, gripping the sun-warmed railing as you peer over. The ocean is calm, indifferent, save for a few bubbles breaking its surface.

You scan the water, searching, your eyes desperate to confirm what you just saw—or to convince yourself it was some kind of sun-soaked fever dream. But there’s nothing. The waves ripple serenely, as if mocking your bewilderment.

No man. No trace. Just the endless expanse of sea, stretching into oblivion.

You stand there, stunned, the net still lying in a crumpled heap behind you, its captured fish glinting in the sunlight. The deck creaks beneath your feet, but the rest of the world seems to hold its breath. Who—or what—was that? And where did he go?

The sea offers no answers. Only silence.

The whole day, he lingers in your mind like a shadow you can’t shake. The golden-haired man, tangled in the net, his brown eyes wide with fear and confusion. Questions churn in your head, relentless as the tide. Is he okay? Did he make it? Why was he there in the first place? And the one you don’t want to ask but can’t silence—Did he drown after he leapt into the sea?

He hadn’t said a word, only that strange startled cry when your eyes met. The sound was raw, unguarded, like something wild caught between fight and flight. You replay it over and over, a haunting echo, as you try to piece him together from fragments: golden hair, sun-bronzed skin, a fleeting presence that disappeared as suddenly as it appeared. And those eyes—terrified, searching. You wonder what they saw in you.

A sudden hand at the small of your back drags you out of your thoughts, the warmth unwelcome and invasive. Riley. You shrug him off sharply, your frown a warning, but he doesn’t take the hint.

“What happened out there?” he asks, curiosity lacing his tone. He must have heard the ruckus earlier, but you’re in no mood to indulge him. “Nothing,” you snap, turning away. “And don’t touch me again. Ever.”

His hand retreats, but his presence lingers like a bad smell. Riley—your ex, your mistake. You curse the naïveté that led you to take this job, blind to the fact he’d be working here too. It felt like fate mocking you, trapping you on this swaying tin can with someone you can’t stand. Every day, you question your sanity for staying. But the paycheck binds you like chains, and so you endure.

Riley’s voice follows you, slick with false concern. “I can protect you, if you’re scared.” The words slither through the air, leaving a sickly taste in your mouth. You stiffen, his tone stirring something sharp and defensive in your chest.

You turn, arms crossing tightly over your body, your voice colder than the ocean below. “I don’t need your protection, Riley. I’m perfectly capable of protecting myself.” Each word is clipped, deliberate, your disdain evident.

He smirks, like your anger is a game he enjoys playing. It makes your stomach churn, and you glare at him before storming away, needing space, needing air.

Your thoughts drift again as you retreat to the edge of the boat, eyes scanning the endless sea. The sunlight dances on the waves, golden and playful, as if mocking your mood. But no matter how far you look, there’s no sign of him—the man who consumed your every thought today. Just water stretching endlessly, as inscrutable as it is vast.

A few days later, the quiet of dawn is shattered by a strange, rhythmic banging that echoes against the hull of the boat. The sound pulls you from sleep like a siren’s call, and before you can think, you’re on your feet, racing out in nothing but your pajamas, the early chill biting at your skin. The sky is a delicate canvas of pale pink and gold, the sea beneath it still dark and restless.

The deck is empty, the vast stretch of wood as silent as the horizon. But the sound persists—low, insistent, coming from the side of the boat. Heart thudding, you approach the railing, peering over cautiously.

And there he is.

Your breath hitches. For a moment, all you can do is stare, your mouth falling open as if to match the endless gape of the sea below. Caught in the coarse weave of the net, a merman thrashes against his bindings. Half of his shimmering tail—gold and flecked with iridescent yellows—remains submerged in the water, while his torso, lean and sunlit, glistens with droplets that catch the dawn light like scattered jewels. His blonde hair, unruly and windblown, clings to his face in wild streaks.

Familiar blonde hair. A face you’ve seen before.

He struggles, his movements frantic and uncoordinated, the net tangling tighter with every thrash. “Help!” he cries, his voice raw and desperate, carried over the waves to no one in particular. His gaze hasn’t found you yet, but his fear is palpable, written in every line of his body.

“I can help you!” you call out, your voice breaking through the morning stillness like a splash of cold water.

He freezes, flinching at the sound. Slowly, as if time itself has slowed, he turns his head. His eyes meet yours, and in an instant, the fight drains from his limbs. Shock overtakes him, his expression teetering between recognition and disbelief.

For a long moment, neither of you move. The sea murmurs below, the net creaks with the sway of the boat, and still, his gaze holds yours, weighing something unseen, something fragile.

“Can you help me out of this net?” he asks at last, his voice low, wary, the tension in his shoulders betraying his uncertainty.

You nod, steadying yourself against the railing. “I can,” you reply, your words measured, reassuring. “But I’ll need to raise you onto the deck first. The net—it’s too heavy to untangle in the water.”

His lips press into a thin line, his reluctance plain, but he nods, a flicker of trust crossing his features. The moment feels precarious, like balancing on the edge of a wave.

“All right,” he murmurs. “Just... be quick.”

You grip the railing tighter, your heart pounding as you prepare to pull him aboard. The world feels charged, like the air before a storm, and the sea watches silently, its secrets just beneath the surface.

You hear him sigh, a soft, defeated sound that seems to blend with the whisper of the waves against the hull. Slowly, he relents, letting you take control. With a steady pull, you drag him and the heavy net out of the water, your muscles straining as the glistening form of the merman rises onto the deck.

There he lays, sprawled and still, water pooling beneath him as it drips from his sleek, otherworldly form. You step closer, and for the first time, you truly see him. He isn’t just beautiful—he’s ethereal, like something conjured from the dreams of gods. His face is serene yet haunting, framed by unruly blonde locks that cling to his skin, while his shimmering tail catches the sun, reflecting colors that defy description.

Your breath hitches. It’s him. The man who has haunted your thoughts for days, the one you feared might have been claimed by the sea. Relief floods through you, mingled with awe. He didn’t drown. He didn’t vanish. He’s here—and he’s a merman.

Shaking off your daze, you kneel beside him, your hands working to untangle the net from his glistening body. Each movement feels surreal, your fingers sliding over the slick scales as you free him inch by inch. When the last knot falls away, you can’t help but linger, your gaze tracing the curve of his tail. It’s a masterpiece of nature, wet and scaly, each iridescent hue shimmering like molten gold under the light. Without thinking, your hand reaches out, brushing against it.

The texture is mesmerizing—cool, smooth, and alien. But then, just as you’re about to marvel aloud, a flicker of light catches your eye. Tiny sparkles dart around him, a strange, magical shimmer that dances like fireflies in the dawn. You blink, and suddenly, his tail isn’t there anymore.

Your heart stops. What you’re touching now isn’t a tail—it’s skin. Wet, firm, human skin. Your hand rests high on his thigh, alarmingly close to…

You jerk back as though scalded, a startled shriek escaping your lips. Heat rises to your cheeks as your mind spirals, but he doesn’t seem fazed. Instead, he curls into himself, folding his arms and drawing his knees up, his entire form radiating vulnerability. His golden hair falls over his face like a curtain, shielding him from your gaze, as if the transformation has stolen some vital part of him.

Snapping yourself out of it, you scramble to your feet, casting about for something to cover him. A roll of tarp catches your eye, and you grab it, moving swiftly to drape it over his body. His wide, questioning eyes follow your hurried movements, but before you can say anything, footsteps echo from behind.

“Hide,” you hiss under your breath, pulling the tarp snugly around him. He doesn’t protest, just shifts deeper into the shadows, his presence shrinking to near invisibility.

Riley strides onto the deck, his boots thudding against the wood with deliberate weight. His face is unreadable, but his gaze sweeps the space like a predator searching for prey. “What’s going on out here?” he asks, his tone sharp and suspicious.

“Nothing,” you blurt, your voice an octave too high. You shift your body subtly, blocking Riley’s view of the tarp-covered figure behind you. The air between you crackles with tension as you force yourself to meet his eyes, willing him to believe your lie.

“Hmm… okay,” Riley says, lingering just long enough to set your teeth on edge. “I heard you scream, so if you need me, just let me know.” His gaze sweeps the boat once more, like he’s searching for the ghost of your secrets.

You scowl, crossing your arms as a shield. “Fuck off,” you snap, the words sharp as broken glass.

Finally, he shrugs and turns, his heavy footsteps receding into the distance. The tension eases its grip on your chest, and you let out a shaky breath, relief rushing in like a tide. Only when he’s gone do you feel like you can truly breathe again.

Turning back, you kneel by the tarp, fingers trembling slightly as you lift its edge. Beneath it, the man—if you can call him that—sits curled in on himself, his golden hair a wild halo around his wary eyes. Those eyes fix on you, wide and mistrusting, their depths dark as uncharted waters.

“It’s okay,” you murmur softly, your voice gentle as the breeze over calm seas. “I won’t hurt you.”

“But you’re human,” he replies, his voice low, tinged with fear and something unnameable. He shifts back instinctively, his posture guarded, keeping a cautious distance as if you might sprout claws at any moment.

You hesitate, not wanting to push him further into his shell. “Are you hungry?” you ask instead, steering the conversation into safer waters. You don’t press him; instead, you keep still, aware of the fragile balance between his fear and your curiosity.

His stomach answers for him, the loud, unmistakable growl breaking the tension. A blush colors his cheeks, and to your surprise, he giggles—a light, melodic sound that’s startlingly human.

“Do you have tang?” he asks, his eyes brightening for the briefest moment, curiosity peeking through his fear.

Tang. The word catches you off guard, but you quickly realize what he means. A smile tugs at your lips. “Yeah,” you say, nodding. “I think I have some tangy snacks in my room. Hold on.”

You pause, glancing at his dripping figure, and add, “And I’ll get you some clothes too.”

His gaze softens, just a little, as if he’s starting to believe you might not be a threat after all.

Rising quickly, you dart into your small cabin, rifling through drawers until you find a bag of snacks that might fit the bill. Then, with a surge of boldness, you sneak into one of your coworker’s rooms. Borrowing—stealing, really—a pair of pants and a shirt, you mutter an apology under your breath. It’ll have to do.

When you return, he’s still seated where you left him, his form a quiet figure against the chaos of the sea around you. You hand him the clothes, and he takes them with a hesitant nod. Watching him dress is like watching a bird try to walk—awkward, unnatural, his movements jerky and unsure, as though his body resists this strange, human choreography.

But eventually, the oversized shirt hangs from his shoulders, the borrowed pants bunched awkwardly around his waist. He adjusts the fabric with a distracted frown before shifting his focus to the snacks you’ve brought. The tangy treats vanish quickly, his hands moving with an efficiency born of hunger, though he pauses occasionally to eye the brightly colored packaging like it’s something from another world.

You hand him a bottle of water, and he gulps it down, his throat working rhythmically, the sound amplified in the stillness between you. Finally, you settle across from him, your knees tucked close as you take him in—not just his appearance, but his presence, the way he seems both fragile and powerful, like something caught between two worlds.

“What’s your name?” you ask softly, breaking the silence.

He pauses, lowering the bottle, then meets your gaze. “Jimin,” he says simply, the name rolling off his tongue like a whispered secret.

You nod, offering him a small, warm smile, hoping it will ease the wariness in his expression. “Hi, Jimin. I’m Y/N.”

For a moment, neither of you speaks, the ocean filling the space between your words. But curiosity pushes forward, unbidden. “What are you doing here?”

Jimin chuckles, the sound soft but tinged with frustration as he pops another snack into his mouth. “I just wanted to see the boat again,” he admits, shaking his head. “And I got caught in that stupid net again…” He rolls his eyes, the gesture so human it catches you off guard, deflating with a sigh that seems to sink into the deck beneath him.

But then his gaze sharpens, flicking around the empty deck as if he senses unseen eyes. “Why are you hushing and hiding me like I’m some sort of secret?” he asks, his voice tinged with curiosity but not without suspicion.

You blink, momentarily caught off guard. “Do you really want my coworkers to find you? To know that you’re a merman?” you counter, your tone cautious but earnest.

He considers this for a moment, his lips pressing into a thin line before he exhales. “I guess not,” he mutters, the words laced with a resigned wisdom. “Humans aren’t trustworthy.” His tone is matter-of-fact, not cruel, but unyielding, as though he’s learned this lesson too many times before.

You flinch inwardly at the generalization, but you let it pass. “I’m trustworthy,” you say, your smile growing as you try to project a confidence you’re not sure you feel.

He tilts his head, his sharp eyes searching yours, and it’s clear he isn’t convinced. The wall of mistrust between you is a thick one, forged not in a moment, but over years, perhaps even centuries, of caution bred into his kind.

But that’s okay, you think. You didn’t expect trust to come easily.

“I swear, I mean you no harm,” you add, leaning back slightly, your voice quieter now, as though softer words might slip past his defenses.

Maybe it’s all the fantasy novels you’ve devoured recently, their tales of impossible creatures and fragile bonds, but a strange determination takes root in your chest: you have to protect him. At least from Riley and the rest of your coworkers. You can already picture the chaos that would erupt if they discovered mermaids were more than just stories. The scandal. The cruelty. No—if nothing else, you owe him safe passage back to his home.

“Have you ever been out of the ocean before? Or… on land?” you ask, your voice soft, as if you’re afraid to disturb the fragile magic of the moment.

He shakes his head, though his posture eases, his body less coiled now. “I’ve never been to land before,” he says, his voice carrying a wistful undercurrent. “But plenty of my friends have.”

As he speaks, his gaze drifts far away, as if caught on a tide only he can see. There’s a dreamy quality to his expression, a flicker of longing that glows like sunlight beneath the waves. “I really want to see land,” he murmurs, his voice tinged with wonder. But then it dips, quiet and heavy, as he fidgets with his hands. “But...”

Before you can think better of it, the words tumble out of your mouth like a pebble skipping across water. “I can show you, if you want to!”

He blinks, startled, and his head tilts slightly, those deep eyes locking onto yours. “You would?” he asks, his voice barely more than a whisper, as if afraid the offer might vanish if he speaks too loudly.

“Yeah, sure,” you say with a shrug, trying to sound casual. But your smile is warm, gentle, and you hope it will soothe his lingering doubt. “You seem nice. And curious. I can show you my world.”

Your heart flutters at the absurdity of it all—you, befriending a merman. A mythical creature. The stuff of bedtime stories and legends. If your coworkers knew, they’d call you crazy. But you’d rather be crazy than let this moment slip through your fingers. Your parents always taught you to be kind, and if kindness means helping a creature from the deep see a dream made real, then so be it.

His honeyed skin flushes faintly, the blush soft as a sunrise, and he murmurs, “Okay.” But then his smile falters, his hands folding together. “But I have to go back home now. My friends… they’ll worry about me if I’m gone too long.”

The spell breaks as he rises to his feet, and you follow him to the boat’s edge. The sea stretches below, glittering and endless, waiting to welcome him back.

He turns to you one last time, his golden hair haloed by the sunlight, and then, without a moment’s hesitation, he dives. The splash sends ripples across the surface, but before you can process his departure, the clothes he was wearing resurface, bobbing lazily in the water.

A second later, his head pops up, grinning. “Oops,” he says, his voice bright with laughter, and he gathers the floating garments, tossing them up to you with surprising precision.

He waves, and with a flick of his magnificent tail—shimmering like molten gold in the sunlight—he disappears into the depths. For a moment, you just stand there, staring at the water, the echo of his presence lingering like the last note of a song.

You sigh, shaking your head. Maybe you have been reading too many fantasy novels. But as you fold his clothes, still damp and salty, you know one thing for sure: you’ll see him again.

Jimin has never truly met a human before. He’s always kept his distance, heeding the Elders’ grim warnings—dark tales of cruelty and greed. Stories of merfolk snared in nets, dragged from the waves to live as captives behind glass walls, their freedom traded for fleeting human fascination. The thought of such confinement has always chilled him. The ocean, vast and endless, is his sanctuary—a realm where he can stretch his fins and feel the infinite embrace of freedom.

But then he met you.

You’re not what he expected, not at all. You’re not cruel or cold, not the predator the stories painted. You’re warm, kind, and impossibly gentle—like a rare current that carries him somewhere new. And though his heart whispers caution, he can’t help but lean closer, drawn to your presence like sunlight breaking through the water’s surface.

There’s something about you that stirs a curiosity he’s long tried to ignore. He’s always been intrigued by the human world, yes—but not enough to chase it. Not like Jungkook, who used to live on land as a child, or Yoongi, with his endless fascination for women, or Hoseok, with his relentless fascination for breaking rules.

Jimin has always been curious and daring, but only in measured strokes—never quite brave enough to venture beyond the safety of the waves. Until now.

Now, he finds himself wondering. About you. About the strange life you lead aboard that towering vessel. Are you like the others, here to strip the sea of its bounty? Or is there something more to your story, something deeper? He wonders what your world is like—on land, where the tides are invisible and the air doesn’t shimmer.

How different it must be from Naraeum, his underwater home, where coral spires rise like cathedrals and the water sings with life.

And yet, for all his questions, one thought rises above the rest, startling in its clarity: You don’t seem bad at all.

In fact, he thinks, you might just be good.

Jimin knows well—thanks to Seokjin’s and Namjoon’s tales—that fish don’t swim on land, and that humans experience intimacy in ways unlike his kind. It fascinates him, though he would never admit it outright. Not that he’s thinking about you like that. No, it’s just curiosity, an innocent hunger to understand the unknown.

He’s heard Yoongi’s endless stories of wild escapades on land, tales laced with laughter and mischief. They always stir an uproar—especially from Seokjin, whose words crash like waves against Yoongi’s tide, insisting that not all humans are like the ones his friend indulges in, fleeting and shallow. Jimin has always stayed quiet during those heated debates. He isn’t like Yoongi, reckless and bold, and he isn’t like Seokjin, careful and measured. He’s just… himself.

Truthfully, Jimin doesn’t know what he wants from life, other than the life he already has. For years, he’s floated along, content to be a merman in the vast embrace of the sea. No mate has caught his eye, no grand ambition has stirred his soul. His parents, thankfully, don’t push—they let him be. But sometimes, late at night, he wonders if that’s enough.

Lately, his thoughts have been restless, swimming further than his fins ever could. What else is out there? What experiences are waiting to be tasted, untried and undiscovered? Perhaps that’s why he’s drawn to you—not just because you freed him, not just because you’re kind. It’s something deeper, something he can’t quite name.

And yes, you’re beautiful too. Not in the obvious, dazzling way of a siren’s song, but in a quiet, understated way that feels honest and real. He thinks of your smile, the way it tilted the edges of the moment into something softer, and he wonders if he’ll ever see it again.

As the sun dips low, sending shards of gold skimming the water’s surface, Jimin darts through the waves, leaving the coral towers of Naraeum behind. The ocean stretches endlessly before him, but his destination is clear—your boat. It’s been days since he last saw you, days since you freed him from the trap of that cursed net.

And yet, he feels it still—a strange pull in his chest, like a current drawing him toward the unknown. Toward you. He doesn’t know why he feels it, doesn’t know what he’s chasing. He only knows that he wants to see you again, to hear your voice ripple through the air like a melody he’s only just learned to love.

He lifts his head above the water, careful to keep his distance from the boat, his gaze sweeping its silhouette until it lands on you. You’re leaning over the bow, framed by the soft gold of the setting sun. The light dances on your skin, lending it an ethereal shimmer, as though you belong more to the heavens than the earth. But your face tells another story—it’s etched with sorrow, your gaze heavy as it clings to the horizon.

Something tugs at Jimin’s heart, an ache he can’t quite place. You don’t look like you belong on this boat, amidst the steel and salt and nets. It doesn’t seem to fit you, this life. He wonders, briefly, if you’re trapped in your own kind of net, caught in something you didn’t choose.

The sun dips lower, casting a burning amber trail across the water, and you remain there, lost in thought. Unable to bear the weight of your sadness, Jimin swims closer, circling around the front of the boat. He keeps his movements light, the water rippling gently around him as he glides into your view.

When your eyes finally find him, the change is instant. The sorrow lifts from your face like the breaking of a storm, and the softness of your smile is like the first light of dawn. It stirs something deep within him—a warmth that bubbles to the surface like the sea kissed by sunlight.

He smiles back, instinctively, his heart fluttering in a way he doesn’t quite understand.

You make your way to the side of the boat, where the nets hang ominously. He notices and keeps his distance, wary of the tangling web that had once ensnared him.

“Hi, Jimin,” you call, your voice carrying across the water, warm and soothing like a lullaby. You wave, a gesture so simple yet disarming, your smile soft and genuine.

“Hi!” he replies, his voice tinged with joy, his hand breaking the surface of the water in a wave. He can’t stop the grin that spreads across his face—it feels so natural now that he knows you mean him no harm.

“Do you want to come onto land with me tomorrow?” you ask, your voice gentle, yet carrying a spark of excitement. There’s a glimmer in your eyes, a kind of light that makes Jimin’s heart skip in a way that feels both thrilling and terrifying.

He nods shyly, the corners of his lips curling into a smile. “Yeah,” he replies, his voice soft but brimming with eagerness. A giddy kind of warmth rises in his chest, the thrill of the unknown pulling him forward even as fear tugs at his edges. The thought of stepping onto land—foreign and solid and utterly unyielding—is daunting. But he figures, with you by his side, the leap might not feel so far.

“Cool,” you say with a grin that makes him feel a little braver. You glance out toward the endless expanse of ocean, the breeze teasing at your hair. “What have you been up to?” you ask, leaning onto the edge again, mirroring the easy way he found you.

Jimin hesitates for just a moment before diving into his thoughts. “Not much,” he says, though the memories bubble up quickly, bright and alive. “Just hanging out with my friends. Taehyung and I found this lake—it’s tucked away, surrounded by these beautiful willow trees, their branches dipping right into the water. It felt... magical.” He smiles as he speaks, the memory playing vividly in his mind like sunlight glinting through leaves. “And then I went with Namjoon to collect gems. He’s so good at finding the rare ones—ruby reds, deep blues... like pieces of the sky trapped underwater.”

He notices the way your face softens as you listen, the way your focus seems entirely on him, and it fills him with a kind of happiness he didn’t know he was searching for. Maybe, just maybe, you’re as curious about his world as he is about yours.

“That sounds amazing! Maybe you could show me that lake sometime... or even introduce me to your friends?” you ask, your voice carrying a playful lilt, but there’s a softness beneath it—a quiet yearning that Jimin can’t quite place.

“You want to meet my friends?” he giggles, his laughter as light as the waves that lap against the boat. His tail shimmers beneath the surface, wiggling playfully, sending ripples out into the vast blue.

“Yeah,” you reply, a mock pout gracing your lips, your eyes twinkling with mischief. “If that sort of thing is allowed?”

The sight of your expression tugs a laugh from him, warm and unguarded. It’s the kind of laugh that bubbles up from the depths of his chest, spilling out like sunlight breaking through water. You’re pouting, and it’s just about the cutest thing he’s ever seen.

“Yeah, it’s okay and I’ll ask my friends,” he says, still smiling, though his words carry the weight of quiet rebellion. He doesn’t tell you the whole truth—that the Elders would frown at the idea, their endless warnings about humans ringing in his mind like a distant current. But rules have always felt like suggestions to him and his friends, currents to swim against rather than be swept away by. Besides, you don’t seem like the humans in the stories—how could you be?

“Thank you,” you say, your smile brightening like the morning sun cresting over the horizon, chasing away shadows. It’s a smile that lingers, and it strikes something in him—a mix of excitement and trepidation, a feeling that maybe showing you his world might not be such a risk after all.

“Do you like working on that boat?” he asks, his voice slipping out before he has a chance to second-guess it. The question has lingered at the back of his mind ever since he first saw you on deck, that distant, wistful look in your eyes that seemed to carry a quiet sadness.

For a moment, your face falters, your gaze slipping away as if the weight of his question pulls something heavy from inside you. A soft sigh escapes your lips, deflated, like the last breath of air from a slowly sinking balloon. “No, not really,” you confess, your voice barely more than a whisper.

He tilts his head, genuinely puzzled, unable to grasp the why. “Then why do it?” he asks, as if the concept of choosing something without passion is entirely foreign to him.

You lower your gaze, shoulders slumping in surrender. A groan slips from your throat, a mixture of frustration and resignation. “I guess I only do it for the money,” you murmur, the words heavy in the quiet space between you. “I know, it sounds super lame... But it pays really well. It pays my rent, keeps me afloat, you know?” You trail off, uncertainty flickering across your features. “I don’t know if you have money and rent down there…”

“We do, so I get it,” he says, his voice soft but steady, an unspoken understanding passing between you. His gaze is warm, like a patch of sunlight breaking through the clouds, reassuring you without judgment. “It still sucks though,” he adds, a quiet sympathy in his tone. “Sounds kinda soulless.”

You let out a long, weary exhale, the weight of the words settling deep inside. “It is,” you agree, the truth hanging in the air like a shadow that refuses to leave.

“I’d love to do something else, but I don’t really know what,” you admit, your voice heavy with frustration. “I’ve always felt a connection to the sea, to everything in it—but catching all these fish, it’s like my soul is slowly being chipped away.” You let out a deep sigh, your eyes distant, haunted by the sight of the ocean’s wounds. “And the plastic... it’s everywhere. It clogs the water, suffocates the life. It’s maddening, you know? People are stupid,” you mutter, the anger in your chest bubbling over.

Jimin’s soft laugh cuts through the tension, and it takes you by surprise. His eyes, full of warmth, reflect the same frustration. “I agree,” he says, voice laced with quiet conviction. “The plastic—it’s everywhere. I’ve had to help so many fish and turtles get out of plastic bottles and containers. It’s heartbreaking.” His lips curl into a gentle scowl.

Then, a smile breaks across his face, soft but genuine, like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. “But hey, I can help you brainstorm alternatives to catching fish on that boat,” he offers, the glint of curiosity in his eyes.

You laugh, the tension easing in your chest, your heart fluttering at the simplicity of the moment. “Yeah, we can do that tomorrow. I’d love to hear your ideas,” you say, a sense of ease settling between you.

Jimin smiles, his heart racing slightly at the thought of tomorrow. As you talk, the conversation flows easily—your questions about his home, Naraeum, the life he leads there. He tells you that there’s no ‘work’ in the way you understand it, that their society values freedom above all else. Merfolk can take on roles if they choose, but many, like him, simply exist, untethered by obligation.

The sun begins to dip, casting its final, golden light over the water. You glance at the sky and realize it’s time to go. “I should head inside to get some dinner,” you say reluctantly, feeling the pull of the boat’s steady rhythm, but also the weight of your own hunger.

Jimin nods, though a twinge of regret flickers in his eyes. “Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says, his voice soft, filled with something unspoken.

He waves you a quiet goodbye, and with a flick of his tail, he dives into the water, his figure disappearing as he swims toward home—his heart a mix of eager excitement and a flutter of nerves, knowing tomorrow will bring him closer to a world he’s never truly known.

The next day, Jimin glides through the dawn-touched water, the ocean aglow with soft gold as the rising sun kisses its surface. He reaches your boat just as the world begins to wake, his heart thudding with a mix of trepidation and anticipation. You greet him with a gentle smile, helping him aboard with the net he so despises. It entangles him briefly, like a stubborn remnant of the sea reluctant to let him go, but it’s the easiest way to bring him aboard without a fuss.

“You can hide in my room until we reach shore,” you whisper, your voice low and soothing, like the calm of the ocean before a storm. You hand him clothes—simple, unfamiliar garments—and he places them carefully on the wooden planks. He waits in silence, his shimmering tail already beginning to fade as the magic of transformation takes hold. When his legs return, he moves with an endearing awkwardness, pulling on the human clothes with clumsy hands before following you below deck.

Your room is small, a haven carved out of the ship’s heart, yet it feels barren, like a place you exist in but do not truly inhabit. The walls are plain wood, the cream linens unremarkable, and the single duffel bag on the floor overflows with your life in disarray. Clothes spill out like secrets, but nothing in the space speaks of who you are. Jimin scans for something personal—a photograph, a trinket, a scrap of you—but finds nothing. It feels like a shell, a husk waiting to be filled, and he wonders if it mirrors how you feel here, adrift and longing.

As he settles into the quiet, he can’t help but wonder about the place you call home. Is it warm, filled with mismatched pieces of you—a kaleidoscope of colors and memories—or is it restrained, earthy and neutral, a sanctuary of simplicity? The thought lingers as he sits alone in your absence, his curiosity pulling him further into your world, one question at a time.

Jimin flinches slightly when you step through the door, the soft creak of the hinges breaking the quiet. You’re holding a plate in your hands, the aroma wafting toward him like a gentle invitation. His wide eyes soften as you pass him the food, and he takes a tentative bite. The flavors bloom on his tongue, unfamiliar yet comforting, like the memory of a warm embrace he didn’t know he’d missed.

“You made this?” he asks, glancing up at you, his eyes bright with curiosity and quiet admiration.

Your cheeks flush, and you glance away, your voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah, I did.”

“It’s really good!” he exclaims, his grin unguarded as he dives back into the meal. The crisp, vibrant vegetables catch his attention—they taste fresh and alive, reminding him of the sea’s bounty.

You smile, a mix of relief and pride lighting your expression. “I’m glad you like it. We’re sailing back to land now, but it’ll take a while before we arrive. I need to go prepare for docking. Will you be okay here by yourself?”

He nods, his confidence warm and reassuring. “Oh, I’ll be fine,” he says easily, though his eyes flit around the room, seeking distraction. Then, something catches his attention—a book perched on your nightstand, its pages slightly curled from wear. “Can I read that?” he asks, pointing.

You follow his gaze and nod, a little surprised but pleased. “Sure,” you say, stepping out, leaving him with the quiet hum of the boat and his newfound curiosity.

The book feels delicate in his hands, its cover smooth and inviting. He opens it to find himself drawn into a tale of tangled fates: a woman, lost in the vast embrace of the woods, stumbles upon a brooding stranger whose silence hides his own scars. Jimin reads with rapt attention, imagining the dappled forest light and the quiet intimacy of strangers finding solace in each other. The words seem to pulse with life, vivid as seafoam and just as transient.

He’s just beginning to sense an undercurrent of tension—something deeper stirring between the characters—when the door swings open, and your voice pulls him back to the present. “We’ve docked,” you announce, your excitement barely masked under a layer of calm.

Jimin sets the book down reluctantly, his mind lingering on the unfinished story. But then he looks at you, and it occurs to him that perhaps he’s stepped into a story of his own.

Jimin closes the book with a quiet snap, trailing after you as you reach for his hand. Your fingers intertwine with his, and he follows you onto the deck, his heart racing—not with fear, but with anticipation. The morning air greets him with familiar scents of salt and brine, mingled with the faintest trace of diesel and earth. Above, seagulls carve arcs against the blue sky, their cries a lilting symphony of the shore.

The harbor is alive with motion with workers hefting crates, passengers milling about, and the rhythmic creak of moored boats swaying in the gentle tide. Jimin’s wide eyes take it all in as you weave through the crowd, his senses overwhelmed by the vibrant chaos. The sunlight gleams on water-slicked wood, and the reflections from the sea ripple across the hulls of nearby ships—small fishing boats and grand yachts alike. He stumbles once, distracted by the sheer newness of it all, but your hand steadies him, your warmth anchoring him amidst the tide of humanity.

“I want to show you my favorite place,” you muse, your voice lilting with quiet excitement. You glance over your shoulder at him, a teasing glint in your eyes that sparks his curiosity.

“What’s your favorite place?” he asks, tilting his head to study you. His voice is quiet, though he can’t hide the wonder in it.

“You’ll see soon,” you reply, your smile playful and soft. The secret wraps itself around the moment, and Jimin can’t help but feel giddy anticipation thrumming in his chest. Your hand fits so naturally in his, and the simple gesture sends a warmth through him, like the sun spilling over the waves.

As the crowd thins, you lead him down a quieter street lined with colorful storefronts and weathered cobblestones. The sounds of the harbor fade into the distance, replaced by the hum of life in this quaint corner of the world. Jimin moves to walk beside you now, his steps falling into rhythm with yours.

Then, you stop before a tall, gleaming structure—its glass facade catching the morning light and scattering rainbows across the pavement. Above the entrance, bold letters spell out Ocean Wonders. Jimin freezes, a laugh bubbling up from his chest as the irony strikes him.

“This is your favorite place?” he asks, turning to you with amusement glimmering in his eyes.

“It is,” you say, grinning as you squeeze his hand. “You’ll see why.” There’s a spark of pride in your voice, and Jimin doesn’t miss the way your eyes light up as you lead him toward the entrance. The glass doors slide open with a soft whoosh, welcoming you into the heart of your secret place. As you step inside to purchase tickets, Jimin feels the excitement settle in his bones, like the pull of a current. If this place is a reflection of you, he knows it will be something truly extraordinary.

“Don’t you find it ironic, taking a merman to an aquarium?” Jimin chuckles as you hand over the money for your tickets. His tone is light, teasing, but his gaze carries the flicker of genuine amusement. You nudge him with your shoulder, a playful smirk gracing your lips.

“Maybe, but you’re the best tour guide I could ask for,” you quip, stepping into the cavernous space.

The air inside feels cool and alive with an undercurrent of the sea’s presence, the walls painted in deep blues and verdant greens. Overhead, glass ceilings allow rays of sunlight to dapple through, casting shifting patterns of light on the floors below. Jimin’s gaze drifts upward to the massive windows that frame the ocean in the distance, the waves visible beyond the aquarium’s curated worlds.

Your footsteps echo softly as you approach a shallow touch pool filled with flat fish, their mottled skins blending with the sandy bottom. You lean over, rolling up your sleeve as you extend your fingers into the water, but the slippery creatures evade your touch with a practiced finesse. Jimin watches, amusement flickering in his eyes, and when he speaks, it’s not to mock, but to marvel.

“Flatfish have a trick,” he begins, his voice gentle but sure, “when they’re scared, they bury themselves under the sand, leaving only their eyes exposed. But they’re not just hiding; they’re watching, waiting.”

His words captivate you as much as the fish do, and you glance up at him, intrigued. The informational placard nearby doesn’t say a word about this, but of course, Jimin would know. These creatures are his neighbors, after all. His world brims with secrets science has yet to uncover, and you realize, once again, how little humans know about the depths beneath the waves.

“Keep going,” you urge, your voice laced with wonder. Jimin grins, launching into more facts about the sea life before you, his knowledge as endless as the ocean itself.

The two of you meander deeper into the exhibit, passing a chilly enclosure where penguins waddle and dive with unbridled joy. The cold air nips at your skin, and you instinctively press closer to Jimin, your arms brushing against his. He stiffens for a moment, surprised, but then relaxes, leaning into your warmth as if drawn by a tide he can’t resist.

“Warmer now?” he murmurs, a hint of a laugh in his voice.

“Much,” you reply, tilting your head to smile up at him before continuing toward the heart of the aquarium.

You find yourselves before the massive central tank—a sprawling, shimmering pool alive with schools of fish, sleek rays, and prowling sharks. From the upper level, you both peer down, watching as a keeper tosses food into the water. The sharks move with a lethargic grace, their power undeniable but softened by the dreamy quality of the water. Jimin stands close, silent, observing not the animals but the awe on your face as you take it all in.

When you venture below to the tunnel beneath the tank, the world transforms into an underwater cathedral. Light dances through the glass, rippling across your faces as the sharks glide overhead. Jimin’s fingers tighten around yours as you marvel at the creatures, your expression one of pure wonder.

“It’s funny,” he says softly, his voice breaking the spell of silence. “I see this every day, but through your eyes, it feels…different. More magical.”

You glance at him, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. A blush colors your cheeks, but you quickly deflect, pointing toward a particularly vibrant fish darting by.

Jimin laughs, his chest rumbling lightly as he shares personal anecdotes about the creatures you pass. Stories about turtles he’s untangled from nets, rays he’s raced through coral canyons, and even sharks who’ve stubbornly refused to move from his favorite sunning rock. His tales are sprinkled with humor and affection, each one painting the ocean as not just a habitat, but a home.

You listen, enraptured, giggling at his antics and marveling at his world. And as you walk together through the aquarium, you realize that this day isn’t just a glimpse into your favorite place—it’s a bridge between your worlds, built with each shared story, each laugh, and each lingering look.

You guide him to the large pool that stretches before a neat row of seats—a shimmering expanse of water where visitors can slip beneath the surface and swim with the fish. This is your favorite place, a sanctuary of dreams just beyond your reach. “I’ve always wanted to dive with the fish,” you muse softly, your voice carrying a wistful longing as you gesture toward the glass, where iridescent fish dart and glide in hypnotic rhythms.

Jimin watches you, a gentle smile gracing his face. He doesn’t say anything, but he feels your yearning as if it’s a song only he can hear. Swimming has always been second nature to him, as essential as breathing, and for the first time, he considers what it might mean to long for something so ordinary to him, yet so extraordinary to you.

As you wander further, voices drift toward you—animated chatter about seals and feeding time. Jimin’s ears perk up, curiosity lighting his features. “I think they’re going to feed the seals,” he says, turning to you with a spark of childlike wonder in his eyes. “Can we go see?”

“Of course,” you reply, unable to resist his enthusiasm. You take his hand and weave through the crowd, stepping out of the building and into the golden warmth of summer.

The sun kisses your skin as you approach a stone-encased inlet, a small haven of water bordered by a bridge. Beyond the enclosure, the ocean stretches endlessly, a liquid mirror reflecting the azure sky. On a central platform, three seals lounge in anticipation, their sleek bodies gleaming under the sunlight. Jimin’s eyes widen as employees emerge with buckets of fish, tossing them to the eager creatures.

The seals move with a playful grace, leaping and spinning for their rewards, drawing delighted gasps and cheers from the gathered crowd. Children press against the rails, their laughter ringing out like wind chimes, while elderly onlookers smile with quiet contentment. Jimin takes it all in—the shared joy, the simplicity of this moment, and the warmth of humanity’s connection to the creatures of his world.

When the feeding ends, the crowd disperses, leaving only you and him. Hand in hand, you wander to the edge of the bridge, the faint murmur of the sea your only companion. The breeze is soft, carrying the scent of salt and the promise of freedom, and it stirs your hair like a whisper. The horizon glows faintly, the sun beginning its slow descent, painting the world in hues of gold and peach.

You stand there, side by side, the ocean sprawling endlessly before you. Jimin feels the rhythmic pulse of the waves as if they’re beating in time with his heart. He glances at you, your gaze fixed on the water, your expression peaceful yet contemplative. The salt clings to your skin, the light dances in your eyes, and Jimin thinks there’s something magical about the way you fit into this moment—part of his world, yet entirely your own.

“I can see why this is your favorite place,” he murmurs, his voice barely more than a ripple in the air between you.

You turn to him, your smile soft, your fingers tightening slightly around his. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

Jimin doesn’t reply right away, his thoughts caught between the beauty of the view and the person standing beside him. Finally, he nods, a faint blush warming his cheeks as he looks back to the sea.

And as the waves lap gently against the stones, and the breeze carries the songs of the ocean to your ears, you stand there together, two worlds colliding in the quiet hush of twilight.

“You know, I’ve always loved the smell of salt in the air. There’s something about it—about the sea—that pulls at me,” you confess softly, your voice carrying a note of wistfulness, as though the waves have always whispered secrets only you can hear.

Jimin nods, his expression warm with understanding. “I get it,” he replies, his voice as calm as the tide. But before you can say anything more, he begins to shrug off his clothes.

Your eyes widen in alarm, your voice faltering. “Jimin, what are you doing?”

He doesn’t answer, only grins mischievously before leaping into the pool with a joyful laugh, his golden tail flashing into existence as he hits the water.

“Jimin!” you hiss, leaning over the railing, your hands clutching his abandoned clothes. “Someone is going to see you!”

But Jimin only pops his head above the surface, his wet blonde hair plastered against his forehead, a cheeky glint in his eyes. The seals gather around him, chattering and circling like old friends. They nuzzle him playfully, their sleek bodies weaving through the water as though they’ve found one of their own.

He laughs—a sound so free and unguarded that it momentarily quiets your worry. He dives beneath the surface, the faint sunlight catching the shimmering scales of his tail as he glides effortlessly from one end of the pool to the other. The seals follow, mirroring his playful energy, leaping, spinning, and splashing around him. It’s as if the world has turned into a living watercolor, the water glittering in shades of gold and sapphire under the afternoon sun.

You watch, caught between panic and awe. Jimin looks so at home in the water, so alive. The grin on his face is radiant, brighter than you’ve ever seen it, and for a moment, you forget to breathe.

Finally, when his energy wanes, Jimin pulls himself up onto the platform in the center of the pool. His golden tail glimmers briefly before vanishing, leaving him human again. You rush forward, his clothes clutched tightly in your hands, the edges of your worry returning.

“Here,” you whisper urgently, holding the bundle out to him. He dresses quickly, the playful grin still lingering on his lips as you hover, scanning the area nervously.

“Someone could have seen you,” you scold gently, your voice low but firm as you glance around to ensure the coast is clear.

“But no one did,” he says, his voice brimming with unrepentant glee. “And I’ve never swum with seals before. It was amazing!”

His smile is infectious—big and bright and full of a joy that feels like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. Despite yourself, you let out a breath of laughter, shaking your head.

“You’re impossible,” you mutter, though the corners of your lips betray you with the faintest hint of a smile.

Jimin only chuckles, his gaze soft as he looks at you. “You should try it sometime,” he says, his tone playful but sincere. “You’d love it.”

The seals bob in the water behind him, their curious eyes following his every move, and you can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, he’s right.

You huff softly, the sound tinged with reluctant amusement, before grabbing his hand and tugging him back inside. Together, you explore every pool, tank, and glowing monitor, each filled with vibrant tales of the underwater world. Time slips through your fingers like grains of sand as you wander, sharing smiles, laughter, and awe over the secrets of the sea.

When the day finally gives way to night, the two of you make your way toward the beach, the cool evening air laced with the scent of salt and the soft murmur of waves. The moon, a luminous pearl in the sky, casts its silver light across the water, while the stars sparkle like scattered diamonds above.

You hold his hand a little tighter, reluctant to let go, your footsteps slow and lingering as you near the shore. The rhythm of the ocean mirrors the quiet thrum of your heart.

“Today was really fun,” you murmur, your smile soft and genuine, your eyes shimmering under the moonlight.

Jimin gazes at you, warmth spreading across his chest. “It was. Thank you for sharing it with me,” he replies, his voice gentle, the sincerity in it as deep as the ocean he calls home.

“And thank you for all the extra details I never would’ve known,” you chuckle, squeezing his hand lightly. “You made it even better.”

He pauses, hope glimmering in his eyes as he asks, “Can we do it again sometime?” His voice is quiet, like a wish spoken to the wind, but his expression holds the weight of his yearning.

Your face brightens, a joyful laugh escaping your lips. “Yeah. I’d love that,” you answer, and the simple promise sends a warmth rippling through him.

For a moment, the world feels infinite—just the two of you beneath the starlit sky, the waves singing softly in the background. Jimin can’t help but think how much lighter he feels in your company, like the pull of the tides no longer weighs him down.

Boldly, he lifts your hand to his lips, brushing a kiss against your skin, his touch reverent, his gaze lingering. You let out a small, melodic giggle, and the sound feels like sunlight breaking through the night.

With a smile that’s both tender and bittersweet, Jimin takes a step back. “Goodnight,” he whispers, his voice like the whisper of waves upon the shore.

Then, as if the ocean itself is calling him home, he sheds his clothes and steps into the cool embrace of the water. His golden tail flashes in the moonlight before he dives beneath the surface, becoming one with the deep blue expanse.

You stand there for a moment longer, the sea breeze tousling your hair, your heart warm despite the night’s chill. Above you, the stars seem to shine a little brighter, as though echoing the promise of another day, another adventure, together.

“Can I talk to you?” Riley’s voice cuts through the ambient hum of the trawler, low and serious. The weight in his tone drags at your thoughts like an anchor, and a heavy sense of foreboding blooms in your chest. It’s been days since you last had peace, days since the ocean felt like a friend and not a prison.

“Yeah?” you manage, trying to keep your voice steady, though your stomach twists like a knotted rope.

“Come to my room in five minutes,” he says curtly, his words sharp and clipped. He turns on his heel before you can respond, leaving you alone with the pounding of your pulse and a growing sense of unease.

The minutes crawl, each one heavier than the last, and yet curiosity tugs at you as strongly as dread. You follow the path to his room, the confined corridors of the ship feeling tighter with each step. When you enter, you find him waiting—arms crossed, his frame rigid, his expression unreadable but intense.

“What is this about?” you ask, though your voice wavers, your throat tightening as the walls seem to press closer around you.

“I saw you,” Riley says, the words sharp and deliberate, laden with something that feels more like a trap than an explanation.

“Saw me?” you repeat, your confusion laced with a thread of panic.

“With the merman,” he declares, his lips curling into a wicked smile that makes your blood run cold. The way he says it—like he’s just unearthed treasure or a weapon—sends a shiver down your spine.

Your breath catches. Ice floods your veins as your eyes go wide. You know, with unshakable certainty, that this is bad—very, very bad.

“I saw him—your little merman—at the aquarium,” Riley sneers, his voice a venomous whisper that slithers through the room. He pulls out his phone with a flourish, the screen lighting up to show a video. Jimin, bare and vulnerable, diving gracefully into the seal pool, his golden tail shimmering like sunlight dancing on the waves. He’s laughing, carefree, playing with the seals. It’s beautiful—and damning. Your stomach drops like an anchor.

“I’ve got a neat little video right here,” Riley continues smugly, shoving the screen closer to your face, his words dripping with malice.

Your heart sinks, the weight of dread pressing down on your chest—until it’s eclipsed by a sudden, white-hot fury.

“You followed us?” you snap, your voice cutting through the air like a whip. “Are you stalking me?”

Riley doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t deny it. He just keeps playing the video, his grin as sharp as broken glass. “I’m going to send this to every news outlet,” he says, his tone oozing malice. “Expose your little fish boy for what he is.”

Rage boils inside you, threatening to erupt. God, you hate him. Hate that you ever let him close enough to your life, close enough to know you. Four years since you’d broken up, and yet he lingers like a storm cloud, his presence heavy, suffocating, and vile.

Without thinking, your hand darts out, snatching the phone from his grasp. Your fingers move with precision, deleting the video in seconds. You shove the phone back into his chest, glaring daggers.

“I’ve got backups,” he sneers, his voice sickly sweet, like poison laced with honey.

Your vision tunnels. Fury burns brighter, hotter, until it takes over, your voice a low, dangerous growl. “If you so much as breathe that video to anyone—hell, even your mother—I swear to God, I’ll cut off your dick with a fishing wire.”

Your hand clenches into a fist, trembling at your side as you glare at him. His smugness falters for a moment, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. You don’t give him a chance to respond.

You step closer, the gap between you closing in an instant. Your hand drops to his groin, your grip ruthless and unyielding. He yelps, his smirk shattering into something closer to panic. Your voice is a venomous whisper as you lean in, your eyes locked on his.

“I’m not afraid to use force. And you know I’ll do it.” Your grip tightens, his breath hitches, and you feel your anger seeping into every word. “Stop being a pathetic, jealous little fuck who follows me around like a lovesick puppy. We’re not together, Riley. We never will be. Dating you was the dumbest mistake of my life.”

You release him with a shove, and he stumbles back, the air between you thick with tension. Every nerve in your body is alight with fury, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of showing any more. Instead, you don’t look back as you storm off, your footsteps heavy against the wooden floorboards, your breath shallow and sharp. The sea air greets you outside, but even its salty balm can’t soothe the fiery knot in your chest. You hate him. You hate the fact that you’re trapped on this godforsaken trawler with him for two more endless days, the horizon a prison of water. The thought of jumping ship flickers through your mind—a tempting escape—but the anchor of practicality holds you steady, bitterly tethered to this floating hell.

When the morning sun rises, painting the waves in gold, Jimin surfaces beside the boat, his arrival like a breath of fresh air. His golden hair gleams in the light, and when he spots you, his eyes soften with concern. You crouch by the edge, confiding in him the storm Riley brewed the night before. You tell him how you’ve been scouring job boards, eager to chart a new course in life, and how you’ve managed to secure an interview when you return to land.

Jimin listens intently, his tail glimmering beneath the water as he leans closer, the faint scent of the sea clinging to him. “I’m happy for you,” he says, his voice gentle but resolute. “Not about Riley, but about the job. You deserve to find something better.”

You smile softly. “I’ll handle Riley. I always do.”

Two nights later, under a canopy of stars and the watchful gaze of the moon, you meet Jimin by the beach. The waves kiss the shore in gentle whispers as you kick off your shoes and settle into the cool sand, the world feeling softer here, freer. Jimin lingers in the water, his tail flicking languidly beneath the surface, the golden scales catching the moonlight like shards of starlight scattered across the ocean.

“I’ve got good news,” you say, unable to suppress the smile that spreads across your face, warm and radiant.

“Oh?” His eyes brighten with curiosity, his tail swishing with anticipation.

“I got a new job,” you announce, pride coloring your voice.

His grin matches yours, wide and full of delight, as his tail flicks with an excited splash. “That’s amazing! What is it?”

“At the aquarium!” you beam, your excitement spilling out like the tide.

“That’s perfect for you,” he says, his delight as luminous as the moonlight on the water. His tail wiggles with unrestrained joy, sending ripples across the ocean’s surface.

You nod, your heart full. “It really is. No more trawlers, no more Riley.” The mention of his name makes your expression harden for a moment, but it passes quickly. “I reported him to the police and got a restraining order.”

Jimin’s gaze sharpens briefly, but he nods in approval, his protective instincts tempered by the knowledge that you can handle yourself.

“And now,” you add, your smile returning, “you can come visit me there. We can hang out at the aquarium—or here at the beach. Wherever you like.”

He chuckles softly, the sound rich and warm like waves lapping against the shore. “I think I’d like that,” he says, his eyes reflecting the stars as he looks at you.

For a moment, the world feels perfect, the night serene and endless. The future, once shrouded in uncertainty, glimmers with possibilities as vast as the ocean itself.

The past two months with Jimin have felt like a dream spun from sea foam and starlight. Every date has been a treasure, each moment with him brimming with charm and sweetness that leaves you glowing for hours afterward. He took you to meet his friends, and you remember that day because it was filled with so much laughter your stomach hurt. Or that time he took you snorkeling still lingers vividly in your mind—the feel of his hand warm in yours as you glided through the cool water, the sunlight rippling across the ocean floor, revealing patches of vibrant plants and curious little fish. His laughter, soft and soothing, danced through the water, carrying with it a joy you’ve never known before.

Tonight is another of those magical nights. Jimin insisted on coming to your place alone this time, so you’ve been pacing slightly, anticipation coiling in your chest like the rising tide. When a knock finally echoes through your apartment, your heart leaps.

Opening the door, you’re greeted by the sight of Jimin in a simple gray t-shirt and black sweatpants—nothing flashy, yet somehow, he looks devastatingly perfect. His soft smile lights up the hallway, and your knees weaken beneath its warmth. He’s holding something in his hands, and as he steps forward, he reveals it—a beautiful seashell, its surface polished smooth by the tides and dappled with shades of ivory and blush.

“This is for you,” he says, his voice soft yet earnest, his cheeks dusted with a bashful pink as he extends the shell toward you.

“For me?” you ask, cradling it gently in your palms as though it were the most delicate treasure. You run your fingers over its grooves, marveling at its beauty.

“I found it when I was with my friend Taehyung on one of his treasure hunts,” Jimin explains, glancing down shyly. “It reminded me of you.”

Your heart swells, full to bursting with affection. Without a second thought, you step forward, wrapping your arms around him. His scent—clean, with a faint trace of salt and something uniquely Jimin—wraps around you as you press a soft kiss to his cheek.

“Thank you so much, Jimin,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. “I love it.” You guide him inside, carefully placing the seashell in a special spot on your display cabinet. The cabinet gleams under the soft light, filled with your collection of oceanic treasures, and now this—this piece that feels more precious than all the others combined.

“Come in, sit down,” you say, turning back to him with a bright smile. “I’ve made dinner.”

You gesture toward the sofa, where the table is already set, the aroma of the food filling the room with warmth and comfort. Jimin follows your lead, his eyes softening as he watches you, and you can’t help but think that tonight is just another reminder that sometimes, life’s greatest treasures aren’t found in the depths of the ocean—but in the small, quiet moments shared with someone you love.

He settles onto the sofa, and the two of you begin to eat, the soft glow of the television bathing the room in flickering hues. A documentary on the ocean plays, its serene narration filling the air. But it’s Jimin’s quiet interjections that captivate you most—he leans closer, offering rich, vivid details about the creatures on screen, things the narrator doesn’t know, weaving a story of his own. His voice is soft yet full of life, making you smile between bites.

When the documentary ends, you find yourselves drawing closer, as if by an invisible thread pulling you together. His warmth envelops you, steady and calming, and the rhythmic beat of his heart becomes a lullaby against your senses.

His gaze meets yours, deep and earnest, the kind that seems to hold unspoken worlds within. “I’m really grateful to have met you, you know?” he murmurs, his voice low and sincere, carrying the weight of emotion unhidden.

You hum in response, your fingers brushing over his hand, a small but comforting gesture.

“I used to think humans were… bad,” he admits, his words tinged with vulnerability. “But you’ve only shown me kindness. You’re so nice, so sweet, and I…” His other hand reaches up, tenderly combing through your hair, his fingers a soothing presence.

You’re sitting in his lap now, his arms wrapping around you in a cocoon of comfort. His frame surrounds you, a perfect shield against the world. “All this time we’ve spent together,” he continues, his voice softening like the tide pulling back, “it’s only made me realize how much I like you.”

You feel the curve of his smile against your temple, a quiet and unspoken joy radiating from him.

“Well, I like you too, Jimin,” you say, your voice a gentle melody as you nuzzle deeper into his embrace. His hold on you tightens, protective yet tender, and he leans down to press a delicate kiss to your temple.

“I want to do something for you,” he murmurs, his voice brushing against your skin like a warm breeze. “Repay the favor, or… something.”

You shake your head softly, a smile spreading across your lips. “You’ve done plenty, Jimin. You don’t have to do anything more than simply be here.” Your words are quiet but firm, carrying the truth of how much his presence alone means to you.

He hums in thought, the sound resonant and deep, as though he’s weighing something in his mind. “Can I…” he starts, but hesitates, biting his bottom lip as uncertainty flickers in his expression.

Your gaze tilts up to meet his. “What is it?” you ask, chuckling lightly, your voice teasing and warm. “What’s on your mind?”

His eyes drop for a moment before returning to yours, nervous yet earnest. “I was wondering if I could touch you?” His voice is almost a whisper, laced with vulnerability, his cheeks faintly tinged with pink.

“You are touching me,” you reply, playful but soft, a knowing smile curving your lips. Still, there’s a glimmer in your eyes, a gentle understanding of the deeper meaning behind his words.

“That’s not what I mean,” he murmurs, his voice low and slightly strained, as if he’s holding something back. He exhales, a hint of frustration slipping through as his lips hover near your ear. “I want to have… you,” he finally admits, his tone steady, yet laced with yearning.

You can’t help but chuckle, the sound soft and inviting, as your body instinctively shifts against him. His hardening cock behind you responds immediately, pressing into your back. Turning your head slightly, you meet his gaze with a mischievous smile. “I want you too, Jimin,” you whisper, your voice dripping with warmth. “You can touch me.”

Your words barely leave your lips before you press them to his, drawing him into a kiss that’s tender yet electric. His lips part, and the moment deepens—a dance of warmth and hunger. Your moans, soft and unrestrained, spill into his mouth, and he swallows each sound as if it were a secret meant only for him.

His hand trails downward, slow and deliberate, the pads of his fingers grazing your bare thigh before finding the waistband of your shorts. With a deft motion, his hand slips beneath the fabric, venturing under the delicate lace of your panties. His touch sends a shiver cascading through you, and you exhale sharply, arching your back into him as anticipation coils tight in your belly.

When his fingers find the sensitive bud of your clit, already slick with arousal, your breath hitches. He moves carefully at first, testing, his touch featherlight. His lips graze your cheek as he whispers into your ear, “Like this?” His voice is low, smoky, and devastatingly intimate.

“Yes—” The word escapes you on a shaky breath, your hips shifting to meet his hand as his fingers begin their deliberate, intoxicating rhythm. He circles your clit with just the right pressure, each motion igniting sparks of pleasure that radiate through you.

His lips find your ear, teasing it with gentle nibbles, his breath warm and uneven against your skin. “You’re amazing,” he murmurs, his voice dipping into a groan as he feels you respond to his touch, your body soft and pliant against his.

As his other hand joins in the exploration, it trails lower, fingers slipping between your folds. You’re soaked now, your arousal coating his fingers as they explore your entrance. One finger slides in, slow and deliberate, sending a gasp tumbling from your lips.

“Ahh—” Your breath catches, and your words come out in a broken plea. “You can add another finger.”

He obliges, his movements careful, his second finger pressing in to join the first. He curls them inside you with precision, brushing against that soft, perfect spot that has your back arching and your voice spilling over in desperate cries of his name.

The heat between you intensifies as you grind back into him, feeling the hard length of him against you, evidence of his own growing need. He moans your name into your ear, his voice a heady mix of reverence and desire, the sound sending a rush of heat through your veins.

“You feel so good,” he breathes, his voice shaky, his control slipping as his fingers continue their exquisite work, driving you closer and closer to the edge.

Your body trembles as the crest of your climax surges through you, a tidal wave of euphoria unleashed by his touch. When his fingers pinch your clit, it’s the final spark that ignites you, and your voice breaks in a desperate cry of his name. “Ah, Jimin!” you groan, your body thrashing in his arms as pleasure consumes you. Your walls pulse around his fingers, and he doesn’t stop, coaxing you through the high with ease, his voice a soothing hum of reassurance.

When the aftershocks make you hypersensitive, you shift off his lap, your chest heaving as you fight for air. The room feels electric, charged with the heat of your shared intimacy. Your hands tremble slightly as you strip away your shorts and panties, baring yourself fully to him. “I need you,” you murmur, voice breathless but determined. “I want to feel you inside me.”

Jimin’s eyes widen, his pupils blown with lust, dark as the midnight sea. His arousal is evident, straining against the fabric of his black sweatpants. When you tug them down, revealing his dick—he’s bare beneath them, as always—you bite your lip at the sight. It’s a fact that never fails to make your pulse race.

“You’re never wearing underwear,” you whisper, your voice tinged with amusement and heat.

His cheeks flush, but he doesn’t get a chance to respond before your fingers wrap around him. He hisses through his teeth, his hips twitching forward as if drawn to your touch by magnetic force. “Your dick is so pretty,” you murmur, stroking him slowly, savoring the feel of him in your hand.

“T-thanks,” he chokes out, his voice a strained mix of pleasure and restraint. You smile softly, leaning forward to press your lips to his flushed tip, tasting the salt of him. His groan is low and guttural, a sound that vibrates through your core as you take him into your mouth.

You tease him with languid, deliberate movements, your lips sliding over his cock while your tongue flicks against the sensitive underside. His hands tangle in the fabric of the couch, his breath coming in sharp gasps as you explore him. But just as he begins to unravel, you pull away with a soft, wet pop, leaving him trembling beneath you.

“Maybe I’ll give you a proper taste another time,” you tease, your voice thick with desire. “Right now, I need you to fuck me.”

Jimin’s head falls back, and he releases a shaky laugh, his hands flexing at his sides as though grounding himself. “Yeah, sounds good,” he stammers, his voice hoarse with want.

You climb onto his lap, your knees pressing into the soft cushion on either side of his powerful thighs. Your hand wraps around his dick, guiding him to your entrance, and you sink down slowly, inch by inch. The stretch is delicious, a sensation that has you throwing your head back with a moan. “God, Jimin,” you breathe, your fingers clutching his shoulders as you take him fully inside you.

He groans, deep and guttural, his head tipping forward to rest against your collarbone. “So tight,” he pants, his grip firm on your hips, as though anchoring himself in the moment.

You chuckle softly, rolling your hips experimentally, savoring the way he fills you. “It’s good, isn’t it?” you murmur, brushing a hand through his hair.

“Better than good,” he grunts, his voice rough as the sea during a storm. His hands guide you, encouraging your movements as you begin to ride him, your bodies moving together in a rhythm as old as the tides.

A playful smile curls your lips as you lean closer, your voice light with mischief. “Better than merfolk sex?”

His laughter is strained but genuine, a sound that melts into a groan as your pace quickens. “It’s… different,” he manages, his words punctuated by the hitch in his breath.

You lean forward, brushing your lips against his as your movements slow, rolling your hips languidly to draw out every sensation. “Good different?” you whisper, your voice barely audible above the sound of your ragged breathing.

His hands slide up your back, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you. “Perfect,” he murmurs against your lips, and in that moment, you know he means it. It sends shivers down your spine as you pick up the pace. You ride him with a ferocity that leaves no room for restraint, your body taking what it craves as his dick fills you perfectly, over and over again.

Jimin’s head falls back, his golden hair cascading around his face like a halo, shimmering even in the dim light. His beauty is almost otherworldly, but it’s the raw humanity of his reactions—his moans, his gasps, the way his lips part in ecstasy—that makes your heart race even faster.

Your hands grip his shoulders for support, and you lean in to kiss him, pouring every ounce of your desire into the connection. Your lips crash together, tongues tangling, and the sound of your shared groans fills the air like a symphony. When his hips begin to rise and meet yours, thrusting into you with a powerful rhythm, you cry out.

“There!” you scream, your voice trembling with bliss as he strikes that perfect spot deep inside you, sending your mind spiraling into chaos.

He laughs breathlessly against your lips, his tone tinged with mischief and triumph. His fingers grip your hips firmly, his touch possessive as though anchoring you to him. He kisses you again, slower this time, his lips devouring yours with unspoken promises.

“I want to have merfolk sex with you too,” you pant, the words spilling from you unbidden as your eyes lock onto his, searching for… something. Something intangible, something only he can give you.

Jimin’s breath hitches, his smile faint but wicked. “Later,” he murmurs, his voice strained yet teasing. “Right now, I just want to feel this.”

You groan, your chest pressing against his as his hips surge upward, faster and harder, the rhythm pushing you closer and closer to the edge. “Fuck,” you gasp, feeling the heat coil tight and hot in your core. “I’m going to come again soon.”

His response is a low, broken moan, his lips brushing against your ear. “Yeah?”

Instead of answering, you bury your face in the crook of his neck, your lips finding the tender skin there. You kiss him softly, your teeth grazing just enough to make him gasp, and when he mirrors your actions, nibbling at your neck, goosebumps ripple across your skin.

Your breath catches, your body shuddering as his thrusts grow rougher, deeper, each one stoking the fire inside you until it finally erupts. “Jimin…,” you cry out, his name a prayer on your lips as your orgasm washes over you like a tidal wave. You collapse against him, your head resting on his shoulder as you tremble through the aftershocks, your walls squeezing him tight.

“Shit,” he rasps, his voice cracking as he feels the way you pulse around him. “I didn’t think it could get tighter. Fuck.”

You can’t help but laugh softly, the sound breathy and light, which only makes him groan louder, his hips faltering. His need is palpable, every thrust a desperate chase toward his own release.

“God, it feels so good,” he pants, his hands sliding up your back, pulling you impossibly closer.

“It does,” you whisper, your lips brushing against his neck. Your fingers thread through his hair as you murmur in his ear, “Now come inside me. Fill me up.”

Your hips move together in a rhythm that feels almost sacred, each motion drawing you closer, tethering you in a shared moment of bliss. Jimin throws his head back, his golden hair glistening with a faint sheen of sweat as he gasps your name, the sound reverberating like music in your ears. His body shudders beneath yours, his release spilling into you as his breaths come in ragged pants.

“Holy—,” he starts, his voice cracking with the remnants of his climax, but you smile, running your fingers through his tousled locks, grounding him.

“It was amazing,” you finish softly, leaning in to kiss him. The kiss is languid, unhurried, your lips brushing his with the tenderness of someone who knows this moment will linger in your memory forever.

You remain still, savoring the aftershocks coursing through both your bodies, the quiet intimacy of him still buried within you. His cock twitches faintly, and you giggle as you feel the first trickles of his release slipping out of you, warm and unhurried, down to his thighs.

“Maybe we should clean up,” you say, a playful lilt in your voice.

“Yeah,” he chuckles, his laughter soft and warm, “it’s definitely sticky.”

“Come take a bath with me,” you suggest, sliding off him with care, your fingers intertwining with his as you pull him to his feet. Together, you make your way to the bathroom, your giggles echoing in the quiet space as you both use tissues to clean up.

The bathwater fills the tub in a cascade of steam and heat, and when it’s ready, you shed the last remnants of your clothing, stepping in with Jimin close behind. The water embraces you like a warm cocoon, and as you settle down, Jimin takes his place behind you, his sturdy thighs cradling you as they had on the couch. His hands move to your hair, working in gentle strokes as he massages your scalp, letting the warm water cascade over your skin.

“This is nice,” you murmur, your head tilting back to rest against his chest.

“It is,” he agrees, though there’s a soft chuckle in his voice. “But I’ll probably shift into my merman form soon.”

You smile, turning your head just enough to press a kiss to his bicep. “I love when you’re a merman.”

He beams at your words, and with a shimmer of light, golden sparkles dance around him like fireflies, transforming his legs into a resplendent golden tail. The fins spill over the edge of the tub, their iridescent sheen catching the bathroom light, making the moment feel dreamlike.

You shift slightly, giving him more space as the water ripples around his transformation. He wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close again, his tail flexing gently beneath the surface.

“Do you… maybe,” he begins, his voice tentative, but there’s an almost boyish eagerness in his tone that makes you smile.

“Just say it, Jimin,” you tease softly, leaning further into his embrace.

He laughs, his breath warm against your temple as he gathers his courage to speak.

“Do you want to date me? Become my mate?” Jimin’s voice carries a quiet hope, his brown caramel eyes searching yours as if the entire ocean hinges on your answer.

“Like a girlfriend? Like a relationship?” you ask, tilting your head, your gaze diving into the endless warmth of his eyes.

He bites his lip, hesitating for a moment before his words tumble out. “Yeah. It’s a relationship, but being mates is more than that. It’s a promise—a bond for life. At least, that’s what it means for merfolk.” He pauses, his voice softening. “But we can take it slow if you want to.”

A chuckle escapes your lips as you nuzzle your head into his chest, the steady thrum of his heart grounding you. “I want to be your mate,” you whisper, the truth of it blooming in your chest like a sunrise over the waves.

Relief floods his face as he kisses your forehead, his golden tail flicking above the water with a ripple that catches the light. It’s such a simple motion, yet it sends your heart fluttering like the wings of a butterfly.

You sit there for a while, submerged in the warmth of the water and the closeness of him. His lips find yours, soft and sweet, and your hands wander—tracing the smooth scales of his tail and the hard planes of his chest. Time seems to dissolve, lost in the salty scent of him, the ocean a mere echo in the distance.

Then, like a sudden wave crashing on the shore, a thought surfaces in your mind. “Do you maybe want to help me with a work thing?” you ask, your voice tinged with a hopeful excitement.

He chuckles, his lips quirking in that way that makes your stomach flip. “What is it?”

“Well…” you begin, unable to keep the grin off your face. “I’m hosting this merfolk event at the aquarium for kids. I’ve got this mermaid costume and everything, but I thought… maybe you could show up as a merman in the big pool? We could dive and swim together—give the kids a show they’ll never forget. Obviously, I’ll tell them you’re wearing a costume too,” you add quickly, your cheeks warming at the thought of how much you want this—not just for the kids, but for yourself.

Jimin blinks at you for a moment before his face lights up with a smile as dazzling as the sunlight on the waves. “Sure,” he says, his voice warm. “I’d love to.”

He leans in, capturing your lips in another kiss, deeper this time, and it’s then that you realize you don’t think you’ll ever get enough of him. Not his salty scent, not his plush, addictive lips, and certainly not the way he makes your heart feel like it’s swimming in its own current of joy.

The day of the merfolk event has finally arrived, and the aquarium is alive with an energy you’ve never felt before. Laughter and whispers of anticipation fill the air as kids clutch their parents’ hands, eyes wide with wonder. The normally tranquil space is transformed into a shimmering underwater dreamscape. Seashells and trailing strands of faux kelp adorn every corner, while cardboard cutouts of merfolk in a spectrum of skin tones stand as guardians of the magic. Soft, ethereal music hums overhead, making the air feel thicker, as if you’ve already slipped beneath the waves.

Backstage, near the pool you adore, you wrestle with the fabric tail of your mermaid costume, trying to coax it into place. It’s always been your favorite spot in the aquarium—the big pool where the water gleams like liquid sapphire, reflecting the ceiling’s soft lights.

You’re muttering to yourself when Jimin appears, his presence as effortless as a tide rolling in. His golden hair is swept back, and his smile—wide and warm—makes your heart skip.

“Oh, hi, babe,” you say, flashing him a quick grin as you tug futilely at the tail.

“Hi, babe,” he mimics with a laugh, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he takes in your predicament.

“You don’t have to put that on,” he says, stepping closer with a glint of mischief. “I have something better for you.”

From behind his back, he reveals a bundle of something strange yet mesmerizing—a ribbon of kelp, but unlike any you’ve seen. Its tendrils shimmer with an otherworldly glow, the orange hue reminiscent of a sunset bleeding into the horizon.

“What is it?” you ask, reaching out to touch it.

“This,” he says, his fingers brushing yours as he places it in your hands, “is Merwhisper Kelp. It lets humans become merfolk for one hour.” His voice is soft, filled with excitement and affection. “I thought you might like to swim with me today as a real mermaid. Make it… special.”

The idea leaves you breathless, your thoughts spinning as you meet his gaze. “Special how?” you tease, narrowing your eyes suspiciously.

A slow grin spreads across his face. “We could show them a merfolk mating ritual.”

Your cheeks flush crimson as your jaw drops. “Like… having sex in front of the kids?!”

He bursts out laughing, the sound rich and musical, shaking his head. “No, no, no. It’s not like human sex, I promise,” he explains, his voice steady despite his amusement. “There’s nothing explicit about it—it’s more like a dance. A connection. Trust me, it’ll be beautiful.”

The sincerity in his eyes melts away your embarrassment, replacing it with intrigue. “You’ll guide me?” you ask softly, your fingers tightening around the kelp.

“Always,” he says, his smile gentle as the tide.

Your heart stirs, and with a nod, you release the fabric tail you’d been fighting with. “Okay. That sounds… amazing.”

He leans in then, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that feels like a promise, warm and lingering.

“I’ll head out first and start the show,” you say, your voice lighter now, a mix of nerves and excitement. Grabbing a robe to cover yourself, you glance back at him, your smile mirrored in his golden gaze. “Wait for me, yeah?”

“Always,” he says again, his voice steady and sure, as you step out toward the glowing auditorium.

You stand before the vast, crystalline pool, its surface shimmering under the soft glow of the aquarium lights, and the crowd of children before you vibrates with barely-contained energy. Their laughter bubbles up like champagne, effervescent and infectious, as their wide eyes focus on you with wonder.

“Hi, everyone!” you begin, your voice bright and warm, your hands clasped over your heart. “Are you excited to be here today?”

A chorus of giggles and shouts fills the room, their enthusiasm washing over you like a wave.

“That’s wonderful! Today, I have something very special to share with you,” you continue, leaning in as if confiding a grand secret. “Today, I’m asking you to believe in magic and fantasy—to let your imaginations take you somewhere extraordinary.” Your eyes sparkle as you gesture toward the pool.

“My boyfriend and I are going to show you how merfolk swim and dance underwater,” you announce with a grin, watching their faces light up in awe. “We’re going to wear costumes, of course,” you add with a playful wink, “but I want you to imagine it’s all real. Because, really, anything is possible if you can dream it. Right?”

The children nod eagerly, their cheers like tiny waves crashing onshore.

“Oh, and let me introduce someone special,” you say, gesturing toward your coworker. “This is Simon, and he’s going to narrate everything while I’m underwater!” Simon gives a mock bow, earning a ripple of applause and laughter.

With a final smile and wave, you step backstage, your heart racing, where you find Jimin waiting for you. His soft smile is a beacon of reassurance, grounding you as excitement tingles through your veins.

“You’re really about to make my dreams come true, you know that, right?” you say, your words spilling out in a giddy laugh as you reach for the Merwhisper Kelp in his hands.

“That was the whole point,” he murmurs, his lips curling into a mischievous smile as he leans in to kiss you, soft and lingering.

As the kelp touches your tongue, an electric sensation ripples through your body. Your legs feel strange—like they’re dissolving and reforming all at once. Sparkles erupt in a dazzling cascade around you, and a gasp escapes your lips as you collapse gently to the ground.

You gape in amazement at the transformation. A shimmering silver tail, adorned with translucent scales that catch the light like diamonds, extends where your legs used to be. Your torso is now clad in a delicate seashell bra that feels as though it was crafted from the ocean itself.

“Wow,” you whisper, your voice filled with wonder as you trail your fingers over the scales. The tail feels strange yet beautiful—foreign and familiar all at once.

Jimin kneels beside you, his golden eyes alight with admiration. “You look stunning as a mermaid too,” he says softly, his hand brushing over yours. “Now, go on. Jump into the water—I’ll be right behind you.”

You nod, still breathless with awe, and begin sliding toward the edge of the pool. The smooth tiles give way to the cool embrace of the water as your tail dips in, sending a shiver of delight up your spine. Tentatively, you let yourself slide further, the pool enveloping you.

The moment your body is fully immersed, it’s as if the world has shifted. You float effortlessly, your tail moving with a fluid grace you never imagined. Tiny bubbles rise to the surface, carrying your laughter with them. The water cradles you, weightless and serene, and you can’t help but giggle at the pure magic of it all.

Words fail you—this feeling is beyond description, an ethereal blend of joy and wonder. You glance up, and through the rippling surface, Jimin smiles down at you. In this moment, the world feels limitless, and magic is not just something you believe in—it’s something you live.

You feel the warmth of a hand at the small of your back, where the delicate curve of your skin meets the smoothness of your shimmering scales. Jimin glides up beside you, his smile a radiant beacon in the water. Without hesitation, you swim into him, pressing your lips to his in a quick, electrifying kiss before gliding forward, emerging into view for the children to see.

Your heart swells—so full of love, it almost feels as though it could burst from your chest. You reach for his hand, and the connection between you is a thread of pure joy, binding your hearts together with unspoken promises. Together, you swim effortlessly beside the swaying kelp, darting through rocky formations, surrounded by the shimmering world of the deep, until you come to the massive glass wall that separates you from the fascinated eyes of the children.

As you break through the surface, the children’s gasps of awe and delight fill the air, their faces alight with wonder. You wave, your heart fluttering as Simon spins tales of merfolk—stories gifted to him by Jimin himself.

Turning toward Jimin, your gaze finds him, and the world around you seems to melt away. His eyes, soft and deep, hold your universe within them, a world built on love and unspoken understanding. He reaches for both your hands, lifting them in front of your faces as he gently presses his body against yours. His chest against yours feels like coming home.

With a slow, tender movement, he begins to spin you in the water, guiding you in a dance as old as time. You laugh, the sound bubbling through the water, as your tails entwine in fluid harmony. His kiss comes then—deep, slow, full of longing—as if he’s been waiting for this moment all his life. In the embrace of his lips, you feel like everything has led to this. Like you were born to dance like this, to love like this. It’s as if two worlds—yours and his—are colliding, fusing together in one seamless, breathtaking whole.

This is what merfolk love must be—this swirling connection, this surrender to the current of passion and tenderness. The kiss deepens, the world slipping away into a blissful haze, and for a moment, you can’t hear the laughter of the children. All that matters is this—a love so pure, so magical, it transcends everything. The only thing that exists in this moment is Jimin, the love you share, and the extraordinary gift he’s given you.

The world is perfect here, in the waters where love flows as effortlessly as the ocean itself. And you are exactly where you belong, with him.

→ Permanent taglist: @nora12379 @jeonsbabygirlsworld @fancypeacepersona @ktownshizzle

→ Series taglist: @allie-in-the-moon @bangtannie7 @suker4angst @women-kisseer @13-manggaetteok

→ Author’s endnote: waaaah 🤧 Personally, I think this one turned out so much better than Tae’s (not that I don’t think that was good!) but I guess it’s just a lot easier for me to write Jimin? Anyway. What do you guys think of this one? Are you still excited for the last two? ✨💜

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vigilante-3073 · 7 months ago

Text

Fast Car

Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Summary: The three times that Sam watched Dean and Y/N sing along to one of their favorite country songs and the one time he didn't.

TW: Pre-established relationship, fluff, dancing, kissing, marriage and children.

Sam sat at a small table in the corner of the crowded country bar as he looked through news stories on his laptop. They had just finished a case in Oklahoma and Sam had the responsibility looking for their next hunt.

He looked up from his screen, eyes quickly finding his brother across the bar. Dean's hands were resting on his girlfriend's hips, holding her close as they sang along to Fast Car by Tracy Chapman.

"You got a fast car

I got a plan to get us out of here

I been working at the convenience store

Managed to save just a little bit of money

Won't have to drive too far

Just 'cross the border and into the city

You and I can both get jobs

And finally see what it means to be living."

Dean pulled away slightly, taking her hand and spinning her around with a wide smile. She laughed, leaning into him as he pulled her back in. Y/N had always loved country music and she had been slowly expanding Dean's musical inventory to include her favorite songs.

Fast Car had quickly become their song and they couldn't go on a road trip without playing it at least once. Sam couldn't bring himself to be annoyed because of how happy it made his brother.

How happy Y/N made his brother.

They were perfect together and there would always be a part of Sam that hoped to find a love like that again after he had lost Jess.

Dean's hands slid from her waist into the back pocket of her jeans as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

There was something almost sad about the song, it was something that he and Dean would probably never be able to experience.

A simple life.

Settling down and starting a family.

And Dean deserved it more than anyone in the world.

...

The impala sped down the highway, the music was blasting and the windows were rolled down. Sam sat in the backseat, staring out at the vast field that ran alongside the highway.

The summer air was hot and the roads were empty as they drove back to the bunker after a successful hunt.

Y/N was in the front seat, body turned towards Dean as they sung along to the song.

"So I remember we were driving, driving in your car

Speed so fast, I felt like I was drunk

City lights lay out before us

And your arm felt nice wrapped 'round my shoulder

And I-I, had a feeling that I belonged

I-I had a feeling I could be someone, be someone, be someone."

Dean looked over at her, watching the wind blow her hair around as he drove. His arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her over to his side before his eyes returned the road ahead of them.

Sam watched them for a moment, smiling to himself as Dean drummed his hand against the steering wheel to the beat of the music.

Y/N turned her head, pressing a kiss to Dean's cheek. He smiled, thumb stroking across the material of her t-shirt fondly.

She rested her head down on his shoulder, hand resting on his knee as she listened to him sing along to the music.

...

Sam made his way down the hallway towards the kitchen after his run, glancing at his watch with a frown as he paused in the doorway.

Music was blaring from Y/N's speaker as her and Dean moved around the kitchen making breakfast. Y/N chopped up strawberries on a cutting board while Dean flipped a pancake in a pan with bacon crackling away on another burner.

Dean suddenly turned towards his girlfriend, using the spatula as a microphone as he sung to her.

"You got a fast car

We go cruising to entertain ourselves

You still ain't got a job

And I work in a market as a checkout girl

I know things will get better

You'll find work and I'll get promoted

We'll move out of the shelter

Buy a bigger house and live in the suburbs."

Y/N smiled widely, abandoning the knife on the cutting board before singing the next line into the spatula. Dean reached out and grabbed her hand, spinning her around before pulling her back against his chest.

Y/N laughed, hand resting on his forearm as they swayed together. Dean spun her back around before releasing her with a wink.

He turned back to the stove, flipping the pancake before sliding over to his girlfriend and pressing a kiss to the back of her head. His hands found her hips before pulling her away from her cutting board and into his arms. Dean spun her around in his hold, taking her hand and wrapping his other arm around her waist before guiding them in a few practiced steps. He held her close to himself, singing along loudly before pulling away and spinning her around.

Dean pulled her back against his chest, pressing a kiss to her temple before sweeping her back into their dance.

They glided around the room, he spun her a few more times before wrapping both of his arms around her waist and pressing his lips to her's in a gentle kiss.

Y/N's fingers tangled in his hair before they reluctantly broke apart and returned to their tasks.

Their relationship almost seemed effortless to Sam.

It was almost like everything else faded away when they were together. It was the purest form of love that anyone could hope to find in this messed up world.

...

Dean turned off the television, tossing the remote aside with a sigh, "Nothin' on, buddy," He muttered, looking down at the Terrier mix who blinked up at him from the floor. Dean grabbed his phone from the coffee table, clicking the power button and feeling relieved when he didn't see any notifications on his screen.

Sam was supposed to come over for dinner to see some of the renovations that Dean had done on the new house. Dean still couldn't believe how many changes had occurred in the last few years.

Dean had made the decision to leave hunting behind and finally made a life for himself. Sam was finishing up a quick case a few states over before going into his own version of hunting retirement. They had both given so much of their lives to hunting and now it was time to live for themselves.

Dean looked over at the bookshelf, his eyes finding the stereo sitting between the books. Dean stood up, making his way over and turning on the power. He flipped through the channels, quickly turning up the volume when he heard the familiar tune start.

"No way," He muttered.

"So I remember when we were driving, driving in your car

Speed so fast, I felt like I was drunk

City lights lay out before us

And your arm felt nice wrapped 'round my shoulder

And I-I, had a feeling that I belonged

I-I had a feeling I could be someone, be someone, be someone

You got a fast car

Is it fast enough so you can fly away?

You gotta make a decision

Leave tonight or live and die this way."

He straightened up with a smile, "Baby, c'mere for a minute," Dean called. Y/N made her way into the living room of their home with their daughter held against her side.

"Is that-?" "Yeah... I thought that maybe my two favorite girls would wanna dance," He said.

"Of course," Y/N smiled.

Dean carefully took their daughter from her arms, cradling her in the crook of his arm before holding out his hand.

Y/N rested her hand in his, gold wedding band catching the soft afternoon sunlight pouring in through the window.

She wrapped her arm around him, smiling down at their daughter as he guided them around the living room. Dean carefully spun his wife before drawing her back in, singing down to their daughter as they swayed together.

This was the life he had always wanted and now he had it.

His beautiful wife, his baby girl, his brother, a house and the dog.

Dean never would have thought this kind of life would be possible for him and now he couldn't dream of living any other way.

He had everything he could possibly want and he was finally happy.

#sam and dean #dean winchester #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester imagine #supernatural imagine #supernatural #dean winchester x female!reader

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mononijikayu · 15 days ago

Text

love’s entanglement — ryomen sukuna.

“I’m not afraid, my lord.” you said, barely a whisper, but enough for him to hear. His eyes softened, just a fraction, but it was enough. The smirk that often played on his lips faltered, replaced by a look that spoke of ancient, buried memories and truths. “Then you’re a fool, little one.” he said, the words almost kind, a breath of admiration shadowed by disbelief. “Maybe so, my lord.” you replied, stepping back just enough to see his full frame. “Or maybe, I just see more than you let on.”

GENRE: alternate universe - heian era;

WARNING/S: safe for work (sfw), mild angst, one sided romance, complicated relationship, conflicted feelings, hurt/comfort, marriage, married life, physical touch, introspection, unexplicit mention of character death, pining, one sided confession, depiction of one-sided relationship, depiction of grief, depiction of pining, depiction of complicated relationship, depiction of cuts and injury, mention of yearning, mention of manga spoilers, mention parts of jjk chapter 222, heian! ryomen sukuna, concubine! reader;

WORDS: 8.7k words.

NOTE: i was honest with all of you when i said that i wasn't done with this story at all. there are still forty years of stuff to dabble in. so i'll write that. the title is based off an ost from the untamed called qingqian ( 情牵) which translates to love entanglement. i remember listening to this for a while and picturing in my head how complicated love looks like for concubine reader and sukuna. they love each other more than they want to admit. forty years of this, making each other suffer and making each other feel this way. how could they not want to be entangled? anyway, i hope you enjoy this!!! i love you all <3

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THIS MOMENT WAS SOMETHING RARE. You do not usually find yourself around Ryomen Sukuna's own gardens. But today was quite a day for such a thing. For a good walk, after having been cooped up inside for so long. And yet, you did not find yourself in your own garden.

You after all have your own garden, courtesy of your husband who had allowed you to have a space of your own in your own hall, a luxury he extended to you — in contrast to his many, petty and envious harem. And all of it suited to fit your wants and needs, so long as you remained in his favor.

And because of that, you were particular with everything. Everything about it was more than enough to you, to last a lifetime of joy in a little space of paradise. Anyone who had been there would say so. Your Vermillion Hall was a serene haven, meticulously designed and tended to in ways that reflected your tastes and subtle touch.

It was familiar, soothing, yet lately, a certain restlessness had stirred within you. The beauty of your garden felt too known, too safe. In search of a distraction, you drifted through the temple's quiet halls, each footstep echoing against the cold stone. The air was filled with the weight of silence, broken only by the occasional creak of ancient wooden beams.

Yet, you perhaps will not find anything that could rival it besides the untouched wonder of the Heaven’s Hall — where your husband resides. Before long, you found yourself at the threshold of your husband’s wide garden. Everything about this could be a pavilion of its own, a few Vermillion Halls, with just the greenery alone.

The space stretched out before you, vast and wild, a realm twice, no, thrice the size of your own. You cannot decide the accurate size. But everything about it was fit for a god. And yet, it was abandoned, untouched by the hands of anyone. It was presentable enough, and yet it was a bizarre sight to behold when you take it all in.

It was an unruly expanse, tangled with thickets of dark green and deep crimson, vines snaking around cracked statues and gnarled trees towering overhead. The paths, barely discernible through the dense growth, were cloaked in a mist that gave the air a damp chill. The scent of rich earth, damp leaves, and a hint of some distant, elusive blossom surrounded you.

You took a step forward, your hand trailing over leaves beaded with dew. The statues, fierce and ancient, seemed to watch with stone eyes as you moved past, their faces frozen in expressions of silent judgment.

Sukuna’s gardens were imposing, powerful, and unyielding; much like the man himself. He never spent time here, finding no need for the peacefulness that gardens offered. His presence, always commanding and forceful, left little room for such indulgences.

A rustle in the distance made you pause. You looked up, the hairs on your neck pricking. From behind a towering stand of bamboo, Sukuna emerged. His eyes, crimson and sharp, caught the faint light filtering through the leaves.

“Wandering somewhere you shouldn’t be, little one?” he drawled, a smirk playing on his lips as he took in the sight of you in his neglected domain.

You matched his gaze, refusing to be intimidated as you bowed before him. He towers over you as he tells you to be at ease. You raise yourself from your position and look at him with your uncertain eyes. He could tell immediately how you were.

He snickers. “You did not bring Chiharu with you?”

“She is at lessons,my lord. I did not wish to disturb her by my desire to walk.”

He raises an intrigued brow. “She would be throwing a tantrum then. You know of all people should know well enough that the girl likes to play.”

You purse your lips. “I am sure she will understand.”

“I should doubt that.” He retorts back to you. You did not reply. He was right. His eyes narrow at you tenderly. “How did you end up here, hm? Trespassers are not oft enjoyed by me, little one. Had you been some other unruly wench, it would be different.”

You feel chills echo through your bones at his words for a moment. You know well enough what happens to people who find themselves wanting around the King of Curses, even in his own land untouched by his hands.

“You never come here, my lord.” you said simply, your voice steady, echoing with a curiosity that cut through the mist. “I would have thought I would be alone here.”

Sukuna’s brow lifted, an unreadable glint crossing his scarlet eyes as he stepped closer, each stride deliberate. The ground crunched under his feet, the sound muffled by the thick carpet of fallen leaves. You let out a small soundless breath as you waited for him to speak.

“And yet here you are, caught red handed, little one.” he countered, stopping just a breath away from you. “Does your garden hold no interest anymore? Your favorite space of your own and you abandon it for unruliness, little one.”

“I wanted something different, my lord….and it felt right today.”

“Things feeling right does not mean you ought to come without a word.”

“My garden holds no mysteries anymore, I merely looked for excitement.” you admitted, letting your fingers brush a tangled vine. “And I walked and walked and merely found myself here. If I had offended you thus,my lord….I apologize.”

A moment of silence passed, thick as the greenery surrounding you. Ryomen Sukuna tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing as if weighing the truth in your words. He releases a composed chortle, echoing intrigue at your words.

“You’re bold, little one.” he said, the smirk fading into something deeper, more contemplative. You could not read his face now. You found that your husband is even better at hiding what he’s thinking over the years. You can only wait.

“Very well, little one. I shall give you a bit more of the grounds surrounding Vermillion Hall for your pleasure. Do with it as you please.”

You looked at him, your eyes widening slightly. Yet almost immediately, you thought to find yourself in collected composure. You could not falter easily, not in front of him. You bow slightly.

“I thank you for your generosity, my lord. I am sure Chiharu will enjoy that also. I thank you on her behalf.”

He grunts at you as he nods, crossing his massive arms together. Soon enough, you could feel his scarlet gaze shifting away from you, turning to scan the wild expanse that stretched around you both.

“These gardens have no order, no reason.”

“Maybe that’s why I’m here, my lord.” you replied, your voice soft but unwavering. “Order can be stifling.”

His scarlet eyes met yours, and for a heartbeat, the wildness of the garden seemed mirrored in the crimson depths of his stare. “Then it would seem that the heavens wish you to stay.”

You lower your gaze for a moment, before lifting them slightly, your cheeks flustered red. “Does my lord wish that I shall stay here also?”

“What is the need for that question, when I do not say a word to dismiss you, little one?” Sukuna said in response, his eyes bearing intense more than ever.

You held Sukuna’s gaze, the air between you thick with unspoken tension. It was rare to find him in such moments, raw and unguarded in the vastness of his own untamed world. Ryomen Sukuna was good at getting under your skin, getting you good with everything.

With all this time that had passed, you would have thought that one would give in and surrender to the tides. The tides of all that had come and gone. You knew he would never love you. Not in the way he loved Hiromi.

And yet, when he says such things, you couldn’t help but let your heart beat for him, who had caused you so much misery. You fold ever so easily when it comes to your husband. Even if that gets you nothing in the end.

You couldn’t help but be a fool, loving him in your own way. But perhaps, that is all that there will be in this life. You must accept it as it is.

As you let your eyes drift from his face, they caught on the heavy folds of his finely cut silk kimono. The gleam of the silken fabric strained at his broad shoulders, seams pulled taut over the sheer expanse of his chest. It was clear that the garment, though richly woven, was not made to fit a man of his proportions, nor was it well sewn to fit the needs of his divine flesh.

He noticed your glance, a shadow of amusement crossing his face. “Did something catch your eye, little one?” he asked, his tone laced with mockery. He shifted, the movement making the fabric pull tighter, as if to emphasize the obvious.

“I was just thinking, my lord….” you began, hesitating for a moment. “ About your clothes... they don’t seem made for you.”

Sukuna chuckled, a sound low and resonant. “Even the finest they find would never be enough to clothe a god, little one.” he said, a touch of arrogance glimmering in his eyes. “None of them will be able to capture the needs of a god.”

There was no boast in his voice, only the stark acknowledgment of truth. He stood before you like a force of nature, a being who seemed larger than life in every possible way. Everything about your husband suited that being of a god. Everything about him was born to be divine. He knew that for a fact.

You didn’t know how to respond at first. The weavers, masterful in their craft, would sigh with frustration when tasked to make garments for him, their looms creaking under the weight of excess fabric. Sukuna was simply beyond what they could create; his existence outstripped the skills of even the most skilled artisans.

“You’re right, my lord.” you admitted, your voice a touch quieter. “You’re not... an easy man to define.”

He watched you for a moment, the flicker of curiosity hidden behind his usual veneer of confidence. “And yet, here you are, little one. Trying to find some meaning to it.” he repeated, softer this time, eyes searching yours as if tracing a hidden path within them. “I can see it on your face, how hard you think about it.”

You curse silently, but he almost looks like he was even more amused as he watched you try and gather yourself once more. Soon enough, the silence dissipates as the wind rustles through the garden, carrying with it the scent of damp earth and wildflowers damping the air.

“Do you resent it, my lord?” you asked, more boldness creeping into your tone than you intended. “The way nothing ever fits?”

His expression shifted, a crease forming at the corner of his mouth as he considered your question. “Fine clothing and steel, power and titles—they were never meant to fit me, little one.” he said, eyes narrowing slightly. “They are tools, nothing more.”

You nodded, understanding dawning on you. There was something in his words that resonated, the idea that even the trappings of power were too small for a being who transcended them. The moment hung between you, a rare peace settling over the conversation.

“It must be lonely, then, my lord.” you whispered, barely audible above the rustling leaves.

He regarded you with a sharp intensity, and for the first time, his smirk faded into something closer to sincerity. “There is no such thing for a god.” he said, voice low, almost gentle.

The silence that followed his words was profound, charged with an intimacy that neither of you had anticipated. Sukuna's gaze lingered on you, measuring, weighing, as if considering whether to share something more or let the moment dissipate like so many others.

His kimono, stretched and strained as it was, seemed almost like a metaphor for the man himself, something vast and untamed, constrained by forces too small to truly contain him.He shifted his stance, the faint creak of fabric and the whisper of leaves underfoot drawing your attention back.

“And you, little one?” he asked suddenly, his eyes narrowing as he studied you. “Do you find yourself longing for things that don’t fit?”

The question startled you, and you blinked, a shiver running down your spine as you pondered your response.

“I think we all do, in some way, my lord.” you said, choosing your words carefully. “We seek things that push at the boundaries of who we are. Otherwise, we’re just living within walls that keep getting smaller.”

A flicker of recognition passed through Sukuna’s expression. He looked away, his bright scarlet gaze drifting over the gardens, now cast in the golden hues of the fading sunlight. The air felt thicker, as if nature itself was listening to your exchange.

“It’s easy for mortals to speak of boundaries, for you most especially, little one.” he said, voice almost a murmur. “But when you’re something... more, there are no walls to you. Only the question of what to do with the endless expanse.”

The way he spoke, not with pride but with a rare trace of weariness, made your chest tighten. You stepped closer, the distance between you narrowing until you could see the fine, jagged lines of old battle scars peeking out from beneath the strained fabric of his kimono. You reached out, hesitating for just a moment before letting your fingers graze the edge of one of those scars.

“And yet, you choose to build walls, do you not?” you said softly, your eyes lifting to meet his. “You push others away, keep yourself untouchable, my lord.”

He tensed under your touch, though he didn’t pull back. Instead, his eyes met yours in, the intensity of his stare pinning you in place. “Because if I let them in, they’ll see what even I cannot grasp. Power that bends to no will but its own. It’s easier to let the world see only what they fear, little one. Remember that.”

A breeze swept through the garden, carrying the whisper of leaves and the scent of wild jasmine. You watched him, understanding the vulnerability that hid in plain sight, wrapped in the guise of strength and distance.

“I’m not afraid, my lord.” you said, barely a whisper, but enough for him to hear.

His eyes softened, just a fraction, but it was enough. The smirk that often played on his lips faltered, replaced by a look that spoke of ancient, buried memories and truths.

“Then you’re a fool, little one.” he said, the words almost kind, a breath of admiration shadowed by disbelief.

“Maybe so, my lord.” you replied, stepping back just enough to see his full frame. “Or maybe, I just see more than you let on.”

The garden held its breath as he took a step forward, closing the space between you. He towered over you, and yet, in that moment, there was an understanding—a balance between a force of nature and the one who dared to reach out and touch it.

“We’ll see, little one.” he finally said, the smallest tilt of a smile returning to his lips.

And for the first time, it wasn’t the smirk of a conqueror, but something softer, deeper, as if you’d both glimpsed a truth neither had expected to share.

══════════════════

YOU COULD NOT STOP THINKING ABOUT IT WHEN YOU RETURNED. You cannot help it. You were only human. But it had been bad enough that it had distracted you for much of the day. And that rarely happens to you, as anyone else could attest.

Chiharu has been pestering about what has been so heavy on your mind, but you keep brushing her off. It was not her burden to carry. She was a child, after all. You would not let her find her way into the thought that consumed adults.

As you drank your medicinal tea, you couldn’t help but let yourself settle into the silence of the waning moon. That conversation had consumed you. Every little word between the two had endlessly lingered with you, its weight settling in your chest long after you had left the garden.

Your lord husband has always had a way with words. A Ryomen would — they were famed for intelligence and candor, for their wondrous words that echoed like the bountiful prose of a poet's mind. Everything about him is a gem more valuable than anything in the world.

And yet, this may perhaps be the first time your husband had spoken in that way. He did not play with his words. He did not mince them either. Everything about it had encroached on you whole, like the darkness swallowing the day.

Ryomen Sukuna’s words and the rare vulnerability he’d shown played over and over in your mind, weaving themselves into your thoughts like the threads of a delicate tapestry.

You found yourself thinking of him more often—not just as a powerful, untouchable figure but as someone who, despite his godlike presence, harbored something deeper beneath the surface. He was human once, after all. Wouldn’t such humanity at least remain, even unconsciously?

For days, you wondered what you could do. You thought about how to reach him in a way that spoke more than words ever could. Sewing came to mind, but you quickly realized your skills were rudimentary at best. Your brothers had said as much as children.

Your mother, however, was different. She had sewn clothes for your family for as long as you could remember, her hands weaving fabric with a mastery that turned every stitch into art.

The memory of her gentle hands, threading needle and cloth with unwavering care, bloomed in your mind like a warm, cherished light. Each stitch she made carried love, devotion, and the quiet strength that held a family together.

But a visit to her was out of the question. Ryomen Sukuna would never allow it; you knew that as surely as you knew the sun would rise. He does not find the need for you to debase yourself to such a life again, knowing you are a god’s wife.

And yet, you cannot help but think of her as you wondered what you could do for your husband. Everything about her echoed the warmth that one echoes with love. With devotion.

The thought of her touch, those fingers skilled in transforming cloth into something that fitted perfectly and comfortably, was a bittersweet ache. Yet, as much as you longed for her guidance, you knew this was something you had to attempt alone.

The desire to give Sukuna something beyond what words could express gnawed at you. He may not have loved you, not in the way stories spoke of love, but he cared for you in his own way.

He granted you freedom where he could, offered protection, and even moments of rare conversation like that day in the garden. You were alive because of his mercy, his whims. And you wanted to give him something in return. To show that you saw him, understood him, and cared.

With your resolve hardening, you purse the fullness of your lips in a flat line and find yourself calling over one of the temple servants. The young woman had soon approached swiftly, eyes downcast in the customary deference, but you caught a flicker of surprise when you made your request.

“What does my lady wish for this lowly servant to do?”

“If you may, could you bring me rolls of the finest fabrics, golden and silver threads, fine silver needles, whatever sewing materials you can find.” you said. The servant hesitated, her brows knitting as she processed the unusual command.

You offered a small smile, tilting your head. “Do not worry yourself too much. It is only that….I wish to indulge in some nostalgia.”

“I shall come and do as you ask, my lady.” she replied, bowing with great deference and desire to fulfill your request.

As you sat there in the gardens waiting, your mind continued to wander back to your mother’s hands, the way she hummed softly under her breath as she worked, the warmth that filled the room as she crafted each garment with care.

You breathed deeply, summoning that memory as strength. You would sew, even if clumsily, and you would give Ryomen Sukuna something he hadn’t asked for; a piece of your own devotion, stitched into every imperfect seam. You were after all, his most ardent follower, in all things.

The servant left quickly, her footsteps fading into the labyrinthine corridors of the temple, leaving you in a moment of quiet contemplation. You ran your fingers over the surface of a wooden table nearby, its polished edges worn from years of service, and thought about the task ahead.

You weren’t just sewing a garment; you were threading your thoughts, hopes, and unspoken words into every stitch. It would be a gift unlike any other—a piece of yourself, laid bare in the seams and folds of cloth.

Memories of your mother came flooding back like the sea against the cliff, more vivid and detailed than they had been in years. You could almost hear the gentle hum of her voice as she worked, an old song that spoke of love and patience.

You remembered how the light from the hearth would catch on the strands of her hair as she bent over her needlework, her expression calm and content. She worked slowly, meticulously, and with a grace that came only from years of practice and an abundance of love.

In those moments, her hands were not just sewing but crafting memories. You recalled the way she would glance up with a warm smile whenever you passed by, sometimes drawing you close to teach you the basics. Your child’s fingers were clumsy, the needle awkward in your grasp, but her voice had always been kind and encouraging.

“Each stitch holds a bit of who we are, my daughter.” she’d say, guiding your hand. “So make sure it’s done with care.”

The thought of attempting to recreate even a shadow of that magic felt daunting, but the desire to give Ryomen Sukuna something meaningful pushed you forward. Despite his aloofness, he had become a fixture in your life. No, he has become your life. He is your life. You lived and breathed to do your duty to him and him alone, even if that burns you in suffering his lovelessness.

His presence, fierce and unwavering, was a constant in a world that often felt unpredictable. He didn’t need your gift, and he may not even value it in the way you intended, but that didn’t matter. This was for you as much as it was for him. This was the only way to express what words could not. Words will never be enough.

Time passed, and soon the servant returned, arms laden with fabric of various colors and textures. She placed them on the table, eyes glancing at you with a question that remained unspoken. You nodded, dismissing her with a quiet “thank you” before turning your attention to the bounty before you.

The fabrics ranged from deep, somber blues to vibrant reds that reminded you of Sukuna’s eyes. You ran your fingers over them, testing their textures. They were all interesting. Some coarse and sturdy, others smooth as the flowing water. Everything about it had found you pushing through with curiosity. You wanted to see what could happen if you choose to weave it together.

You chose a deep, rich indigo for the base, a color that spoke of strength but carried an undertone of calm, and a crimson thread to stitch with, a reminder of the fierceness you wished to honor. Another was plain and pure as the driven snow, bright as the moonlight striking down on the earth, put together piece by piece with the finest of silver threads.

Settling into a chair, you took a deep breath, the weight of your resolve pressing against your chest. Your fingers trembled slightly as you threaded the needle, but you forced yourself to stay steady. The first stitch was hesitant, awkward, but soon you fell into a rhythm, each pull of the thread a quiet assertion of your purpose.

As you worked, the hours melted away, the room filling with the soft sounds of fabric shifting, the tiny click of the needle meeting cloth, and your own heartbeat thudding steadily in your ears. The memories of your mother’s gentle lessons guided you, each one a quiet assurance that even imperfect stitches could tell a story.

And so, you sewed. You stitched late into the evening, the flicker of candlelight your only companion as it cast golden shadows across the room. Every knot, every seam held a silent promise, an unspoken acknowledgment of what you felt and what you hoped to convey. It was more than an attempt to dress the god you worship.

It was an offering of yourself, an expression of your unfailing care, vulnerability, and the hope that even the wildest of beings could be touched by something as humble as thread and fabric.It was a human being’s prayer wishing to be answered at the altar of the god.

When at last you paused to look at your work, you felt a swell of emotion. It was far from perfect; the stitches were uneven, the fabric puckered in places, but it was real. It was honest. It was yours. And soon, it would be his for all of time. Just like you were.

══════════════════

IT WAS ASTOUNDING, HOW TIME PASSED. And yet how they were not peaceful. Ryomen Sukuna had not seen you for a week, and that bothered him more than he cared to admit. It wasn't as though he sought your constant presence or craved your company in the way mortals would seek comfort.

No, his world was built on power, dominance, and the unyielding expectation that everything, and everyone served its purpose. They must submit to it. That is the fate of humankind in the face of a god.

You must, with all your might, carry out your duties by his side, as he demands. He did not care for how you spent your time in idle leisure, nor did he consider it his concern. But this week has been different.

You were absent from the audience halls, your soft steps nowhere to be heard drifting through the temple's stone corridors. You did not loiter about as you usually do when the sun comes around at dawn and or explore the temple gardens as you often did when the sun would set.

When he summoned Uraume to fetch you so you could stand by his side during the reception of the small folk and their insipid praises, Uraume returned with the same report: you had politely declined, citing that there was a rather important matter that required your attention.

And that too was confirmed by his daughter, who refused to tell him a word about it, even when Sukuna had threatened to be harsher upon her in training. Chiharu did not care about having to deal with more punishing punches and miles of running than betraying your privacy.

The first time, Sukuna waved it off, convinced that whatever occupied you was fleeting and of little consequence. The second time, he raised a brow but said nothing, allowing it to be an anomaly.

But the third time, it grated at him, a feeling gnawing at the back of his mind like an itch he couldn’t reach. Was something wrong? Were you ill? The notion was absurd, but the idea still sat heavily on his chest.

The fact that Uraume provided no further explanation infuriated him. His trusted attendant simply returned with your refusals, a slight bow and an inscrutable expression that offered nothing more. Sukuna's irritation burned hotter with each day you did not appear at supper, each moment you weren’t where he expected you to be.

He found it unnerving, a ripple of discomfort that was foreign to him. The mighty King of Curses did not worry, did not concern himself with the comings and goings of another. And yet, here he was, muscles taut and jaw clenched, pacing in his chambers as the unsettling sensation festered.

“This is absurd, foolish most of all.” he muttered to himself, voice sharp as the flicker of his irritation mirrored in the crimson gleam of his eyes. It was out of character for him to feel this way, and he knew it.

A wave of frustration surged through him, not at you, but at the unbidden thoughts themselves. He could not help it, not when you were failing to fulfill your duties, not when you were not servicing him as you should. You, who were supposed to be by his side, a symbol of his reach, his power.

Ryomen Sukuna slammed a hand down onto the lacquered surface of the table before him, the sudden crack of wood splintering under his force echoing through the room. The servants outside stilled, their breaths caught in their throats as silence returned, heavier than before.

“Uraume.” he called out, voice ringing like a blade through the hall.

Moments later, Uraume entered, head bowed and expression carefully neutral. “My lord.”

“Find out what your lady is doing, this instant.” Sukuna commanded, each word sharp and deliberate. “And bring your lady to me, whether it be willingly or not.”

Uraume hesitated for a fraction of a second, a subtle shift of their eyes betraying curiosity or perhaps concern, but they only nodded and backed out of the room, the door closing with a soft thud behind them. They would not fail their lord Sukuna.

Uraume stood at the threshold, gaze steady as they absorbed Sukuna's command. “As you wish, my lord.” they said, bowing low before slipping out of the chamber.

The sound of their retreating footsteps was soon swallowed by the silence, leaving Sukuna alone with the simmering tempest of his thoughts. That he hated more than anything. He hated having such thoughts by himself. But it cannot be helped. It would take a while.

As Uraume went off to the other side of the temple and headed to Vermillion Hall in order to do their duty — that will take a while. He has to wait. Sukuna pressed his lips together as he sat there, tapping one of his hands on the stool’s armrest with great impatience. Everything about this is causing him more irritation by the minute. If he could, he would have a headache.

He clenched his jaw, staring down at the splintered wood beneath his palm. The sharp edges bit into his skin, grounding him in the moment, but they did nothing to ease the unfamiliar twist of irritation in his chest. It wasn't like him to be unsettled, to find his mind preoccupied with the absence of another. And yet, the past week had been a slow, relentless descent into that very discomfort.

“This is a farce.” he muttered, turning away from the table with a sweep of his robes. His dark scarlet eyes narrowed as he paced, the flickering torchlight casting his sharp features into a series of jagged shadows echoing through the halls.

You, the one who had come to exist in the periphery of his life yet had managed to weave yourself subtly into his days, were defying expectations. One who he thought he would break and mold into his own — were still your own self, your own being and he cannot control what you do or what you want.

You were you and he does not know what to do. The thought stirred something darker, something that demanded control and conformity. Something in him wanted to enrapture you whole over and over again. There was that desire. And he does not know what it all means, what he should do. And for the first time in his life, Ryomen Sukuna does not wish to know.

A little while later, as twilight painted the sky in dusky hues of orange and purple, there was a soft knock on the door. The waiting is over. He gathered himself for a moment as he looked towards the door. His gaze narrows.

“Enter.” Sukuna called, voice measured but laced with an edge that warned of his impatience.

The door opened, and Uraume stepped inside, their expression unreadable but posture tense. “My lord.” they began, pausing briefly as if to gauge his mood. “My lady, your concubine has been in the private chambers. I spoke with my lady, but my lady insisted that there was no reason to leave. My lady could not leave the progress on the work.”

“Work?” Sukuna echoed, a scoff forming at the corner of his lips. The idea of you consumed by something so important that you would refuse him was laughable. “And what work, pray tell, keeps my little one from me?”

Uraume shifted, eyes flicking to the floor before daring to meet Sukuna’s gaze. “My lady had tried to find the right words to say, but it is obvious that my lady is sewing, my lord. My lady has asked for time alone to finish the task.”

A heartbeat of silence passed, and then Sukuna barked out a laugh, harsh and devoid of humor. “Sewing?” He repeated, incredulity turning to anger that settled hot and heavy in his chest. “And my lady denies me for this trivial pursuit? For so long? Over needle and thread?”

Uraume’s shoulders stiffened at the rising tension in the room. “My lady spoke of... nostalgia, my lord. I believe it holds some personal significance to my lady’s past.”

Sukuna’s eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. His pride bristled at the audacity of it. You had chosen something so mundane, so mortal, over fulfilling your role by his side. And yet, beneath the simmering irritation was a glimmer of curiosity. Sewing, of all things. It was an image so incongruent with your usual self that it gave him pause.

He paced, his heavy footsteps echoing like drum beats against the cold stone floor. “Uraume.” he said finally, his voice low but lethal. “Bring my lady here. I will see this work that my lady values so highly. Immediately.”

Uraume inclined their head, an acknowledgment that they understood the urgency masked as command. “At once, my lord.”

══════════════════

YOU HAD RUSHED TO GET READY. Uraume had come once more and you knew that you must depart soon enough. You knew your husband too well. He would end up throwing a tantrum the longer you made him wait.

He was just like that. You had kept your company and attention away from him far too long, more than what was necessary. But it had to be done, if you were to finish all of this.

You lamented not being able to finish the fourth one, but it would have to wait. You could return to finish it, once you show your husband the other three you had made. You looked towards Uraume and handed them two of the fine wooden boxes. They looked at you with a curious gaze, but the moment Uraume stared at your hand — perhaps there was some understanding on their part.

The heavy silence stretched between you and Sukuna, thick with unspoken tension. Every breath felt labored as you stood there, frozen in the doorway, your hands clasped tightly before you in a gesture that betrayed the anxiety tightening your chest.

Your eyes were cast downward, not out of fear, but because you couldn’t bear to meet his gaze just yet. His presence, like an oppressive storm, filled the room, suffocating any semblance of comfort. The weight of his stare, heavy and searing, felt as though it was burning through you, stripping you of any pretense or barrier.

Sukuna did not speak at first, but you could feel the intensity of his scrutiny in every second that passed. His crimson eyes locked onto you, an unrelenting force that seemed to penetrate deep into your very soul.

The room seemed to pulse with an energy that was entirely his own, and yet, there was something different about it now. Something subtle, almost imperceptible, but still undeniably present.

You shifted your weight nervously, unsure of what to say or do. Every instinct told you to bow, to humble yourself before him as you always had, but this moment felt different. The kimono, the one you had made for him, still lingered in his mind, you could tell.

The way his eyes flickered briefly to the space beside him where the garment was now laid out, the faint reverence in his touch when he had examined it earlier—it was as if he had been remembering something far more important than mere clothing.

You lowered yourself in a humbling bow in front of him.

Not once did his gaze leave your presence in that moment.

For a good while, you could feel the chills all over your body.

“Approach.” he ordered, each syllable cutting through the silence like a blade.

You stood from your bow and slowly stepped forward, heart thudding in your chest, carrying one of the boxes containing your work felt even heavier. You could feel how harshly you clutched it in your trembling fingers.

His eyes flickered down to it. You lay the boxes before him. Uraume laid the others before him. For the briefest moment, his expression shifted. There was less anger and more... intrigue.

“Explain yourself.” he demanded, though there was an unmistakable edge of curiosity woven through the command.

You swallowed, summoning courage from somewhere deep within. “I wished to make something for you, my lord.” you said, voice quiet but steady. “Something that would... fit you.”

Sukuna’s gaze hardened, but a question glimmered in his eyes, curiosity battling with the remnants of anger. “Fit me?” His voice was softer now, dangerous but tempered. “And you thought denying my summons was worth this pursuit?”

You nodded, holding up the fabric. “I wanted to show you that you could be seen, that I care enough to try. That I am devoted to you, my lord.”

The silence that followed was suffocating, his eyes locked onto yours, searching, weighing.

The room seemed to hold its breath as you stood, waiting for judgment, for the fury that could come like a storm. But instead, Sukuna’s lips twitched, not quite a smile but not far from it.

“Show me. Now.” he said, voice a low rumble. “This work that kept you from me.”

Uraume moved forward without hesitation, the ornate coverings making a soft, rustling sound as they were carefully untied and removed. The fabric shimmered under the dim light, revealing the fruits of your labor—a trio of kimonos, each meticulously crafted, each unique in its own right.

The first was white, paired with a matching hakama and a black haori that seemed to drink in the shadows. The second was a deep, royal indigo with crimson accents, bold and regal. The third was a rich, earthy gray embroidered with intricate silver patterns that caught the light like scattered stardust.

Sukuna's gaze shifted from one garment to the next, expression unreadable as his crimson eyes took in the details on all of it. He could see the fine stitching, breathing life little by little in each piece seemed to carry a subtle elegance that spoke of both strength and devotion. You cleared your throat, feeling the weight of his scrutiny press against your chest.

“A–as I said, my lord, I made them myself.” you began, voice wavering but earnest. “I’m sorry if they are not as perfect as you would prefer. I know they may not be fit for a king or for a god, my lord. But I had carefully crafted all of it while thinking of you.”

His eyes flicked to you at that, sharp and assessing. He said nothing, and the silence stretched long enough that you felt compelled to continue, though your pulse thundered in your ears.

“I just wanted to make something that would suit you. Something that would… reflect who you are, my lord.” You hesitated before adding, “And to show that you are more than just—”

“Silence, little one.” Sukuna interrupted, though there was no malice in his voice. He took a step closer, gaze settling on your hands.

The cuts and bandages were visible, stark against your skin, telling their own story of sleepless nights and determination. The marks of effort were not lost on him. The thought that you, a mortal bound by your own fragility, had poured so much of yourself into this—into him—sent a flicker of something unidentifiable through him.

He reached out, fingers brushing against the edge of the white kimono with the black haori. The stitching was impeccable, bold yet refined, as if each thread carried a piece of your heart. It was the simplest of the three, but there was an understated power to it. A garment that spoke of purity juxtaposed with shadows, stark and unwavering, much like the man it was intended for.

“This is no easy task to do by yourself.” he said finally, voice deep and resonant. “You undertook this task like you are a wife of a god. You dare to humble yourself before me, yet your work is that of one who knows worth.”

You could feel your eyes water slightly. “My lord—”

He lifted his gaze to meet yours, eyes dark and unreadable. “You have done well.”

Your breath caught at the unexpected praise, and you bowed your head to hide the sudden, overwhelming emotion welling in your eyes. “Thank you, my lord.”

Sukuna stepped back, casting one last glance at your injured hands. “Uraume,” he said, a command rather than a question. “Go to the healers. Ask them to bring ointments for my lady’s hands. They will be treated.”

A flash of surprise passed over Uraume’s features before they nodded briskly and left to carry out the order. You blinked, stunned by the uncharacteristic gesture. Sukuna turned away, but before the silence could return fully, he spoke again, voice low, almost as if he was speaking more to himself than to you.

“Next time, you will not wait so long to show me what is mine.”

The room stilled, the weight of his words sinking in. You nodded, heart thudding with a strange mix of relief and something deeper, something you did not dare to name.

Sukuna's gaze lingered on the white kimono, his expression unreadable, but there was a quiet intensity in the way he took in each stitch, each line, and the subtle folds of fabric that fell with perfect symmetry.

The black haori had an elegant simplicity that balanced the pure white of the kimono beneath, embodying a duality that resonated with him—power restrained, shadow and light interwoven.

He reached out, almost absently, fingers brushing over the texture of the fabric. The quiet reverence in that small action caught even Uraume's attention, their eyes flicking between the two of you. Sukuna's jaw tightened, and for a moment, you could sense the battle raging behind his eyes, an internal war between pride and acknowledgment.

“You, little one….” he said, turning to face you fully. His voice was deep, almost resonant, as though echoing in the very bones of the room. “You claim to apologize for imperfections, but these garments carry none that I can see.”

The words caught in your throat, and for a moment, all you could do was nod, your heart pounding a steady rhythm that resonated with the silent awe you felt. The faint sting in your bandaged fingers seemed to dull as he continued to regard you with that intense, unreadable gaze.

“Your dedication does not go unnoticed, little one.” Sukuna continued, stepping closer until the space between you was marked only by the breath you dared to draw. He reached out, lifting one of your hands with surprising gentleness, eyes narrowing as he took in the cuts and raw patches on your skin. “You have marked yourself in service to me. Remember that, and remember the value of your labor. As I will.”

He let your hand fall gently, the faintest of smirks tugging at the corner of his mouth. The tension in the room shifted, not softening but changing, as if the unspoken had taken form and settled around you both.

“From now on, little one.” Sukuna declared, turning his back to you but with a final glance over his shoulder, “I shall command you to be the only one to make my clothing for me. I shan’t wear anything else. So do well, hm?”

A shiver passed through you at the rare acknowledgment, at the words that felt like both a demand and an offering. The title little one rolled from his tongue like an unfamiliar caress, a sign of possession and regard wrapped in one. You lowered your head, a flicker of pride warming the cold pit of exhaustion in your chest.

“Yes, my lord.” you whispered, voice trembling not with fear but with the weight of something new—something you hadn't yet fully understood but knew had shifted the ground beneath your feet.

“Come here, sit by me. Uraume will take a while.” He whispers back to you. His scarlet eyes are softly gazing at you. “Tell me about your work, little one.”

You couldn’t help but smile. A true smile that reaches your eyes. “If my lord wishes.”

Ryomen Sukuna let himself enjoy your smile for a moment.

He came to a good and true conclusion there and then.

You wear joy in the most beautiful way in the way no one else knows.

And he admits, he wishes to see it for the rest of your days.

══════════════════

epilogue

Ryomen Sukuna stood in the dimly lit chamber, his eyes narrowing as Uraume carefully moved boxes aside, clearing the clutter from the room. The sight of the discarded objects from a thousand years ago, long forgotten relics; they all seemed trivial at first.

But then, something caught his eye, something that made his breath catch in his throat. A simple box, set apart from the rest, seemed too out of place for the cluttered heap of old trinkets and broken pieces. His loyal Uraume, not noticing his change in expression, continued to sort through the boxes.

"Uraume." Sukuna's voice rang out, low and deliberate, making Uraume freeze in place.

"Yes, my lord?" Uraume turned, posture stiff as they anticipated another order.

"Stop." The command was final, and Uraume hesitated for a moment before pausing, then obediently approached the box Sukuna had taken notice of. "Bring it to me."

Uraume did as instructed, carefully lifting the box and walking over to Sukuna, who stood with his arms folded, eyes glinting with a mix of curiosity and something far more dangerous. Once the box was placed before him, Sukuna opened it with a measured slowness, as though savoring the moment, although he didn’t know yet what he would find.

And then, there it was.

The sight of the white kimono, the hakama, the black haori—all painstakingly crafted in a way that could only be yours. The way the fabric shimmered slightly in the dim light was enough to bring him back to a time long past, a time when you were still present in this world.

The stitching so delicate and precise spoke of hours spent in quiet concentration, your hand steady as you worked. He recognized it immediately. His heart thudded in his chest, a sharp beat that reverberated in his bones.

The kimono was too big for him. Clearly, it had been designed for his old body. And yet, it felt familiar, almost like a second skin he had never worn but was made to fit him nonetheless. The memory of your presence. Everything of you was shining through, even after all this time. He could see it clearly; your hands, your laughter, your quiet hums as you sewed—came rushing back with such intensity that it almost overwhelmed him.

Sukuna's fingers twitched, and for a moment, he stood still, staring at the kimono as if it were some precious, fragile relic he feared would shatter under his touch. He reached out slowly, as though he could still feel the warmth of your hands in the fabric, the echoes of your care woven into every inch.

His touch was tentative, almost reverent, as if the kimono might disintegrate under his hand. For a fleeting moment, it was as though he could hear your voice, soft and melodic, humming the same tune you always had as you worked. A soft ache settled deep in his chest, a yearning he hadn’t allowed himself to feel for centuries.

He stood, unmoving, eyes fixed on the fabric. His thoughts blurred together, memories of you flooding his mind—of your past selves, of your touch, your presence in his life. Of a long life lived together.

And yet... you were gone.

All of that had come and gone.

Still, he can’t help but long for it.

Sukuna had long since accepted the passage of time, the impermanence of mortal lives, even the ones that had been his to command. But this, this feeling of loss; it was different. His thoughts were dark, bitter, yet they carried something deeper—a sharp longing for a time he could never reclaim.

"Uraume." he finally said, voice thick with something he couldn’t name. "Prepare this for me. I will wear it."

Uraume paused, sensing the change in him, the shift in the air that could only mean one thing. “At once, my lord.”

The room grew quiet once more as Uraume gathered the kimono, intent on following his command. But for a moment, Sukuna remained, staring at the fabric, his mind filled with fleeting images of you: your smiling face, your delicate hands working the needle with such care, the soft hum of a song that had once filled the empty spaces of his temple.

And then, in the stillness, it was as if he could see you again. Not clearly, but a shadow. A fleeting glimpse of your figure in the corner of the room, hunched over the cloth, the same rhythm of your sewing filling the air. His breath caught in his throat, and his heart clenched painfully in his chest.

But no, you were not there. He knew that. He could not allow himself to forget that. You had passed, long ago, lost to time, to the endless cycle of reincarnation.

For a moment, Sukuna let himself be still, standing in the quiet of the chamber. He reached out, his fingers brushing over the fabric once more, this time with more certainty, as if touching it again could bring you back, even for just an instant.

And in that moment, Ryomen Sukuna—the King of Curses, the immortal, the one who had never known regret, felt something in him break. It was a small thing, barely perceptible, but for the first time in a thousand years, Sukuna admitted something to himself, something he had buried deep within him and refused to acknowledge.

He missed you.

The realization hit him with the weight of a thousand years' worth of emotion that had never found its release. It wasn’t just the kimono. It wasn’t just the memories. It was the person you had been—the warmth you had given him, the way you had sewn not just fabric, but pieces of your soul into his life, despite all the darkness that surrounded him.

Sukuna closed his eyes for a moment, his breath deep and slow, before he looked down at the kimono once more. There was a strange sense of finality in the moment, as if the act of touching it somehow completed a circle long left unclosed.

“Uraume.” he said, his voice quieter now, more contemplative. “When you are done, make sure I can wear it tonight. No delays.”

Uraume glanced back at him, silent in their acknowledgement, and bowed. “Understood, my lord.”

And as they left, Sukuna lingered a moment longer in the quiet. The silence stretched, but for once, it wasn’t oppressive. He found himself lost in the memories of a time when the world had felt less cold, when you had been at his side.

And perhaps, he will never feel that again. Perhaps it was never meant to be. He had squandered his chance and now he suffers. He suffers life without you. And perhaps, that is his punishment.

Ryomen Sukuna, this old immortal, this untouchable legend, this unshakable curse could not help but accept his fate.

He accepted this punishment even if it was hard to do so, because there was nothing left of you without it.

For the first time in a long time that the King of Curses longs and yearns for his dearest concubine.

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novaursa · 3 months ago

Note

I love your writing! Could you please do one where Targaryen reader (it can be Rhaenyra's sister) is taking Gwayne for the first time to meet her dragon and takes him for a ride. Thanks

The Wild Heart

- Summary: You introduce Gwayne to your dragon, Grey Ghost.

- Paring: targ!reader/Gwayne Hightower

- Note: The reader is the younger sister of Rhaenyra and bonded to the dragon Grey Ghost. I've broken my own rule about 1000 words here, but since you guys like Gwayne so much, I've decided to expand this a bit more. Enjoy.

- Rating: Mild 13+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @deniixlovezelda @duck-duck-goose2 @aadu2173 @holdingforgeneralhugs

You stand on the edge of the ridge, the sea breeze tangling itself in your silver-blonde hair, lifting strands into the crisp, salt-filled air. Below, the waters of Blackwater Bay shimmer like molten silver, catching the light of the setting sun. Behind you, the Red Keep is barely visible, a hulking shadow against the vast sky. But it's not the castle that holds your attention today—it’s the man beside you, Gwayne Hightower, and the dragon that waits in the distance, somewhere between the clouds and the sea, hidden in the wilderness just beyond the Dragonpit.

He stands close, his expression serious, but you can feel the underlying excitement radiating from him. Gwayne has heard the tales, the whispered stories of your dragon, Grey Ghost—wild, elusive, temperamental. Unlike the dragons housed in the Dragonpit, Grey Ghost has never truly been tamed. He lingers along the coast and cliffs, only returning when he chooses. Not a single rider before you had ever claimed him, not until you.

You glance at Gwayne, studying his face as the wind picks up. His strong jaw is set in a determined line, and his eyes, a bright shade of blue, seem darker in the fading light. He’s dressed in his Hightower armor, though you both know he’s not here for battle. The armor is more a shield for his nerves, a thin veil of control in the face of what’s to come.

"Are you ready?" you ask, your voice quiet but firm, just loud enough to be heard over the gusts of wind.

Gwayne turns to you, and for a moment, a flicker of something—perhaps doubt, or wonder—passes across his face. But it’s gone in an instant, replaced by a faint, teasing smile. "As ready as a man can be to meet his future wife's dragon," he replies, the words tinged with amusement, though there’s a touch of nervousness there too.

You smile at that, a small curl of your lips. "Grey Ghost isn’t like the others in the pit. He won’t simply obey because I will it. He’s… unpredictable." You let the words hang in the air for a moment, hoping to prepare him for what’s coming. "But he’ll listen to me. Trust that."

Gwayne nods, though you can sense the weight of his uncertainty. He’s seen dragons before, of course. As a member of House Hightower, he’s familiar with their majesty and their danger. But this is different. This is your dragon, your bond. And Grey Ghost is no mere dragon of the pit. He is wild fire made flesh, with wings of smoke and ash.

You take a step forward, motioning for him to follow as you descend the rocky path that leads to the clearing below. Your boots crunch against the stones, the sea below crashing against the cliffs. Gwayne is right behind you, silent now, his presence a steady warmth at your back. Together, you approach the place where you know Grey Ghost waits.

As you round a bend in the path, the clearing opens up before you, vast and wild, with tall grasses swaying in the breeze. And there, at the far end, resting in the shadow of a massive stone outcrop, lies Grey Ghost.

Even from this distance, the size of him is breathtaking. His scales, a smoky grey that gleam faintly in the dying light, seem to blend with the rocks around him, making him appear almost ethereal, as though he’s part of the landscape itself. His wings are folded close to his body, but you know their full span would darken the sky if he chose to spread them wide.

Gwayne inhales sharply, and you feel his awe as though it were your own.

"Gods," he murmurs, almost under his breath, as he gazes upon the beast.

You step closer, your heart quickening with the familiar pull of your bond. Grey Ghost stirs, his massive head lifting as he senses your approach. His eyes, burning like molten gold, lock onto yours. There’s recognition there, an unspoken understanding, but also a warning—a reminder of his wild nature.

You stop a few feet from him and extend a hand, palm up, in a gesture of peace. "Come forth." You speak in the High Valyrian tongue, your voice steady, commanding.

Grey Ghost watches you for a moment longer, then, with a slow, deliberate motion, he rises to his feet. His wings unfurl slightly, the leather-like membranes rustling in the wind as he stretches his neck toward you. There’s a rumble deep in his throat, a sound that vibrates through the ground beneath your feet. But he does as you bid, moving forward with a grace that belies his size.

Gwayne stands frozen at your side, his breath caught in his throat, though his hand instinctively moves to the hilt of his sword—a gesture of protection more than aggression. You place a calming hand on his arm, shaking your head gently.

"He won’t harm you," you whisper, though you’re not entirely sure if you’re saying it to reassure him or yourself. "Not if I’m here."

With slow, deliberate movements, you step closer to Grey Ghost, your fingers brushing against the rough texture of his scales. He is warm beneath your touch, like the heat of a roaring fire contained within his massive frame. Grey Ghost’s eyes never leave you, and for a moment, there’s a connection, a silent exchange of trust and respect.

Turning back to Gwayne, you gesture for him to come closer. "It’s alright," you say softly. "He knows me. And now, he must know you."

Gwayne hesitates, his hand still hovering near his sword, but after a brief moment of consideration, he takes a step forward. His gaze never leaves Grey Ghost’s hulking form, his caution palpable. Slowly, almost reverently, he reaches out, his fingers brushing against the dragon’s side, just as yours had moments before.

The air between the three of you seems to still, the wind dying down as though the world itself is holding its breath. Grey Ghost rumbles again, a low, deep sound that resonates through the ground, but he doesn’t move. He allows the touch.

Gwayne exhales, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly as he keeps his hand on the dragon’s scales. "He’s… magnificent," Gwayne says, his voice barely above a whisper. "I’ve never seen anything like him."

You smile softly, feeling a swell of pride for both your dragon and for the man standing beside you. "He is," you agree, your voice filled with warmth. "And now, he knows you. We are bonded, all three of us."

Gwayne turns to you then, his eyes meeting yours, and for a moment, the world around you seems to fade away—the cliffs, the sea, even the dragon. It’s just the two of you, standing on the precipice of something new, something shared.

"I never thought…" he begins, his voice trailing off as he searches for the right words. "I never thought I could be part of something like this. With you, and with him."

You step closer to him, your hand finding his, your fingers intertwining. "You are," you say softly, your voice full of certainty. "We’re a family now, Gwayne. You, me, and Grey Ghost. Nothing will come between us."

The wind whips around you as you stand before Grey Ghost, the great dragon looming like a mountain of muscle and smoke. His golden eyes, burning with an otherworldly light, follow your movements as you step back, placing yourself beside Gwayne. The sun has set below the horizon now, leaving the world bathed in twilight, and the only sounds are the crashing of the waves far below the cliffs and the steady, rhythmic breathing of the dragon.

Gwayne stands beside you, his hand still resting on the dragon’s rough scales. His expression, a mixture of awe and anticipation, is hard to miss. He’s faced battle, seen the dangers of war, but this—this is something entirely different. You can sense the excitement beneath his calm demeanor, the way his hand trembles ever so slightly as he brushes his fingers against Grey Ghost's side.

"You’ve never flown before," you say quietly, watching him as his eyes trace the dragon's form.

He turns his gaze to you, the corners of his mouth lifting in a faint smile. "No. Never." His tone is light, but there’s a seriousness beneath it, a readiness that makes your pulse quicken.

Grey Ghost shifts his weight, the massive bulk of his body rumbling like distant thunder as he crouches low, the leathery membranes of his wings unfolding slightly. He is waiting, waiting for your command, and though you feel his wildness, his untamed spirit, you know that in this moment, he will listen to you.

You take Gwayne’s hand, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours. "Do you trust me?" you ask, though you already know his answer.

He doesn’t hesitate. "Always," he replies, his voice steady, his eyes locked on yours.

You squeeze his hand gently, then release it as you step toward Grey Ghost. With practiced ease, you place one hand on the dragon's flank, the other gripping the harness that’s fastened around his neck and shoulders. You swing yourself up onto his back, settling into the familiar place between his powerful wings. The leather beneath you is warm, and you can feel the rise and fall of his breathing beneath your legs.

You look down at Gwayne, who is still standing at the dragon’s side, his expression now unreadable.

"Come," you say, holding out your hand to him. "You won’t fall. I promise."

For a moment, he hesitates, glancing from you to Grey Ghost’s immense, heaving body. But then, with a nod of determination, he steps forward, gripping the harness as you had shown him. With a bit of effort, he hoists himself up behind you, his arms instinctively wrapping around your waist as he settles into place.

You can feel the tension in his body, the uncertainty of being so high above the ground, but there is also trust—trust in you, trust in the dragon.

You glance back at him, offering a reassuring smile. "Hold on tightly. The first flight is always… exhilarating."

Before he can respond, you lean forward and place your hands against Grey Ghost’s neck. "Fly!" you command in High Valyrian.

With a roar that shakes the ground beneath you, Grey Ghost unfurls his wings, the massive span of them catching the wind in a sudden, powerful gust. The muscles beneath you ripple as the dragon gathers his strength, and then, with a single, mighty leap, you are airborne.

The world falls away beneath you, the cliffs and sea nothing but distant shapes as Grey Ghost ascends, his wings beating with a rhythm that you can feel deep in your chest. The wind tears at your hair and clothes, the rush of air so loud it drowns out all other sound, but you don’t mind. This—this is freedom, the sky opening up before you, endless and vast.

Behind you, Gwayne holds on tightly, his arms firm around your waist. You can feel his heart pounding against your back, the thrill of the flight coursing through him as it does through you. The dragon rises higher, soaring above the clouds, and for a moment, you are suspended in the sky, weightless and free.

Grey Ghost lets out a triumphant roar, a sound that echoes across the sky, and you laugh, the exhilaration of the moment filling you with joy. You glance back at Gwayne, his face flushed from the wind, his eyes wide with wonder.

"Are you alright?" you shout over the wind, your voice barely carrying in the rushing air.

He grins, a wide, genuine smile that lights up his entire face. "This is incredible!" he calls back, his voice filled with awe and exhilaration. "I never imagined…"

His words trail off as Grey Ghost dips suddenly, his wings folding slightly as he begins a rapid descent, plummeting toward the sea below. You feel Gwayne’s grip tighten around you, his breath catching in his throat, but you don’t panic. You know Grey Ghost, know his every move, and this—this is part of the ride.

At the last moment, just before you reach the surface of the water, Grey Ghost flares his wings, catching the air and leveling out. The sea stretches out beneath you, the waves glistening in the moonlight, so close you can almost touch them. The dragon skims the surface, his claws barely grazing the water, sending up sprays of mist as you fly.

You laugh again, the sound of it lost to the wind, and Gwayne’s laughter soon joins yours. His tension is gone now, replaced by the sheer thrill of the flight. He leans into the movement, trusting you, trusting the dragon, and for a moment, it feels like the three of you are one—a single being soaring through the sky, untethered and wild.

After what feels like an eternity—and yet, not nearly long enough—Grey Ghost begins to climb again, his powerful wings lifting you up, up, up, until you are soaring high above the sea once more. The land is a distant memory now, the world below nothing but a blur of blue and grey.

You turn your head slightly, glancing back at Gwayne, who is still grinning, his eyes alight with excitement. "This is only the beginning," you say, your voice soft, though you know he can hear you over the wind.

He meets your gaze, his expression suddenly serious, though the joy still lingers in his eyes. "I’ll follow you anywhere," he says, his voice steady, filled with quiet resolve. "Wherever you go—whether it’s the skies or the earth—I’ll be with you."

Your heart swells at his words, and for a moment, you are overwhelmed by the depth of his devotion. You reach back, placing your hand over his where it rests at your waist, your fingers intertwining with his.

"And I’ll always have you by my side," you whisper, though the wind carries your words away.

Grey Ghost lets out a soft rumble, a sound that vibrates through both of you, as though he, too, understands the significance of this moment. Together, the three of you fly on, the stars beginning to twinkle above, as the night stretches out endlessly before you.

#house of the dragon #hotd #hotd x female reader #hotd x you #hotd x y/n #hotd x reader #gwayne x you #gwayne x reader #gwayne hightower #gwayne x y/n #grey ghost

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weevil-wallflower · 6 months ago

Text

A Jedi & A Droid

Cal Kestis x Jedi!Reader

Summary: Your life was never the same after You stumbled upon another Jedi and a droid.

Warnings/Tags: No warnings, SFW, hurt/comfort, minor angst, fluff, mutual pining, no use of Y/N, no pronouns used, pre/during Jedi: Survivor, minor spoilers for Jedi: Survivor.

A.N.: My third entry for Cal Kestis Week 2024! Prompts: Day 3 - Droid & Day 4 - "We shouldn't be doing this".

I am so late but responsibilities called! Also, this story, initially meant to be simple, got wayyy out of hand and turned into a combination of little snippets. So a bit of a wordy one but I am so happy to finally write this, as the idea had been sitting in my drafts for so long plus I really enjoyed writing it! I think this is one of my best stories yet :3 Gif by me!

Also on AO3!

Word Count: ~6,800

After the crew of the Mantis had split apart, Cal found himself adrift in the galaxy with only BD-1 by his side, spending years drifting between missions and without a crew—a family. While working for Saw Gerrera, he had formed strong friendships with fellow rebels; Gabs, the Klatooinian twins Koob and Lizz, and Bravo. However, it never felt quite the same. He longed for the camaraderie and companionship he had once known, yearning for a friend, a family and perhaps even a partner, to share in their journey’s hardships and victories.

Then, one fateful day, while Cal and BD-1 were navigating through a crowded spaceport, they came across You—running desperately from a squad of unrelenting stormtroopers. Cal's sharp senses detected the hurry in your movements and the terror in your expression as You ran through the packed streets, desperately trying to evade capture.

Without hesitation, Cal leapt into action, his instincts kicking into overdrive as he made his way through the chaotic crowds, dodging blaster fire and weaving through narrow alleyways in pursuit of You. Out of breath, he finally caught up to You, halting You in your tracks and reached out a hand to offer his help.

“Come with us!” The redhead urged, his voice firm yet reassuring as he glanced back at the approaching stormtroopers. “We have a ship. We can help you escape.”

Despite the opportunity presented before You, You hesitated, your eyes wide with fear and uncertainty as You weight your options.

“I’m not getting in a stranger’s ship!” You protested, your voice trembling with apprehension.

Cal’s gaze softened, understanding the gravity of your situation as he met your gaze with unwavering determination.

“You have a better idea?” He asked, his tone gentle yet firm as he kept his hand extended towards You.

You still appeared hesitant but the thunderous footsteps of the approaching stormtroopers and the urgent “Beep-bo-beep!” from the droid perched on the redhead’s back sealed the deal, making You choose the lesser of two evils. With a slight nod, You reached out to take the redhead’s hand, feeling a sense of trust and reassurance wash over You like a wave. Was it the Force trying to tell You something? You had no time to dwell on it, however, as Cal led You to his ship.

As the three of you boarded the Mantis, Cal’s eyes widened with excitement when they fell on the lightsaber strapped to your side, realisation dawning on him.

“You’re a Jedi!” He exclaimed, surprise apparent in his voice. “That’s why those Imps were after you.”

The knowledge brought him some hope, knowing that he had finally found another Jedi besides Cere, after all these years.

You simply nodded and hesitantly took the offered co-pilot seat as the ship soared through the vast outer space. You were unable to shake the feeling of apprehension that gripped You. The knowledge that Cal now knew You were a Jedi filled You with a sense of unease, knowing all too well the dangers that come with being hunted throughout the Galaxy. The thought of bounty hunters and Imperial forces closing in on You sent a shiver down your spine, and You couldn’t help but wonder if trusting Cal was a mistake.

However, as You stole a glance at him while he piloted the ship, You noticed something that caught You off guard—a lightsaber attached to his belt, just like yours. Your eyes widened in surprise as You turned to face him, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Are you… are you also a Jedi?” You asked, your voice full of uncertainty.

Cal’s face lit up with a smile, his green eyes sparkling with excitement and happiness.

“Yes, I am!” He exclaimed, voice full of joy. “I can’t believe I’ve finally found another Jedi!”

“Me too…” You whispered as the revelation sent a wave of relief washing over You. And sure enough, You felt his Force signature resonate around You, feeling his resilience, determination and a strong connection to the Light Side of the Force. However, while the signature carried traces of sorrow and grief, You were surprised by how warm and comforting it felt, enveloping You like a protective blanket. You were unable to remember the last time You felt someone’s Force signature—much less one as soothing. The feeling replaced your earlier apprehension with a sense of solidarity and companionship, relieved to know that You were not alone.

However, it still took time for You to feel comfortable around Cal, despite his warm demeanor and infectious enthusiasm. But slowly over time, You found yourself gradually opening up to the redhead, sharing stories of your past and your hopes for the future. Yet, a lingering sense of caution remained, a barrier that felt insurmountable at times.

But BD-1, Cal’s loyal droid friend, proved to be a source of comfort and solace during those moments of uncertainty. Seeing how happy Cal was once more, all because of your presence on board, BD-1 went out of his way to make You feel welcome with his cheerful chirps and friendly demeanour, offering You small gifts and gestures of kindness that never failed to bring a smile to your face.

And as You watched the little droid trot around the ship, trilling with excitement, You couldn’t help but feel a sense of gratitude towards him. His efforts to make You feel comfortable and at ease did not go unnoticed, and You found yourself growing fond of BD-1 in return.

Cal, too, noticed the bond that was forming between the both of you, and he couldn’t help but smile at the sight of his droid friend bringing joy and laughter into your life like he did for him. Seeing You happy lifted Cal’s spirits in ways he couldn’t fully explain, and he found himself opening up to You even more, sharing his hopes and fears with a newfound sense of trust and vulnerability.

Overall, BD-1’s efforts to make You feel comfortable and welcome were essential in helping You overcome your initial apprehension and form strong bonds of friendship with Cal and the droid. There were numerous instances which contributed to strengthening your bond with both of them.

One day, Cal and BD-1 ventured out on a mission while You agreed to stay behind on the Mantis to look after it and to provide backup support if needed. But when the duo failed to return when they should have, a sense of worry began to settle deep in your mind. Especially when You were unable to contact them via the comms. Time appeared to stretch on endlessly as You waited for their return, each minute that passed only made your concern grow. Feeling restless, You paced the length of the ship, your footsteps echoing in the empty corridors as You anxiously awaited their safe return.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, just when You contemplated going out to search for them, You heard footsteps and beeping sounds. You quickly rushed down the ramp to be greeted by the sight of Cal, looking a little worse for wear but otherwise unharmed. Your worries melted away in an instant as You ran over to greet him.

“Cal, you’re back!” You exclaimed, relief evident in your voice.

The redhead grinned wearily, his expression softened by your sight. “Hey…” He greeted, his voice tinged with exhaustion. “Sorry for the delay. We ran into a bit of trouble out there.”

Before You could respond, BD-1 chirped excitedly, leaping down from Cal's back and presented You with a tiny gift he ejected from his stim dispenser. With a delighted giggle, You accepted the gift, a simple trinket made from scavenged materials—a token of BD-1's affection and friendship.

As You thanked the little droid for the thoughtful gesture, Cal couldn't help but chuckle at the scene unfolding before him.

"Well, it looks like BeeDee gets all the attention," he quipped, his tone light-hearted as he approached you. "No warm welcome for a valiant hero like me, huh?"

You grinned at his playful remark, thankful that despite the dangers they faced on their mission, Cal and BD-1 had returned safely, and that was all that mattered in the end.

As you all walked back inside the Mantis together, Cal's arm draped casually over your shoulder, You couldn't help but feel a sense of belonging wash over You. And when BD-1 chirped happily beside You, You knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together as a team.

Another day, You remember sitting alone in the quiet solitude of your quarters at the back of the Mantis. With the weight of loneliness and longing pressing heavy on your heart, You couldn't help but feel the ache of missing your long-gone family and friends. Memories of happier times filled your mind, each recollection a bittersweet reminder of the bonds You had lost to the war of the Galaxy.

Meanwhile, out in the common area of the ship, Cal paced back and forth with furrowed brows, his concern for You evident in the worried lines etched upon his face. He had sensed your melancholy from the moment You had withdrawn to your quarters, and despite his best efforts to coax You out of your seclusion, You had insisted that You were fine, not wanting to burden him with your troubles.

But BD-1, after sensing your distress, took it upon himself to cheer You up. With a soft chirp, the little droid scuttled into your quarters, carrying an assortment of gifts and trinkets.

You looked up when BD-1 dropped the presents at your feet, startled by the unexpected intrusion. But when You gazed into the droid’s photoreceptor lenses, You noticed something—empathy, compassion and a silent invitation to share in his company.

With a small smile, you reached out to accept the gifts that BD-1 had brought for You, each one a small token of friendship and comfort in the midst of your loneliness. A handcrafted charm bracelet, a bundle of aromatic herbs, and a holorecording of soothing music—all thoughtfully chosen to lift your spirits and ease the ache in your heart.

As You held the gifts close to your heart, a wave of gratitude washed over You, grateful for the droid’s unwavering support and companionship.

When Cal noticed BD-1 entering your quarters, he longed to join in as well, wanting to do everything he could to make You feel better and suddenly, an idea came to him. Quickly, he brewed a cup of your favorite caf, its rich aroma filling the air. With each measured step, he poured his heart into the simple act of preparing the beverage, hoping that it will bring You some solace in the midst of your turmoil.

As the redhead slowly walked into your quarters with the steaming cup in hand, he felt a sense of relief wash over him at the sight of the little droid’s offerings laid out before You on your bed. He was grateful for BD-1’s presence, knowing that the little droid was looking after You in his own unique way, offering You comfort when You needed it the most.

When You saw Cal enter your quarters with hesitant steps, You couldn’t help but feel a surge of warmth in your chest at the sight of him. The small, sympathetic smile he wore tugged at your heartstrings, and as You watched him walk closer, your lips curved into a small smile of your own.

Slowly, Cal extended the cup towards You, his gesture a silent offering of support and understanding. And as You accepted the cup of caf, You felt a sense of gratitude, knowing that with Cal and BD-1 present, You were never truly alone, even in your moments of solitude. Their presence and unwavering support filled the room with a comforting sense of companionship that eased the ache in your heart.

When Cal moved to leave You to your thoughts, as You had requested earlier, a sudden impulse seized You. “ Cal, wait!” You called out, surprising yourself with the words.

Turning back to face You, the redhead’s expression was one of curiosity, his eyes searching yours.

“Would you… would you mind staying here for a while?” You asked, your voice soft with uncertainty. “I could use the company…”

A flicker of emotion passed through Cal’s eyes; a mixture of surprise, gratitude and something deeper You couldn’t quite recognise. With a small nod, he settled into the seat opposite You, his presence along with BD-1’s providing reassurance amidst your troubled thoughts.

And as you all sat together in the comfort of your quarters, the warmth of the caf and the gentle hum of conversation filled the air, slowly dissipating the tension from earlier. With each passing moment, You found yourself drawn deeper into the warmth of Cal’s presence, the sound of his deep voice soothing your worries.

As You listened to him speak, your gaze wandered, taking in the details of his appearance with a newfound appreciation. His fiery red hair, the brightest You had ever seen, seemed to glow in the soft light of the room.

His green eyes, so vibrant and full of life, sparkled with intelligence and kindness, drawing You in with their magnetic charm. And as You met his gaze, You found yourself captivated by the depth and warmth that lay within them, a reflection of the soul that resided behind those beautiful emerald orbs.

His freckles, scattered like constellations across his sun-kissed skin, added to his charm, giving him an air of boyish innocence that belied the immense strength and resilience he possessed. And though his face carried the marks of battles fought and hardships endured, each scar only served to enhance his rugged allure, a testament to the trials and tribulations he had overcome over the years.

While You took in the sight of him, bathed in the soft glow of the room, You couldn't help but feel a sense of awe and admiration wash over You. In that moment, surrounded by the comforting embrace of his presence, You knew that You were in the presence of someone truly special—a friend, a confidant, and perhaps something more.

As time went on and the bond between You and the duo deepened, You developed a deep, almost parental affection for the little droid, despite not understanding what he said half the time. Often, in moments of excitement or tenderness, You found yourself affectionately calling BD-1 "Beebee" or "BB-1," much to Cal’s amusement.

During one particularly heartwarming moment by the campfire during a stop on Bogano, as Cal's hand brushed against yours and the stars twinkled overhead, You couldn't resist reaching out to BD-1 with a soft smile.

"Come here, Beebee," You cooed, beckoning the droid closer.

BD-1 chirped happily, nuzzling against your side with a warmth that made your heart swell.

Cal chuckled at the endearing nickname, his eyes crinkling with affection as he observed the exchange.

"You're my little bebe!" You exclaimed, unable to contain your adoration for the droid, causing Cal's laughter to fill the air, a melodic sound that echoed through the night.

"You're going to spoil him with all that love," he teased, his playful tone only adding to the warmth of the moment.

You grinned, feeling a sense of contentment wash over You. "Well, he deserves it," You replied, reaching out to pat BD-1's head affectionately.

Another one of your adventures led you all to an enchanting night market, where the dim glow of colourful lanterns illuminated the bustling streets. Cloaked in hooded robes that disguised your identities, You and Cal strolled through the bustling streets and crowds of people. The outer rim planet that you all had landed on was far from the watchful eyes of the Empire, but the threat of being hunted down as Jedi still lingered, necessitating caution in your movements.

As you both moved through the sea of sellers and stalls, You couldn't help but steal glances at Cal, admiring how handsome and mysterious he looked in his black cloak.

Cal too stole glances at You from beneath his hood, unable to contain his admiration. The way your eyes sparkled with curiosity as You took in the sights and sounds around You, the delicate curve of your smile as You marveled at the many stalls— it all filled him with a warmth that he couldn't quite explain.

His thoughts drifted to uncharted territory as he found himself yearning for more than just companionship with You. The urge to reach out and hold You close, to feel the warmth of your embrace and the softness of your touch, tugged at his heartstrings with an intensity he hadn't anticipated.

But the redhead knew better than to act on such impulses, especially in the midst of such a perilous situation. The threat of danger loomed overhead, reminding him of the risks involved in allowing his emotions to take control. And yet, despite the rational voice of caution in his mind, he couldn't shake the longing that stirred within him whenever he looked at You.

And as You turned to face him with a curious expression, he felt a rush of warmth fill his chest, the desire to protect and cherish You overwhelming any doubts or fears that lingered within him. In that moment, surrounded by the hustle and bustle of the night market, Cal knew one thing for certain; he would do anything to keep You safe.

The redhead’s thoughts were interrupted when You suddenly rushed inside a bookstore with shelves full of interesting titles. Among them, a book on how to learn Binary stuck out, with a cover full of symbols and characters that attracted your interest.

"Hey, Cal, check this out!" You exclaimed, excitedly holding up the book after he caught up to You. "I've always wanted to learn Binary, especially now so I can understand Beebee better. What do you think?"

Cal glanced at the book, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "I think that's a great idea," he replied, his voice warm with encouragement. "Learning Binary could definitely help you and Beedee communicate more effectively."

Turning to BD-1, who was perched on Cal's shoulder, You addressed the droid with a playful grin. "What do you think, Beebee? You think I can learn Binary? Then you and I can gossip like schoolgirls, won't that be fun?"

Cal chuckled at your remark, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "I definitely think Beedee will have some juicy gossip to tell you," he quipped, eliciting a series of excited beeps from the droid. "But yeah, learning Binary sounds like a fantastic idea. Just promise me one thing: as long as you both don't gossip about me, I'm all for it."

You giggled in response before purchasing the book and tucking it safely into your robes. For some reason, You hadn’t thought to ask Cal for lessons, thinking You could learn on your own and not wanting to trouble him as he already had too much on his plate. But now, with the book in hand, You were eager to begin learning.

After weeks turned to months aboard the Mantis, You received communication from a distant friend from within the rebellion You worked for, presenting You with a difficult choice. The holographic image flickered to life from within your now fixed comms unit, revealing the face of a trusted ally, their voice filled with urgency and determination as they extended an invitation for You to return to the rebellion.

For a moment, You felt torn, the call to duty and the desire to make a difference in the Galaxy making You feel conflicted. The rebellion was your way of fighting for freedom and justice alongside allies who shared your ideals and convictions.

But as You glanced around the familiar surroundings of the Mantis, the faces of Cal and BD-1 staring back at You with concern and uncertainty, You realised that this ship had become more than just a travelling vessel—it was your sanctuary, your home.

Cal, ever perceptive to the turmoil raging within You, approached with a gentle hand resting on your shoulder, his eyes filled with understanding and empathy. “Whatever you decide, know that we’re here for you,” he said, his voice soft and reassuring. “You’re a part of this crew, a part of this family, and we’ll support you no matter what.”

With a heavy heart, You weighed your options, torn between the duty to your cause and the love for your newfound family.

In the end, You made your decision, lead on by your stubborn sense of duty to the cause. The call to serve the rebellion beckoned with an undeniable urgency. In a way, You and Cal were very similar, feeling like you both needed to keep fighting, unable to shake the sense of duty that weight heavily on both of you.

Cal accepted your decision with great reluctance, having half a mind to join You but he had his own duty to fulfill for Saw Gerrera’s rebellion.

When the moment of your departure drew closer, Cal and BD-1 stood beside You as You gathered your meagre belongings, their expressions a mirror of your own conflicted emotions, as You prepared to leave. The duo knew that your absence would leave a void aboard the Mantis that would be difficult to fill.

Cal, ever stoic and composed, held his emotions in check, offering You a reassuring smile as he bid You farewell. His words of encouragement and support echoed in your ears, reminding You that You were not alone in your decision, no matter how difficult it may be.

BD-1 on the other hand, unable to contain his emotions, wailed and cried, clinging to your legs desperately as You attempted to walk down the ramp of the Mantis and onto the planet. The little droid’s cries of distress tore at your heartstrings, filling You with a sense of guilt and anguish as You struggled to pull away.

“Beebee, it’s okay,” You whispered, calling him with that endearing nickname, your voice thick with emotions as You tried to soothe the distraught droid. “I’ll come back, I promise. We’ll see eachother again soon.”

But BD-1’s cries only grew louder, his little legs clinging to You in a desperate embrace, refusing to let go. Tears welled in your eyes as You looked into the droid’s photoreceptors, seeing the depth of his sorrow reflected back at You.

As he watched BD-1 cling to You with such desperation, witnessing the droid’s anguish and your distress, Cal felt a pang of sorrow and longing grip his heart as well. He slowly approached you both, gently reaching out to the droid. “’We shouldn’t be doing this’,” he murmured softly, his voice laced with sorrow as he pried BD-1 away from You. “We must respect others’ decisions…”

The redhead wanted nothing more than to embrace You, to hold You close and offer You comfort in this difficult moment. But he knew that if he allowed himself to give in to that temptation, he would break down completely. With a heavy heart, Cal settled for a handshake instead, his touch gentle yet firm as he bid You farewell. He knew that letting You go was the right thing to do, even if it tore him apart inside.

With a heavy heart, your touch lingered on Cal’s hand before You gave BD-1 one last reassuring pat before finally stepping away and descending down the ramp. And as You walked away, the echoes of BD-1's cries followed You, a haunting reminder of the sacrifice You had made in the name of duty.

As your silhouette faded into the horizon, Cal couldn’t shake the weight of grief that settled in his chest. Watching you leave, he couldn't help but reflect on the bond that had formed between You, him and BD-1, realizing how much he and the little droid had come to cherish You.

In the short time You had been aboard the Mantis, You had become like family to them. And now, just as they had grown accustomed to your presence, You were leaving them, all too soon, like so many others before You.

The thought of saying goodbye was nearly unbearable, a painful reminder of the transience of life and the fleeting nature of companionship in a Galaxy ripped apart by conflict and suffering. But even as the pain of loss threatened to overwhelm him, Cal knew that he couldn't hold You back, knowing all too well that your duty to the rebellion was a call You could not ignore.

As Cal returned inside the Mantis, a heaviness settled upon him, weighing down his spirit with the burden of your departure. Unable to muster the resolve to fly the ship just yet, he found himself sinking into melancholy, the empty space around him echoing with the absence of your presence.

Sitting in the cockpit, Cal held BD-1 close to him, the little droid providing what comfort it could with its mechanical chirps and beeps. But even as he clung to BD-1, a sense of loneliness overcame him, a stark reminder of the void left behind by your absence.

"BeeDee," Cal murmured softly, his voice tinged with sadness. "We... We both really did come to love our new friend, didn't we?"

"Boo-woo..." BD-1 beeped in response, his photoreceptors dimming with sorrow as he nestled closer to the redhead. In that moment, as they sat together in the silent cockpit, Cal sought solace in the presence of his loyal droid.

BD-1 then emitted a flurry of hurried beeps, crying out to Cal with urgency, telling—demanding him to bring You back right this instant. Cal felt a pang of sadness grip his heart as the desperation in BD-1's cries mirrored his own inner turmoil, reminding him of the depth of the bond that had formed between him and You.

"We shouldn't be doing something like this..." Cal repeated solemnly, shaking his head as he recalled his earlier words when BD had clung to You. "We can't force someone like that..."

His voice was heavy with resignation, a reflection of the harsh reality they faced. Despite their wishes and desires, they couldn't force You to stay, no matter how much they wanted to. The decision was yours alone to make, and they had to respect that, no matter how difficult it may be.

BD-1 emitted a series of mournful beeps in response, his sorrow palpable as he nestled closer to Cal, seeking solace in his presence. Together, they sat in the quiet confines of the cockpit, grappling with the emptiness left behind by your departure, silently hoping that You will return to them one day.

Meanwhile, as the evening turned into night, You found yourself immersed in the routine of life within the rebellion's base once more, but the memory of leaving your newfound family behind weighed heavily on your mind. Amidst the chatter and activity of your fellow rebels, a sense of longing gnawed at your heart, aching for the companionship and camaraderie You had experienced aboard the Mantis.

In the quiet solitude of your old quarters, You unpacked your belongings, the Binary language book You had purchased a few weeks earlier catching your eye. The sight of it brought back precious memories, reminding You of the laughter, the warmth, and the sense of belonging You had felt with Cal and BD-1. In that moment, You realised with a pang of regret how big of a mistake You had made in leaving them behind.

With resolution burning within You, You made a spur-of-the-moment decision to return to the Mantis, hoping against hope that it wasn't too late. Racing through the dimly lit corridors of the rebellion's base, your heart pounded with anticipation as You hurried towards the landing pad where the ship was stationed.

As You approached, the silhouette of the Mantis came into view, bathed in the soft glow of moonlight. Relief washed over You as You realised despite the few hours that had passed since You had left, the ship was still there, almost as if waiting patiently for your return.

You ran up the ramp and inside the ship, your breath coming in ragged gasps as your gaze fell on the solemn figures of Cal and BD-1. For a brief moment, confusion flickered across their faces, but it quickly gave way to surprise and joy as they realised that You had returned.

BD-1 was the first to react, emitting a series of excited beeps as he rushed towards You. Tears welled up in your eyes as You knelt down to greet the little droid, wrapping your arms around his small frame in a tight embrace.

"I'm so sorry," You whispered tearfully. "I didn't mean to leave you. I didn't realise how much you both meant to me until I was gone."

BD-1 chirped softly in response, his photoreceptors gleaming with happiness as he nuzzled against You. Meanwhile, Cal approached slowly, his expression a mixture of relief and concern as he watched the emotional reunion unfold before him.

"Welcome back," he said softly, his voice tinged with emotion.

With BD-1 by your side as a reassuring presence, You rose from your embrace with the droid and turned to face Cal, the weight of your emotions spilling over as You threw your arms around him in a tight hug.

As You hugged Cal, your heart overflowing with emotion, he returned the embrace just as fervently, his strong arms enveloping You in a comforting hold.

"I'm so sorry, Cal," You whispered once more, your voice trembling. "I didn't mean to leave you both..."

Cal held You at arm's length, his gaze meeting yours with a mixture of relief and sincerity. "You mean a lot to us, you know," he said softly, his voice carrying the weight of his feelings. "We've come to rely on you, to count on you. And when you left..."

His voice trailed off, the unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. But before You could respond, BD-1 let out a series of joyful beeps, trotting over to nuzzle against You in his own display of affection.

The redhead grinned fondly at the droid before turning his attention back to You. "Beedee's right. You're not just a member of the crew," he continued, his words filled with warmth. "You're family. And we're just grateful to have you back where you belong."

Tears of gratitude flowed down your cheeks as You gazed at Cal, feeling the weight of his words sink in. In that moment, surrounded by the love and acceptance of your chosen family, You knew that You were exactly where You were meant to be.

Your adventures continued, roaming the Galaxy with Cal and BD-1. Despite using your book to teach yourself Binary and spending more time with BD-1, your grasp of the language remained shaky at best, leading to frequent misunderstandings with your droid friend that often led to comical yet occasionally embarrassing moments.

During one very tense mission on a remote planet, BD-1 emitted a series of urgent beeps, which You interpreted as a call for action. Without hesitation, You activated the nearest control panel, thinking You were helping to disable a security system. But your actions did the opposite instead, triggering a blaring alarm and alerting nearby guards.

Cal chuckled softly at your mistake, but his amusement turned to concern when You misinterpreted BD-1's attempts at giving directions using the help of his holomap. Confused by the droid's beeps, You accidentally led the way into a dead-end corridor, much to Cal's bemusement.

"Oh, wrong turn…" You mumbled sheepishly, earning a sympathetic pat on the back from Cal.

As the mission progressed, so did your series of misunderstandings. At one point, BD-1 signaled for a left turn, but You mistook it for a right, resulting on a wild goose chase through a maze of corridors. Cal laughed good-naturedly as You backtracked, feeling slightly embarrassed but grateful— and very surprised—for his immense patience.

Later, during a small respite from missions, BD-1 chirped happily and nudged You, prompting You to offer the droid a sandwich You had just made.

Cal chuckled again, gently correcting your mistake. "He's asking for a power recharge, not a snack," he explained, suppressing a grin.

Blushing, You quickly helped BD-1 into the charging station, feeling a bit silly but grateful for the opportunity to learn.

As you three continued your journey, your misunderstandings with BD-1 became both more frequent and more amusing. One memorable incident during a mission on a remote outpost, BD-1 quickly warned You about a slippery surface ahead. However, You misinterpreted the droid's chirps as encouragement for a fun slide.

With a playful grin, You ran and launched yourself onto the surface, expecting a thrilling ride. Instead, your feet flew out from under You, and You landed with a loud thud that sent a cloud of dust into the air.

Cal rushed over, concern etched on his face, but as he helped You up and noticed You were fine except a few scrapes, his expression softened into a grin.

"You really need to work on your Binary," he teased, his eyes twinkling with mirth.

Blushing furiously, You burst out into laughter along with him, grateful for his good humor and unwavering support.

One evening, as the three of you sat around a campfire beneath a blanket of stars, the flames casting flickering shadows across the campsite, You couldn't help but steal glances at Cal when he wasn't looking. His red hair, illuminated by the warm glow of the fire, appeared to shimmer like molten copper, framing his face in a halo of fiery strands.

His freckled cheeks, kissed by the suns of countless worlds, added a touch of youthful charm to his rugged features. And when he laughed, his eyes sparkled like twin galaxies, filled with a light that seemed to chase away the darkness.

But it wasn't just his appearance that captivated You—it was the effortless grace with which he moved, the strength and agility evident in every fluid motion. His muscular yet lithe physique reflected countless hours spent honing his skills, preparing for the challenges that lay ahead.

Lost in admiration, You found yourself drawn to him in ways You couldn't quite explain, feeling a sense of déjà vu during that moment as You admired him. And as You watched him tend to the fire, his movements sure and purposeful, You couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement in your chest.

While the flames danced and crackled, Cal couldn't help but steal a glance at You as well when he thought You weren't looking. He felt a surge of gratitude and relief to have You there with him, especially after the rest of the Mantis crew had split, each going their separate ways.

In those quiet moments by the campfire, Cal's thoughts drifted to the challenges you had faced together so far—the battles fought and the bonds forged in the crucible of adversity. And through it all, You had stood by his side, a constant companion whose presence filled him with a sense of hope and purpose.

He also admired your determination to learn binary, your willingness to laugh at your own mistakes, and the genuine warmth and affection You showed towards BD-1. In your company, he found a sense of peace and belonging, something he hadn't felt since the fall of the Jedi Order.

Lost in his thoughts, the redhead couldn't help but feel a surge of affection for You, grateful for your unwavering support and companionship. And as he watched You, a smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

Cal's gaze remained on You longer than usual, a hint of something more lingering in his eyes. As the crackling of the fire filled the silence, he reached out to gently brush a stray strand of hair from your face, his touch sending a shiver down your spine.

"Are you alright?" he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Caught off guard by the intensity of his gaze, You nodded, unable to tear your eyes away from his.

"I... I think so," You stuttered, your heart racing in your chest.

In that moment, the world around You seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in the soft glow of the campfire. Without another word, Cal leaned in closer, his lips brushing against yours in a tender, hesitant kiss.

Time seemed to stand still as You melted into his embrace, the warmth of his touch sending sparks of electricity dancing across your skin. In that moment, nothing else mattered but the two of you, lost in the embrace of the night.

As You pulled away, breathless and flushed, Cal's eyes sparkled in their intensity, his calloused hand reaching out to intertwine with yours.

"I've been wanting to do that for a long time," he admitted, his voice filled with a mixture of longing and relief.

With a smile, You squeezed his hand, feeling a sense of peace settle over You. "Me too," You whispered, knowing that in that moment, You had found something worth fighting for amidst the chaos of the Galaxy.

As You and Cal continued to lovingly gaze into each other's eyes, soft little footsteps filled the air, accompanied by the joyous chirps of BD-1. However, in your post-kiss daze, You misinterpreted the droid's enthusiastic speech, thinking he was teasing You for being all googly-eyed over Cal.

"Beebee, not now," You whispered nervously, blushing furiously as You tried to compose yourself.

Cal laughed, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he gently nudged You. "I think BeeDee is just happy for us," he teased, his tone laced with affectionate amusement.

You shot him a sheepish grin, realising You mistook the little droid once again. "I guess I still have a lot to learn," You admitted.

Cal's teasing grin softened into a warm smile as he squeezed your hand. "Well, lucky for you, I'm an excellent teacher," he replied, his teasing tone hinting at something more than just language lessons.

You couldn't help but blush at the underlying implication of his words, a flutter of excitement dancing in your chest. You leaned in to kiss him once more and as the tender moment between You and Cal lingered, bathed in the soft glow of the campfire, BD-1’s lenses suddenly whirred to life, capturing the scene in a flash of light. Startled, You pulled away from the kiss, blinking in surprise as You turned to see the droid standing nearby, his photoreceptors zooming in and out as they focused on You and Cal with mechanical precision.

“BeeBee, what are you doing?” You asked, a mixture of amusement and curiosity apparent in your voice.

Cal chuckled softly, his arm still wrapped around You as he glanced at the small droid with a playful grin. “I think BeeDee wanted to capture the moment,” he explained, his eyes alight with amusement.

You couldn’t help but laugh at the unexpected gesture, feeling a rush of warmth fill your chest at the thought of having a memento of this special moment.

“Well, I guess we’ll have to thank BeeBee for the souvenir,” You replied, leaning into Cal’s embrace with a contented sigh, giggling when You heard the little droid let out an excited “Whoop!” in response.

You, Cal and BD-1 settled back into the quiet comfort of the night, the image captured by BD’s lenses served as a reminder of the bond You shared with the other Jedi—a bond formed from friendship and love.

As silence once again fell upon the campsite, You found yourself lost in a moment of quiet reflection. The memory of how Cal and BD-1 had found You, helping You escape from the stormtroopers, flooded your mind with a wave of gratitude. If it hadn't been for them, You might not be here, nestled in Cal's arms, sharing laughter and companionship under the starry sky.

With a sweet smile, You turned to Cal, the flickering flames casting shadows across his features. "You know," You began softly, "I often find myself thinking about that day when a Jedi and a droid came into my life. If it weren't for you, I don't know where I'd be now. Thank you, Cal, for everything."

Cal's gaze met yours, his expression tender and sincere. "You don't have to thank me," he replied gently. "I'm just grateful that we found each other. You've become a part of our family, and I wouldn't have it any other way."

His words warmed your heart, filling You with a sense of belonging that You had never known before. With a grateful nod, You leaned even further into his embrace, savoring the comfort and reassurance of his presence. In that moment, surrounded by the silence of the night, the warmth of Cal's love and the joyous chatter of BD-1, You knew that You were exactly where You were meant to be.

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moonlight-prose · 3 days ago

Text

STRANGE ADDICTION

➻ 01. BEAUTIFUL DEATH

a/n: i have rewritten this chapter about two times just to get it right. i want it to feel like the show, but also i'm a perfectionist when it comes to posting in a new fandom. this story has been in my head since s1 dropped and well it feels great to finally put it somewhere. even if the love for silco has sorta died down. i've had the most fun writing this so i hope you enjoy!

summary: dinner with an old friend leads to revelations about your past. about whether you chose the right path - the future meant for you. or if time indeed stands still beyond what science and magic tells you.

word count: 4.5k+

pairing: silco x f!reader; viktor x f!reader (platonic)

warnings: not explicit, angst, friendships, flashbacks, arguing, hesitation to tell the truth, pining (not by reader), the haunting of past relationships.

NEXT CHAPTER | SERIES MASTERLIST

The sun beat down harder than ever before. A bright scorching ball of light that seemed intent on searing through the fabric of your gown. Although you weren't entirely opposed, given the weight of the material that clung to your skin.

It seemed that the sun favored topside more than anywhere else. You'd known this for a while, your eyes fixed on the horizon at each turning of the clock. Dusk assumed its duties for the day, bringing forth the moon that hid until the time was right to reveal herself. Flames licked across the sky and suddenly you were a child again. Stunned by the magnificence and beauty of something so normal.

When you were younger you held the belief that only those in the grand city would be able to witness this. To watch as sunset broke along brilliant blue before sinking below—away from the towers of the grand house.

Although the term house felt humble and dishonest given the lavish setting. Castle seemed like a better word. Or kingdom.

Piltover. The land of progress.

How ironic that just below the surface lay the vastness of a city that thrived on the opposite. You felt like royalty amidst the opulence around you. Someone who was crowned long ago by the people who deemed you worthy enough. Yet it wasn't that long ago that you were a young kid vying for a glimpse at a clear sky. Topside rarely accepted those that didn't belong; unsurprising but still a bitter disappointment.

How you managed to trick them—fool their wits—into allowing you access escaped you.

This felt too extravagant. So unlike the person you once knew. It felt fictional. A tale as old as time now finally bestowed upon someone like you.

"Unbelievable," you muttered, eyes wide at the brilliant orange that painted itself over pinks and yellows.

A voice echoed in the distance, someone calling your name, and with a sigh you were pulled away from the ambience of this view. You preferred a chance to stay here but you recognized the lilt of his voice, the familiar drawl of his words. With a sigh you let go of the balcony railing and turned towards the room you were staying in. His room. He offered and gave no room for an argument.

That didn't stop you from trying.

"Dinner is being planned," he announced, balancing his weight on the cane held in his tight grip.

"All this trouble isn't necessary." Pulling the chair by his bed close, you took the opposite one with a grin. "I'm not that important."

He huffed, long and loud enough to keep you quiet. "I don't see you often enough. Dinner is the least I can do."

"Viktor–" His hand went up before you could state your case—the argument ready to fly off the tip of your tongue.

"I've argued with you enough over the years to know when you will start." His smile is warm, an old piece of the past that still resides in the back of your mind.

"I call that an unfair advantage," you muttered.

"I would call it strategy."

"Strategy requires the mind of a politician," you joked. The words rolled out of your mouth with ease as you scrutinized the man before you.

He shrugged. "I've got politician friends."

"Right."

Over the years you often wondered where your paths might cross again. Where on the timeline of your lives Viktor would once more become your ally. You both found one another in your younger years—when things were simpler. The time in your life where you were starting to be recognized for your mind and him with his mind.

Two intellectuals forged in the fires of the Undercity. At one point in your life this might have felt humorous. Almost ironic.

Now you tried to grasp at what kept the two of you together. Especially since your step back away from the atmosphere of progress.

"I–"

"While you are here, would you mind—uh—looking over the research I have accumulated over the years of your absence?" The notebook he draws from the table beside him is crammed with scraps of paper. The binding was ready to burst at the seams. A sight that so utterly and undeniably the young man you met in the Undercity. "I trust your intelligence more than mine sometimes."

You could recall the hours spent pouring over books, each one filled with information you never thought you'd have the opportunity to learn. They brought the both of you closer to something that he felt would do the world some good. Knowledge was power in Piltover—you simply learned to utilize it for your own good. As a way to escape the past you tried your best to ignore.

Flipping to the first bookmarked page, you attempted to discern his writing. At times it was illegible, but you knew it better than yours. After years of looking at the same scratch marks and symbols, you were able to pick through Viktor's work with ease. Your heart stuttered at the research before you—the truth that rang silently in his hopeful expression.

"You want to find a power source?" you exclaimed, glancing up to see his eyes grow apprehensive.

Of course he would be wary about this. Every line scribbled, each night of hard work, all amounted to his life's legacy. The weight of his name was placed on loose pages and ink that bled between the compact journal. Running your finger over the foreign symbols etched onto each page and margin, you felt their power—the meaning behind each mark made.

"Viktor it's..." You wanted to call this emotion pride but the word felt minuscule given how much effort had been put into this. "Magnificent."

He grinned, settling back with a sigh of relief. "My partner Jayce—who you will meet tonight—has made a remarkable discovery."

"Remarkable is putting it lightly," you cut in, absentmindedly following the curve of the largest rune on the page, marking it in your memory.

Ducking his head, you watched his hands clasp together tightly, his thumb pressing against the pulse point of his wrist. "I have to do something...that will help."

That much you could understand.

"Ever since I've known you–" Shifting, you felt the skirt of your gown tug upwards—your leg exposed to the slight chill in the evening air. "You wanted to be remembered as a great scientist. Someone whose mind would be their legacy. I think you're closer to that than you think."

He scoffed. "I only told you that to stop the questions."

"About where you came from? Or something else."

The silence gave you enough of an answer. Explanations of his past came with little to no details. Merely stories that were fleeting, sinking beneath the depths long before you got a chance to figure them out entirely. He remained a mystery to you even now. Although...you couldn't say you were any different.

"Did you ever want that for yourself?" He leaned closer, his gaze attempting to pry beneath the depths of your mind.

"No," you breathed, catching one last glance at the sky. "It has always been better for my name to die with me."

"That I don't believe."

"No?" His eyes burned into the side of your face. A silent plea to finally let him in on the secret. To spill about the past you couldn't even accept for yourself.

Even as the years passed quicker than you could comprehend, Viktor never changed. Despite his age now surfacing across his face, he still felt familiar with each new slight wrinkle and faint mark that hadn't been there before. Beneath the fancy clothing and grim expression, he was still the boy you once knew. The ravenous scientist with a hunger to know more.

A man on a never ending journey for knowledge.

"You're brilliant," he said. "You always have been. I never quite understood why you chose to only be a..."

"A healer?" He nodded. "I didn't fit into Topside as smoothly as you did."

Whether he wished to admit it or not, the turmoil that tore through his body and mind was there. Hiding beneath the surface. Even as he refused to meet your gaze. Time may have intertwined you with him, but his dreams remained different—his hopes were vast enough to drag him away from the life you once knew.

Where he found the grandeur of a scientist working for someone brilliant, you found solace in your small shop surrounded with various concoctions and potions. A space that let you be the person you were always meant to be.

"You're talented enough to make a name for yourself. If you let me talk to the counsel–"

"No." The word sliced the air swiftly, silencing him with the sharp end of a whip.

He froze, drawing you out of the stupor your mind hastened to put you in. Upsetting him was the last thing you wanted, but you knew if he didn't stop now things would already be too late. Viktor had a tendency to escalate matters far more than necessary. It's why you were hesitant to even take his call—to give him leeway back into your life like this.

"Why?" he asked, his brows furrowed and eyes piercing through to the depths of your mind.

The answer lay at the back of your tongue—clear and ready to be pronounced with ease. But saying them out loud felt like a feat you'd never be able to manage.

"There are things in my past that are better left where they are," you replied, brushing off the way he looked at you.

A puzzle yet to be figured out. A math problem that held a solution to fix all that was broken.

But that was the thing...you couldn't be fixed. There remained no potion, no herbal remedy that could heal what had torn you to shreds. Who shattered you beyond repair.

Viktor left to pursue his Topside dreams—his pride in himself larger than anything you'd seen. Yet you remained behind. You stayed in the darkness of the Undercity with the promise to one day find him—to celebrate your dreams together. But that was before the battle plans, before you were recruited to help heal those that couldn't heal themselves. Before...him.

When it came down to it, you found yourself in a life far different from the one you dared to imagine with Viktor. The intention to follow him still existed somewhere as a fading dream that might never come true. But once you grew up, saw the world for how it was, you understood why you would never receive the same welcome he did.

You were a soldier first above it all and that was the one thing he would never know.

The secret you held in the confines of your heart.

"My past is the same as yours," he said. "We come from the same land. Surely if they accepted me, they will do the same for you."

You didn't fall in love with the devil.

The words that would never see the sunlight of Topside.

Reaching forward, you pat his knee in a gesture that offered a friendship despite all the secrets. Viktor would do what he wished; you couldn't stop him. That had always been the way of things since you were younger and so it would remain.

Merely two people who once offered to save one another from the bleak aspect of a future ready to eat you alive. Yet now there you were as adults. Sitting close enough to be friends yet miles a part from where you originally started.

You snapped the notebook shut and handed it back to him with a reluctant smile. The distaste of keeping him in the dark was pungent in your mouth, but this choice wasn't up to you to decide. It was always a mutual agreement between two people that were forced to be parted. He wouldn't speak about what happened and you'd do the same.

You were always meant to become a ghost of the Undercity and he a ghost of Topside.

Two fates that were never to intertwine again.

"Tell me," you said, moving to the still open balcony doors. "What's your partner Jayce like?"

He straightened in the chair, relief crossing his face at the realization that he hadn't offended you by pushing too far.

"You will like him."

"Oh I don't know about that," you drawled, a sly smile crossing your lips. "Don't you recall the night of the dinner party?"

He cringed as the memory of that disastrous debacle came to mind. You got into it with a certain doctor he befriended—a man with an ego large enough to choke the very air out of any room. The night ended with you unceremoniously chucking your drink into the man's face to save yourself the harsh act of slapping him. You refused to see Viktor for weeks—your own self worth having been burnt to the ground and defiled.

"I did not know he was going to insult you the way he had."

Scoffing, you leaned your back against the balcony railing. "You knew he wasn't good."

"Unfortunately that I did know." He stood on shaky legs, the clack of his cane against marble echoing off the walls as he joined you. "I can promise that Jayce is nothing like that."

"I'll determine that for myself." You sighed, glancing up at a darkened sky—the stars shimmering bright enough to rival the moon. "Besides, dinner is just us, right? Not a surprise interview to induct me into your hall of science. Because as flattered as I am–"

His laughter spilled over into your chest as he nudged your shoulder with his. "There will be no inducting. Not if you don't wish for it."

"Good." The clock across the room ticked away with expedited force—as if speeding up the flow of time to get you out of here. Yet you found yourself longing to stay, to remain in this small bubble. "Does he know who I am?"

"He knows what I've told him."

"All good I hope," you humored him, offering a placating smile that could be mistaken for charm. In the hopes that you'd make it through this night unscathed.

"There may have been a few stories." Swatting his shoulder, you ignored the shift he made towards you. "Are you okay?"

"Of course." You clutched the railing behind you until your knuckles hurt, your gut filled with the foreboding dread that came with treading the waters of your past. "I'm perfectly okay," you replied confidently.

Even if the words rang with the transparency of a lie.

Piltover at night held no comparison after witnessing the beauty of sunset. Yet after three glasses of wine and a dinner large enough to feed the village, you felt the thrill of excitement fill your chest at the thought of exploring parts you'd yet to see. Looping your arm around Viktor's you fell into step beside him—mere feet behind Jayce and a woman they introduced as Mel.

Of course, you knew who she was. Everyone in the city knew her name, but for the sake of a peaceful dinner void of any politics, you didn't make that fact obvious.

"It was a nice dinner," you said, the breeze off the water skimming the bare skin of your back.

"We should do it again." His voice remained steady, like a piece of home you never thought you'd get back. His eyes however...screamed something entirely different.

A divot in the road you weren't prepared for—one you didn't see yourself wanting.

"We should," you agreed, finding a spot against the railing. The blue of the ocean gleamed beneath the light of the moon. Truly Piltover at its finest. "Maybe next month?"

The irritated sigh slipped past his lips before he could reign it in, but that was all you needed to understand his intentions. You'd been afraid of this since you came to visit him the very first time. An execrable feeling weighed heavy in your stomach as time went on and his silence prevailed.

He stood beside you now with hope in his heart. The voices of Jayce and Mel faded into the background as they walked further away. And you were left with the friend you never wished to lose—the boy you longed to keep knowing.

"I haven't said—I should have said it already but–"

"Viktor," you interrupted, standing upright.

Suddenly the wine and the excessive amount of food didn't sound like a good idea after all. Your heart pounded against your chest, reverberating through your entire body—each nerve alight and waiting for the worst possible scenario to this outcome. He'd been your oldest friend, someone you counted on when you had no one else and the thought of ruining that left you feeling sick.

Each second he looked at you as if you held all the answers to what he pined for made your heart twist painfully.

With a shaky breath, you finally relented to the truth. "I can't."

"What do you mean?" His cheeks flushed vermilion as he fixed his gaze back to the water.

Shutting your eyes to collect your thoughts carefully, you sighed. "I know what you want me—us—to be and I can't...give that to you."

"Oh."

"I do care for you." Somehow the words echoed with hollow deceit, despite how true they felt in your heart.

"It's because of him."

You reared back, startled. "What?"

His eyes—plagued with sorrow deep enough to slice right through you—met yours waiting for a different answer. An explanation as to where your heart belonged. But you stood as still as stone—unable to form thoughts let alone coherent words. He ripped right down to the bone, pulled at your weak tendons and bit down on frayed nerves.

Yet he wasn't done.

"I'm not oblivious. When you finally came to Piltover you wouldn't tell me about what you did when I wasn't there. I only assumed you had feelings for someone. A man you didn't wish to speak about."

You exhaled slowly—the icy chill of relief swallowing you whole. "Oh...yes I...there was someone."

"Do you still love him?"

Glancing across the water, you glimpsed the bridge standing tall—a beacon of this city's hope for progress. But to your eyes it felt like a separation—a division between the two worlds of your life. One filled with enough pain to leave you staggering where you stool and other...a world of grandeur that overflowed with the option of peace.

At one point you had wanted to watch it burn. His betrayal tainted everything good about that place. A scar carved deep enough to leave an everlasting wound that never healed. You longed to forget it—to rid yourself of the memories he plagued—but you still knew one day...you'd stand upon that same ground again.

"I don't know," you breathed, the past clawing its way up your throat—shoving towards the very front of your mind.

BEFORE

The streets were overrun with people as they moved and flowed like the waves on a shore. You felt shoulders knock into you, exasperated glances thrown your way as you fumbled with the plants still gripped in your hands. They grew at the edge of the bridge—hidden in the shadows as a safeguard from the sun. Dirt packed itself beneath your fingernails, mud coating the thin fabric of your pants from where you dug.

"You should really have that looked at," you grumbled, shoving the plant into your satchel.

Garnering no response, you were left to get lost in your own thoughts. Whether or not he was actually in pain didn't concern you. Not when you had a job given by Vander who insisted you focus solely on healing rather than fighting. It's not as if you entirely disagreed with him—you were more than happy being a healer rather than a soldier—you simply couldn't figure how this would help in the long run.

What exactly were you supposed to do when people acted stubborn and brash?

"What are you writing?" he barked, stopping abruptly. You rammed into him with a sneer.

"Nothing that's of any concern to you." Shoving your pen and notebook into the bag, you watched as he huffed in response, turning away. "I'll tell you again since you seem to be hard of hearing. You should really have your wound–" He stopped, eyes flashing over his shoulder with a glare. “–looked at."

"You sure do talk a lot," he snipped.

"It's a gesture of kindness. You don't have to be an ass about it."

How did you manage to get stuck with this man? You were more than capable of sneaking around the border of Topside without anyone's help. Vander assigning you an escort seemed synonymous with the actions of an older brother being overly protective. Yet you weren't related in any way shape or form—you were simply someone who understood the need for change.

Arguing would get you nowhere and so you did your best to ignore his quick glances. Coming up with a correct judgment for what you found took precedence over the man in front of you.

The heat of the day seeped into your clothes—sticking to your exposed skin—the longer you trekked back. If it were possible to steal some time, you'd search for that small pool you and Viktor used to play at—just to submerge yourself in cold water. But with a guard at your side, you were left with only one option. Dreaming about weather cooler than this.

"You're walking too slow," he called over his shoulder.

The desperation for escape called to you, begged you to leave him behind and go somewhere quiet. But before you could sprint in the opposite direction, he turned. Ignoring him didn't seem to be a well thought out solution, but that never stopped you from trying. Even as he glared at you.

What little sunlight remained began to dip below the horizon—a sight you'd neve grow tired of. If only you had the chance to see it over the ocean with a clear sky above.

"You need that fixed before we return." Avoiding the incensed glare directed your way, you settled on the edge of a wall.

"What I need is for you to keep going. So I can go home."

"Listen—whoever you are—I know that when you return you're going to be questioned about why you're in pain. Either you let me patch up that wound or you get Vander. Your pick."

The arguing ceased with a defiant raise of your brows, lips curling into a sly grin that pinned him where he stood. There really was no other option than submission. What was a quick check before you were on your merry way. Much to your delight, he seemed to come to the same conclusion as he joined you on the wall, undoing his vest with an indignant sigh.

Silence filled the empty space between you. Slipping between the cracks and shadows that cast across his angular face. You'd seen him before on the edge of your vision, leaning against the bar with a book in his face—long fingers trailing the rim of his glass absentmindedly. Whether you liked it or not, the two of you differed.

Where you wanted to roam, he longed to be back making plans with Vander instead of trapped in the task of guard duty for a healer he'd never met before.

"Who shot you?" The glow of sunset illuminated the pale skin beneath his shirt—a long jagged scar etched into the skin threw you off for a moment as your fingers searched for blood.

The sharp wince in his face said you'd found it. "I couldn't see their face."

Nodding, you moved his hand to keep the fabric up and out of the way. A quick rummage in your bag for the salve you made earlier caught his attention—turquoise gleamed in your peripheral, prying you open with enough ease to jar you down to the bone.

"The bullet only scraped you. This should help close it up by the end of the week." You pressed the dark mixture along his wound, catching the subtle flinch he tried to smother. "Sorry."

"I'm fine," he mumbled in a whispered tone.

"I can fix it up properly when we return. Get you a real bandage to keep it from getting worse."

You nearly missed it. That slow imperceptible grin that curled at the edge of his lips. But your eyes latched onto it like a kid with candy, savoring the quick glimpse of something surreal. It threw you off balance, forced you to reckon with the thought of never knowing him before today.

Ethereal. Empyrean.

He sat before you a stranger with the eyes of a fond ally. A friend you had yet to be properly introduced to. It seemed he harbored the same thought—his mouth forming the question as if it fell right out of your head and into his lap.

"You're a friend of Vander?" Slipping his vest back on, you noticed he left it unbuttoned.

You found you preferred it that way.

"So are you. I've seen you...uh...with him. Around the bar you know."

The quiet echo of the water lapping at rocks and voices in the distance didn't feel bitter, but rather settled the nerves leaping beneath your skin. It was nice to sit there and watch the night sky show itself to the world once again. Eventually you'd be forced to return to a life that teemed with a clear understanding that hung over everyone's heads. There would be a fight. An inevitable battle for what you believed was right.

But for this transcendent moment you basked in the few moments of peace life allotted you.

The calm before the storm.

"I don't know your name," you admitted, turning your head slightly to catch his gaze already faced in your direction. "Vander never told me."

If he caught you in the middle of a blatant lie, he didn't call you on it. You could tell he saw right through you—the glint in his eyes shining brighter than moments before. This wasn't a clarification for Vander's sake or the battle. You wanted to know his name for yourself. A small token of the man you may never interact with again save for tonight.

After a moment his voice came with a soft breath of air. "Silco."

Teeth dug into your lip to keep the blooming smile at bay. "Silco," you said under your breath.

He latched onto it, dug his fingers into the tangible feeling they created in his chest, and felt a smile pulling wider at his own mouth. You said it again, unable to stop yourself as a thrill of excitement fluttered at the base of your stomach. So simple, so smooth off the tip of your tongue. Yet filled with enough power to stir your chest with a feeling you wished to inspect further.

The lilt of it hung in the air as you turned back to the sky with a satisfied hum, relishing in the time you had left with him at your side.

#silco x f!reader #silco x reader #silco x you #silco x y/n #silco arcane #silco #arcane fic #my writing

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pdriesta · 1 month ago

Text

a love like this — 5

an — a series of blurbs based on the main couple of "something real". if you're someone that read it, let me know if you have requests <3 this chapter is based on this request, i hope you enjoy!

masterlist

the hum of the plane engines blended with the soft chatter of passengers around them as jude and y/n settled into their seats. it was y/n’s first time heading to england, and the excitement in her chest was undeniable. she pressed her cheek against jude’s shoulder, feeling the warmth of his body as they cuddled in their row, his arm around her, pulling her close. the window seat allowed her to glimpse the vast expanse of clouds beneath them, the world below disappearing into a mist of white.

“you’re gonna love it there,” jude said, his voice soft, a hint of a smile playing on his lips as he glanced down at her. “birmingham might not be as glamorous as madrid, but it’s home. my mum’s been texting me nonstop since we left, making sure everything’s perfect for when you arrive.”

y/n grinned, snuggling deeper into his embrace. “i can’t wait to meet everyone properly. i’ve heard so much about your family, but seeing them in their element, in your hometown… it’s different.”

he chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “they already love you, you know that, right? jobe especially. he’s been bugging me about when we’ll get to hang out again.”

y/n’s smile softened at the mention of jude’s younger brother. she had gotten to know jobe better during his visits to madrid, their relationship quickly shifting from a polite acquaintanceship to something more sibling-like. “he’s sweet,” she murmured. “it’ll be fun to catch up. plus, i’ve been meaning to see him play live.”

“oh, you’re in for a treat,” jude grinned. “he’s getting better every time. he keeps me on my toes, you know?”

they spent the rest of the flight talking, sharing stories about their weeks, and laughing about the little things. it felt easy—natural. jude was more relaxed than she’d ever seen him, his excitement about returning home evident in the way he spoke, the softness in his eyes as he talked about his family and how much he missed them. for y/n, hearing him talk about his roots made her heart swell, and it wasn’t long before she felt the same anticipation building inside her.

as they landed in birmingham and made their way to the bellingham family home, y/n’s nerves fluttered beneath her excitement. she knew she had nothing to worry about—jude’s parents had been nothing but kind and welcoming in the past. still, there was something about stepping into someone’s home, seeing their life up close, that made her heart race.

“it’s a lot smaller than milan, huh?” jude teased, his fingers lacing through hers as they walked up the familiar front path.

“it’s perfect,” she whispered, looking up at the house. there was a coziness to it, the kind that made you feel welcome even before stepping through the door.

the moment they walked inside, warmth enveloped her, not just from the house itself but from the laughter that echoed from the kitchen. the smell of freshly baked bread filled the air, and before they even reached the living room, jude’s mum, denise, was already rushing toward them with open arms.

“there you are!” she beamed, pulling jude into a tight hug before turning to y/n, her smile just as wide. “and y/n, love, it’s so good to see you again.”

y/n felt any lingering nerves melt away as denise embraced her warmly. “thank you for having me, auntie” she said, her voice soft but sincere.

“oh, please,” denise waved off the gratitude, her eyes twinkling. “you’re always welcome here. it’s like jude said—you’re family.”

before y/n could respond, a voice came from the kitchen. “are you gonna hog them all night, mum, or can i say hi too?” jobe teased, stepping into the hallway with a grin.

“jobe!” y/n laughed, walking over to greet him. “good to see you again.”

“likewise,” he said, pulling her into a quick hug. “i was starting to think you were avoiding me.”

“me? avoid you?” she raised an eyebrow. “as if. i’ve just been busy, you know, taking care of your brother.”

jude snorted, slipping his arm around y/n’s waist. “more like you’ve been putting up with him,” he added, giving jobe a teasing look.

jobe rolled his eyes but grinned, clearly happy to have his brother and y/n back. “yeah, yeah, whatever. mum’s been raving about how cute you two are, by the way. she’ll probably say it fifty more times tonight, just to warn you.”

“jobe!” denise’s voice came from the kitchen, light-hearted but with the tone of someone who had been caught.

y/n laughed as jude pulled her closer, whispering, “he’s not wrong, though. they’ve been saying it for years.”

“well, they’re not wrong either,” y/n teased, leaning into him as they made their way into the living room.

as the night went on, so did the laughter, and the warm kind of banter that made her feel like she was exactly where she was supposed to be. jude’s family was as kind and down-to-earth as she’d imagined, their love for one another clear in every interaction. after they’d eaten, they all gathered in the living room, where denise brought out old family videos, much to jude and jobe’s chagrin.

“mum, really?” jude groaned as the first clip started playing on the tv.

“what?” denise replied with a grin. “y/n needs to see what i had to deal with when you two were little terrors.”

y/n’s eyes widened as a younger jude and jobe appeared on screen, kicking a football around in the garden. “oh my god,” she whispered, giggling as jude’s chubby-cheeked younger self tumbled over the ball. “you were adorable!”

“i was not,” jude grumbled, his face flushing red as he slumped back into the couch. “mum, seriously?”

“i think you were cute,” y/n said, poking his side playfully. “and jobe too. look at you both!”

jobe snickered, leaning over from his spot on the other side of the couch. “don’t let her fool you, y/n. jude was the absolute nightmare"

for a moment, they just sat there in the quiet, the weight of the day settling comfortably between them. but then y/n stood, stretching her arms above her head. “alright, i should probably head to the guest room.”

jude shot up immediately, his hand wrapping around her wrist to pull her back down beside him. “over my dead body,” he said with a playful smirk.

she blinked at him, a teasing smile tugging at her lips. “what? i just thought—”

“nah,” jude interrupted, shaking his head. “you’re not sleeping in a different room. i barely get to see you as it is.”

“jude—”

“nope,” he said, his voice firm but teasing as he leaned in closer. “you’re staying with me. you’ve been running around, taking care of everyone. now it’s my turn to take care of you.”

her heart fluttered, the warmth in his gaze making her breath catch. “you don’t have to—”

“i want to,” he murmured, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear. “you belong with me, baby.”

the suggestive edge in his tone sent a shiver down her spine, and y/n found herself nodding, her resistance melting away under his gaze. “okay,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “if you insist.”

“i do,” he replied, his eyes dark and full of affection as he nodded, pulling her gently to her feet. “now, come on. let me take care of you.”

and with that, he led her upstairs, their hands intertwined, the promise of something tender and intimate lingering between them as they disappeared into the quiet of the night.

the dining room was warm and lively, filled with the clatter of silverware and the soft murmur of conversation. jude’s parents had set the table, and it was packed with home-cooked dishes that made y/n’s mouth water. she had been a little nervous about dinner, not wanting to seem out of place, but jude’s family made her feel instantly at ease. denise was especially kind, her smile welcoming and her eyes warm as she passed around a platter of roasted chicken.

“so, y/n, how are you finding england so far?” denise asked, her voice full of genuine curiosity as she placed a serving of mashed potatoes on y/n’s plate.

y/n smiled, a little shy under the attention. “it's cold but amazing! everything’s so green and… peaceful,” she said, her gaze flicking to jude, who was watching her with that soft, knowing smile that always made her heart flutter. “and being here, with all of you, it just feels right.”

jude’s dad, mark, chuckled from the other end of the table. “we’re happy to have you here, y/n. you’ve already survived jobe’s sarcasm, so i’d say you’re one of us now.”

jobe, mid-bite, rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything. instead, he just muttered something about how everyone was exaggerating and went back to his food, though y/n didn’t miss the small smile on his face.

dinner was filled with easy conversation—denise asking about their time in madrid, mark recounting stories from when jude was younger, and jobe throwing in sarcastic comments whenever he could. y/n felt her nerves ease as the evening went on, the warmth of jude’s family making her feel more at home than she’d expected.

as the night wore on, the laughter slowly faded into a gentle calm, the house settling into a comfortable quiet. mark yawned, stretching his arms over his head. “i think it’s about time we called it a night.”

denise nodded, rising from her spot. “we’ve had a long day. y/n, jude, feel free to stay up as long as you like, but don’t stay up too late, alright?”

jobe, clearly exhausted from all his teasing, muttered a quick goodnight and followed his parents upstairs, leaving jude and y/n alone in the living room.

y/n leaned back into the couch, a soft smile on her lips as she turned to jude. “your family is amazing.”

“they love you,” jude said, his voice low and warm as he shifted closer to her. “i always knew they would.”

she glanced around the room, taking in the framed family photos and the cozy feel of the space. “being here… it’s like i’m seeing this whole other part of your life,” she whispered. “your childhood, your memories. it makes me feel… closer to you.”

he smiled, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to her temple. “i’m glad. i’ve wanted to share this with you for a long time.”

y/n leaned into the warmth of his touch, her heart swelling as she looked around the kitchen—denise softly humming as she worked, jobe still trying to sneak tastes of the food, and jude holding her as if he never wanted to let go. it was a peaceful kind of chaos, the kind she’d always longed for but never knew she needed. she felt it then, in the laughter and the teasing, in the quiet moments where jude’s hand would squeeze hers or denise’s eyes would meet hers with the tenderness of a mother. this was home now, not just because of the place, but because of the people. they had welcomed her with open arms, and as jude pressed one more kiss to her temple, y/n knew she was exactly where she was meant to be. she wasn’t just part of jude’s life—she was part of the family.

bundled up in jude’s oversized sweater, y/n pulled her coat tighter around her as they strolled through the neighborhood, the crisp english air biting at her cheeks. she snuggled closer to jude, who draped his arm protectively around her shoulders, rubbing his hand along her arm to keep her warm. “i can’t believe how cold it is here,” she muttered, blowing out a breath that turned into a small cloud in the chilly air.

jude chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “welcome to england, love. this is just a regular day.”

“this is freezing,” she groaned, shaking her head in disbelief. “i swear, madrid never feels this cold.”

he grinned, tightening his arm around her. “don’t worry, i’ll keep you warm.”

they walked in comfortable silence for a while, the peacefulness of the quiet neighborhood settling over them. jude pointed out little landmarks from his childhood as they passed them—where he used to race his bike, the school he and jobe attended, the hill where they’d go sledding during the rare snowfall. y/n listened, her heart swelling at the way jude’s eyes lit up with each memory, his excitement infectious.

“and this,” he said with a dramatic wave of his hand as they reached a small park nestled between rows of houses, “was my old stomping ground.”

y/n looked around, taking in the playground equipment that creaked softly in the cold breeze and the winding paths that stretched around the park. “it’s cute,” she said with a soft smile. “you must’ve been a nightmare here.”

jude laughed, nodding as they wandered toward the swings. “i was. spent hours here with my friends. footie, races, you name it. we practically lived here after school.”

y/n smiled, picturing a younger jude running wild through the park, his boundless energy finding its outlet here. she could practically see it, his infectious laughter ringing out as he chased after his friends. “i bet you caused all sorts of trouble.”

“we did,” he admitted with a grin, and then he paused, glancing over at the swings. “actually… this is where i had my first kiss.”

y/n’s eyes widened as she gasped dramatically, placing a hand on her chest in mock shock. “no way! your first kiss? right here?”

jude nodded, his grin widening as he rubbed the back of his neck. “yup. happened right on those swings, believe it or not.”

“oh, you have to tell me everything.” y/n tugged him toward the swings, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “don’t leave anything out.”

jude chuckled, sitting down on one of the swings and motioning for her to sit beside him. “alright, alright. so, i was playing here with this girl named lucy—she lived down the street. we were messing around on the swings when she tripped over her own feet, fell right onto me, and—bam—her lips landed on mine.”

y/n burst into laughter, leaning back in her swing as she tried to picture the scene. “oh my god, poor little jude! minding your business and boom—smooched against your will.”

“exactly,” he said, shaking his head as if the memory still pained him. “i was convinced i’d caught cooties. i was, what, seven? eight? i didn’t even like girls back then.”

“sure, sure,” y/n teased, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow. “but i bet you secretly loved it.”

“no way,” jude insisted, his cheeks flushing a bit. “i didn’t. i avoided lucy for years after that. could never live it down.”

“well, now i know who my competition was,” she teased, nudging him with her foot. “little lucy, sweeping you off your feet before i even had a chance.”

“you’ve got nothing to worry about,” jude murmured, reaching over to take her hand. “lucy’s got nothing on you, baby.”

y/n smiled, their fingers lacing together, but then jude tilted his head, looking at her with a curious glint in his eye. “what about you? who was your first kiss?”

she hesitated for a moment, then let out a soft laugh. “his name was andrés.”

“andrés?” jude echoed, his voice carrying the faintest hint of jealousy. “who’s that and why have i never heard of him?”

“he was this boy from my school,” y/n explained, a nostalgic smile tugging at her lips as she glanced down at their joined hands. “my first real crush. he was smooth, too—always saying the right things, making me laugh. i thought he was so cool.”

“oh, really?” jude said, raising an eyebrow. “smooth. what’d he do that was so smooth?”

y/n leaned back, her grin widening as she teased him. “oh, he was always finding ways to hold my hand during recess, sitting next to me at lunch, making these sweet little comments that had me blushing for days.”

jude rolled his eyes, though his grip on her hand tightened slightly. “and what happened to andrés?”

“my brothers scared him off,” she laughed, shaking her head. “they found out i liked him and, well, you know how older brothers are. andrés wouldn’t even look at me for weeks after that. but we still played together sometimes. every now and then, he’d hold my hand again, sneak little smiles my way. i thought he was so charming.”

“charming?” jude muttered, his lips pulling into a small frown. “sounds more like he was a bit of a show-off.”

y/n giggled, loving how protective he was being. “he wasn’t that bad. eventually, his family moved away, though, and that was the end of that. no more andrés.”

jude’s frown deepened, his jealousy now more obvious. “well, i’m glad he’s gone. don’t like the idea of someone else making you blush.”

y/n smiled softly, swinging gently as she watched him, amused by his possessiveness. “aww, you’re jealous, aren’t you?”

“maybe a little,” jude admitted, though he tried to sound nonchalant about it. “but can you blame me?”

she laughed, shaking her head. “you’re ridiculous.”

“maybe,” he said, standing up from his swing and stepping in front of her. slowly, he leaned down, his hands resting on the chains of her swing, his face just inches from hers. “but you’re mine now. no more andrés or anyone else.”

y/n’s breath caught at the intensity in his gaze, the warmth of his presence chasing away the cold. her heart raced as his lips hovered dangerously close to hers, her pulse quickening in anticipation. “oh?” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “is that so?”

jude nodded, his voice dropping to a low murmur as his eyes flicked to her lips. “that’s right. you’re mine, and i’m not sharing.”

the playful jealousy in his words sent a thrill through her, her skin tingling with the heat of his nearness. without another word, he closed the small distance between them, his lips brushing against hers in a soft, possessive kiss that made her toes curl. he kissed her like he was claiming her, like he wanted to remind her of exactly who she belonged to.

y/n kissed him back, her fingers gripping the chains of the swing as her heart fluttered in her chest. when he finally pulled away, she was breathless, her cheeks flushed and her head spinning.

“yours,” she whispered, her lips barely brushing his as she spoke. “all yours, jude.”

the house was eerily quiet, the usual noise and chatter of jude’s family gone now that they’d headed off to the store. y/n barely had time to process the calm before she felt jude’s hands on her waist, his lips already seeking hers. the kiss was immediate, heated, like he’d been waiting for this moment the whole day. his body pressed her back into the soft cushions of the couch, one hand gripping the side of her face while the other tugged at her waist, pulling her flush against him.

her breath hitched as their lips moved in sync, the kiss deepening, growing more urgent with each passing second. she felt his fingers slip under her shirt, his touch leaving trails of fire on her skin as he caressed her sides, his thumbs brushing dangerously close to the waistband of her jeans.

“god, i’ve been dying to get you alone,” jude muttered between kisses, his voice low and husky, vibrating against her lips.

y/n could only manage a breathy hum in response, her hands finding his hair, tugging lightly as he kissed her deeper, hungrier. her mind was foggy with desire, the warmth of his body pressed against hers sending her senses into overdrive. his hands roamed up her sides, pushing her shirt up in the process until he finally slipped it over her head, leaving her in just her bra.

jude wasted no time, leaning back for a moment to admire her, his dark eyes roaming over her exposed skin, making her heart pound even faster. “so beautiful,” he whispered, voice barely above a breath before he dove back in, his lips pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along her neck, down to her collarbone. his hands were everywhere—on her waist, her hips, her back—like he couldn’t get enough of her.

her fingers fumbled with the hem of his shirt, pulling it off in one swift motion. the feel of his bare skin against hers sent a shiver down her spine, and she could feel the heat between them growing unbearable.

but then it hit her. they weren’t just anywhere—they were in jude’s parents’ house. her mind raced, the reality of the situation crashing down on her like cold water.

“jude, wait…” she whispered, her voice breathless but serious as she tried to gently push him back.

he didn’t stop. his lips moved lower, down her chest, his fingers toying with the clasp of her bra as he hummed against her skin. “wait for what?” his voice was a low, teasing murmur, his breath warm against her skin.

y/n’s breath hitched as he kissed a particularly sensitive spot just above her heart, but she shook her head, trying to regain her focus. “we can’t,” she said, her voice firmer now, though still shaky from the intensity of it all. “not here. not in your parents’ house.”

jude let out a low groan, his lips still grazing her skin as his hands slid down to her hips, tugging at the waistband of her jeans. “and why not?” he asked, his tone filled with playful defiance. “they’re not home. it’s just us.”

“because it’s their house,” she stressed, her hands finally pushing him back just enough to meet his gaze, her cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and desire. “i’m not sleeping with you here, jude.”

he froze, blinking at her in confusion, before a slow, mischievous grin spread across his face. “you’re not sleeping with me here?” he repeated, like the concept was ridiculous. “baby, we’re alone. they’re not coming back for at least an hour.”

y/n shook her head, sitting up slightly to create more space between them. “it’s not about being caught. it’s just… weird,” she explained, trying to catch her breath. “this is your family’s house. your parents. i’d die if they knew.”

jude chuckled, his hands still lazily tracing circles on her thighs as he leaned back, his smirk never leaving his face. “baby, trust me… they know.”

her eyes widened in horror, and she immediately shoved at his chest, her face burning with embarrassment. “don’t say that!” she gasped, her heart racing for an entirely different reason now.

“what? it’s true!” he laughed, clearly amused by her reaction as he leaned back, propping himself up on one elbow. “we’ve been together for a year, y/n. they’re not stupid.”

"jude!" she groaned, covering her face with both hands, her cheeks flaming as she tried to hide from the mortifying reality he was laying out. “oh my god, i can’t believe you just said that.”

“babe, come on.” jude reached out, tugging her hands away from her face, his eyes soft but teasing. “what’s the big deal? it’s not like they’re gonna walk in on us. they’re happy i’m not some lonely, sad guy still living in their house.”

she shook her head, burying her face in her hands again, her mortification only growing. “but my family doesn’t know!” she muttered, her voice muffled by her palms. “i’m still their baby. i’d literally die if they found out.”

jude burst out laughing, his deep voice filling the room as he fell back against the couch. “oh, poor innocent y/n,” he teased, his voice full of mock sympathy. “the family baby… laid up with her boyfriend. how scandalous.”

y/n peeked at him from between her fingers, narrowing her eyes despite the blush still burning her cheeks. “it’s not funny!”

“it’s hilarious,” jude countered, grinning widely as he sat up, leaning closer to her. “especially because you’re not as innocent as you pretend to be.”

her eyes widened in indignation. “excuse me?”

his grin only grew wider, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “remember that time we left your parents’ house last month, and you made me pull over because you couldn’t wait?”

her face turned an even deeper shade of red as she lightly shoved his shoulder. “that was different!”

“oh yeah? and what about the time we were playing cards with my family, and you sat in my lap the whole game? moving around like you were trying to drive me insane on purpose?”

y/n’s jaw dropped in disbelief. “i was not doing that on purpose!”

“sure you weren’t,” jude smirked, his tone dripping with sarcasm as he flopped back down beside her on the couch, covering his face with his arm. “you’re really gonna deprive me like this? after everything?”

y/n let out a frustrated groan, sitting up and running her hands through her hair before crossing them over her chest. "you’re not getting anything. not today."

jude let out a dramatic whine, throwing his arms over his face. "this is torture. you’re seriously doing this to me?"

ignoring his theatrics, y/n closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and muttered, "dios, dame paciencia… y perdóname por caer en la tentación con este hombre…” (God, give me patience… and forgive me for falling into temptation with this man...) she said under her breath, hands clasped in front of her as if she were praying.

jude peeked through his fingers, catching the soft Spanish spilling from her lips. his face split into a grin as he started to laugh, his shoulders shaking with amusement. "are you seriously praying right now?"

"yes!" she shot back, glaring at him with wide eyes. "i need forgiveness for being weak, and for putting up with this arrogante—" she paused, trying to find the right word, her eyes narrowing on him as he kept snickering, "—this cocky, unbearable man beside me."

jude’s laughter only grew, his deep chuckles filling the room as he rolled onto his side, eyes gleaming with pure delight. “oh my god, you’re really asking for forgiveness because of me?”

"yes, jude! i can’t help it. you’re impossible, and now i need divine intervention to deal with you," she huffed, shooting him a look before closing her eyes again, muttering another, "dame fuerza…"

jude’s grin stretched even wider as he reached out, pulling her back into his arms, pressing kisses to her temple. "you love it," he teased, his voice muffled against her hair. "you love me, cocky and all."

“maybe,” she muttered, her cheeks still flushed from embarrassment. “but i’m still praying for patience.”.

y/n stood in the cozy kitchen of the bellingham family home, her sleeves rolled up as she worked on preparing a meal that felt like home to her. she’d insisted on making a few traditional dishes from her culture, eager to share something meaningful with jude’s family. denise, ever the gracious hostess, had offered to help, but y/n knew it was more than that. she wasn’t just cooking for the sake of feeding them; she wanted to treat them, to show them her love and appreciation.

"you really didn’t have to do all this, love," denise said warmly, chopping vegetables by y/n’s side. "we’re more than happy with just having you here, you know that."

y/n smiled softly, glancing over at her. "i know, auntie, but… it’s important to me. you’ve all been so welcoming. i wanted to give back, even in just a small way."

in the sitting room, the lively chatter of jude, jobe, and mark filled the space. their voices carried through, laughing about something, and it brought a soft smile to y/n’s face. it was nice to hear them so at ease. she glanced in their direction briefly, feeling the warmth of being part of their world.

"he’s really lucky to have you, you know," denise said suddenly, her tone quieter now, a touch more heartfelt. "jude… his life’s changed so much these past few years. with madrid, the world cup, all the attention… i worry sometimes how much further it’ll go, how much more he’ll have to handle." she paused, her hands stilling for a moment before she continued. "but then you came. and you’re so good for him, y/n. i can see how happy he is, how much more grounded he seems."

y/n’s heart swelled at denise’s words, but she hesitated for a moment, biting her lip before speaking. "i think… he came at the perfect time for me too," she admitted, her voice quieter now, vulnerable. "before him, i… i was in a really bad place. my last relationship, it wasn’t good. it was… verbally abusive, and it messed with me a lot. made me feel like i wasn’t good enough, like everything about me was wrong."

denise looked at her with soft, understanding eyes, setting the knife down and giving her full attention. "oh, y/n… i’m so sorry. i can’t imagine how hard that must’ve been."

y/n nodded, swallowing thickly. "i didn’t want to tell you because… i don’t want you to think of me any differently. i didn’t want anyone to think less of me."

denise reached out, placing a gentle hand on y/n’s arm. "there’s nothing to be ashamed of, sweetheart. it takes strength to leave something like that behind, and you’re stronger than you know. and for what it’s worth, i’m so glad jude is the one who showed you that love doesn’t have to hurt. love should be gentle, like how he is with you."

y/n smiled, blinking back tears as she nodded. "he changed everything for me. he showed me that love isn’t supposed to be painful, that it’s supposed to feel safe. he’s… he’s everything."

denise’s gaze softened even more, and she gave y/n’s arm a comforting squeeze. "you’re everything to him too. i’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you."

as if on cue, y/n glanced up across the kitchen, her eyes meeting jude’s from across the room. he was mid-conversation with jobe, but the second he caught her gaze, his face softened, his expression turning loving in a way that made her heart skip a beat. the warmth in his eyes was undeniable, like she was the only person in the room. silently, he mouthed, te amo.

y/n felt her cheeks heat up as she smiled softly, mouthing the words back to him. te amo.

denise glanced at the exchange between them, her eyes drifting toward her sons and husband, who were engrossed in their lively conversation. her smile was tender as she returned her attention to y/n. "he’s a good boy with a good heart, y/n. and you… you’re exactly what he needs."

y/n blinked, feeling the weight of denise’s words settle in her chest. "thank you, auntie. that means the world coming from you."

"just keep loving him like you do," denise said, a soft chuckle in her voice as she resumed helping with the meal. "you two are perfect together. it’s beautiful to see."

with denise’s words lingering in the air, y/n turned her attention back to the dishes she was preparing, her heart feeling lighter. she knew this family, this place—they were becoming home to her. and jude, with his unwavering love, was the anchor that held it all together.

as y/n focused on stirring a pot on the stove, the soft sizzle of the ingredients filling the kitchen with warmth, she didn’t notice jude sneaking up behind her. with a mischievous grin, he slipped his arms around her waist, pulling her close and nuzzling his face into her neck.

“you’re supposed to be relaxing in the living room,” y/n murmured, though a smile tugged at her lips as she leaned back into his embrace.

“can’t relax without my favorite girl,” he whispered into her ear, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek. “besides, you’ve been in here too long. i think i’ve lost you to cooking forever.”

denise looked on from the counter, her heart swelling at the playful interaction between them. she couldn’t help but comment, her tone light and full of affection. "you know, jude, i was just thinking… maybe i should have a word with y/n’s mom about marriage. the way you two are going, it wouldn’t hurt to start planning."

y/n’s eyes widened, and she let out a laugh, playfully swatting jude’s hands away from where he’d been teasingly trying to steal a taste of the food. "auntie, you have no idea. my mom and all my aunties have been planning my wedding since i was five! they’re probably already picking out colors."

jude chuckled, resting his chin on her shoulder. "good thing i’m ready whenever you are, baby. tell your mom and aunties to save me a spot."

y/n turned her head, giving him a mock stern look. "i’m still cooking, jude. you’re distracting me."

“that’s the point,” he teased, his voice low, brushing a kiss to her temple. "you’ve done enough. come on, let me take over, or at least let me have a taste."

denise watched them with a loving smile, shaking her head as she chopped vegetables. “you two are a sight to see,” she mused, turning back to her work. “i always wished i had a daughter… and now, i do.”

before y/n could reply, jobe bounded into the kitchen with his usual high energy, bumping into his older brother before nudging y/n’s forehead with his finger. “what’s this? jude hogging all your attention again?”

y/n shook her head with a laugh, swatting at jobe playfully. “you’re both trouble, i swear. what happened to sweet jobe? how am i supposed to cook with the two of you around?”

jobe grinned, unfazed. "that’s the idea! you’ve been working too hard in here. besides, we don’t get to see this side of you too often. gotta enjoy it while we can."

denise chuckled softly from her spot, her eyes shining with affection as she watched the siblings and y/n. “like i said,” she murmured, “i finally have the daughter i always wanted. and you boys better be good to her.”

jude, still holding y/n close, smiled down at her, his voice soft but full of meaning. “don’t worry, mum. i’ll always take care of her.”

y/n looked up at him, their eyes meeting in a moment of quiet understanding amidst the teasing and laughter. and as she stood there, wrapped in jude’s arms, surrounded by his loving family, she realized just how much she had become a part of their world. a world where she was loved, cherished, and exactly where she belonged.

the hum of excitement buzzed in the air as y/n and jude’s family made their way to the stadium, the chatter around them growing louder with every step closer to sunderland’s ground. y/n could barely contain her excitement, her eyes bright as she clutched the tickets in her hand, grinning up at jude.

“you’re really excited for this, aren’t you?” jude teased, his arm draped around her shoulders as they walked side by side, his family chatting behind them. “i’ve never seen you this eexciteddd for one of my matches.”

y/n shot him a playful glare. “that’s not true! i’m always excited for your matches.”

“yeah? never like this.” jude smirked, his fingers brushing over her cheek as they reached the stadium’s entrance. “i don’t think you’ve ever bought my scarf.”

y/n grinned, waving the sunderland scarf she’d just bought from the merch stand. the red and white stripes fluttered in the wind as she wrapped it around her neck. “you’re right. this is jobe’s special day. i’m just here to show support, you know? be a good sister.”

jude’s brow shot up, a playful glint in his eye. “oh, sister now? when did jobe become your little brother?”

she nudged him with her elbow, adjusting the scarf with a fond smile. “he became my little brother during those days in madrid. you remember? we spent a lot of time together. when i had time off” her voice softened as she continued, “i’ve never had a younger sibling. i’m the baby of my family, so it’s nice.”

jude’s eyes softened as he watched her, the affection clear in his gaze. “yeah, but he’s still my little brother. how come he gets all this extra love?”

“ahh, the work excuse,” jude shook his head with a chuckle, clearly not letting this one go. “so, what’s the girl advice?”

y/n’s grin widened, mischief twinkling in her eyes. “i give him all the tips he needs. girl advice, life advice. i want ot be a big sister to him.”

jude’s eyes narrowed, a playful pout forming on his lips. “and what exactly do you tell him?” he asked, his tone a little too innocent.

“wouldn’t you like to know?” y/n teased.

“i don’t get why he’s asking you anyway,” jude said, folding his arms like he was sulking. “i’m right here! i mean, i’ve got plenty of experience—” he started, clearly about to go off on a tangent, but y/n shot him a sharp look, raising her eyebrow.

jude immediately faltered, his words trailing off as he quickly corrected himself. “—uh, i mean… i could give advice, you know, if he asked. that’s all i’m saying.”

y/n smirked, satisfied with his quick change of tone. she reached up, patting his cheek gently, her voice sweet but teasing. “good boy.”

jude’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “anyways, just tell me. i'm your boyfriend after all ”

“can’t tell you. sworn to secrecy.” y/n grinned, enjoying the way jude pouted at her, like a little kid who didn’t get his way.

“sworn to secrecy?” he scoffed, his lip jutting out in the cutest way. “so my brother gets to hear all your wisdom and i don’t?”

“mhm,” she teased, reaching up to press a kiss to his lips, forgetting for a moment that they were out in public, surrounded by his family. “he’s a good kid. i like helping him out.”

jude’s hand lingered at her waist, pulling her closer as he deepened the kiss for just a second too long before his dad’s teasing voice broke through. “save that for after the match, you two!”

y/n pulled away quickly, her face heating up as she realized where they were. jude chuckled, clearly unbothered, his arm slipping around her waist as they made their way to their seats.

once they settled in, y/n leaned forward, scanning the pitch as the players warmed up. her excitement bubbled over, clapping when she spotted jobe in his sunderland kit, looking focused and ready for the match.

“there he is,” she whispered, nudging jude. “look at him go.”

“yeah, yeah,” jude said, though his tone was teasing. “don’t forget who your actual boyfriend is, okay?”

y/n rolled her eyes, playfully nudging him again. “you’re impossible.”

the match began, and y/n found herself on the edge of her seat, her eyes glued to the field. she clapped and cheered alongside the bellingham family, all of them fully immersed in the game. every touch jobe made, every sprint, every pass had her heart racing. and when jobe scored, the entire family leaped up, cheering wildly.

y/n jumped to her feet, her excitement bubbling over as she threw her arms around jude. “he did it! he scored!” holding her close as they celebrated together, he laughed at how cute she looked.

“i’m proud of him,” she grinned, her eyes bright with pride.

as the final whistle blew and the match came to an end, they all made their way down to the pitch, congratulating jobe on a well-played game. y/n hung back slightly, letting the family have their moment with him. she watched fondly as jude clapped his brother on the back, pride evident in every interaction.

just as y/n was about to give them space, jobe turned to her, his voice nonchalant, like it was no big deal. “hey, y/n, wanna take a photo with me?”

y/n blinked, surprised. she hadn’t expected him to ask, especially with how chill he was acting. “me?” she asked, pointing to herself, her tone teasing as if she couldn’t believe it.

jobe glanced at her, shrugging like it was obvious. “duh, you’re part of the family too.”

his words caught her off guard, a warmth blooming in her chest. she smiled, her heart swelling with affection. “well, when you put it that way...” she stepped forward, standing beside him as he handed his phone to someone nearby to take the picture. as they stood there, the rest of the family gathered around, pulling them all into a tight, cozy embrace. arms wrapped around shoulders, and laughter filled the air. the warmth of the moment surrounded y/n, like a soft, comforting blanket, and she felt a deep sense of belonging. jude’s arm slipped around her waist, giving her a gentle squeeze, and when she looked up, his soft smile met hers. they were more than just a couple at that moment; they were family, surrounded by love, and it was everything she didn’t know she needed.

y/n wiped her hands on a dish towel, her phone buzzing in her pocket. when she pulled it out, she smiled at the simple message lighting up her screen.

jude: come outside, beautiful.

she glanced toward the back window, noticing the soft glow of a fire flickering outside. the air was brisk, the chill of autumn creeping in as the sun set behind the trees. she tugged at the sleeves of jude’s oversized sweat set, the fabric engulfing her small frame but giving her that familiar comfort. it was like being wrapped up in him even when he wasn’t there.

after finishing up helping jobe with something, she slipped outside, the cool air instantly biting at her skin as she padded toward the backyard. her heart fluttered when she saw him, lying on the outdoor couch, wrapped in a blanket with the fire casting a warm, golden glow across his face. his eyes met hers, lighting up with that smile that always made her knees weak.

“hey, baby,” jude called out softly, holding his arms open for her. “come here.”

y/n’s lips curved into a smile as she made her way over, the fire crackling in the background, casting dancing shadows across the patio. she climbed onto the couch, her knees sinking into the cushions as she straddled his waist, letting the blanket fall over them both. she felt his arms wrap around her instantly, pulling her down against his chest.

“you’re wearing my clothes again,” jude said with a grin, his hands slipping under the hoodie to feel the warmth of her skin. “god, you look so cute like this.”

y/n chuckled, tugging at the hem of the sweatshirt that practically swallowed her whole. “your clothes are too big for me, but i won't lie they’re so comfy. i love it.”

“you always look perfect to me,” jude murmured, pressing a kiss to her forehead as his hands ran up and down her back.

they fell into a comfortable silence, the only sound being the crackle of the fire and the occasional rustle of the trees in the wind. y/n rested her head on his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing beneath her. there was something so peaceful about the moment, like time had slowed just for them.

“i love it here,” y/n whispered, tracing little patterns on his chest through his shirt. “being with you, with your family… it feels so right.”

jude hummed, his arms tightening around her. “i’m glad you’re here,” he replied softly, his lips brushing the top of her head. “i wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

y/n tilted her head to look up at him, her eyes catching the flicker of the firelight in his. “you’re so sappy sometimes, jude.”

he laughed, his chest rumbling under her. “only for you.”

she couldn’t help but smile, her heart swelling with affection as she settled deeper into his embrace. it was moments like this that made her realize how much she loved him, how much she cherished every second they spent together. it felt like home.

“you know…” jude’s voice broke the comfortable silence, his tone teasing but thoughtful, “i can see myself retiring here one day. just like this… with you in my arms, old and grey.”

y/n blinked, her brows raising as she lifted her head to look at him fully. “retiring? that’s a long way off,” she teased, poking his chest lightly. “you’ve still got years of football ahead of you.”

jude smirked, his hand slipping up to cradle the back of her neck. “yeah, but… it’s a nice thought, right? you, me… together. always.”

y/n gave him a playful grin, shaking her head. “and who says i’ll even want to be with you when you’re old and grey? maybe i’ll have… other options.”

jude’s jaw dropped in exaggerated shock. “other options? y/n, please. i’m still gonna be a sexy old and grey. you won’t be able to keep your hands off me, woman.”

she burst out laughing, hiding her face in his chest as his words echoed in her ears. the image of jude as an older man, still with that same cocky charm, made her shake her head in amusement. “you’re ridiculous.”

“i’m just confident,” jude countered, his hand playfully squeezing her waist. “you’ll still want me. admit it.”

y/n lifted her head, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “okay, fine. maybe i’ll still want you,” she conceded with a grin. “but only because you won’t stop pestering me.”

jude’s laugh filled the night air, deep and full of warmth. “see? i knew it.”

y/n couldn’t help but shake her head at his antics, but her heart fluttered all the same. the idea of growing old with jude, of sharing a future with him, didn’t seem so far-fetched anymore. in fact, it was something she wanted more than anything.

“you really see all of that with me?” she asked quietly, her voice suddenly soft, vulnerable.

jude’s playful expression shifted, his eyes softening as he looked at her. “yeah, babe,” he said, his hand gently brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “i see everything with you. there’s no one else.”

her breath caught in her throat at the sincerity in his voice, the way his eyes never left hers, filled with nothing but love. she felt her heart swell with emotion, the weight of his words sinking in.

“i love you,” she whispered, her voice thick with feeling.

jude smiled, his thumb brushing her cheek before he leaned up to press a soft kiss to her lips. “i love you too. more than anything.”

they stayed like that for a moment, wrapped up in each other, the fire crackling softly beside them as the cool night air swirled around. y/n nestled into his chest, closing her eyes as the warmth of his arms enveloped her, making her feel safe, loved.

“maybe retirement wouldn’t be so bad,” y/n murmured sleepily, her cheek pressed against his heart.

jude chuckled, his hand gently rubbing her back. “i told you. just you, me… a fire like this… and a lot of love.”

she smiled, her heart full as she cuddled closer. “yeah… that sounds perfect.”

taglist — @sinners-98-world @stephiii29 @kcharlyy @landosgirlxoxo @judesthighveins @ilovelifes-world @cinderellawithashoe @imnyt @miniemonie2001 @lunamelona

#pdriesta writes #jude bellingham #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham smut #jude bellingham imagines #jude bellingham imagine #bellingham x reader #jude bellingham angst #real madrid #jb5 #jude bellingham fanfic #football blurb #jb5 x reader #football imagine #football x reader #football smut #football fanfic

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reverieblondie · 1 year ago

Text

Costume Party

Pairing: Peter B. Parker X Fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Smut with some Plot, Exhibitionism, Praise, Mask-Kink, Protected Penetrative Sex (wrap it before you tap it), Fingering, Pining.

Summary: At a costume party you run into a guy with a very impressive Spider-Man costume....He seems familiar...

A/N: So, I am not ashamed to admit it! I think Peter B is hot and needs more fics about him. For this story MJ and Peter are divorced. If you enjoyed this Halloween themed Fic, please checkout my Halloween Fic with Miguel here.

Word Count: 6,245 (Not edited very well, sorry)

“I can't believe how crowded this place is, it’s not even Halloween yet?”

You shout in the crowded bar filled with an array of costume-clad people. It was a week before Halloween and people were already out and about getting the Halloween festivities into full swing. Your friend Bea laughs at your remark.

“Well some people are trying to get the most out of their costumes, it's no fun you only get one night to enjoy it.”

“Like Mallory?” pointing your finger to the dance floor you see your friend Mallory dressed as an amazing Jason Voorhees tearing it up on the dance floor drawing in a crowd. Let's just say Mallory takes Halloween very seriously.

Taking a moment just to appreciate your friend Bea breaks the silence, “Never thought I would see Jason twerking…”

“You have to love her enthusiasm” you respond hypnotized by the slight.

“Well Kitty Cat, I think Jason could use a dancing partner and Barbie is just the right person. Are you going to join us?” Bea dressed as cowgirl Barbie begins to dance over to Mallory as she keeps her eyes on you for your answer.

“You two go for it, I'm going to walk around, maybe get some fresh air..”

With that Bea gives you a nod and starts dancing with Mallory, rewarding you with the image of Barbie dancing with Jason Voorhees. Not being much for dancing you start walking around the party and watching the different costume-clad people having fun and interacting. There are Vampires, Werewolves, Nurses, disgraced celebrities, and ghouls galore! Costumes ranged from professional cosplayer level to a dude in a Spider-Man tee shirt and a plastic mask. No judgment though you went the basic route with your costume going as a sexy kitty, a costume that Mallory had loaned you from her vast collection.

Mallory being the Halloween fanatic had invited you and Bea to this costume party at a popular club and with it being October, of course, it was a costume party. Not minding too much you had Mallory pick out a costume for you and off to the club you went.

In all honesty, you needed a party to attend, work was starting to stress you out due to your boss being well a dick. Now three hours in the club is in full swing, the crowded floor and booming music all though enjoyable was starting to give you a slight headache. So needing to find a way to soothe your headache you decide to go outside to get some first air.

Pushing your way through the club you find a backside door. Perfect! Haphazardly swinging it open, you hear a smack followed by a low groan. Quickly stepping out in the cool night air you see a guy in a very impressive Spider-Man costume rubbing his hand over his nose. Shit-

Feeling guilty you rush over apologizing profusely, “Oh, I am so sorry! Are you okay?”

“Why are you swinging doors open so-” The masked man quickly stops mid-sentence looking at you in what seems to be a surprise, you can only assume due to the mask covering his face, but the white lenses grow wide looking at you so it tipped you off. Clearing his throat he finally looks away before speaking, “I’m fine don’t worry about it”

“Well I feel bad I smacked you pretty hard, is it broken?” You try reaching for the mask to lift it but he quickly holds his hands up moving away and stopping you.

“I’ve taken worse hits, it’s no big deal really” He lifts his mask and reveals his lips and the tip of his nose. “See, not even bleeding,” he says with a slight smile.

Woah, diggin the scruff there my guy, plus that cute smile? You couldn’t help yourself from blushing slightly. He lowers his mask again, seeming to be leaving but you interject. “Um Wait, I still feel bad! Maybe I can buy you a drink? To make up for my reckless door opening?”

He seems to think for a moment, rubbing his hand on his chin. Watching as he eyes you for a moment, you can't see his eyes but you have a feeling he is talking to you all in. Adjusting your skirt you give a sweet smile trying to persuade him.

“You're not going to hit me again, are you? kitty?”

The playful pet name has you biting your bottom lip quickly. Okay, flirt. Not knowing the way that costume is showing off his arms, the playful teasing, or maybe it's the mask but you're intrigued by him.

“Not unless you give me a reason too” you playfully say, opening the door and turning back for him to follow you in.

“Well I will tread carefully then,” he follows closely behind you.

Making your way with Spider-Man in tow, you push past all the different ghouls. Finally making your way to the bar you hand him a menu looking through one yourself. “Just try to steer away from the top shelf please.”

This gets a laugh out of him as he leans against the bar, something about his laugh seemed familiar in a way but you couldn't place it. “I thought you were making up for hitting me with a door?”

“I am, but you didn't bleed, if you had bled you could have gotten top shelf.” You tease and it causes him to laugh more, you're kinda surprised by yourself flirting with a random stranger but there is something about him that you just can't help it. The bartender finally makes their way over to you two, inquiring about your orders. Spidy orders an Old-fashioned while you order a Sbagliato, you can’t let him drink alone now, could you?

Receiving your drinks you two sip and start chatting, common small talk, but both of you dance around the obvious question ‘What's your name’. Lost in the conversation you're just drinking the tall man in. Two things circle your mind as he talks; One you're really into the way his lips curl against the glasses rim and two his costume is really impressive now that you look at it closer.

Spider-Man, New York's favorite hero, has become one of the most popular costumes. They ranged from kids' costumes to adults and even offered a sexy Lady Spider costume that you have seen a few times tonight. But this guy's costume was impressive. Not only did it look high quality, but it was like it was designed just for him to show off his assets. Was he completely jacked? No, but those strong arms and solid chest still had you blushing.

“I like your costume, Spider-Man he's a good one” This catches his attention and he looks towards you before responding. “You don’t think it's a bit…Overdone?”

You chuckle “Maybe, But I'm dressed as a sexy kitty. I can't exactly judge someone on having an overdone costume.” This causes him to laugh sliding closer to you. “Plus, your costume is really impressive, looks professional quality.” reaching over lightly brush your fingertips across the web pattern.

“Well, I like your costume, I think you pull it off well, the ears are a nice touch” he turns to look at you and you can feel your face blush from the compliment. For a moment you feel his hand slightly graze your lower back, but it's only for a second before he moves away taking a long sip of his drink. Poor thing wants to flirt but doesn't want to seem like a creep. Giving him some reassurance to the flirting you squeeze his forearm feeling his muscle.

“So, is the mysterious guy thing a technique of yours?”

He looks at you with a crooked smirk “What do you mean?”

“You know, the whole masked man thing? Flirting with girls but never revealing who you really are, keeping us as strangers.”

“Are you sure we are strangers?” he quickly interjects. oh?

“Are we not?” you inquire with a smirk, something about him is familiar but you still can't place it.

“Well, we have been talking for a while now, I think we have at least turned to acquaintances by now.” ah, that's what he means. “Well, I usually know my acquaintances' faces.”

He leans in more, his mask still lifted showing off his grin “Well, what's the excitement in that?”

-----

Now you're not exactly sure how you ended up in a dark booth but here you are still talking to your mystery man, he was right about the excitement, it made the flirting and slight touches just a little bit better.

“I swear if my boss wasn't riding someone's ass he would die!” throw your head in your hands, somewhere in between small talk and flirting work was mentioned and you took the chance to vent. As you are ranting you feel a finger brush against your cheek then tucking a strain of hair behind your ear. You stop talking and feel all your breath escape you, his soft touch has your heart racing.

Sliding closer to you he's whispering in your ear “You know kitty cat, it sounds like you need some stress relief…” -oh, word?

“Is that so? And how are you going to relieve my stress?” I ask arching my back to lean in closer

Leaning in, he plays with a strain of your hair, he's so close to you know you feel his warm breath tickling your ear. The warmth radiating off him just causes you to shudder in excitement. “I figured I could fuck you so good you forget about your job…”

The bluntness of his comment has your skin tingling with a sudden rush. With a shaky breath you respond, “T-that's big talk For s-someone who hasn’t even kissed me yet…”

“Well then, let me kiss you,” he gently grabs your chin and brings you closer to his lips. Feeling the heat of your body rising to a fever you lean in with half-lidded eyes lips in a slight pout waiting for him to kiss your flushed face. Even though you can't see his eyes you can see the smile stretching to his lips and the blush starting to creep across what you can see of his face.

“Please” is all you can whimper before he gently leads his lips to yours, the kiss is slow but intense. It made your body feel like you were on fire only to be cooled by his hands sliding up your thighs to then grip your hips bringing you closer.

One of his hands plays with the hem of your skirt before slipping under to brush gently against your ruined panties, causing a quick gasp to escape your lips. Taking his opportunity he slips his tongue past your lips allowing him to taste you, while his finger pushes harder against your clothed folds pushing the ruined fabric further against your clit.

Breaking away from the kiss you whine breathlessly as he continues to brush against your wet cunt. “We’re in public…”

He just smirks as he slips his finger under your underwear running his long finger over your dripping slit, this causes a sudden moan to rip through you, “shh, I know, your going to have to be quiet, there are other people around kid..” his honeyed voice teases as he continues to slowly push his finger in to curl into you.

Shaking your head no you can't help but tighten and squirm as he touches you. Unable to contain yourself by letting out quiet moans as your wetness starts dripping down his fingers. Wanting to push you over the edge he starts rubbing tight circles at your clit with his thumb, which has your head being thrown back with a gasp.

Ever the opportunist you're figuring out he kisses and licks your neck up to your ear. “Shh, We could go somewhere more private if you want?”

Breathless trying to keep your cool you can only release a ‘mhmm’ before he's pulling his finger out of your weeping slit. Before you can complain you see him take his coated finger in his mouth, shutting you up. Surviving around he sees an empty-looking bathroom and nods his head towards it. Eyes completely blown, face fulling red you can only nod in agreement.

Chuckling at your lustful expression he adjusts your cat ears on your head. Downing his drink he takes your hand and leads you out of the booth, he walks behind you and whispers in your ear, “I’m going to take such good care of you, such a good girl, you deserve to be taken care of” his soft phrases have you melting and eager to get him alone.

Before you can get to the bathroom, you quickly stop remembering something important, pulling him closer to whisper in his ear.

“I will meet you over there. I have to get something from my friend really quickly.”

He pulls you for a kiss and bites your bottom lip when he pulls away. “Hurry, I need to make you feel good.”

Nodding quickly you run off to go find your friend. Looking like a mad woman you're scanning all over the club for your friends till you see a shoulder-shimming Jason and you quickly make your way over.

“Mallory, I need to get something from you!” you say desperately as she continues to dance.

“Nuh uh call me by my name please” she teases as he swings her hips around.

“Uhhg, Jason I need a condom”

Mallory suddenly stops dancing and slowly turns to you. “Excuse me-“

“Just give me the fucking condom!” You say you are fully frustrated, you have a sexy man wanting to ravish you, you don't have time for any teasing, you're hot and horny and need to go!

Mallory looks at you confused before reaching into her wallet and giving you the contraceptive. Before you can rush off she grabs your arm. “Just know you wouldn’t survive a horror movie.”

Giving a quick ‘Thank you’ you run off to Spider-Man.

———

Rushing back you see him leaning against the wall near the bathroom. As you approach he is quick to grab your hand and lead you in. As soon as you're through the door he's locking it and pressing burning kisses to your lips backing you up to the cold wall. Gasping at the feeling of his hands slowly rubbing all over your curves he makes you wetter.

“So pretty,” he mumbles as he brings you away from the wall, bending you over on the sink's counter in front of the mirror. Quickly peeling away your shirt he kisses up your spine and massages your breast. You can't help but push your ass into his strained cock feeling him twitch as you rub against him. placing his hand on your jaw he lifts your head to face the mirror. Kissing along your neck, Confused you go to make a snarky remark “What am I ah-”

A moan rips through you as two fingers are slipped through your puffy folds into your slit stretching you open instantly. He can only chuckle and he moves his lips to your shoulder, kissing you as he sinks knuckle-deep into your tight cunt. Moans slip from your lips as the stretch he's causing you, and this is only his fingers.

After a single moment for you to adjust to his fingers, he curls them into you looking into the mirror watching as your face contours in ecstasy. “Nuh uh, Kitty, keep those eyes open, look at how gorgeous you are….”

Shooting your eyes open you see his mask eyes on you with his lips cooing sweet words while he pushes faster into you curling slow and deliberate. Mouth hanging open you start to push your hips into his hand more.

“Oh, that feels good huh kid? You work so hard, like a good girl…”

All you can do is nod as you approach your high, feeling yourself clench around him approaching your orgasm.

“Feels so good, I do work hard…” you moan out watching him through the mirror. He smiles and hums pushing you down further spreading your legs out further, now hitting your sweet spot. You can't help how you're moaning, and he just smiles like your moans are music to his ears.

“A good girl like you, I can tell you do, ride my fingers till you cum, you deserve it….” Being supported by the squelching sound of your wet cunt and his sweet phrase you start rocking yourself back and forth faster and faster, slamming his long fingers into your dripping wet cunt. Chasing your high the orgasm rips from you and you cream all over his digits. It drips down his fingers falling to the floor.

“Cumming so pretty for me,” he coos and he takes your costume off, you're still coming down from your high so you lazily watch through lidded eyes as he strips your skirt and panties off. Then swiftly peels down his suit and pulls his cock out and it's already pebbling with pre cum. Pumping his cock he watches your aroused clit swell and your spend slit clench around nothing. While rolling on the condom he coos at you.

“You want to cum again?”

Watching him pump himself you let out a whine of yes arching your back to entice him to put it in. Chuckling he gathers your arousal around his cock teasing you further.

“Please! I need it!”

“Oh? You need it alright, going to make it where you won’t forget about this cock kitty cat. Now look forward, I want those pretty eyes watching me.”

Sliding into you smoothly his cock stretches you deliciously making you moan as he pushes further, filling you up. Your hands splay out over the sink counter, it's pure bliss that makes your mind clear of all the bullshit you have had to endure till this moment. Forget him fucking you so good you forget your job you're forgetting everything. He slowly starts his positioning into you, you can feel him resisting the urge to slam into you from the tight grip on your hips.

“Oh your such a good girl for me, taking me so well”

He thrust into you faster into your messily wet cunt, His increased pace making your second high come all too quickly. Looking up you see him biting his lip as your pussy tightens around him, feeling him leaning over you, feeling sloppy kisses and nipping at your shoulders and neck as he rails into you deeper. Feeling his tip kiss your spot that has you seeing stars.

“Don’t cum yet kitty, I want to feel you clench down on me more” his heavy breathing fans over your ear before he's kissing your earlobe.

All you can do is whine as he keeps throbbing and pushing you. The shooting pleasure has your knees buckling and your body shaking. Moaning from you and him bouncing off the wall you feel him grab a handful of your hair and bring your eyes to the mirror.

“Taking me so good, so good… ” He thrust harder, losing all the remaining restraint he once had. Looking forward in the mirror your face is flushed, hair completely ruined, biting your lip hard. The knot in your stomach feels like it's about to burst.

“Ah, I need to cum!”

“Ah, cum on me baby,”

Feeling your pussy clench tighter on him, his words make your knot snap as his cock throbs within you. Vision blurring your orgasm washes over you dramatically causing you to scream out and you make a mess all over his cock. Helping you ride your orgasm he reaches his fingers to your cunt he plays with it sending you further over the edge.

Finally, with your cunt fluttering over him, you feel his cock throb and spurt while inside you reaching his high. Panting, he holds himself up on the contour, arms keeping you caged underneath him. It's quiet for a moment before he gently pulls out of you. Rubbing your back he carefully leans you up supporting you as you finally stand straight, your legs feel like jelly.

As you catch your breath, he seems to have recovered mostly. Helping you get cleaned up, fixing your hair, and handing you your costume. As you get dressed you feel like you should say something to him, ask his name, ask for his number maybe? You want to see him again.

“So um…” As you start to speak up he sees your nervousness. Quickly getting his costume back on he leans over and presses a kiss to your lips, then to your neck, moving to your ear lightly nipping at it to make you laugh.

“I will see you next weekend on Halloween, here, okay?”

“Okay”

With that, he puts his mask down helps you readjust your costume and walks you out of the bathroom. Before he leaves he whispers to you,” I can’t wait to see you again kid.” Kid…He keeps calling you that, it's familiar…

when you turn around to look back at him he’s gone.

——-

Typing away you are trying to get all of the meetings with the chief organized, you also have to organize all his paperwork, take all his calls, Go in and scribe for all his meetings or whatever rants he is making that you want you to write down. Then order him lunch, get his dry cleaning sent and delivered, and make sure he has dinner reservations to whatever place he's craving that night. All this while he is yelling at you to bring him coffee or whatever else he needs from around the newsroom. Working for J. Jonah Jameson was rough, especially as his assistant.

While you are trying to get your work done you also have Bea in your ear, she was a copy editor at the Daily Bugle, however today she was ignoring her work, and all she could talk about was…

“I can’t believe it! I’m still in shock! You had sex with some random guy at the club!”

People around your desk look at you two with puzzled expressions. Lowering your head you grimace “Yeah, why don’t you say it a little louder I don’t think the marketing department heard you.”

Lowering her voice she continues to say “I’m sorry Y/N, I just can’t believe you hooked up with a random stranger at a club, that's pretty spontaneous…and you didn't see his face at all?”

“Well, not fully I saw his lips and the tip of his nose…”

“Kinky…so when you see him again are you going to wear a mask too?” rolling your eyes you look at her unamused “Are you done?” She laughs and hugs you as you continue to type. “For now until I think of more jokes or come to ask for more details.”

During the hug, Jameson calls for you. Bea lets go of you and starts heading back to her department giving you a sad wave as she goes. Quickly rising from your desk grabbing your notepad just in case you hurry to your boss's office to see what he wants. Pacing in his office he is yelling at someone over the phone, a common tone for him. Jameson darts his scowl towards you and snaps at you, you quickly get ready to write something down but he shakes his hand and mouths the word ‘Coffee’ pointing to his empty mug. Ah, of course, go fetch him coffee.

Backing away from the doorframe you suddenly feel that you are pressed against someone. Quickly turning your head to apologize, your breath catches in your throat. Smiling down at you, you're met with a familiar set of brown eyes that always makes you feel giddy, Peter B Parker. Carefully he places a hand on your waist gently moving you through the doorway.

“Sorry kid, I have to squeeze past you,” he keeps his smile on you as he slips past. Once inside he takes his seat in front of Jameson's desk waiting for him to finish his call.

As you're walking out you can't help but look over your shoulder to steal a glance of Peter, but when you do you catch Peter doing the same to you. Shooting you another smile you feel your face warm and quickly go to make your boss's coffee.

Making your way back to Jameson's office, coffee made just how he likes you see that Peter is showing him his latest photos of Spider-Man. Glancing at the photos you are reminded of how talented Peter is, definitely one of the best freelance photographers that works for the paper.

Honestly looking at some of the pictures you have to question how he was getting such incredible shots, he would never reveal his secret though. Peter had been gone for a couple of months, a nasty divorce apparently which made you rather sad. Peter was one of the nicest guys at the paper, he always talked and joked with you, treating you like an actual person, not everyone is always so nice.

Now he was back you were excited that the Bugle would have some quality pictures and you got to see more of Peter again. Being honest with yourself you have a bit of a thing for him. Kind, super smart, incredibly funny plus not bad to look at either, how could you not end up with a crush? Though when you two first met he was married so that meant off limits, then the divorce happened and he did not take it well. Now that he's finally back he seems okay, you notice that he talks to you more and you two share more stolen glances but that could just be wishful thinking on your part.

“Y/N!” Suddenly snapped from your thoughts you see your boss and Peter staring at you.

“Yes sir?”

Jameson rolls his eyes “I said quit your daydreaming and hand me my coffee!” Nodding you quickly hand him his coffee and decide that it’s time you took a break.

--------

Plopping down in the breakroom you lazily look down at your coffee sighing. If only your masked stranger was here to relieve your stress again. Mind wandering back to that night you feel your face heat from what he said to you, how he touched you, his lips…lips…reminiscing back you think of that smile and the conversations, he seemed familiar? Especially that smile…and what did he mean when he said we might not be strangers?

Face contorted in thought you fail to notice that Peter has walked into the breakroom. Reaching the top shelf Peter pulls down a mug and pours himself some coffee looking over at you he must see you lost in thought, “Penny for your thoughts?”

His voice startles you for a moment breaking your trance, Peter looks at you expectantly waiting for you to speak, You couldn’t repress the words flying from your mouth as you stared at Peter, “Would you fuck a stranger?”

“Uh, I mean I think I could manage it for sure. But I would hardly call us strangers?” He says with a smirk. Huh? -Deja vu

You roll your eyes you brush off the words with a laugh “It’s not a proposition it was just a question”

“That’s a pretty specific question?”

“Well, this weekend I was at a party and I met this guy…and he was so funny and charming that we, you know…”

“Had sex” Peter says frankly finishing your sentence for you.

“Yeah had sex”

“Well sounds like your not strangers”

“That’s the thing though, he kept his mask on…”

Peter gives a long whistle “y/n? You are a freaky little thing aren't you?”

Something about how he says that makes your body rush with excitement, it feels…familiar…shaking the feeling away you continue.

“Do you think that's weird though? Like I didn’t see his full face at all.”

Peter smirks to himself as he pours sugar and cream into his coffee. As he sits down he stirs his coffee listening to you ramble, “Well, I think it's up to you. Did you like it?”

“I mean yeah, but it's still weird…but like a good weird, you know? It's exciting.” As you look up you see him listening intently to you, his eyes bright and smile soft, it makes your heart skip for a moment.

“I probably shouldn’t be talking to you about this, I'm sorry..”

“Doesn't bother me, I'm the one who asked '' He playfully nudges your arm and you can't help but giggle. “Are you going to see him again?”

“Yeah, same place Halloween night…kinda nervous about it”

“Why, I mean you two already had sex at the club?”

“Yeah, wait…how did you know we had sex at the club?” you look towards him with furrowed brows. Peter looks surprised for a moment but quickly responds “I heard your friend talking about it.” -of course he did…

Sighing you put your head in your hands. Peter pats your back “It’s not that bad I don't think everyone knows…yet..”

With a pout you place your chin in your hand leaning on the table, “It's not that, it's the mystery guy.”

“What, you don't want to see him again?”

“I do, just…what if he doesn't want to see me again?”

Looking down at your coffee you're kinda in shock that you're confessing all this to your office crush, who does that? But suddenly you feel a familiar gesture, a finger sliding across your cheek tucking a strain of hair behind your ear. Looking over to Peter you see that same smile, it's just like...You feel your face heat up. Peter's face looks equally flustered, quickly he moves his hand and grabs his coffee. Standing quickly he mutters how he has to go, before he's out the door he turns around, “he would be crazy not to want to see you again y/n”

With that, he leaves you a blushing mess.

--------

“I’ve seen several Spider-man, are you sure none of them are your guy?” Bea says, taking a sip of your drink and adjusting her large hat for her ‘sexy witch’ costume.

“No, his costume is high quality like a professional,” you say with a slight lisp, feeling irritated that the fangs for your ‘sexy vampire’ costume are making you talk weirdly. You go to take them out but Mallory quickly stops you.

“Hey don’t take them out, it breaks the illusion!” you sigh and stare disheartened at your friend Mallory in her idea of a sexy costume ‘sexy Mothman’.

Bea had begged us all to dress sexy this go round and you and Mallory begrudgingly agreed so Mallory helped you get your vampire costume and even decorated you up with some blood, while she did her twist to a sexy mothman.

“Maybe he's not here? Running late?” Mallory questions

“The party is in full swing, maybe he's in the bathroom waiting for you,” Bea nudges playfully.

Sudden realization hits you and you quickly chug your drink down. Bea and Mallory look at each other and then back to you once you're done. Finishing the drink you slam the glass on the contour, “I think I know where he is”

At a hurried pace, you make your way from the bar in the back of the club to the back door where it all started. Nerves swirled around in your gut, you hoped he was here, you wanted to see him, feel him, talk to him. You didn't want this to be another one-night thing, you wanted to know who he was and you had an idea or well maybe it was just wishful thinking. Having a week to agonize about who he was you had a pricking thought of who you imagined him to be.

Making it to the door that started it all, you take a deep breath, take out the fake fangs, and open the door carefully this time making sure it doesn't fly open to hit any unsuspecting Spider-Men. Making your way out the door you don't see anyone and it causes your heart to sink. He's not coming.

Suddenly you feel a hand on your hip, while the other brushes your hair back to expose your neck. You are scared at first till you hear that same honeyed voice “Glad you learned to open doors carefully kitty.”

Surrendering to his touch you let his lips caress your neck, “I'm not a cat anymore, I'm a vampire.” turning you see that half up spiderman mask with that same sly smirk, you wrap your arms around his neck “I see you're still Spider-Man”

He laughs and backs you deeper into the alley pressing you against the wall “Well, I wanted you to be about to recognize me”

His lips quickly find yours kissing you passionately. Feeling his hands on your ass he swiftly lifts you making, you instantly wrap your legs around him. Looking around you're a little surprised “Really? In the alley? You're kinda the expansionist huh?”

He quickly catches your lips in another searing kiss then you feel his hand eagerly pawing underneath your dress, and then he stops suddenly. “Oh, you're a dirty girl. No panties tonight?”

“I figured they would get in the way,” you say with a playful shrug.

He quickly lifts your dress more and starts to finger your already wet cunt. Moaning and squeezing your legs tighter around him you give into the familiar stretch.

��Already so wet for me, pretty girl you're just perfect for me.”

Kissing on your neck he's already rutting into you, it seems like he's as eager as you are. Your soaked cunt was getting his suit's crouch wet as he continued to rub into you, maybe it was him or the fact that you two could easily get caught by a wandering pedestrian, but you were burning with need.

“Please...I need you…” you beg breathlessly

He kisses your lips quickly putting his suit pants down. Looking at him confused he just smiles, “What? I made adjustments for easy access, just for you kid.”

Finally freeing his cock he has you hold on tightly to him as he swiftly rolls a condom on. Safe sex is hot sex, right? While sucking and kissing your neck to your collarbones he rubs his cock in between your folds making sure you're wet and shaking with need.

“Come on spidy, I need you…”

With the last bit of begging leaving your trembling lips, he pushes in between your folds into your soaked heat with a loud groan. Thrusting in and out of you you can't help but moan and clench down on his length.

“Ah, y/n…you feel so good…”

As soon as your name slips from his lips he stops his thrusting and stills. Looking down with wide eyes your mouth is agape, “did…Did you just say my name?”

Hesitating for a moment he tries to find the words but suddenly he's met with your lips crashing down to his eagerly devouring him. With the passionate kiss, he fucks into you faster than before breaking the kiss and grabbing your ass hard to thrust into you harder. Getting all your breath thrust out, you can hardly speak as you approach your high.

“So you know, ah, my name?”

He nods breathlessly continuing his rutting, cock throbbing. “Yeah, your costume, doesn’t hide your identity, Fuck!”

Throwing your head back from the feeling of how deep he is, your moaning and confessing your own secrets as he fucks your roughly. Your Orgasm is about to rip through you, stars blur your vision.

“I know who, ah…who you are”

Kissing along your neck he faces you and whispers to your lips, “Yeah? Say my name then..”

Feeling the knot in your stomach about to snap it's now or never. Holding onto him tightly he's pushing his tip right into your sweet spot, bringing your moaning lips to his ear and whispering the name you're hoping to be him.

“Peter, Peter B Parker '' While you say his name you grab the rest of his mask and reveal the rest of his face, you are met with those heart-melting brown eyes. And that sexy smirk. There he was in all his glory, your mystery man- Peter B

“Well you're quite the little detective, you should get a reward kid…” You smirk and give him a kiss rocking your hips into him as he thrust harder. Breaking the kiss you moan, “Just make me cum Peter!”

“Anything you want, pretty girl,” Rutting deeper and grunting heavily in your ear, your knot is snapped and you're creaming all over Peter's cock. Fucking you through your high he finally cums from your tight cunt clenching around him trying to milk him dry.

Carefully he stands back up both of you staring and panting at each other. Peter quickly pulls your dress back down, then tucks his length away. His hands cup your face and he litters your face and neck with kisses, seems happy you figured his secret out.

“Have any more secrets for me, Peter?” You say smugly holding up his mask.

Peter smiles at you and takes the mask from you. Grabbing a hold of your hips once more he pulls you close to press against his chest. “I could tell you, or I could show you?”

-This should be good…

307 notes · View notes

rylem33 · 9 days ago

Text

The Cowboy Experience

I've been working on this one for a few days. I hope you enjoy. If you do, mosey on over to my blog (link on my Tumblr home page) and take a gander at the other 100+ stories I've written. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The dusty road stretched for miles in front of Sam and Drew as they bumped along in their rental car, the sprawling ranch just coming into view on the horizon. It was a hot day, and neither of them could deny their nervous excitement.

“So remind me why we’re here again?” Sam asked, squinting through the windshield at the vast landscape. His tone was dry, laced with a familiar sarcasm that had become second nature to him.

“Come on, Sam! It’s an adventure!” Drew’s grin was wide as he looked over, excitement radiating off him. “When else are we gonna get a chance like this? A whole weekend as cowboys! The ad made it sound like we’d learn everything from riding horses to branding cattle.” He paused, noting Sam’s dubious expression, and shrugged. “Alright, maybe the branding’s not what I’m looking forward to, but you know what I mean.”

Sam rolled his eyes but couldn’t help a smirk. “Yeah, yeah. But I still don’t see why we had to come all the way out to the middle of nowhere for it.” He looked around, watching as the horizon flickered with heat. “It’s not like we’re exactly…fit for ranch work.”

Drew laughed, nodding in agreement. “Exactly why we need to do it! Just think of it, Sam. A couple of city guys, totally out of our element, learning how to rough it. Besides, how bad can it be?” He leaned back, brushing dust from his shirt. “We could both use a break from the daily grind.”

Sam sighed, leaning back in his seat. “I’m not exactly dying to get sweaty and covered in…I don’t know, hay or dirt or whatever. But I guess it’ll make for a good story.”

“That’s the spirit!” Drew said, giving him a light punch on the arm. “I don’t know about you, but I’m looking forward to the work…feeling like I’m doing something instead of just being on my computer all day.”

Sam shook his head, raising an eyebrow. “I mean, I barely know how to tie a knot, let alone lasso a cow.”

Drew shrugged, his optimism unshaken. “You never know. This could be good for us. I’m just sayin’ to keep an open mind and all that.” He looked out the window as the gravel road wound them closer to the ranch buildings. “Besides, we don’t have to master it all. Just get a taste, you know?”

They both fell quiet as the main ranch building came into view, nestled between two old barns and a couple of wooden fences. The place looked rugged, like it had been there for a century and seen a lot more than two city boys could ever imagine.

“So, think they’re gonna go easy on us?” Sam asked, eyeing the impressive sprawl of land around them.

Drew snorted. “Not if they’re real cowboys, they won’t.”

They parked near a tall, weathered barn. The whole area was quiet, and the open field stretched far and wide, framed by mountains that gave the land a rugged beauty that even Sam couldn’t deny.

They stepped out of the car, stretching and taking in the stillness of the land around them. Sam felt an odd sense of peace but also an unease. He felt out of place. He glanced over at Drew, who seemed to be practically vibrating with anticipation.

“Okay, admit it,” Drew said, nudging Sam with his elbow. “You’re a little excited too, right?”

Sam shrugged, the smirk returning to his face. “Fine. A little. But mostly nervous.”

Just then, the loud creak of a door broke through the quiet, drawing both of their eyes toward the barn. Emerging from the shadows was a tall, broad-shouldered man with a thick gray mustache, a cowboy hat tilted low over his eyes. He walked with a confident, unhurried swagger, his boots stirring up small clouds of dust as he approached.

He looked Sam and Drew up and down, taking in their city clothes, clean shoes, and the faint hesitation in their eyes. After a moment, he let out a low chuckle. “Well, ain’t this somethin’. Couple of city boys out here tryin’ to be cowhands, huh?” He shook his head, smirking. “Don’t get many like you two out here. Tell me, boys, you even know the front end of a horse from the back?”

Drew laughed nervously, scratching the back of his head. “Well, we’re here to learn. I mean, that’s why we signed up, right?”

“Right,” he replied, his gaze landing on Sam, who was watching him with a growing frown. “The name’s Hank and I’ll be supervising you two.”

“Just a heads-up,” Hank continued, “ranch work’s not exactly for soft hands and fancy talk. Out here, you’re gonna get dirt on you, you’re gonna sweat, and it’s probably gonna hurt. Think you can handle that?”

Sam’s frown deepened, and he muttered, “We didn’t come all this way to sit around and sip cocktails.”

Hank’s eyes flickered with something that might’ve been amusement or irritation, it was hard to tell. “Cocktails, huh?” he repeated with a mocking drawl. “Figures.”

Drew chuckled, a bit nervous. “We’ll keep up, Hank. Promise.”

Hank shook his head, muttering something under his breath. He looked back at Sam, then Drew, with a smirk. “You boys think you’re up for it? Alright then. Let’s see if we can’t knock some of that city slick off ya.” Reaching behind him, he pulled out two well-worn cowboy hats, holding them out with a flourish.

He offered one to each of them, looking them dead in the eyes as they took them. “Here. Maybe these’ll make men out of ya.”

Drew took his hat eagerly. It was broad and rugged, with a wide brim and a dark, weathered band that looked like it had seen its fair share of hard days. He grinned as he pulled it down over his hair. “Thanks, Hank,” he said, voice laced with excitement. “This is great.”

Sam’s hat, on the other hand, was noticeably different. The brim was slightly narrower, with a lighter color that gave it a softer look. Sam held the hat with uncertainty before placing it on his head. It sat high on his head and he wondered if he’d drawn the short straw, or if Hank had done this on purpose.

Drew let out a small laugh, nudging Sam. “Hey, look at us! Starting to blend in already, right?”

Hank gave a snort. “Ain’t so sure about that. Those hats don’t make you cowboys. But, maybe, just maybe, they’ll remind you to quit fussin’ about and get to work.”

Drew chuckled, but Sam’s jaw tightened, and he met Hank’s gaze directly. “Thanks for the tip,” he said, his tone dry. The nerve of this guy, Sam thought. Just because they weren’t born on a ranch didn’t mean they couldn’t pull their weight.

Hank smirked, clearly amused by Sam’s pushback. He tipped his own hat down slightly, eyes twinkling. “Tell ya what, why don’t you start by hauling those bales of hay over to the barn,” he drawled, jerking his head toward a stack of hay bales. “A few hours of that, and we’ll see if you’re still eager to play cowboy.”

Drew looked to Sam, shrugging with a grin. “Guess we’re on hay duty.”

Sam sighed, his jaw set, and muttered, “Yeah, let’s get to it.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------

The morning’s work was rough, but Drew was determined to keep going. The sun was relentless, and sweat was already dripping down his back by the time they’d dragged the first few bales halfway across the yard. He glanced over at Sam, who was keeping up but looking more out of sorts with every passing minute.

Sam had paused to press a hand to his forehead, muttering something under his breath that Drew didn’t catch. His movements were off, like he was distracted or unsteady, and when he tugged at his shirt collar, Drew noticed something odd in the way he did it.

“You good?” Drew called out, hoisting another bale onto his shoulder.

“Yeah,” Sam replied, brushing off the concern, though his voice sounded different. Drew tilted his head. It wasn’t anything obvious, but there was something in Sam’s tone that hadn’t been there before. He shook it off.

They kept at it, the sun beating down as they worked. Drew powered through, but his eyes kept drifting back to Sam. He couldn’t help it, there was something about the way Sam was moving that didn’t seem…right. His gestures, the way he stood, even the faint lilt in his voice when he muttered complaints under his breath.

At one point, Sam unbuttoned his shirt halfway, letting it hang loose. “This sun sure don’t mess around,” he muttered, and Drew froze mid-step.

The words were fine on the surface, but the way Sam said them was different. There was a faint drawl sneaking in at the edges. If Drew hadn’t been listening so closely, he might not have noticed, but now that he had, it stuck out like a sore thumb.

Drew frowned, squinting at his friend. “You’re sure you’re alright? You’re talking kinda funny.”

Sam turned toward him, blinking as if he’d just woken up. “Funny how?” he asked, sounding as normal as ever. Drew started to feel like maybe he’d imagined it.

“I dunno,” Drew replied, shaking his head. “Forget it. Let’s just keep going.”

By midday, Drew couldn’t hold back anymore. He dropped his bale and walked over to Sam, who had paused to rest against the fence, his hip cocked slightly with one hand resting on his thigh.

“Sam,” Drew said, his voice low. “You notice anything…weird about how you’re acting?”

Sam cut him off with a laugh, shaking his head. “Drew, I think the sun’s getting to you,” he said. “You’re making stuff up.”

Drew frowned but didn’t push. The thing was, Sam didn’t seem to notice what he was doing. It was like the moment Drew brought it up, Sam snapped back to normal, but when he wasn’t paying attention, those little changes sneaked back in.

Before Drew could figure out what to say, Hank’s voice rang out across the yard. “Y’all takin’ a break already?”

Drew turned to see Hank strolling over, that ever-present smirk plastered on his face. “I figured a couple’a city boys might’ve lasted longer, but look at you,” he said, his eyes landing on Sam. “You doin’ alright there, sugar?”

Drew glanced at Sam, who stiffened slightly, his hand going to his hip in a way Drew couldn’t help but notice. “Just gettin’ used to it,” Sam said, his tone oddly sweet.

Hank chuckled, crossing his arms. “If you can’t handle a little sweat, maybe you belong in the kitchen, sugar.”

Drew stepped in, voice firm. “Hey, lay off him, Hank. We’re just new to this.”

Hank shrugged, unfazed. “Just playin’, son. Ain’t no harm in it. But if he’s gonna talk like a lady, he oughta get used to bein’ called one.”

Drew clenched his jaw, glancing at Sam. But instead of snapping back like he normally would, Sam just brushed his hair back again and gave a small, tight smile.

Drew stepped closer, lowering his voice as Hank walked away. “Sam, I’m serious. Something’s off. You don’t usually act like this.”

Sam just laughed, brushing it off. “You’re overthinkin’ it, Drew. I’m fine. It’s just the sun.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------

The afternoon sun beat down on Sam and Drew as they hauled fence posts, sweat soaking through their shirts. The work was exhausting, every muscle in Sam’s body aching from the effort, but something about it felt different now. He couldn’t explain it, but the exhaustion wasn’t just physical, his mind felt off.

Sam paused, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. “This sun’s brutal,” he muttered, his voice softer than he’d intended. He cringed slightly at the sound, clearing his throat and shaking his head. “Almost makes me miss the city.” That sounded better, closer to his normal self.

Drew grunted in agreement, hefting another fence post onto his shoulder. “Yeah, no kidding. Can’t remember the last time I sweated this much.”

Sam chuckled weakly, tying his open shirt at the front to keep it out of the way. The motion felt instinctive, practical, but as soon as he caught the knot in his peripheral vision, something about it felt…wrong. He tried to brush it off, but the knot nagged at him, and his thoughts started spiraling again. He quickly untied it.

He stole a glance at Drew, wondering if he’d noticed, but Drew was focused on the post. Sam let out a quiet breath, relieved. Get a grip, he told himself, reaching for another post.

The longer they worked, the harder it became to hold onto that grip. His thoughts felt slippery, like they were being pulled in two directions at once. On the surface, he was focused on the task of lifting, hauling, and sweating under the sun. But underneath, there was something else. A part of him that wanted to move differently, to speak differently. It was subtle, but it was there, whispering at the edges of his mind.

“Sam,” Drew’s voice cut through his thoughts, making him jump slightly. “You okay? You’ve been kinda…quiet.”

Sam straightened up, forcing a quick laugh. “Yeah, just beat,” he said, his tone casual. “You know how it is….work like this’ll knock the wind outta anyone.” He grinned, trying to project confidence, but Drew kept looking at him, his brow furrowing slightly.

“You sure? You sound a little…I don’t know, off,” Drew said, tilting his head.

Sam clenched his jaw, forcing himself to stay calm. “I’m fine, Drew,” he said, a bit sharper than he meant to. But even as the words came out, he caught himself adding, “Don’t fuss over me, alright?” The softness in the last part of his sentence made his stomach twist. He turned away quickly, busying himself with the next bale before Drew could press further.

As they wrestled with a particularly stubborn fence post, Hank strolled over, his ever-present smirk already in place. “Well, ain’t this a sight,” Hank drawled, leaning casually against the fence. “Couple’a city boys finally gettin’ their hands dirty.” His gaze lingered on Sam, and Sam felt an immediate spike of irritation.

“Just tryin’ to get the job done,” Sam said, keeping his tone steady.

Hank’s smirk widened. “Looks like you’re finally gettin’ the hang of it, sugar. Just don’t strain yourself.”

Sam felt the heat rise to his cheeks. It wasn’t from embarrassment, but from the sharp stab of annoyance. “Maybe I’d do a better job at runnin’ this ranch than you, old man,” he shot back before he could stop himself.

The words came out sassier than he’d intended, with a slight lilt at the end that sounded nothing like him. Drew’s head snapped toward him, his face a mix of surprise and confusion, but Hank just laughed.

“You’ve got fire in you now, don’t ya, darlin’?” Hank said, his tone mockingly sweet. He leaned closer, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Might wanna watch that attitude, sugar. Could get you in trouble ‘round here.”

Sam’s hands tightened on the fence post as he fought to steady his thoughts. The fire Hank was talking about….it was there, burning hotter with every word. It made him want to snap back again, to say something cutting, but he clenched his jaw, forcing himself to keep quiet.

“You don’t scare me,” Sam finally said, his voice steady, though he could hear the faint hint of a drawl creeping in at the edges.

Hank let out a low chuckle, leaning back. “Don’t say I didn’t warn ya, sweetheart,” he said, tipping his hat before sauntering off.

As soon as Hank was out of earshot, Drew turned to Sam, his expression serious. “What the hell was that?”

“What?” Sam asked, feigning ignorance as he picked up the next post.

“You don’t usually talk like that,” Drew said, his eyes narrowing. “The way you’re acting, the way you’re talking.”

Sam forced a laugh, trying to brush it off. “You’re overthinking it,” he said, his tone lighter. “I’m just messing with him. Guy’s got it comin’, don’t you think?” He tried to sound casual, but the way Drew kept staring made him uneasy.

Drew didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t push further. “Whatever you say,” he muttered, grabbing another post.

Sam turned away, his grin faltering as soon as Drew couldn’t see his face. He let out a slow breath, his hands tightening into fists. Keep it together, he thought. This isn’t you. You’re fine.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sun had barely sunk below the horizon when Hank finally called it a day. Sam’s muscles burned, and his skin was streaked with dirt and sweat, but the tiredness felt good somehow, like he’d accomplished something real. Hard, honest work. He glanced over at Drew, who looked tired but satisfied as well.

“Alright, city boys,” Hank said, smirking as he gestured toward the bunkhouse. “Time to wash up and meet me out by the fire. Dinner’s in an hour. Try not to take too long, princess,” he added, giving Sam a pointed look.

For once, Sam didn’t bother shooting back a reply. He just smiled. When he glanced over at Drew, he caught his friend staring at him with a confused look. Sam just shrugged, flashing him a quick grin as he turned toward the bunkhouse. He caught himself swaying his hips slightly as he walked. Stop that, he thought sharply, forcing his gait back to something resembling normal.

Sam stepped into the bunkhouse, towel slung over his shoulder, his muscles aching from the day’s labor. The soreness was real, but it wasn’t the only thing he felt. He looked in the mirror and noticed his shirt was knotted again. When did I do that?

Closing the door behind him, Sam let out a long breath and stripped off his sweaty clothes, tossing them aside without a second thought. The cool air on his skin sent a shiver down his spine. He was filthy. Nothing a nice shower can’t fix.

He turned on the shower and stepped under the warm spray. The water cascaded over him, and for a moment, he just stood there, letting it wash away the dirt and sweat of the day. His shoulders relaxed, and he exhaled slowly. But as the water streamed over his skin, he couldn’t ignore the strange sensitivity coursing through him.

He ran his hands over his arms, scrubbing at the grime, but the touch felt different…more intense. His fingertips brushed against his chest, and he gasped softly, startled by the sudden wave of sensation. What the hell… he thought, but his hands kept moving, almost on their own.

As he rubbed his chest, his fingers grazed his nipples, and a sharp jolt of pleasure shot through him. He froze, gripping the wall for support as heat surged through his body. His breath quickened, his mind scrambling to process what was happening. Slowly, his free hand moved downward, brushing over his stomach, his hips, and lower still.

His skin was changing under his hands. As he rubbed along his chest and arms, faint patches of body hair slid away, clinging to his fingers before vanishing down the drain. His skin beneath was smooth and soft, impossibly sensitive.

One hand drifted back to his chest, fingers circling his nipples again as small, firm buds began to push against his palm. The warmth in his chest was undeniable, and as he glanced down, he saw the faint beginnings of breasts taking shape.

A sharp tingling sensation at his fingertips drew his attention, and he watched in stunned silence as his nails grew longer, the edges sharpening into pointed tips that glistened in the water. He flexed his hands, staring at the elegant curve of his new nails as they glided over his chest, tracing the roundness of his budding breasts.

His other hand moved lower, almost instinctively, brushing against his groin. The touch sent a wave of pleasure through him so sharp it made his knees buckle slightly. He steadied himself against the wall. His penis felt smaller in his hand, softer, and each stroke seemed to shrink it further. The sensation was overwhelming, electric, almost addictive.

The changes didn’t stop there. He felt a pull at his scalp, the tingling spreading to his hair. As the water poured over him, his hair lengthened, sliding down over his shoulders in soft, damp waves. He reached up to touch it, his fingers sliding through the silky strands, the sensation making his stomach flutter.

Sam’s mind reeled as the changes continued, spreading through his body like wildfire. His waist narrowed, his hips flared slightly, and his butt filled out, pressing against the curve of the shower wall. His stance felt different, his balance shifting as his thighs thickened, smooth and soft. Every touch of his hands sent shivers through him, and the heat building in his core made it harder and harder to think clearly.

No, he told himself, squeezing his eyes shut as though that would make it stop. He shook his head, trying to push away the thoughts creeping into his mind. Thoughts that told him this felt good, that he should just let it happen.

He gritted his teeth, forcing his hands away from his body and gripping the edges of the shower wall instead. The water pounded against him, grounding him just enough to steady his racing heart.

When he finally turned off the water, he stood there for a moment, catching his breath. His heart was pounding, his body trembling, but the heat was beginning to fade. Slowly, he reached for the towel, drying himself off without glancing in the mirror. He didn’t need to see. He knew.

His chest felt heavier, the faint swell of his breasts undeniable. His skin was smooth all over. And though he avoided looking down, he could feel the change between his legs.

He wrapped the towel around his waist, pressing a hand to his chest as if trying to steady his racing heart. Get a grip, he thought, clenching his jaw. But deep down the way his body hummed.

When he stepped out, clean and refreshed, his eyes fell on a small bench beside the sink, where a fresh outfit lay folded neatly…a snug, fitted top and a pair of denim jeans. He didn’t remember packing anything like it, but the sight of them didn’t surprise him. Nothing really did right now.

Without a second thought, he slipped them on, tugging the top over his head. It clung to him, accentuating his smaller waist and the gentle curve of his torso, while the jeanshugged his hips perfectly, sitting low on his thighs. The pair of leather boots slipped on perfectly.

The wide-brimmed cowboy hat sat waiting on the counter, and he grabbed it, settling it back onto his head. He tilted the brim down slightly, flashing himself a confident smirk in the mirror.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Drew sat by the campfire, adjusting his hat and staring into the flames, his jaw clenched tight. His mind spun, replaying the events of the day. Something was happening to Sam and yet Sam didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe he didn’t care. That thought made Drew’s stomach churn with frustration, though he couldn’t quite say why.

Footsteps on the dirt drew his attention, and when he looked up, his breath caught. Sam was walking toward him, silhouetted by the firelight, and Drew immediately felt his pulse quicken. Sam’s tied-up shirt clung to his waist, showing off a toned stomach, and his hips swayed in a way that Drew couldn’t believe he was seeing. He looked…Drew shook his head. No, this wasn’t right.

Sam settled down beside him with an easy grin, tipping his hat back slightly as he turned to face Drew. Drew couldn’t help but notice Sam’s face was different too. Softer, smoother.

“What’s the matter, Drew?” Sam asked, his voice light, teasing, almost sing-song. “You act like you’ve never seen a girl before.”

Drew’s jaw tightened, and he forced himself to look away, staring hard at the flames. “You’re not a girl,” he muttered, his voice rough.

Sam just laughed softly, clearly unbothered. “Are you sure about that?,” he said, his tone playful as he adjusted his hat.

Drew turned sharply, his frustration flaring. “What are you even talking about?” he snapped, his voice louder than he meant. “This isn’t funny, Sam. You’re acting like…like all of this is normal, like you don’t even care.”

Sam shrugged, running a hand casually down the front of his shirt, smoothing the fabric. “Guess the ranch agrees with me,” he said with a smirk.

Drew’s hands clenched into fists, the roughness of his skin scraping against his palms. He could feel his body tensing, his muscles tight. His thoughts grew hazier, sharper, and more heated with every second Sam sat there, grinning like nothing was wrong.

Before he could say more, Hank’s low chuckle broke the tension. “Well, ain’t you lookin’ like a queen tonight,” Hank drawled from across the fire. He took a slow sip from his flask, his eyes lingering on Sam. “That hat suits ya, sugar. Like you were born to wear it.”

Drew’s jaw clenched so tightly it hurt. Hank’s words should have sounded ridiculous, but they didn’t. The way Sam leaned into the comment, tilting his hat and grinning, only made it worse. Drew’s frustration burned hotter.

“Maybe I am,” Sam fired back, his voice brash. “And maybe this place could use someone like me runnin’ things ‘round here.”

Drew couldn’t believe what he was hearing. His best friend, the guy he’d known forever, was sitting there acting like this….like he belonged in this…this new role.

Hank chuckled, clearly unfazed, his gaze flicking between Sam and Drew. “Queen of the ranch, huh? Guess we’ll see if that attitude lasts. Thing about queens out here,” he added with a lazy grin, “they need keepin’ in line.”

Drew felt something snap. A hot surge of frustration and anger bubbled up inside him, and for a moment, he didn’t recognize the thoughts in his own head. Sam needed to be put in his place.

Drew shifted in his seat, the weight of his cowboy hat pressing down on him like it was part of him now. “Maybe Hank’s right,” he muttered, the words rough, almost growled. “Can’t go acting like you own the place, Sam.”

Sam raised an eyebrow, his grin widening as he leaned back, completely unfazed. “Oh, really? And who’s gonna stop me, you?” His tone was challenging, daring, and it set Drew’s teeth on edge.

Drew’s muscles tightened, his broad shoulders squaring as he leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping lower. “Maybe someone does need to,” he said, the words coming out with a strange, unfamiliar authority.

Hank chuckled again, clearly pleased. “Hear that, son? Your friend’s actin’ like she’s in charge. Might be time you stepped up.”

Drew wanted to laugh it off, to snap back at Hank and defend Sam like he normally would, but something in Hank’s words felt…right. He nodded slowly, his lips curling into a faint, tense smile. “Yeah,” he muttered, his voice rougher now, almost unrecognizable.

Sam laughed, bold and carefree, but Drew caught a flicker of something in his eyes. “You all can think whatcha want,” Sam said, throwing his hands up with a shrug. “I’m just havin’ some fun.”

That did it. Drew couldn’t hold back any longer. He pushed himself up from the log, his boots kicking up dirt as he stood. His mouth set in a hard line, his voice sharp. “I don’t get it, Sam,” he said, his tone steady and rough. “You’re just acting like…like none of this matters. Like you don’t even care what’s happening to you.”

Sam’s grin faltered for a moment, but it came back quickly, more forced this time. “Guess I just know how to handle myself,” he said, tossing Drew a flippant look. “Maybe you should give it a try, cowboy.”

Drew’s jaw clenched as heat burned through him. Without another word, he spun on his heel and stormed off into the darkness.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sam watched Drew storm off. She knew her friend was upset, but had a hard time caring. Instead, she tipped her hat back and watch the flames of the fire dance. Her body felt warm, but she wasn’t that close to the fire.

Hank sat across from her, his gaze moving over her with curiosity. “Ranch life seems to suit you just fine, doesn’t it?” he drawled, taking a sip from his flask.

Sam let out a low chuckle, her voice softer, smoother than it had been that morning. She could feel the changes in her body. The way her hips felt fuller against the fabric of her shorts, the narrow of her waist. The way her top clung to her chest, and as she shifted, she felt the unmistakable weight of her now-full breasts.

“Guess it does,” she replied, tipping her hat with a confident smirk, the flirtatious edge in her voice surprising even her. She crossed her legs, feeling the softness of her thighs, the way her skin seemed to glow in the firelight.

Hank watched her, a grin tugging at his mouth. “Ain’t every day we get a queen of the ranch around here,” he murmured, as if he was stating a simple fact.

Sam didn’t reply. She just flashed Hank a smile, feeling his gaze follow her as she stood up from the fire. The night air was cool against her skin, but her body felt feverish, alive with a need that grew with every step back to the bunkhouse.

Each shift of her hips, each brush of her thighs as she moved, only intensified the sensation. Every inch of her body was humming as if it had been waiting to be touched, to be explored.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Drew stormed into his bunkhouse room, slamming the door behind him hard enough to rattle the frame. His fists were clenched, and his jaw was tight as he paced the small space, boots thudding against the wooden floor. Anger coursed through him, hot and unrelenting, but underneath it, something else simmered.

He couldn’t stop thinking about Sam. About the way she had strutted up to the fire like she owned the place, the way her grin had practically dared him to say something. Her boldness, her confidence, her body. Drew shook his head sharply, trying to push the image out of his mind, but it lingered, vivid and consuming.

“Dammit,” he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair as he dropped onto the edge of the bed. His body felt too hot, too tense, like his skin didn’t fit right. He pressed his hands to his knees, taking deep breaths, but it didn’t help. The frustration inside him wasn’t just anger. It was something deeper, something raw and primal.

His thoughts spun faster, images of Sam flashing in his mind: the curve of her hips, the way her shirt had hugged her waist, the fire in her eyes when she’d talked back to Hank. It was infuriating, and yet… Drew groaned, leaning forward as his head sank into his hands. What the hell is wrong with me?

A sudden, sharp heat surged through his body, pulling his thoughts back to the present. His muscles felt tight, like they were straining against his skin, and when he looked down, his forearms seemed…bigger. His sleeves strained against his biceps, the fabric pulling taut.

“What the—” he breathed, standing up quickly. His boots hit the floor heavier than usual, and as he moved to the mirror on the far wall, he froze. His reflection looked…different. His shoulders were broader, his chest thicker, his frame carrying an undeniable weight and bulk that hadn’t been there an hour ago.

Drew ran a hand down his chest, feeling the hard lines of muscle under his shirt. His hand was rougher, his fingers thicker, and as he flexed them, he felt a strange satisfaction settle into his gut. His shirt strained against his back, the seams creaking slightly as his chest expanded further.

“What the hell is happenin’?” he muttered, but his voice sounded different…deeper, rougher, commanding.

Before he could dwell on it, a sound from the next room caught his attention. A soft moan, muffled but unmistakable. Drew stiffened, his pulse quickening. He moved toward the wall, his breath catching as another sound drifted through…this one sharper, higher.

Sam.

. . . . . . . . .

Sam entered her room, shutting the door behind her with shaky hands. Her body felt like it was on fire, every inch of her thrumming with an energy that was impossible to ignore. Her breathing was shallow, her legs trembling as she peeled off her fitted top and let it drop to the floor.

Her hands brushed over the small buds that had formed earlier, but as her fingers lingered, she could feel them swell, her flesh softening and rounding under her palms. Her breath hitched, and she bit her lip, both shocked and thrilled by the sensation. She cupped them fully now, the weight of her breasts growing heavier, the skin sensitive as her nipples hardened at the faintest touch.

She sank onto the edge of the mattress, her hands drifting down to her thighs. Her fingers traced over her skin, softer now, her curves more pronounced. She let out a soft moan as her hands slid further, brushing against the growing roundness of her hips, her waist pinching inward.

Her shorts felt tighter than they had moments ago, the fabric straining against her fuller thighs and her butt, which now pressed firmly into the mattress. She reached down, tugging the shorts off in a single motion, shivering as the cool air hit her skin. Her hands instinctively explored her body, gliding over her smooth thighs, the new curves of her hips, and the swell of her rear. She squirmed with arousal.

As her fingers brushed against her wet slit, Sam gasped, the sensitivity there unlike anything she’d ever felt. Her back arched slightly, her chest heaving as her hand dipped lower, teasing the folds that were now fully formed, warm and slick with need. Her other hand rose to her chest, fingers circling her full, round breasts, squeezing and kneading them as her hips rocked instinctively.

. . . . . . . . .

The soft moans grew clearer, drifting into Drew’s room.He felt himself harden, his body responding before his mind even caught up. It was impossible to resist. The sounds were pulling him in, and he couldn’t stop himself as he reached down, hand brushing against his erection. It felt thicker, fuller in his grasp, a surge of heat spreading through him as he stroked himself in time with each moan he heard from Sam’s room.

. . . . . . . . .

Sam caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, her flushed face framed by hair that now fell in soft waves around her shoulders. Her features had shifted subtly, her cheekbones higher, her lips fuller, her eyes wide and expressive. It was the kind of face that turned heads, the kind of face that exuded confidence and allure. She couldn’t look away, even as her fingers worked faster, exploring every inch of her new body.

Her hips bucked as her fingers slid inside her, the sensation sending waves of pleasure through her. She moaned loudly, her body trembling as the heat built higher, her movements more desperate. Her thighs quivered, the softness of her skin amplifying every touch, every stroke, until the pressure became too much to bear.

She let herself lean into the feeling, letting her hands roam, feeling out every inch of this body that was hers. She didn’t care how loud she was being, the boys could think what they want. She was going to enjoy this night.

. . . . . . . . .

Drew’s strokes became synchronized with Sam’s moans, each breath and whimper guiding his hand. The walls seemed too thin, every gasp and sigh fueling his desire further. His muscles tensed, a raw energy pulsing through his veins with each breath he took. He could feel his arms tighten, his chest, his legs.

. . . . . . . . .

When the climax hit, her body arched, her head tilting back as a loud, primal scream escaped her lips. Pleasure rolled through her in waves, leaving her gasping and trembling as she collapsed back onto the bed, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

A slow, satisfied smile spread across her lips.

. . . . . . . . .

The final, sharp cry from the other side of the wall broke him. Drew’s head tilted back, his eyes closing as a guttural groan tore from his throat. Heat surged through him like a wildfire, his body trembling as every muscle contracted at once. His jeans strained against his legs, his shirt pulling tight across his chest until he thought it might tear.

Drew sat there, staring at himself, his breaths steadying as a strange satisfaction settled over him. He was bigger now. His chest was broader, his arms thicker, his entire frame exuding a rugged power. The anger had melted away, leaving only the heat…and the lingering need to see Sam again.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Drew woke slowly, the morning light slipping through the window. His body felt…heavy. Solid. Good. As he blinked into awareness, he stretched, feeling muscles strain and relax beneath his skin, muscles he hadn’t had before. He felt…right in a way he couldn’t quite explain.

Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, Drew planted his feet on the floor, and the thud of his weight against the wood was audible. He looked down at his hands… larger, rougher, thick with strength he could feel pulsing under the skin. His gaze drifted to the mirror on the wall, and he rose, his movements sure and steady. When he saw his reflection, he couldn’t hold back a slow grin.

Broad shoulders, defined muscles, a rugged face shadowed with stubble. All of it looked back at him with a natural confidence, a swagger. As he took himself in, thoughts rose, unbidden and clear of long days of work under the sun, the satisfaction of hard labor, the thrill of chasing wild times, and, just as clearly, the tantalizing image of women watching him, drawn to him. Hot women, tempting him, and pleasuring him.

His mind latched onto these ideas with satisfaction. What else mattered, anyway? And one woman in particular drifted into his mind. Sam. The way she’d changed, the way she’d looked at him last night with that teasing, sassy edge in her voice. It made his pulse quicken just to think about it. She’s mine to handle now, he thought, the idea lighting up something deep and primal in him.

As he glanced at the clothes draped over the chair. A pair of worn jeans, a white shirt, sturdy boots, that were not there the night before. The clothes fit him perfectly. Last, he picked up his hat, settling it on his head with a grin.

His mind drifted back to Sam, her laugh, her confidence, that bold look she’d given him. He wanted to see her. He wanted to see if she’d look at him with that same fire. He wanted to see what would happen next.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

The morning sun was bright, casting a warm glow over the ranch as Drew’s gaze locked onto Sam by the fence. She stood there, her toned, tanned body framed by a tight, cropped top that barely covered her full, round breasts. Her midriff was bare, the curves of her waist and hips on full display above a pair of frayed, low-cut denim shorts that hugged her hips perfectly. A wide-brimmed cowboy hat shaded her face, though the fire in her eyes was unmistakable, and a teasing smile played on her full, glossy lips.

Sam turned, her smile widening as she saw him, her eyes traveling slowly up and down his body, openly admiring him in a way that drove him wild.

“Morning, cowboy,” she purred, her voice smooth and dripping with playful confidence. She stepped closer, her hips swaying, her hands casually resting on her thighs. “Didn’t think you’d be up this early, but I can’t say I’m disappointed.”

Drew swallowed, trying to find his voice. “Good company’s worth getting up for,” he replied, his voice rougher than usual, his pulse pounding as he closed the distance between them until they were just inches apart. He could feel her warmth, see the flush on her cheeks, and knew she was feeling the same pull he was.

“Good company, huh?” Sam raised an eyebrow, giving him a playful look. “Maybe I’m just here for the view.” She tilted her head, her eyes flicking over him in a way that made his chest tighten.

Drew didn’t waste time. He reached out, his hand brushing against her cheek, his fingers tracing along her jaw. Her skin was warm and soft, her eyes widening slightly as she met his intense gaze. “I think we both know you’re here for more than that,” he murmured, his voice low and steady as he traced his thumb along her cheekbone. He could feel her lean into his touch, her breathing quickening, her lips parting just slightly.

Sam didn’t pull away. “Maybe I am,” she murmured, her gaze locked on his. She raised a hand to his chest, her fingers pressing against him, feeling the solid muscle beneath his shirt. “So what are you going to do about it?”

Without another word, Drew leaned in, capturing her mouth in a firm, hungry kiss. She responded immediately, her hands sliding up around his neck, pulling him closer. His grip tightened on her waist, his hands exploring her curves, feeling her hips, her bare midriff, the smooth skin beneath his fingertips. Her body fit perfectly against his, their breaths mixing as the kiss deepened.

He pulled back just slightly, their faces still close, their breathing heavy. “That’s how I start a morning,” he whispered, his voice rough with desire.

Sam looked up at him, her lips parted, her eyes dark with want. “Then don’t stop now, sugar,” she whispered back, her fingers curling around the front of his shirt, pulling him closer. “I’m right here.”

Drew didn’t need another invitation. His hand gripped her waist harder, pulling her tight against him as he kissed her again, harder this time, his hands sliding down to her hips, pressing her against him. Their shared passion built, and as they moved, he slid his hands up to the hem of her cropped top, tugging it over her head and tossing it aside, exposing her fully to him. She let out a soft gasp as he lifted her, guiding her back toward the nearby hay pile.

They sank down together, both of them fumbling to discard the rest of their clothes, each piece coming off in a hurry, laughter and heated breaths filling the air. Drew’s hands roamed over her bare skin, his lips trailing down her neck as he leaned into her. When he entered her, she let out a sharp, breathless moan, her hips pressing up to meet him, her nails digging into his back as she clung to him.

As their pace increased, her soft gasps turned into cries, filling the quiet morning with her pleasure. She wrapped her legs around him, pulling him closer as she reached her peak, her body arching beneath him. She let out a final, triumphant scream, her whole body trembling as waves of pleasure washed over her.

Drew slowed, a satisfied smile tugging at his lips as he looked down at her, his breathing heavy. “You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” he murmured, his voice low as he brushed a strand of hair from her face, letting his hand linger on her cheek, savoring the closeness between them.

Sam laughed softly, her smile softening as she looked up at him, her eyes filled with warmth. “Right back at you, cowboy.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sun climbed higher as Drew and Sam worked side by side, shoveling hay and clearing out the horse pen. They didn’t talk much, but every now and then they’d glance at each other, sharing a quiet smile. Sometimes their hands brushed or their shoulders bumped, and each time, they’d grin a little wider, like they were in on the same joke.

Just as they finished, Hank walked over, a smirk on his face as he looked them over. He leaned against the fence, crossing his arms. “Well, look at you two,” he said, voice full of dry humor. “Looks like you’re gettin’ a real, authentic cowboy experience around here. Hope you’re enjoying yourselves.”

Drew rested his arm on his shovel, his other hand slipping casually to Sam’s back, his thumb rubbing along the fabric of her shirt. “Wouldn’t trade it for nothin’, Hank,” he replied, giving Hank a steady look.

Sam laughed softly, tilting her hat back. “Reckon this life fits us just right, don’t it?”

Hank chuckled, tipping his hat to them both. “Well, don’t let me interrupt,” he said, the hint of a smile in his eye. “But there’s plenty more work to go ‘round, just so you know.” With that, he turned and headed back toward the barn.

As he left, Sam turned to Drew, her eyes warm as she looked up at him, still smiling. Drew slipped his hand around her waist and pulled her close, his touch firm but gentle. They looked at each other for a beat, and then he leaned down, pressing his lips to hers in an easy, unhurried kiss.

When they pulled back, they were both still smiling. For a moment, they just stayed there, holding onto each other before getting back to work.

#personality change #m2f transformation #transformation #m2m transformation

48 notes · View notes

advisorykitty · 2 months ago

Note

Hi, sorry to bother you, but I couldn’t find anything saying you weren’t accepting requests 😅, and I wanted to know if you could write another story of Nyen x reader with a golden retriever (or if you prefer, you can change the anime/breed). How did they meet? Or how was the reader "adopted"? Like, one day Luther saw the reader around and decided to take her home, and then show their reaction to seeing the reader and how they adapted to the presence of a dog.

(Sorry for the inconvenience! If you aren’t accepting requests or don’t like it, you can just ignore it ;w;", and ignore my English, it’s not my first language)

It's okay and yes my asks are open! (I should probably specify in bio ^_^) Anyway I hope you enjoy this!.

• ○ . ☆ . ° •╭──────┄°❀°┄──────╮ • ° . ☆ . ○ •

Luther strolled through the woods, his hair softly swaying in the evening breeze as he scanned the quiet trees around him. He often came out here for the sake of clearing his mind,and to have a nice little walk but something was different.

He breathed in the coolness, his senses heightened to every sound, and through the rustling of leaves and crickets' chirping, he heard it: excited panting and the unmistakable sound of footsteps crashing through the underbrush.

Before Luther could even react, a blur of gold and white (change this if you want)bolted from the bushes, right into him. Stumbling back, Luther regained composure in a heartbeat, blinking down at the overexcited creature before him.

"Hi! Hi! Oh my gosh, are you okay?" it said, in this high-pitched voice full of unfiltered joy. It was a person, it turned out-wearing a make-do hoodie with floppy dog ears stitched in, their tail-a real one(or not)wagging furiously behind them. Their hair was gold in the fading light, and big expressive eyes were locked on Luther like he was some sort of long-lost friend. (Change this if its too oc for you but its golden retriever reader soo!)

Luther blinked, eyes taking in the scene with humor. "Oh, mein Gott," he muttered, lips tugging up in a smile. "And who might you be?"

The golden retriever-like person straightened immediately, his tail wagging even more furiously if possible. "I'm. uh, well, I don't really have a name, but I think 'Pup' works! I'm just out here running, and wow, you smell interesting!" They leaned in, snuffling at Luther curiously before stepping back with a wide grin. "Oh! And I found you! Hi!" (Pup isn't an oc I just thought saying Y/N would be wierd)

Luther chuckled, a liquid warmth ebbing into him as his eyes danced lightly on the stranger, pure radiance of joy. Rarely did he meet one so. open. About this spirit, something just absolutely piqued his interest; he could not help but feel some strange connection forming between the two.

"Hey, Pup, would you like to come home with me?" he said in an even, playful tone. "I have a warm spot, food. and a couple of friends that would just love to meet you."

The face of the golden retriever person lit up, eyes wide with excitement. "Oh my gosh! Really? You'd take me home?! I've been out here for so long, and I really love new friends!" They bounced on the balls of their feet, their tail wagging so hard it was a wonder they didn't take off like a helicopter.

Luther's smile widened. "Ja, come. I think you'll fit right in."

---

Back at the House

Luther opened the door and let Pup bolt in, past him, in sheer excitement. Glow-eyed, they stared at the vast space. "Whoa! This place is huge!" they exclaimed, spinning around and gazing at every little detail-the elegant furniture, the long hallways, the quirky yet homely atmosphere of the house. Wrinkling their nose, they sniffed the air, very pleased with this all.

Nyon was the first to notice the new arrival. The Russian catman had been sitting quietly in the living room, reading one of his favorite Dostoevsky novels. At the sound of the unfamiliar voice, his ears perked up, and his eyes peeked over the edge of the book. His usually calm, sleepy expression turned into one of mild confusion as he watched Pup bounce around the room, sniffing everything in sight.

"Wha. this?" Nyon mumbled in his terrible English, looking around to Luther for an explanation.

"Ah, Nyon, this is our new friend here," Luther said as he laid a hand on Pup's shoulder as they examined the cushions of the couch. "I found them in the woods and decided to bring them home. Isn't that right, mein kleiner Hund?"

Pup nodded enthusiastically, their tail wagging once more as they grinned up at Nyon. "Hi! I'm Pup! Whoa, you look awesome! Is it alright if I sit with you?"

Nyon blinked, utterly at a loss as to how to process the quantity of joy coming off this weird, dog-like individual. "Uh. Ok?" he replied awkwardly, scooting over on the couch to allow room.

Pup immediately flopped down next to Nyon, his head coming to rest on the other's shoulder in such a way that tensed up the catman's shoulders immediately. They snuggled closer, wagging their tail as they smiled upwards at him. "You smell nice! Like books and. is that pickled vegetables?"

Nyon's face turned a slight shade of pink, as he was not used to such displays of affection, and he buried his face into his book, hiding it from view. "Da. I like pickles," he stuttered, plainly flummoxed by this over-affectionate new housemate.

While this had been going on, Nyen had been watching from the sidelines, his keen eyes furrowed as he tried to figure out the reason behind the house suddenly smelling like a wet dog. He entered into the living room, and his irritation multiplied when he saw Pup practically draped over Nyon.

"What in the hell is that?" Nyen snarled, crossing his arms as his tail lashed behind him. He looked at Pup like they were the most annoying thing to ever exist.

Pup's ears perked up as they looked over at Nyen; their eyes sparkled with joy. "Hi! You must be Nyen! Luther told me about you! Wow, you're even cooler in person!" They leapt off the couch and ran over to him, eyes wide with admiration.

Nyen pulled back, his tail going taut as Pup leaned in far too close for comfort. "Back off, mutt," he hissed, taking a step backward. "I don't like clingy things."

Pup's head cocked to one side, and he looked for one instant totally perplexed. Then his face brightened in a dazzling smile. "Oh, you're playing hard to get, huh? I get it! We're going to be best friends in no time!" He reached out and tried to hug him, but Nyen swatted their hand away with a look of pure irritation.

"Stop touching me!" Nyen snapped, low and dangerous. "And get out of my space!

Pup didn't seem to faze one whit. If anything, they only seemed to grow more resolute. "You're funny! I like you already!" they said once more as they wagged their tail and tried to scooch closer.

Nyen let out a low growl, his claws flexing as he glared at Luther. "Sir, why did you bring them. Here?"

Luther just shrugged, that amused smile still firmly in place. "I found them, and I like them. They're staying."

Pup just about glowed at the words, eyes shining with adoration as he bounded over to Luther. "Luther, you're the best! I promise I'll be a good pet!"

Luther chuckled, ruffling his head. "Ja, ja, I know you will."

---

Later That Evening

Having overcome the disastrous first day, Pup had promptly made themselves at home. They had latched onto both Nyon and Nyen, though Nyen was quite displeased by this fact. The catman found himself continuously avoiding Pup's attempts to cuddle or play, while Nyon simply tolerated it with quiet patience.(Sebastian and Randal are having their own fun)

But far and away, Pup's favorite was Luther. Every time he walks in a room, that tail would start to wag so hard it is a miracle they didn't knock something over. They trailed after him around the house, his faithful shadow, helping with whatever needed to be done, even when they had absolutely no clue what they were doing.

And despite the chaos Pup brought along in their wake, Luther could not help but be taken in by their unrelenting energy and affection. It was not often that he let people get this close to him, but something about Pup made it feel. right.

As for Nyon and Nyen, well, they were still getting used to their new housemate. Time would take them to be able to accept Pup fully, but one thing was for sure: life in this house just got ten times more chaotic.

The twitch of Pup's nose told something else when an unfamiliar smell entered, somewhat like the mix between Nyen and Nyon.Curiosity was piqued, and Pup's tail had started to wag in slow motion as they followed the trail down the hall until they came upon one that was slightly ajar.

Pup peered inside. The room was simple, nothing too fancy, but what immediately caught their eye was the top bunk bed: huge, draped in dark sheets, with a small stack of pillows-looking both cozy and intimidating at once.

Pup's eyes gleamed brightly. "Gosh, that bed looks comfortable!" they whispered to themself. And without further ado, they trotted inside, bouncing onto the bed. They rolled around and their tail wagged as they nuzzled into the pillows.

"Ahhh, so soft!" Pup muttered and snuggled into the center, pulling one of the pillows closer to them. In minutes, they were already dozing off, relaxed and content in the bed that was totally foreign to them.

---

Nyon, meanwhile, was making his way back toward the room. His feet padded softly on the cool floor of the hall as he hummed some old Russian song or other.

As he came closer to the room, he noticed the door was a little open. In an instant, he became guarded. He never left the door open. Slowly, Nyon opened the door more widely, his cat-like eyes scanning the room. His gaze ended on the bed, or rather, the lump in the middle of it.

"What is this?" He muttered, blurring in confusion.

There lay Pup, spread eagled in the middle of Nyen's bed. They were snoring softly, their tail draped lazily over the edge of the bed, twitching as they slept. Nyon stared for a second, unsure whether to be alarmed or amused.

"Pup?" he whispered, inching closer. He reached out and gently shook their shoulder. "You in wrong bed."

Pup stirred, blinking their eyes open sleepily. When they saw Nyon, their face lit up in a drowsy grin. "Nyon! This bed is amazing! You guys have the best room!"

Nyon sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Nyens bed. not yours. You need. to move before Nyen comes.*"

But Pup only stretched, rolling over and pulling a blanket over themselves. "Nah, it's fine. He won't mind! We're friends, right?" They gave him a sleepy smile before nuzzling themselves back into the pillows, clearly having no intention of moving.

Nyon frowned, his ears flicking nervously as he glanced at the door. "Not sure. about that."

But before Nyon had managed to coax Pup into moving, a low growl emanated from the hallway. His ears flattened as he turned his head toward the sound, and there, standing in the doorway, was Nyen. His eyes were narrowed dangerously, his arms crossed over his chest, and his tail lashed behind him like a whip.

"What. Are. You. Doing. In. My. Bed?" Nyen's voice was low, rumble of a growl, every word spoken with barely contained rage.

Pup, still blissfully oblivious to the danger they were in, sat up a little, grinning. "Oh, hey Nyen! Your bed is awesome! So comfy. Wanna join?"

Nyen's left eye twitched. His claws flexed at his sides as he stepped into the room, the air growing colder with his presence. "Get. Out. Of. My. Bed."

Pup, utterly missing the warning signs, burst out laughing. "Aww, c'mon! We can share! There's loads of room!"

Nyen's patience snapped. "OUT!

He snarled and launched himself forward; finally cluing in this wasn't a game, Pup yelped and scrambled out of the bed. "Okay, okay! Jeez, you don't have to yell!" They jumped up, barely avoiding Nyen's grasp as they ran toward the door, still grinning while running.

"This is fun!" Pup called back, his tail wagging even faster as he bolted down the hall, Nyen hot on his heels.

Nyon watched the chaos unfold from the safe inside the room. "Idiot." he muttered shaking his head as he turned to close the door behind them. "They not know what they got into."

Pup ran down the hallways, their laughter echoing as they glanced over their shoulder at Nyen, who chased them with murder in his eyes. For them, it was just another fun game of tag; for Nyen, it wasn't even close to that. His claws were out, and he wasn't holding back.

Pup rounded a corner and skidded on the turn, running even harder. "Gosh, Nyen sure is speedy!" they thought as excitement raced through them. The golden retriever in them started to take over, and instead of slowing down, their running quickened as their heart pounded with adrenaline.

The two tore across the house, then crashed into something solid. Pup yelped and tumbled to the ground in a heap. They blinked up to find themselves staring into the surprised face of Nyon, who was quite clearly minding his own affairs up until Pup charged headfirst into him.

Wait wasn't he in his room 5 minutes ago??

"Pup!" Nyon cried out, staggering back from the impact. "What you—

Pup, excited and spry, scrambled to their feet and planted a sloppy lick on Nyon's cheek without thinking. "Sorry, Nyon! Can't stop, Nyen's right behind me!" they exclaimed, darting off again and leaving Nyon standing where he was, utterly perplexed and somewhat grossed out.

"Why. they lick me?" he muttered to himself, wiping his cheek.

---

Pup giggled as they continued to run around the Ivory Household, Nyen not giving up and still chasing them down-full of determination in a single-minded fashion. Every now and then, Pup would glance back and shout, "Come on, Nyen! You're so slow!" not realizing how close they were getting to being caught.

They finally stopped in the living room, huffing and puffing as if they had been running forever, but still grinning from ear to ear. They turned around, their hands upon their knees, catching breath while awaiting Nyen.

"That was so much fun!" Pup exclaimed as Nyen came into view, still glaring daggers their way. "You're really fast, Nyen! We should do that more often!"

Nyen on the other hand, looked anything but amused. His chest heaved with anger, eyes ablaze with fury as he stalked in their direction. "This isn't a game, you idiot!"

Pup blinked, finally realizing that Nyen might not have been playing after all. "Uh. Wait. you weren't.?"

He grabbed them by the collar with his claws barely grazing skin before they could even get their sentence out. "Get out of my sight before I really lose my temper."

Pup's ears folded into their head as they watched Nyen's angry face. "Oh. Uh. right. Got it!" They scrambled out of his grasp and towards the door, looking only once over their shoulder to give a sheepish grin.

Muttering as they went, "Maybe next time I should ask before jumping into someone's bed."

Luther had been standing in the hall, quietly viewing the whole scene, and he chuckled to himself now as Pup vanished around the bend. "Ah, mein pets," he said, his voice low, shaking his head. "Always so lively."

☆☆☆

It was one of those days in the Ivory Household, with sunlight pouring through the windows, and Pup bursting with energy, as always. After the near disaster with Nyen, they decided to leave him alone for a while. That did not mean the ideas ran dry, though. With a brilliant grin and a spring in every step, they trotted down the hallway, their tail wagging in excitement.

Their next target? Nyon.

They hadn't spent a lot of time with him since they had arrived, and Pup thought it would be fun to try. After all, he seemed far softer and quieter in comparison with Nyen, and maybe—just perhaps—they could coax him into a game or two. Besides, just how hard could it be to get a catman to play?

Pup found Nyon seated in one of the smaller rooms, perched by the window with a book in his hands. His ears flicked every so often as he turned a page, calm and peaceful surrounding him, precisely what Pup was about to cut up.

Pup burst into the room as they always did, their tail in furious waggle. "Nyon! Hey Nyon!" they called cheerily, bounding over to him. "Wanna play?

Nyon blinked slowly, his eyes lifting from his book to land on the over-excited dog-person standing in front of him. He stared for a moment, his brain processing Pup's words as his tail flicked lazily behind him. "Play?" he repeated, the thick accent making the word almost foreign.

"Yeah!" Pup nodded, undeterred by this. "Like tag, or fetch, or. I don't know! Whatever cats like to do!"

Nyon stared at them blankly, clearly confused. "Cats.?" He cocked his head, looking Pup up and down as if they were some sort of creature he'd never seen before. Which, in a way, was probably true. "I am. reading." He held up the book, as if that explained everything.

Pup's tail wagged even faster. "We could read later! Let's do something fun first!" They bounced their weight on the soles of their feet as their eyes shone with excitement. "Come on, it'll be fun!

Nyon exhaled loudly, as if he wasn't used to people having this much energy. He looked at his book longingly before he closed it with a soft thud and put it on the windowsill. "Fun. you say?" He sounded so unsure, the very concept of fun something he hadn't considered in a long time.

Pup nodded vigorously, grinning from ear to ear. "Yeah! Y'know, fun! Running around and playing games-c'mon, I'll show ya!" They didn't give Nyon time to answer but crossed the space between them and tugged him up to his feet.

Nyon's eyes widened in surprise, his tail puffing out slightly at the sudden contact. "Wait-what. what you doing?" He stumbled after Pup, feet dragging as they pulled him from the room into the hallway.

"We gonna play tag!" Pup announced, dragging Nyon along. "I'm 'it' and you gotta run! If I catch you, you're 'it'!"

Nyon's eyes went wide. "Run?

"Yeah, run! Like this!" Pup let go of Nyon's hand and darted full speed down the hallway, their laughter echoing in the house. They whipped around a corner, glanced over their shoulder to find out if Nyon was behind them.

Nyon only stood there, utterly astounded at what was happening. His ears twitched while he watched Pup run off, and for a moment, he considered returning to his book. But then there was something about Pup's irrepressible energy that tugged him along, and with a resigned sigh, he began walking after them-slowly at first.

When Pup realized Nyon wasn't exactly running, they spun around and jogged back toward him, a playful expression on their face. "Come on, Nyon! You gotta try harder than that!"

Nyon's eyes narrowed slightly. "I. do not run."

Pup grinned, tail wagging. "Not yet, you don't! But we'll change that. Ready? Tag, you're it!" They reached out and tapped Nyon lightly on the arm before dashing off again, their laughter filling the halls.

He stood there a moment longer, staring down at his arm where Pup had touched him. He didn't budge, his eyes narrowing slightly in mild confusion. "It. what is it?" he muttered to himself.

Pup, now several feet down the hall, called back to him. "You're s'posed to chase me! Come on!

Nyon let out a low sigh. "Chase." His tail flicked behind him, a slow smile creeping onto his face. "Ah, now I see." He crouched slightly, his instincts finally kicking in.

Before Pup could even have a chance to do anything, Nyon leapt into action with incredible speed, moving with fluid grace. "You run. I chase." The accent rolled across the tongue as he closed the distance between himself and Pup, eyes glinting with mischief.

Pup's eyes went wide; their heart skipped a beat as suddenly, Nyon was a lot faster than they'd expected. "Whoa! You're fast!"

They took off at full speed, their paws a blur against the floor as they tried to outrun Nyon. But Nyon was determined, his movements fluid as he closed the distance between them. "You said. run, yes?" Nyon called out, his voice teasing.

Pup giggled, the thrill of the chase making their tail wag even faster. "Yeah, but I didn't think you'd actually catch me!"

Nyon's eyes flashed bright with humor. "I catch. now what?" He was only a few feet behind them now, claws gleaming in the light as he reached out toward them.

Just about the time Pup thought they were done for, they rounded another corner—and promptly crashed straight into Luther, who had appeared seemingly out of nowhere.

"Oof!" Pup yelped, bouncing off Luther's chest and stumbling backward. Nyon skidded to a stop just in time to avoid plowing into them both.

Luther, eternally unruffled, looked down at Pup with a bemused smile. "Ah, mein liebchen," he said, his voice warm and affectionate. "What trouble are you getting into now?"

Pup grinned up at him, panting slightly from the chase. "We're playing tag! Nyon's really fast!"

Luther chuckled, eyes twinkling with amusement, as he ruffled Pup's hair. "I see. And you, Nyon, you've been drawn into this game as well?

Nyon still got his breath back gave a slight shrug. "They said run. I ran." He looked at Pup, his eyes softening just a fraction. "It. was not bad."

Luther's smile widened as he regarded them. "Ah, how sweet. My little family bonding through games." Lightly he clapped his hands together with an expression bordering pure joy. "It does my heart good to see it."

Pup's tail wagged even harder as they looked up at Luther with shining eyes. "You should come along next time! It's such a lot of fun!"

Luther chuckled, shaking his head. "Perhaps another time, mein liebchen♡. For now, I have other matters to attend to." He gave them both a fond look before turning and disappearing back down the hall.

Pup watched him go before turning back to Nyon with a wide grin. "See? I told you it'd be fun!"

Nyon gave a small smile, his tail flicking behind him. "Yes. fun." He glanced into the hallway where Luther had disappeared, then back at Pup. "You. not so bad."

Pup's eyes lit up, their tail furiously wagging at the compliment. "Aw, thanks Nyon! You're pretty great too!"

Nyon gave a quiet chuckle and shook his head in amusement. "You. are strange."

Pup beamed at him, completely unbothered. "I get that a lot.

End.

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#ranfren x reader #nyon and nyen #nyon ranfren #nyen catman #nyen ranfren #luther von ivory #x reader

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