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mphoenix-7 · 7 months ago

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Bitter Allies [Soap x Reader]

Chapter 1: The Mission

Book Summary: John "Soap" MacTavish has hated you since the very first day you arrived on base and joined their Task Force. You argue all the time, and one day, it pushes Captain Price to his absolute limit. He sends you both away to an isolated cabin in the woods for a week in hopes you can put aside your differences and bond. Will it work? Or will you two just end up hating each other even more?

This is a slow burn enemies to lovers fan fiction featuring Soap and you, the reader.

Word Count: 5,585

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Soap is mean, like really mean, smut later to come, rough smut, lots of swearing, violence, descriptive, blood, angst, fluff, slow burn, (more to come as I write)

A/N: Just a reposting of my story on Wattpad to help generate attention for it! Please go give it some love if you’re liking it so far. My user name is Emily7love or just look up the title.

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Bitter Allies • Part 1

"Bravo 7-1, this is Bravo 0-7, give me a sit rep on your position, over."

Soap is currently kneeling in some brush, staring at the small military camp in front of him when the radio call comes through. Despite the fact that he'd most likely need to be adjusting the volume up soon on his ear piece, he still turns it down a little for now.

"This is Bravo 7-1, I've been in position. Waiting on 7-4 to move her ass." He all but growls back to Ghost. His hand tenses on his rifle at even saying those numbers. Bravo 7-4.

You were Bravo 7-4. Also known as (y/n) "States" (l/n). The all too grumpy Sergeant by the callsign Bravo 7-1 was John "Soap" MacTavish. Also known as the biggest pain in your ass since you joined up with Captain Price's Task Force about six months ago.

Now anyone who knew Soap would be shocked to hear you say that you thought he was literally the worst and most insufferable human being to ever stain the Earth. To everyone else, Soap was a funny, charismatic, rather easy-going, and quite friendly guy. Everyone loved Soap. He was the golden boy of the Task Force, of the entire base. People were just naturally drawn to him, and his warm personality.

You can't say you blame people for being shocked when they learn just how much you can't stand him. Cause all those things about Soap were true. He was funny, and friendly, and relaxed, and just a great guy to be around. He was all those things when he wasn't around you. The second you stepped into the picture, his amused grin turned into a stiff scowl. His sparkling eyes turned hard. His relaxed posture turned rigid.

Yeah, John "Soap" MacTavish hated you. And you hated him.

Why did he hate you? You weren't entirely sure. It just seemed like it has always been that way since day one.

You transferred into the Task Force at the request of Captain Price himself. Originally, you had been stationed at a military base in the United States, where you were from. Then one day your commanding officer called you into his office and told you that you'd been given a new assignment. You would be working with a British Task Force across the pond for the next year. A group of four SAS men. If things worked out, then you'd be staying there indefinitely.

You'd been thrilled at the news. You didn't join the military only for the benefits and the opportunity to serve, but for the opportunity to travel and to potentially live somewhere else in the world. Getting to be that while also being SAS was the dream. You worked so hard to get to where you were today. Sleepless nights of studying, hard days of working out and trying to improve and hone your skills, and now it was finally happening. You were being sent off to a new base and a new team. And not just any team, an elite task force. You'd finally been selected.

You met the whole team day one of your arrival. The first person you met was Captain John Price. He was a friendly but very stern man. The no nonsense type of guy. He gave you a tour of the base, and showed you to the female barracks. Once you were semi-settled in (all your belongings piled into your room) you went to meet the other members of your new Task Force.

Price introduced you to each teammate. They'd all been in his office by the time you and Price showed up. Two had been seated, and one was standing despite there being enough chairs. That had been Soap.

"Alright you lot, here she is. This is (y/n) (l/n). Straight from across the pond." Price introduced you. "(Y/n), these are boys of the 141. This is Sergeant Kyle Garrick."

"You can also call me Gaz." Kyle fills in, giving you a nod and a handshake. "It's nice to have someone from the States joining us." He was the one responsible for your callsign being States.

"This is your Lieutenant. Simon Riley. He goes strictly by Ghost." Price continues. Ghost doesn't make a move to shake your hand. He just stayed quiet. Didn't even give you a nod of any kind. Quite intimidating coming from a guy wearing a skull over his face. "And lastly, this is-"

"Soap." The man barks out before Price can say anything. You remember hearing Price sigh before finishing his sentence. "Sergeant John MacTavish."

"You can call me Soap though. Nothing else." His voice was harsh, and carried a tone of warning. If you to call him by anything else other than his callsign, there were going to be harsh consequences.

His arms were folded across his chest, and he'd glared at you during the whole introduction. It made you so nervous, the reactions you got from both Soap and Ghost. Price assured you later though that they would come around. They just needed to warm up to you. He'd been 50% correct.

At the time, Ghost had been the most terrifying of three, and the one you worried you wouldn't be able to connect with (boy had you been foolish). At the time though, Soap had at least said something to you. Ghost never said a word or even acknowledged you. And when Ghost did talk to you, it was always in a gruff voice like you were annoying him. But over time, you came to realize that was just who Ghost was. It wasn't anything personal. He was like that with literally everyone. It was rare to catch him laughing or to hear his gruff voice become lighter.

Soap, on the other hand, also spoke to you the way Ghost did, but he only used that tone with you. He was so cheery and light when speaking with the guys. Even with strangers, his voice may have been slightly more gruff, but never as harsh as when he spoke to you.

His personality was vastly different around the others as well. Whereas he could joke, laugh, and relax around them, he was the opposite around you. You thought for a moment that maybe he was sexiest and just didn't like women, though every woman he spoke to around base, he was the kindest and most respectful guy.

Now six months later, not much had changed. Soap still spoke to you in a gruff voice. He still scowled when you entered a room. He still glared at you any time he needed to look at you. He had gotten more "comfortable" around you. But really that just meat he was far more comfortable with insulting you directly. From the way you shoot to the way you eat, he could find anything to gripe about. And eventually, you decided that if he was going to be difficult, then you'd return the favor.

The first time you insulted him back, he looked shocked, then just flat out angry. Your encounters went from quiet insults being thrown back and forth and dirty looks to all out yelling at each other. Never physical fights, but Soap had punched a hole in the wall during one particularly bad argument.

The others couldn't stand you fighting. Gaz would do everything in his power to keep you separated and distracted from each other so you wouldn't start. Ghost tried to never be involved, but he would sometimes break up the fights by using his scary lieutenant voice and sending you both to different parts of the base to cool off. Price... he got the most upset. He was normally so calm under pressure but hearing you and Soap bicker pushed him to the limit. He'd yell at you both until he turned red and then normally punish you by making you do extra cleaning, harder workouts, or something else just as labor intensive.

You lost count of how many times you'd been in his office with Soap, getting reprimanded on your behavior. One of the worst had been when Soap actively tried to get you kicked off the team while you were sitting right there.

"She is a right pain in the arse, Price! I didn't even start it this time!" He claims, doing everything he could not to look at you.

"Oh blow it out your ass, Soap. You were giving me a look."

"Then don't fucking look at me." Soap growls through his teeth.

Price slams his fist onto the table, making you both jump a little and halt your bickering for a moment. "Can you two shut the hell up? It's just constant with you. I have had a headache for five fucking days cause of you idiots. What is it going to take for you two to get along?"

Soap is quick with his answer. "All this could be solved if you just deported her little ass back to the US. Seriously Price, she's caused nothing but trouble since she got here."

"I am right here, Soap." You huff out a laugh, not too shocked he'd say something like that though.

"I wish you weren't." He throws back, making Price intervene again.

"Enough! She's not going anywhere, Soap. Whether you like it or not, she brings in a skill set we are missing in this team."

"Like hell she doesn't! We can find someone else." He argues, earning a glare from Price.

"She is staying. I signed a contract that she stays for a year. If we break that, we lose our funding, our reputation, and a whole lot more." Price says, making Soap cross his arms and sit back in his chair.

"So after however many months she has left, we can get rid of her?"

"You'll be lucky if I keep you once your contract expires!" He shouts at Soap, which shuts the Scot up. Sighing, Price continues. "I will reassess at the end of year once States' contract has expired." He says more calmly, which makes your heart sink and Soap smirk.

You were dismissed then, but Price had you stay back. Probably to keep you and Soap from walking with each other, but he also has a few words for you. He reassured you that you were doing great. That you truly did bring a lot to their team and that he was happy to have you there.

"Are you going to send me back at the end of the year?" You'd asked him before you left, looking over your shoulder by the door while he stayed seated at his desk.

"Don't worry about that now, States. But know, I like having you here, and remember, it takes both of to sign the renewal contract."

That gave you hope. Price most likely would want to keep you, but he was also going to leave it up to you to decide whether or not you wanted to stay. At the same time, if things continued the way they were, it wasn't going to be good for team morale. If Price had to pick between you and Soap, you were sure he'd pick Soap. He'd been with the team longer and knew them far better than you did. This was your dream though. Being SAS. It could take years before you got another team. You liked Price, Ghost and Gaz. Could you live with Soap?

That meeting was only three weeks ago. You'd been with the Task Force for almost six months. Halfway through.

Your current mission landed you in Naryn, Kyrgyzsta. You were hunting down a military leader, General Azamat, who was accused of doing an illegal arms deal with Russia. Photos and weeks of gathering intel suggested he was guilty and currently at this military base in Naryn.

This was purely a stealth mission first. You and Soap were tasked with infiltrating the small military base while Ghost provided overwatch. There were three security stations. One on the East, what Soap was in position for, the South, the one you were headed towards now, and the West, where you and Soap would meet to take out the last one.

The East and South stations were backup generators and needed to be taken out first before the main one to the South was. That way you kept the element of surprise and didn't need to worry about the backups going online. After that, your troops would push in and secure the base, capture the military leader, and you could all go home.

Soap had given the update on his position, saying he was where he needed to be, about two minutes ago. Two fucking minutes ago. And he was already griping that you weren't to your position yet. His words rang in your ear through your comm earpiece.

"This is Bravo 7-1, I've been in position. Waiting on 7-4 to move her ass."

"Calm down, I'm almost fucking there. Don't be so impatient." You growl back. "Seriously Ghost, how do you even deal with him?"

"Haad yer wheesht." Soap growls at you, some Scottish slang you don't understand. No doubt he was telling you to shut the fuck up or something along those lines.

"Either speaking fucking English or don't speak, MacTavish." You bark, voice getting a little too loud for a stealth mission. Even if you weren't too close to the camp yet, there could be patrols you needed to be mindful of.

"How about you fucking learn about other's cultures and then we wouldn't have this problem. And don't call me MacTavish."

"I do know about other's cultures! I just don't care to know about the one that you came from." You throw back before Ghost gets involved.

"Shut it. Now. Not another word. Fuck's sake." You could practically see Ghost shaking his head. "States, how long till you're in position?" Ghost asks, directing attention back to the mission.

"Give me two minutes."

"Bloody fucking Jesus." You hear Soap mummer through the comms.

You take a deep breath to try and focus your energy back on your current tasks. Soap was not going to get in your head and mess this up for you. For anyone else, he would have stayed quiet. In fact, it probably wouldn't have even bothered him.

"Hold up, 7-4." You hear Ghost say to you after about 30 seconds of creeping your way to your position. "You've got a small patrol further up from your position. Just over the hill. Two men, I don't see anyone else. When you're in range, get a good shot of one, and I'll dump the other for you."

"On it. Thanks Ghost." You whisper back, readying your rifle and trying to be as silent as you can while you approach the men.

"You telling me it's gonna be even longer now." Soap complains, making you roll your eyes.

"I'm sorry your side didn't have rough terrain or anyone to fight off, Soap." You tell him sarcastically. "Some of us didn't get the easy baby route to take."

"I'll have you know I took down two fucking patrols all by myself while I made my way over here. And I didn't have Ghost's help to do it either."

"Fuck you." You growl at him.

"What did I bloody fucking say?" Ghost growls, his lieutenant voice coming out. You curse yourself as you let it happen again. Just ignore the Scot and focus on what's ahead.

"In position, Ghost. I see them. Clear sight on both, your call."

Ghost does the quick calculations in his head as he prepares his shot, trying to determine which of the two men he had a better chance of taking out. "The one with the flashlight is mine. Dump is mate. In three, two..."

You both took the shot, Ghost pulling his trigger just a millisecond before you to account for the distance. He landed a clean headshot while your first bullet landed more in the shoulder of your guy. You took a quick second shot, which finished the job with another headshot.

"He's down. Clean shots. Though try for the head first next time." Ghost quips. There was no malice in his words. Just Ghost joking around to ease tension. Soap clearly needed to take lessons from Ghost on how to tell a joke without being a total ass about it.

"Noted. Thanks for the advice, 0-7." You banter back, earning a scowl and an eye roll from Soap.

"Less talking, more getting to where you're supposed to be." Soap cuts in, ending the fun you'd been having with Ghost.

"Don't get your skirt in a knot. I'm in position." You huff, pulling out your binoculars and scouting the area. Despite this base housing a military leader, and having two back up generators, they really didn't have much security. No walls, no floodlights. Just a few patrols outside. They weren't expecting trouble.

"It's a bloody kilt. Not a skirt." Soap seethes, his jaw clenched. At this rate, he wasn't going to be able to finish this mission. Everything about you was just pure annoyance to him.

"Yeah whatever you want to tell yourse-"

"Are you two going to be able to finish this mission or am I going to have to pull you both from it?" Ghost barks over the comms, clearly fed up now.

You feel your face flush hot in embarrassment. Ghost has never threatened to remove you from a mission before. You've always been good and reliable. You can't fail and have it on your record that you were pulled from a mission due to not being able to get along with others. That was a death sentence for your career with the SAS.

"No, sir. Sorry, 0-7." You apologize, not hearing anything from Soap's end. He was probably pouting and internally cursing you for getting him in trouble, even though this was all his fault. "Going to head out for the South station. Bravo 7-4 going dark." You turn your radio from the public channel between you three to a private one used only for emergencies. At least now you wouldn't be able to hear Soap for a little bit.

Soap hears your radio beep once, signaling to him you'd disconnected for a moment while you advance towards your target goal. Once you had, he huffs and takes a moment to squeeze his eyes shut and collect himself.

"I can't fucking stand her, Ghost." He complains to his friend. "Why the hell did Price ever think it was a good idea to put us together on a mission?" He looked out into the field, making out the little shadow of you making your way slowly to the base.

"She's part of the team, Soap. Price has his reasons. Just focus on the mission and make it work." Ghost replies, not offering too much help aside from stating the obvious and putting Soap's mind back in the field. "Better get going. Your path is clear right now."

Soap sighs heavily and stretches out his neck a bit by tilting his ears toward each shoulder. One side pops a little, only relieving a little tension. "Alright. Bravo 7-1 going dark." He clicks his radio to the private channel and begins to make his way to the East backup generator's building.

By the time Soap reaches his building, you are already working your way inside the South building thanks to the small head start you got. You stick to the shadows as much as you can, thoughts wandering to Soap from time to time. Wondering if he's cleared his building already or if he ran into trouble. Then again, if it was really bad, he could have contacted you or Ghost and there would have been alarms going off. And as much as you hated him, you had to admit he was really good at this kind of stuff. Sweeping through a place and clearing it out. Quick and clean. Of course he'd never ever hear you utter any praises directed at him.

Your building wasn't too heavily guarded. You assumed most of their men were either asleep in the barracks, standing guard of where the military leader was staying, or off patrolling areas they deemed more important than the backup generators. The main building to the West would have most of their patrols since it was the more important building. That was the reason you and Soap needed to work on clearing it together.

You managed to clear your building fairly quickly with only one close call. One guard had seen you shoot someone else, but you managed to take them out before they could radio for backup, and no one seemed to have heard him yell. Once cleared, you plugged in the flash drive and uploaded the virus it contained to make the generator go offline.

You bring a hand to your radio and speak into it. "This is Bravo 7-4, generator down, South building secure. I repeat, generator down. Heading to the West building to the rendezvous now." You begin to head out the way you came in as Ghost speaks to you over the comms.

"This is Bravo 0-7. Confirm. You're all clear." Ghost responds.

"You got a sit rep on our precious Bravo 7-1?" You ask, forgetting to switch over from the private channel. You duck behind some ammo boxes and sneak along them, not expecting to get an answer from Soap. You expected him to be busy still and not on the public channel that you thought you were on. Before Ghost can answer, 7-1 graces you with a response.

"States, shut your fucking mouth and switch your radio over to public. How the hell did you get selected when you can't even use a damn radio." He snarls, making you pause. Soap's words always kinda stung a bit, but some more than others.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Am I not allowed to have a sit rep on you?" You ask, ignoring your slip up of being in the wrong channel.

"No." He answers flatly, making you sigh and roll your eyes. So much for working as a team. "And switch-"

You switched over while he was mid sentence, not wanting to hear his grating voice anymore. You were getting a little worn down at this point. It wasn't like you enjoyed arguing with Soap as much as you did. It was exhausting. Being out in the field where you were already stressed was making it a lot worse.

"He's almost done." Ghost answers you, keeping you updated since Soap clearly wasn't going to. "Just head to the rendezvous, States."

You grumble softly but do as you are told. You mutter a "copy" into your radio before slowly and carefully making your way to the rendezvous. You hear a soft beep shortly after, signaling Soap had reconnected to the public channel. You try to avoid using your radio after that, even skipping check-ins since it seemed that Soap was going to make any use of your radio an unpleasant experience. Though eventually you do need to give an update that you were at the rendezvous, that way Soap wouldn't shoot you.

You move to the side of a building and crouch down. "Bravo 7-4 approaching rendezvous." You sigh to yourself before adding, "Bravo 7-1, please let me know when you are on your way."

"I'm already here. Look to your bloody right 7-4." You look almost directly to your right, which is met with an annoyed sigh. "Not that far. Back to your.. straight.. just- Fucks sake, by the crates!"

"You're not giving me good directions!" You silently yell back, still looking for him.

"By the crates! The only crates in the area! I'm practically in the open."

You see him then. His stupidly handsome face turned into a scowl and his piercing blue eyes glaring at you. He was not in the open, only his head poking up from the crates. You sent the same look right back to him and make your way over, looking around and making sure the way was clear so you wouldn't compromise your position. He was kind enough to at least raise his gun and cover you as you made your way over. Once behind the crates, back pressed to them, he relaxes his position and ducks behind them with you.

"States, look at me," Soap says, his voice deep and gravely. The only tone he ever seemed to use with you. "I want this done clean and easy. No fuck ups. You're going to follow my lead and stay out of my way. And I don't want to hear a single word from you unless it's mission related. You got that?" He lectures you.

You are so, so tempted to roll your eyes at him. He was talking to you like you were a marine fresh off selection. Not a five year veteran who was selected for an elite special forces team. He didn't even outrank you by that much. Not enough to make a real difference. The only thing he had up on you was experience and maybe two years in age.

You're silent for a long moment, glaring at him until he repeats himself a little.

"Do you understand?" He annunciates each word, and you swallow down the choice of words you had for him. This wasn't the time or place for that. You were in the middle of a mission that could go belly up and turn dangerous. You didn't need to be fighting the sergeant on this.

"You got it." You say tightly, mustering up all the strength you possessed not to say more than that to him.

Soap seemed surprised you agreed so easily, but he eyes you suspiciously for a moment before nodding. "Good." He nods before reaching for his radio. "Bravo 0-7, this is 7-1. Going in. Rest of the troops be ready in five minutes and wait for the signal."

"Copy, 7-1." Ghost confirms. "Be warned, I see multiple troops in the vicinity of the West security building. Some men have different uniforms. They look to be General Azamat's men. He could be in there."

You furrow your brows at that. You were expecting a lot of troops in that area, but the military leader you were after wasn't supposed to be in there. There was a bunker in the middle of the camp that he was supposed to be in. It wasn't going to be a significant change the mission though. It just meant your job had become a lot harder. More men to clear out without raising alarm.

"This is Bravo 7-4, 0-7 what's the best way in?" You ask, refusing to look at Soap. You saw his head turn to look at you from the corner of your eye.

"If you wanna come home looking like Swiss cheese I'd go with the front door. Around the back might be your best shot, but I can't get a clear view from my area." Ghost informs you.

"Can you reposition and-"

"No." Soap immediately cuts you off, making you glance to him. "We don't have time for a reposition. We need to move before they realize their backup generators have been breached."

"You just don't like it cause it was my idea." You accuse, watching as Soap visibly becomes agitated.

"I don't like it cause it's a bloody stupid idea!" Soap says through clenched teeth. He was getting right in your face. You were about to tell him off until Ghost's voice filled your left ear.

"Soap's right. There's no time. Head to the back and make due with that entry point. We'll go loud if we need to."

Soap wore a smug look as Ghost sided with him. You despised it. "See? Told you it was a stupid idea." He reiterates, still way too close for comfort.

Your anger flared, and you shoved him back with a forearm to his chest. He reacted instantly, grabbing your arm and flinging it away as if it had burned him. The movement was so quick, it surprised you a bit, and all you can do is stare at him with wide eyes.

"Touch me again, and you're going to regret ever signing up for the military," he growled, his finger jabbing the air between you before standing up and storming off without attracting too much attention.

You're left stunned for a moment, though you're not sure how you thought he was going to react to you pushing him. Within a matter of seconds, you gather yourself, reminding yourself that you were still in enemy territory and needed to focus. With a reluctant sigh, you followed after him.

You managed to make your way to the back of the West Building with Soap without too many complications. The most you needed to really do was duck behind some parked trucks as a military jeep rolled by. It exited the compound, likely heading out to meet a patrol for a shift change.

You and Soap didn't say a single word to each other the whole way. For a stealth mission, that was preferable. However, you could feel the tension between you and Soap. Disdain was radiating off him, and you didn't want to get too close to him in fear he was going to blow up at any second.

There's a line up of vehicles that serve as your cover for the time being as you sneak along one side of them. Suddenly, you nearly collide with Soap when he abruptly raises his hand, signaling you to stop. There's a group of four men all standing in a small circle, talking and smoking together. They're isolated from other groups but taking out a group of four could be very difficult to do.

Soap takes a few steps back, waving for you to back up as well. "We can't take that group out by ourselves, we're going to have to go around." He tells you in a hushed voice as you attempt to peak around him to get a good view of the targets blocking your path.

"It's only four. We can both take out two." You suggest, but, just like all your other ideas, Soap is fast to shut that one down too.

"Not a chance. You suck at hitting multiple headshots." He accuses.

That makes your blood begin to boil. You were not the God awful shot he made you out to be. In fact, back on your base in the US, you were considered to be one of the better shooters.

"I don't suck at making headshots." You glare, making him huff at you.

"Oh really? You missed the one earlier. Ghost managed to hit it from hundreds of meters away, and you bloody miss from a few feet. Your aim is absolute dog shite, States. I'm not going to have you mess up this entire mission cause you think you're better than you are."

His voice was harsh, as always, and his glare was biting. You felt your eyes burn as tears formed, but you refused to let Soap see you cry. He'd only roll his eyes and call you a baby. Crying would only give him more reasons to think you didn't belong here, that you weren't as good as the rest of them.

There were so many things you wanted to say to him in that moment, but you couldn't. The words got caught in your throat, and you feared that if you opened your mouth, a sob would escape. All you could do was look away and clench your jaw, masking your hurt feelings as anger instead.

Soap seems to take your silence as you submitting. "Come on. We'll go around that way."

He was motioning to a camp-like area that seemed mostly deserted, though there were probably men sleeping in the multiple tents that were set up. Along with the tents, there was some campfires and some small boxes of what looked to be filled with MREs.

As Soap quickly moved to the new area to bypass the group of men, you glanced back at them. You knew you could land those headshots. If Ghost had been with you, you would have taken them down already. You were tired of Soap thinking you were inferior and wanted to prove him wrong so badly. You knew you could land those headshots...

Raising your rifle slowly, you lined up the shot for the first target and mentally mapped out the sequence. One on the right, then left, then back right, and then back left. A simple zig-zag pattern. Easy enough.

Right as you're about to pull the trigger, you hear Soap's voice crackle through the comms. His voice was deep and full of warning and venom.

"Don't you fucking dare, States."

But you dared. You wanted more than anything to prove him wrong. You slowly exhaled and pulled the trigger.

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duachai · 11 days ago

Text

원죄 ORIGINAL SIN PT 1 - YECHAN | 82MAJOR

When you call my name, it's like a little prayer, I'm down on my knees, I wanna take you there

♱ PAIRING : YOON YECHAN X MALE READER

♱ SYNOPSIS : M/n and his sister Daena reluctantly attend a church event, where they meet the enigmatic Yoon brothers, including the quietly intense Yechan. As subtle tensions build between M/n and Yechan, M/n is left feeling both intrigued and unnerved, unable to shake the sensation of being deliberately drawn in.

♱ CONTENT WARNING : This writing contains explicit sexual content and mature themes.

♱ AUTHOR'S NOTE : This was lightly inspired by this Korean film titled the same

LINKS : Wattpad | Kofi

“I promise it’ll be good for us!”

That’s the statement she had been saying for the whole week. But this time, it wasn’t about the cramped, buggy one-floor apartment they’d just moved into. This time it was the church right next to the elementary school she had attended when she was younger here in Ontario.

“Mom,” Daena groaned, a little disoriented as she rubbed the spot of her nose where her septum piercing was. Of course, she had to take all of her scary piercings out, wear a nice sundress, and not the ungodly splash of dark blacks and purples she usually wore. “I really don’t understand. We’ve never been religious. Plus… what about M/n?”

M/n, her twin brother, stood on the church's stoop with his arms crossed. He scratched at his neck, irritated by the itchy fabric of the cashmere sweater he’d been stuffed into. He’d also had to take out his piercing, cover his tattoos, and style his hair so his eyes and ridiculously long eyelashes were visible. Oh, and he was supposed to hide the fact that he was out of the closet here in this place too. Great.

Tapping his scuffed white sneakers against the pavement, M/n sighed, “I’m fine. Can we just go in already? It’s so fucking cold.”

His mom huffed, “Alright, but none of that. Do this for me.” She wagged her finger in his face briefly, then set her back as she walked in her best dress-up wedges up the rest of the stairs. This wasn’t just some nostalgic trip for her. The church was also where most of her new coworkers went. One of the kinder ones had even invited her to join. To her, this was a chance to finally fit in.

The twins shuffled behind her like reluctant ducklings, keeping their heads down as they stepped through the entrance. At the front, a woman was setting out stacks of pamphlets, her expression focused until she spotted their mom.

“Mrs. Yoon!” Their mom exclaimed, the woman looking up from her tidying up the paper books. Her focused face turned into a bright smile.

“Oh Kara, please call me Hyeri, no need to be formal.” She said in a shy whisper as she reached out for a hug. While their mom and Mrs. Yoon embraced, M/n and Daena stood awkwardly a few feet away. Their hands hung in front of them, and after a quick glance at each other, they bowed slightly, just like their mom had drilled into them whenever they met another Korean family.

Haneul smiled brightly, “Nice manners. You must be M/n and Daena. Oh my, you two look so alike,” Haneul looked back at Kara, “Are they twins?”

“Yep, 14 hours of labor these two,” Their mom sucked her teeth dramatically, “Two peas in a pod, just like their father.”

Daena pressed her lips into a fine line at the mention of their father, but the two adults were too busy chatting it up they didn’t even notice the twins following behind looking at each other with annoyance.

As Mrs. Yoon brought the family of three down to her row of pews, she turned to the twins. “You two should head downstairs to the bible study. My two boys are down there as well as some of the other kids!”

“That sounds fun, right?” Kara’s tone was overly bright as she elbowed Daena, her eyes practically begging. Please, for the love of God, just go along with it.

M/n rolled his eyes and sighed, shifting his shoulders back. “Fine. We’ll go, Mom. Whatever.”

Awkwardly, the twins shuffled back toward the entrance, their mom’s hopeful smile burning into their backs like a spotlight. They reached the stairwell and hesitated before heading down. The narrow staircase creaked under their feet, leading to a dim hallway lined with small rooms on either side. At the very end, light spilled out of an open door.

Inside, about ten kids sat around a circular table, colorful Bibles scattered in front of them, all open to the same page. A low hum of chatter filled the room, mixed with the occasional rustle of pages and a quiet laugh.

As they stepped closer, M/n’s throat felt tight, the collar of his sweater pressing uncomfortably against his neck. His fingers fidgeted with the sleeve, tugging it further down his arm as if to double-hide the tattoos already hidden beneath the thick fabric. He stole a glance at Daena, who looked just as out of place, her shoulders hunched slightly as she fiddled with the hem of her sundress.

Neither of them said a word, but the awkward tension between them spoke volumes.

“Oh, are you two here for Bible study too?”

The voice came from a blonde girl who had just turned around, catching sight of the twins. Her cheerful tone was paired with a distinct Canadian accent. “I’m the youth leader. Come on in and grab a seat.”

Before either of them could respond, she gestured enthusiastically for them to follow. She led them to the table, her upbeat energy completely unbothered by their obvious reluctance. “You can sit right here next to the Yoons,” she said, motioning toward two empty chairs.

The twins glanced at the seats and then at the pair of Korean teens already sitting there. The Yoons looked about as lost and overwhelmed as they felt, their postures stiff and their expressions blank.

M/n hesitated for a moment before finally dropping into the chair with a resigned sigh. Daena slid into the seat next to him, muttering a soft “thanks” to the youth leader, though her voice barely registered.

The other kids around the table stole quick glances at the newcomers, their curiosity thinly veiled. On the opposite side, two girls exchanged hushed whispers, giggling softly as they eyed the twins—though their attention lingered a little too long on M/n. One of them nudged the other, her cheeks flushing as she stifled a grin.

As the group began flipping their Bibles to a new passage, one of the Yoon boys silently slid his Bible toward M/n. His movements were subtle, almost hesitant, as if he’d already picked up on how out of place the twins felt.

M/n glanced at the Yoon boy, his eyebrows raising slightly in surprise before giving a small nod of acknowledgment. He took the Bible, his fingers brushing over the worn edges of the pages as he adjusted it in front of him.

At the top of the pages, colorful Post-it notes were stuck haphazardly, filled with scribbles in both English and Korean. Some notes had doodles in the corners, while others listed verses or thoughts in rushed handwriting. Each one was labeled with the name “Yechan” scrawled neatly at the top, standing out among the chaotic writing.

M/n’s eyes lingered on the notes for a moment, his fingers brushing over one of the edges as he tried to make sense of the mix of languages and ideas. He glanced back at the Yoon boy, who gave him a small, shy smile before looking away, fidgeting with the edge of his own Bible.

Daena caught the quiet exchange and nudged M/n’s thigh with hers under the table. When he turned to her, she raised an eyebrow, a subtle smirk tugging at her lips. He rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the slight smile that crept onto his face.

The rest of the session went on like that—small, shared glances, whispered comments between the twins, and the occasional stifled laugh when one of the girls across the table shot M/n another not-so-subtle look.

When the session finally ended, the twins were making their way back through the hallway when the Yoon boys caught up with them.

“Hey, sorry we didn’t talk much earlier,” the older boy said, his voice polite as he dipped into a slight bow. “I’m Keeho, and this is my younger brother, Yechan.”

Yechan offered a small wave, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his sweater. “Nice to meet you,” he said quietly, his gaze flicking between M/n and Daena before landing on the floor.

Daena stepped in to lead the conversation. “I’m Daena, and this is M/n,” she said, nodding toward her brother. “We’re the kids of your mom’s coworker. We just moved here, actually.”

“Like, just moved?” Keeho asked, his tone curious.

“Yep,” Daena confirmed with a slight shrug.

“Where do you guys go to school?”

“Oh, uh, I go to an all-girls school,” Daena replied, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “And M/n does school online.”

“Oh, okay,” Keeho said, nodding slowly. “I was just curious because most of the kids here go to the same school. But honestly… we don’t really mingle with them much. We don’t exactly fit in.”

Daena chuckled dryly. “Tell me about it.”

Before anyone could say more, a sharp beep followed by a soft vibration drew M/n’s attention. He glanced down at his smartwatch, tugging his sweater sleeve up just enough to read the message. He didn’t even notice that part of his tattoo had slipped into view—though Yechan definitely did.

Yechan’s gaze lingered on the ink, curiosity flashing in his eyes, but he didn’t say anything.

“Oh, shoot,” M/n muttered, lowering his arm quickly. “It’s Mom. We should head back upstairs.”

As the four made their way back upstairs, M/n and Yechan fell behind their more talkative siblings, both of them awkwardly stealing glances at each other. There was a quiet tension between them, unspoken but palpable, as they lingered just out of earshot of Daena and Keeho.

M/n glanced at Yechan, who quickly looked away, his cheeks faintly pink. They both seemed unsure of what to say, the silence between them growing heavier with every step.

When they finally made it upstairs, the twins stepped outside to find their parents still deep in conversation. As they approached, the topic of lunch came up.

“Why don’t you guys come with us for lunch?” Mrs. Yoon asked with a warm smile. “The place we always go has amazing Korean food. I know you’re probably dying for a real homey kind of meal, Kara.”

Kara raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Homey kinda meal, huh? You’re not wrong,” she replied with a grin, clearly excited at the thought of a good, home-cooked-style meal.

The Korean restaurant bustled with life, the warm lighting casting a cozy glow over the large booth where the families gathered. Kara slid in first, followed by Daena, Keeho, and Mrs. Yoon. Mr. Yoon took a seat at the end, leaving M/n and Yechan to share the other side of the booth.

M/n hesitated, glancing at Yechan before sliding into the booth first, tucking himself against the wall. Yechan followed, sitting stiffly next to him, leaving a small but noticeable gap between them.

As menus were handed out, Kara turned to Mrs. Yoon. “It’s a shame your daughter couldn’t come. What’s she up to today?”

“She has gymnastics practice,” Mrs. Yoon said with a proud smile. “She’s been working hard for an upcoming competition.”

“Gymnastics? That’s incredible!” Kara said, her enthusiasm genuine. “Daena used to compete back in Vancouver. She loved it.”

Daena perked up at the mention. “Yeah, it’s been a while, but I’d love to get back into it.”

Mrs. Yoon’s eyes lit up. “Oh, Mina would love to meet you! Maybe they could practice together sometime.”

“That sounds perfect,” Kara said, turning to Daena with a grin. “You could use a friend here.”

While the adults chatted, M/n glanced sideways at Yechan, who was studying the menu intently. Not wanting to seem rude, he spoke softly. “Um, do you come here a lot?”

Yechan startled slightly but looked over at him, nodding quickly. “Yeah, it’s… one of our favorite spots. The kimchi jjigae is really good.”

“Oh. Cool.” M/n smiled faintly, looking back at his menu. After a pause, he added, “I’ve never had it before. Is it, like, really spicy?”

Yechan’s lips quirked up in a small smile. “Not too bad. You should try it.”

“Maybe I will,” M/n murmured, his fingers fiddling with the edge of the menu.

The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable, but neither seemed to know how to push the conversation further. Every so often, their shoulders brushed as Yechan shifted slightly, and M/n felt a blush creep up his neck.

“Hey, what are you two whispering about?” Keeho’s voice cut in from across the table, making both boys freeze.

“Nothing,” M/n said quickly, his voice slightly higher than usual. He ducked his head, pretending to study the menu again. Yechan turned back to his own menu, his ears tinged pink.

The dinner wrapped up without much fuss, the table full of empty dishes and the air light with easy conversation. Kara and Mrs. Yoon had spent most of the meal reminiscing and swapping work stories, while Keeho and Daena kept the energy up with their playful banter. Yechan and M/n barely exchanged words, though M/n felt Yechan’s quiet presence beside him like a shadow he couldn’t quite shake.

When the group finally stepped out into the cool evening air, M/n quietly slipped away from the group, drawn toward the brightly lit window of a record store nearby. The neon “OPEN” sign buzzed faintly, its light reflecting off the glass as M/n pressed closer to the display. Rows of vintage records caught his attention—Guns N’ Roses, Boney M., and some SOTD vinyls prominently displayed.

He let out a soft breath, his fingers twitching at his sides. This was his kind of space, somewhere far removed from the suffocating politeness of dinner and the confusing tug-of-war inside his head.

“You like that kinda music?”

The voice, soft but clear, made him stiffen. He didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

“Yeah,” M/n said after a pause, keeping his eyes on the display. “I collect them. When I can afford it, anyway.”

Yechan moved to stand beside him, his reflection appearing faintly in the glass. He didn’t say anything at first, just slipped his hands into his coat pockets and tilted his head as if studying the display himself.

“You’ve got an interesting taste,” Yechan said finally, his tone casual but his words landing heavy, like he was trying to say more than he let on.

M/n glanced at him, his gaze flickering briefly before returning to the window. “Yeah? Didn’t know you’d be into this kind of stuff.”

Yechan chuckled, the sound low and warm. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

M/n swallowed hard, the tension from dinner creeping back into his chest. It wasn’t just the words; it was the way Yechan said them, like he was deliberately pulling at a thread M/n didn’t want unraveled.

“Anyway,” M/n said, shifting on his feet. “I should probably—”

“You’ve got a tattoo.” Yechan’s voice cut through, soft but firm.

M/n froze for a moment, then glanced down instinctively at his arm, realizing the sleeve of his sweater had slipped up slightly. The edge of one of his tattoos peeked out, the dark lines stark against his skin.

“So what?” M/n muttered, tugging the fabric back down.

Yechan’s lips quirked into a faint smile, but his gaze stayed steady. “Nothing. Just didn’t expect it.”

There it was again—that strange undercurrent, like Yechan was circling him, trying to draw something out. M/n felt his pulse quicken, and for a moment, he couldn’t tell if it was annoyance or something else entirely.

“I should get back,” M/n said abruptly, stepping back from the window.

Yechan didn’t stop him, but as M/n turned away, he caught the faintest flicker of a smirk on Yechan’s face in the reflection.

The walk back to the group felt heavier than it should have, and even as they said their goodbyes and piled into the car, M/n couldn’t shake the feeling that Yechan had gotten under his skin in a way he wasn’t sure he liked—or understood.

Back at the apartment, the bathroom mirror was fogged from the warm air rising from the sink as M/n and Daena stood side by side, reclaiming their identities piece by piece.

Daena twisted her septum piercings back in, her reflection smirking at her brother. “You okay? You’ve been quiet since dinner.”

“I’m fine,” M/n replied curtly, focusing on threading his earring through the hole in his lobe and cuffs back at the top of his ears.

“Sure you are,” she teased, nudging him lightly. “You looked like a deer in headlights the whole time. Or maybe more like a deer being stalked.”

M/n paused, glancing at her through the mirror. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Daena raised an eyebrow, leaning closer to inspect her nose ring. “You tell me. Yechan barely looked at anyone else, and you? You looked like you didn’t know whether to run or… something else.”

M/n scowled, but his pulse betrayed him, quickening as he remembered the way Yechan’s eyes lingered, the way his voice had dipped just slightly, like he knew he was throwing M/n off balance.

“Whatever, I’m not falling in love with the church boy,” he muttered, shoving his cartilage piercing back in and turning toward the door.

Daena shrugged, watching him go with a knowing smirk. “Sure. Keep telling yourself that.”

Alone in his room, M/n sat on his bed, his fingers idly tracing the edges of his tattoos through his sleeve. He couldn’t shake the feeling Yechan had left behind—a strange mix of curiosity and unease.

Hunted. That was the word Daena used, and as much as he hated to admit it, she wasn’t wrong.

M/n lay sprawled on his bed, the dim light of his bedside lamp casting a warm, hazy glow across his room. The soft hum of distant traffic filtered through the partially open window, a quiet backdrop to the storm of thoughts swirling in his mind. He stared up at the ceiling, his chest rising and falling in a slow, uneven rhythm.

Yechan’s face lingered there, vivid in the soft shadows. The way his dark eyes had locked onto M/n, steady and unreadable, was impossible to forget. There had been something unsettling in that gaze—like Yechan had been looking at him, through him, peeling back the layers he kept hidden.

M/n shifted under the covers, his skin prickling with an almost unbearable awareness, and his hand traveled down to his crotch underneath his sweatpants. He could still feel Yechan’s presence beside him at the dinner table, the faint brush of his shoulder when he leaned too close, the low timbre of his voice curling around words that seemed to hold a double meaning. Slowly, M/n’s hand slow stroked himself hard as he leaned back on his pillow, lips clamped together to keep his sinful noises muted.

It wasn’t just the memory of Yechan’s smirk, his lips, as they stood by the record store window, or the quiet way he had said, “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.” It was the way he made M/n feel—cornered, exposed, and something else. Something electric.

M/n’s fingers tightened around the edge of his blanket as his mind wandered unbidden to the faint scent of Yechan’s cologne, how it lingered just enough to pull him in without overwhelming him. The thought of it made his stomach tighten, as his pace fastened and his whiny moans seeped through his lips. “Fuck,” he whined, covering his mouth with his free hand, a desire that his hand was Yechan’s, veins creeping up his slender fingers. With a few more strokes, M/n came with his body jolting with satisfaction.

What the hell is wrong with me?

He ran a hand through his hair, frustration mingling with something deeper, harder to name as he reached over to his nightstand to grab some tissue and clean himself up then turned over. The air in the room felt heavy, and no matter how much he shifted, he couldn’t seem to find a comfortable position. His thoughts looped back to Yechan’s smirk, the almost predatory way he seemed to observe him, as though he was waiting for M/n to stumble, to react.

And M/n hated how much he had reacted—how his heart had pounded when their eyes met, how his pulse had quickened at Yechan’s quiet remarks.

He pressed his palms against his face, willing his thoughts to quiet, but the warmth pooling in his chest betrayed him. Yechan had gotten under his skin, in his head, and M/n wasn’t sure he could or even wanted to shake him out.

Now he felt like something horrible.

He felt like a sinner.

#kpop x male reader #kpop fanfic #kpop x reader #kpop bg #kpop #kpopidol #82major #82major x reader #82major x male reader #yoon yechan #yechan x reader #yechan x male reader

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loganlermanstanaccount · 1 year ago

Text

Rigor Mortis (part 9)

College roommate!Miguel O'Hara x reader

(AO3 Mirror) (Wattpad) Series Masterlist, Main Masterlist,

Part 8, Part 10

summary: You both come to a realisation.

warnings: smut! f! masturbation, grinding, humping, fingering, (implied) recreational drug use, alcohol, dubcon (-ish! reader is drunk but the interaction is consensual, tagging just in case xx), teeny tiny bit of mutual pining. 18+ Minors DNI

a/n: yuhh

Thank you to my beta readers, @tianyhi and @urgonnaneedabiggership (they also write Miguel fics, I highly recommend! my favourite is this series), I couldn't have done it without you guys <3

Join my taglists here

wc: 7.2k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

all that light lost in gaps

You're gone, in the morning.

…he should've expected it. Miguel stumbles out of sleep, groggy and disoriented. He finds himself reaching out for something in the half-light.

He finds himself reaching for you. And when you're not there, leaving a person sized gap at the crook of his arm, his stomach churns. He pretends it's not disappointment, or the sharp crack of yearning ; settling at his chest like a crowbar, and prying open his ribs. It's worry, he decides resolutely, a perfectly normal, healthy amount of worry. As your roommate; and nothing else, he keeps reminding himself; he's just worried about where you've rushed off to, especially after yesterday.

Senior year. He was assigned a bullshit paper in a Civics class – one he'd usually half-ass for an easy A. He'd wax poetic about morality – amorphous, vague platitudes about duty and societal expectations. By the end of the year, he had it down to a science: a couple thousand words remixed and plucked from lesser known philosophers, videos online, and overdue library books. Either he was getting too good at it, or his teacher was too stupid to notice; but regardless, he coasted through the class right up until graduation. His last paper, and he remembers it distinctly, was on the book of the same name; aptly titled What We Owe Each Other. A plodding, pluralistic read; of which he had only scanned through, anyways. Extra credit, anything to graduate early, and he'd had more than enough on his plate at the time.

And so, he wasn't expecting the B+ underlined and circled in red ink on the front page. It felt like his teacher had handed it back to him face down, slammed onto the desk like the thunderous crack of a whip. And he didn't need that A, strictly speaking. Yet, he had found himself staying over after class, crinkling that piece of paper in hand as he'd asked why.

She sighs. Miss Hunter's glasses slip down her nose, as they are prone to do.

"You're an outstanding student. I hear you're graduating early, and you're off somewhere prestigious in the fall. This is… definitely not a bad grade, and it's nothing, I promise you."

It doesn't work like that, for him. His teacher doesn't get it, but it will eat him up inside-out if he's not able to understand.

"Was it my referencing?" He fumbles with the strap of his bag.

"No. Not at all–"

"I did the extra reading…the article you mentioned in class, and–"

He's cut off by the scrape of a desk chair. Miss Hunter gets up to close the door, before settling on her desk.

Arms crossed, she seems tired. Worried, maybe, but it doesn't register with Miguel. The thought doesn't even cross his mind, that there are others with the capacity to worry about him.

"Technically, it's well written. As usual, Miguel." She gives him a weak smile. "It just… lacked heart."

His brows jump up. "...heart?"

"There's not really a narrative voice, here."

He taps at the paper on the desk, frustrated. "You didn't ask for a narrative voice, though. You didn't ask for… for heart. I read the book, I did the extra reading, and I wrote a report. That was the brief."

"Not quite." She says it gently, but it still sounds like nails on a chalkboard to him. "The brief was vague, intentionally so. 'What Do We Owe Each Other? Discuss.' I gave examples, sure: excerpts from the book we touched on in class, articles, academic papers, etcetera. They were… suggestions."

"...suggestions." He's incredulous.

She nods. "You followed it to the letter, Miguel. You gave me a summary, with a few key links. Fully referenced, yes. Well-written, yes. But this feels like a sum of parts. It doesn't tell me anything about you; your perspective, your angle. Your voice."

He's biting back choice words. It sounds like bullshit to him, for lack of a better word. Flowery, hoity-toity BS; served up to him on a steaming platter. That's it?

Maybe it shows on his face, because she's asking, as delicately as possible,

"Is everything okay?"

Instinctually, he seizes up.

"Yeah. Yes. I'm good."

"I know you don't take this class as seriously because it's not an AP, or an elective, or maybe not as challenging as you need it to be. And that's okay, Miguel. I'm happy for you to use my class as a break from all the other stuff." She swallows thickly. "You're not from our usual feeder schools. The Academy is particularly rigorous. But considering your… situation, we can make exceptions. If there's anything I can do–"

"There isn't a 'situation'."

"Right. Of course, I'm sorry. But if you need a couple days off of school because of…" She pasues, saying the next part softly. "Because of the baby… I mean, you're already acing my class–"

"No." He says it firmly, eyes trained onto the wood grain peeking out from underneath piles of documents. He wants to ask how she knows, and how he's always the last to find out that rumours have spread, and–

"Miguel." Her voice cuts through dense fog. She repeats her previous statement. “If there's anything I can do–”

“If you want to help, you can give me that A.” It's bone dry, said with the kind of sarcasm he's grown accustomed to. He wears it over his shoulders, sometimes; draped to keep out biting cold, or unfamiliar warmth from a stranger - it all feels the same, now.

She gives him a rueful smile. “Need more than that, m'afraid.”

Heart. Voice. What We Owe Each Other – and he doesn't know why that phrase sticks in his throat. It's been drilled into him since childhood; family and community, helping each other out of the starting blocks; and beaten out of him during adolescence. The creaking and cracking of bones after each step, where out in the world it's a different matter entirely.

His mama has bad taste in men, and he finds himself picking up the pieces. Gabi is more sensitive than he'll ever admit, trying not to cry amongst broken plates and chicken-wire hidden in a bouquet of peonies: prickly words that cut and hack, and it's Miguel that wipes the tears from his brother's cheek. That devastatingly gentle sigh when he had told his mama what he had done - how he had fallen for a soft bed and even softer lips at the ripe age of 16 and a half - and Miguel carries that weight. What We Owe Each Other – and he's only ever fed entitled egos. Not his family, of course, but he's been burned. He's had more than his fair share of it.

He doesn't owe the world shit, he thinks.

He doesn't owe you shit.

It doesn't help that he's been stuck in place, grasping at cushion covers and a raggedy blanket. Trying not to drown in the heady scent of you, he's been dragging thick fingers over the fabric as if in a trance. You don't owe him anything, either. Nary an apology, an explanation; so much as a sorry spilling from pretty lips in that way where they quiver like a gentle flame.

He's touched them, felt them drag across his skin like the finest silk, and dropped to his knees in search of something you've never given him. It doesn't matter if you don't; kiss him , that is; the swirling, desperate sort that leaves him heaving and creaking and begging for more. He thinks he'd still scuff up the denim at his knees if you asked, regardless - he'd do anything , if it was for you.

It's not realistic to expect anything from you. You don't need to tell him where you've gone or why you've left so early. You don't need to, and yet he finds himself reaching for his phone.

Miguel sends a well placed message; deft fingers tapping away at the screen. Before he changes his mind, it's sent; and he's chewing his lip whilst waiting for a steady three dots. Lyla is slower than usual, but she comes through. She doesn't ask questions - because she knows him better than he knows himself - and gives him a thumbs up.

They'll call each other later, that much he's sure of, but for now he reads between the lines. Short bursts of text, like firecrackers flashing across a night sky, and only through nonsensical emojis and odd slang can they understand each other.

This part, he can do. And he'll do whatever he needs to, not what he owes.

~~~

You make it to Pam's just after it opens.

At 7 o'clock sharp, you've made the journey; in an empty subway car, spilling out onto the streets like treacle left in the neck of a bottle. It's not quite a squeeze, passing by only a handful of people, with nothing but a jacket thrown over last night's clothes. In a daze, you realise too late: it's Miguel's. A dusty, worn thing; brown leather crackling at the sleeves and heavy on your shoulders. It feels like a hug, and it feels like him : warm and stiff. It smells like him too, and you bury your nose in the collar on the subway, sleeves kissing your palm like his hand is in yours.

It's a feeling that takes you all the way to the doors: past the slats bolted shut and down a familiar alley. You push past them, sneakers on slick tiles, and give a weak smile to the woman that perks up from behind the counter, kicking away the mop and bucket.

"Hiya, welcome to Pam's! How can I–"

"Oh, God , no." You wave her off. "Take your time. I need a minute, if that's okay."

Settling on the barstool, you watch as the young woman smiles, picking up a rag and wiping at the counter. You sit in it, for a while.

Dregs drip in through the front. The bell at the top of the door chimes, tinny and cheerful in the relative gloom of a quiet morning.

It's cold , outside. Autumn, biting at your fingers and nose. Eventually you opt for a coffee, piping hot to stave off that chill. Bitter, the aftertaste lingers at the back of your throat. You find yourself picking at the chipped mug, chasing away that taste with fluffy pancakes. The combination doesn't feel quite the same – not after many a morning with your roommate.

You settle into the seat. You wrap that old jacket around you. You sip at tart coffee and pick at your nails. A quiet morning, one to yourself, one to keep hidden at the crook of your chest. Some semblance of peace , wrapped up in the spindles of a dandelion. That is to say; delicate and fleeting, whipped away by the breeze.

You've decided not to think too hard about it. That kind of thinking ends dangerously, you've realised: with long, hot nights spent tossing and turning. It ends with a head full of cotton, and a pounding at your chest. With blood, with tears, with a stranger in your bed. And so, you go for the cleaner option. The safer one, all things considered, that's less likely to end in a broken heart.

You float around for a while. Walking without a real destination, trying to ground yourself. Eventually, you end up home, opening the door to an empty apartment. There's no traces left of a night spent in Miguel's arms. Good, you think, slipping your shoes off at the door. It doesn't feel good , but if you say it enough times you just might believe it.

The cleaner option; the one with less gristle and bone; is a familiar one. You settle into a shower; steamy and soapy, taking your time to clean out the blood from under your fingernails. The grime, the dirt ; you watch it swirl into the drain, hands running across soft flesh. You try to do it like Jamie did, once upon a time. It doesn't feel right, and has you leaning onto the cool tile. The shower head sputters, a shaky pressure on your back but you lean into it and close your eyes. You rub a hand at the crook of your chest, and then down, down, down, circling your breast and then following the curve of hips to the apex of your legs. Tipping your head, letting the hot water stream through your hair and then your back; and you touch, feel , and you can almost taste him ; sweet and saccharine Miguel, at your lips.

With two fingers flat against your clit, you rub little circles at the nub, dipping into your hole for much needed wetness. Your other hand travels up soft skin, pads of your fingers grazing collarbone, and then they curl around your neck. With a little pressure, your thumb grazes your jaw. Like he does, except your hands aren't as deliciously rough or as large. You slip a finger in, and then two, water pounding your back and eyes screwed. You push past that initial tightness, searching for a little give. When it comes, cunt clenching around your fingers, just shy of that sweet spot as you press your clit with the heel of your palm; you're imagining it's your roommate. He'd wrap those thick forearms around you, press his cock to the crest of your back and touch you like you deserve.

You do it like Miguel would, reverent , touching you as if you were clay at a potter's wheel. In the hands of God herself, you cum; falling, falling, falling; tumbling down white water rapids and spit back up into the rushing water. You're panting, now, out of breath.

When you sink onto your bed, you realise it's not quite enough. Still in a fluffy robe, steam curls from your skin like clouds – ones that smell of cheap body wash and shampoo. Before you know it, you're reaching for your phone, sending two quick messages to a certain somebody.

[Sent: 15:32]

hey mig

[Sent: 15:32]

where did u go?

You don't expect a quick reply - he's never been much of a texter. But those three dots pop up in no time at all, much to your surprise.

[Received: 15:33]

Out.

[Received: 15:33]

Running errands.

It's succinct and to the point – of which you expect nothing else from Miguel. Your thumbs fly to the screen to reply but another message tugs the rug out from under your shaky legs.

[Received: 15:35]

Is everything okay?

[Sent: 15:35]

yeah

[Sent: 15:36]

all good

When that provides no response, you're left chewing on your lip, anxious. He's seen the message, he's read the message; but for some reason, several minutes go by and there's no response.

You're ready to give up and chalk it to your roommate's hot-and-cold nature, when your phone rings.

Immediately, you pick up.

" Don't believe you." His voice rings out, tinny, nestled amongst the covers.

"Hey, Mig." You settle down on the bed, putting him on speaker and placing it by your ears.

" Did you hear what I said?" His tone is deep and intense, making you shiver. It's not quite the same, of course, but you're reminded of nights spent with his lips tucked close the shell of your ear.

You swallow. "Yeah. I… I did."

" You sure? Because you suck at lying."

"Don't be an asshole."

" Think I get a free pass when you disappear for the whole day."

You roll your eyes. “You didn't call–”

“ Would you have answered?”

Ouch. He sounds frustrated, the quiet chatter of his background bathed in heavy silence. Silence thick with tension, and you almost choke on it.

He breaks it with a heavy sigh. “ You okay? ”

“No. Not really.”

“ Okay. ” He lets it sit for a while, before saying, “ I'll be home, soon. There's leftovers in the fridge, and you should eat, sweetheart. You want anything from the store? ”

His voice is so, so soft. It crackles like kindling on a fire: warmth that blooms and spreads to your chest. Like slipping off frozen gloves to thaw off in front of a heater, and he just makes you feel impossibly warm.

“Not really, thanks.” You mumble it, and hear a satisfied grunt from the other end. Before you change your mind, you say, “Sorry. M'sorry.”

Miguel gives a light chuckle and you think you can hear him smile, the kind you always chase after a stupid argument: one that tugs at the corners of his pretty lips.

“ You've got nothin' to be sorry about .”

He gives you a moment to feel the weight of his words, and ends the call. That heat at your chest blooms.

If Miguel O'Hara is the Sun, then maybe you don't mind being pulled into his orbit; bathing in steady light and warmth.

~~~

He comes home with flowers. A beautiful bouquet; delicate and balanced, featherlight wildflowers and brush, interspersed with sprays of blue and purple and pink. It's wonderfully dense, reminding you of the tangles of colour a child might decorate a picture with in wobbly crayon. Simply put, it's nothing short of a vision, and you notice how delicately he places it on the dining table.

With the rest of the grocery bags, Miguel clatters in, and you can't help but be curious. You're poking through the bags, sitting on the counter as he puts them away – after offering to help, of course, but he bats you away easily. Your bare legs bristle in the chill brought on by the window cracked open, and he just breezes past.

The cabinet opens with a thud , and your roommate busies himself with putting away food. Carefully, you watch the way the muscles of his back flexes this way and that - cut and lean under that thin sweater. He’s otherwise occupied, and so you take the opportunity to stare, playing with a loose string at the hem of silky shorts. And so, it makes you jump when your phone buzzes beside you. Innocuously, you glance at the notification, and your eyes go wide.

“Who’s that?” Miguel asks, voice light. With that freaky sixth sense of his, he doesn’t need to turn around to know, it seems.

“Lyla.” You murmur, reading the rest of the message.

“ ...And? ”

“Uh. Well…” Blinking, you can’t quite believe what she’s asking. “ Girl’s Night . I-I mean… she’s asking me to come with her for a Girl’s Night.”

“Really?” His tone is surprising, and you can hear how he beams by its lilting nature. Maybe he’s laughing at you, maybe he’s not, but you snap back regardless.

“ ... don’t act so surprised.”

“ You sound surprised.” He laughs.

“It’s different when I do it.” You say simply. “I just… I didn’t expect it. I didn’t even know we were close enough to–”

“Bullshit. You text her all the time.”

“A couple of times, Mig.” You correct him, trying to pin down a suitable response to give Lyla. You draw a blank. “I don’t want her to feel like she has to, or anything.”

He turns around, sleeves still rolled up. The look he gives makes you wither: one that could say about a million things. You think it means cut the crap , but he could just be constipated: you haven't quite mastered the art of reading Miguel O’Hara.

“Do you want to go?” He gets closer, hand flat on the counter next to your thigh.

You nod, and his hand creeps up and up.

Giving you a little smile, he shrugs. “Then go.”

It makes you shy. Bashful , even; and you’re wriggling as he squeezes the flesh. A hand on his forearm, and he’s close; so much so that all you can feel is the press of skin, and feel gentle breath fluttering past your cheek. You’re stuck underneath the gaze of his pretty lashes, and entranced at the way he licks his even prettier lips. A sudden thought seizes you - so heavy it makes your chest tight and leaden.

Oh. You want to kiss him.

In a moment, it’s gone. A broad palm nudges your thigh aside, and you’re shifting so he can reach the drawers just by your legs. You oblige, falling back into familiar routine.

Life moves on. Like Miguel said it would, and you find yourself entwined with the idea of time passing. Lying awake each night, picking out sand from underneath your fingernails, after clawing your way out of the hourglass. Steady, slow dregs; and it's tipped over each morning, restarting the clock.

The flowers disappear from the dining table. Miguel retreats into the folds and dark corners of your apartment; you see him less and less. Passing ships in the night, you seem to miss each other by a fraction of a second. All of a sudden he's busy , and all of a sudden you're swamped with work. You only see each other at night, looking out for the bits and pieces left as proof of life: sometimes he'll leave a hot flask out for you in the mornings, and you'll greet him with a cheesy soap in the evenings. If he's not leaving later and later after work, that is.

He looks tired, you note. Exhausted; prone to little yawns as you turn to him every now and then whilst watching on the couch. It's sweet, the way his frown has made way to a dopey smile, but it's frayed at the edges, tinged with something you can't quite place. You let him sleep that night, bringing pillows to lay his head on, and wrapping him up in that old blanket.

Girl's night creeps up on you. It shakes you by the shoulders when you collapse on the sofa after a long day – and you're rushing to get ready. There's no Miguel to make sly remarks or prod you into action, this time. You wonder what he'd say about what you're wearing; a leftover dress buried in boxes from your ex's apartment.

Short, tight, snug; it has you feeling glamorous – but you hope it doesn't look as fanciful as it feels. Too much; yet again, you're worried about being too much. Even though you're running a little late, you take the time to carefully apply makeup; something shiny on your lids, a dab of blush, and gloss slathered onto your lips. When you sling on little heels, and snatch a petite bag from the hooks near the door, there's barely enough time to catch that last glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Down and out you go, into a dusky night.

~~~

“I had to go through her manager– and wait, can you believe this girl has a fucking manager, now?” Lyla bats at MJ's shoulder, and the redhead laughs good-naturedly.

“It's not– she's exaggerating! My manager's just my mom, I swear.”

“It's a good thing, no?” You smile, taking a healthy swig of a brightly coloured cocktail.

“It means she is booked, and–” Lyla hiccups, raising an unsteady glass that threatens to tip. MJ straightens her elbow instinctually, before raising her own. “ – very busy .”

It's your turn to laugh, glass held high in the air. With a clink , there's a clash of crystal that's all but drowned out by the chatter in the upscale bar.

Somewhere fancy, courtesy of Lyla. One of those places that serves tiny portions in big, empty plates, a fusion of cultural food with white, upper class owners. No-doubt the result of summering somewhere in the ever-broad global South , Lyla had said slyly, under the lip of a menu.

There's powdered sugar on the rim of your flute. It dissolves on your tongue. You down the rest. Sickly sweet, and you wipe what drips onto your lips.

It has you checking your phone. Miguel hasn't called, not that you were expecting anything. Whilst Lyla and MJ talk, you scroll mindlessly through his chat; a smattering of one word answers. Missed calls. Unanswered messages.

" –what about you, babe?"

Your eyes snap back up to meet Lyla's, expectant.

"Uhhh…"

"Nevermind." Sharp eyes travel to your phone, and there's a flash of recognition. "Miggy said you're in school. He said you're gonna graduate early, this year."

"He said that?" You're confused. "I mean… I'm trying but it's not looking like that, right now."

She wags a finger, shaking her head like she's trying to remember something. "No, no, he seemed adamant. Said you're working hard, doing well."

"Doing better ." You correct her, shyly.

" Bullshit. " She says it the way Miguel does, and it makes you laugh. You see it now; he's the product of the people he loves. A kind of Frankenstein's monster, he's stitched together those bits and pieces; he's made himself beautiful. You wonder what piece of you he carries. If he even holds you that close to his chest.

"I bet you're doing amazing. " MJ finishes. Her smile is warm, and copper-coloured; it feels hazy and ambered in your little corner. "Better than me, anyways. I would rather die than go back to college."

"Back?" You ask.

"Oh, of course! You don't know." She giggles, leaning in like she's about to say something scandalous - the drink is clearly doing its job. Her next words are an exaggerated stage whisper. "I dropped out."

" Seriously? " You play along, with faux shock.

"...damn right she did." Lyla gives a drunken wave to a nearby waiter, asking for another glass of wine. Something expensive, she whispers, giving a deceptive smile.

"It just wasn't for me, I guess. I went because everyone around me was going, even Pete. Uhh, English Lit, or something. And it didn't… I–I mean it just wasn't–"

"It didn't click."

" Right!" She snaps her fingers. "It was too much. I didn't know what I was doing, I was 18, for God's sake. Think I stuck at it for a bit too long, honestly."

"...and the world didn't explode." You breathe.

MJ answers with a knowing nod. She chugs the rest of a crisp Mojito, raising the empty glass once more.

"To doing better ."

You're quick to follow. "To doing better."

Lyla frowns, looking for a glass that's tucked into the corner. The room must be spinning already, with the way she pats around for it. You nudge it towards her with an elbow, and she's raucous; crumpling into a fit of giggles.

One drink turns to two, two turns to three, and then four ; until you're ready to spill out onto the busy strip. When the waiter places a slip of paper into the centre, one with so many zeroes it makes your eyes bulge, you don't even have to pretend to reach for your wallet. Gleefully, Lyla picks up the bill, sliding a shiny Amex card onto the dish.

She's generous, you note, as she buys a bottle of wine to go when MJ picks up her bag. She's perceptive, too. You see it when MJ wrings her hands, still tipsy and stuttering in her heels as you pile onto the street. She's making apologies already - I've got an early start and need to see my May - but Lyla intercepts. There's the gentle clink of a bottle thrust into her hands, something expensive, and she kisses the apples of her cheeks before sending her off in a taxi.

Her own cheeks are ruddy, rosy with drink and she splits into a wide smile. The back of her hand comes up to your neck. Warm , she whispers, before linking arms with you like a schoolgirl off to do something they shouldn't.

Eventually, with shaky legs, you end up in a nightclub. She knows someone who knows someone, apparently, and you're ushered into a packed place just off 76th. Lights and pounding music, a flurry of limbs; you let the crowd take you in. If this is what it means to be a part of a whole; some writhing, heaving beast, to be more than your hand in someone else's and theirs in yours; then you could live here forever, you think. Forever, for the night, for the next ten minutes; you blink , and time passes.

You're having fun, you think. Letting the blood rush to your head, hips swaying to the music and you don't push away the quiet snap of a phone camera, nor it's red recording light. Dancing, singing, many seem to be pulled into orbit around you. This is how it works , pushed into an ebb and flow of people held together by broken lyrics and a thumping bassline. You let it wash over you, all-consuming, dragging yourself into murky depths.

You're in a booth, now, anchored by a dainty hand around your wrist. Pupils blown, she cups your face to inspect you, to figure out where you've gone. Someone's bought you a drink, there's a stranger's arm around your shoulders, but Lyla pushes them both away. Too much? It's a question, of which you shake your head firmly - lolling and with a distinct lack of fine motor skills - no. Not enough.

You blink. Bitter liquor hits your throat, and you chase the taste of somebody else's lips. A stranger, and even under the influence you know it doesn't feel right. Bile rises, and you're gone, clamping onto your stomach and trying not to hurl.

You blink. You're on the sidewalk, with a heavy head on someone's shoulder. The strap of your heels dig into your ankles and you fumble with it, trying to stop the road from spinning. Lyla holds you up, not much more up to task than you are.

A car pulls up, and at first you don't recognise it; entranced by shiny rims coming to a stop. You look up, still buried in Lyla's thick jacket; and you see it. You see him.

Miguel's wearing glasses. That's the first thing you notice, stumbling to your feet. Immediately, your face cracks into a dopey smile, leaning onto the lip of the open window. He gives you a once over, swallowing thickly, brows drawn.

Quiet chatter flys straight over your head. Lyla arguing, Miguel wagging a finger at her; but all you can see is him. It's like you've got blinkers on, tunnel vision making you focus on the curve of cheekbone, and the way his eyes scrunch up around black rims and glass.

You clamber into the backseat.

“Get in, Ly.”

The other woman seems resolute. “ M'not –”

“Did you take something?”

“Fuck you.” Flashing a middle finger, she wraps up her coat like a robe, walking away down the road.

He's adamant, driving up next to her. You keep your head on the glass where it's cool.

“Let me take you home. Please. ”

Frowning, she stops. When he leans over to open the passenger's side, she slips off her boots, and sidles in.

Their voices feel like a blur. You can barely register, only picking up half of the words hissed under their breath.

“... I called you, you can't give me a lecture…”

“...not fair, Lyla…. can't keep babysitting…”

“... fucking hypocrite… not the only one… I'm going through some shit…”

“...too far…. always taking it too…”

He drops her off outside of the apartment. From the backseat, you're sobering up; able to catch his heavy sigh as he watches her through the window. It's only when he sees her walk in does he turn to you, passing bottled water kept in the console.

“You want to come out to the front?”

You like the way he says it, for some reason. Any anger or frustration he had towards Lyla dissipates. He doesn't bring that into a quiet conversation with you.

He's too solemn, too serious, and so you clamber into the front over the console; limbs and legs everywhere, as obnoxiously as you can. A slight elbow to his chest, a hand clutching his shirt; you want to make him laugh. As you settle onto the seat, you see it: huffing dramatically, he gives you a small smile.

Miguel reverses back out onto the road.

You blink, and you're home. Legs still shaky, he helps you up the stairs, settling you onto the sofa. Car keys clink onto the dish by the door, and he slips off his coat – that brown one, your favourite, you think.

Fumbling with the strap of your heels, it must be too painful for him to watch as Miguel settles by your feet. His big, strong hands are surprisingly deft when he undoes the dainty buckle.

“Are you mad at me?” Meekishly, you watch and he shakes his head, not making eye-contact. Maybe it's the alcohol, but you're staring; looking for that light in his eyes amongst the dark room.

Now, he looks up. “What?”

“M'just looking.” You say, chewing the inside of your cheek as one shoe slips off. “ I'm not allowed to look?”

The other one comes off, and he hisses when he spots a little cut where the strap dug into your ankle. He can't help it, rolling it gently in his hands, trying to ease the pain with a massage.

“You wear glasses.” You say it softly, more to yourself than to anyone else. Giggling now, you cradle his face and he sits up. “I didn't know that.”

“ That's not – I've always worn glasses. You're just not paying attention.” He shrugs lazily, but he's smiling.

“Not true , Mig. I would've noticed.”

“You're drunk–”

“When it's you, I always pay attention.” Absent-mindedly, your hand curls into his hair. He keens . “Like… your hair's getting longer.”

Gently, he shakes out of your grip, getting up. “I know, I know. I need a haircut.”

“I like it.” Starry-eyed, you look up at him. “You're so pretty, Mig.”

It makes him heave. Still tipsy, your legs spread ever so slightly, hand taking his and pulling him closer. Placing his hand on your thigh, you let it trace up, up, up, catching at the hem of your short dress.

He practically caves in, collapsing next to you on the couch.

“You should–” His eyes are glassy as you ease yourself onto his lap. “ F-Fuck . You should go to bed, sweetheart.”

Wrapping an arm around his shoulders, you roll your hips, watching as he groans wantonly.

“But I'm not tired.” His hand ends up on your waist, applying just the right amount of pressure. Underneath, you can feel him stir, increasingly hard under loose sweats. “And you haven't touched me in weeks. ”

You're exaggerating, but it goes to his head anyway. He buries his head into the crook of your shoulder, whispering into the bare skin.

“I know, I know…”

“Just the tip, Miguel.” You're grinding your clit onto him, pussy barely covered by a thin thong. Whispered into the shell of his ear, you're a siren, honeyed words dangerously close to breaking him down. “Just the tip, and I promise , I'll let it go. Please , baby.”

Your dress rides up, and his hands come down to palm at your ass.

“ Please…” You're pleading, lips on his neck as he squeezes, forcing you down to hump directly over his cock.

“Oh, shit.” His hips jump once, twice; and then he stills, hands at your hips and ass to stop you.

Desperate, you whine, trying to fight against it. He doesn't let up, hand cradling your chin so you can look him in the eye.

“ Bed .” He says, shakily. “Not like this.”

He slips you off, noticeably adjusting his pants. Legs spread wide, head tipped back as he sighs; he looks delicious , and you're fighting off the urge to let him take you right there and then.

You stumble through the little hallway, pushing past some doors. Something clatters into your thigh, and you hear a dull thud as another thing falls to the floor. Frustrated, you strip down to your underwear, something light and lacy and it leaves very little to the imagination.

There's a bed, and you collapse on it; swimming in the silky sheets. It smells like him - musky and oaky and gentle - and you think you must be dreaming already. And then, you sit up, realising too late - this isn't your room.

Miguel wasn't too far off, hearing the thumping and clattering; hesitant as he opens the door. You're wrapped up like a present, spilling out of lingerie on his bed. He swallows, turning away to dig into his wardrobe, intending to pull out a baggy shirt for you.

“ Miguel .” You croak, but he ignores the want in your voice, so heavy it goes straight to his cock. “Miguel, please. ”

All his shirts blend together. He can't concentrate.

“Do you think I don't want it? Because I do, fuck, I need it. So bad, baby, please.” Your body heaves with a half sob.

Heart splintering, he turns. Finally, you meet his eye. You spread your legs.

“ Here. Right here .” You tap your clothed cunt with shaky fingers, pulling your thong to the side. His eyes drink it up, the way you glisten when your cunt eats up the fabric. You know he's watching, and you take advantage of it, circling your clit with the pads of two fingers. “Like this . When I touch myself, I think of you… d-did you know that?”

Swallowing roughly, he can't take his eyes off of you.

“What… What else?” He croaks.

“I think of your tongue, a-at my pussy. And your fingers… God. ” You slip a finger in, and he watches as your cunt clenches around it; gushing and sloppy. “Your l-lips. Meant it, before. When I said you were pretty. Want to sit on that pretty face and watch you melt– oh-h- fuck- ”

He wants to lick it up, all that slick that sluices from your hole. His mouth waters, just thinking about it.

“Put another one in, for me.” He says it low, sinking to his knees to watch you fuck yourself.

Nodding, you oblige.

“Does it feel good?”

“ Yes. ” You don't hesitate.

“Can you fit another one? Want to see how good she looks when she comes, sweetheart.”

Three fingers in, now, and he slides your thong a little further aside; reaching up to press his thumb to your clit. Light streams in from blinds cracked open and highlights your thighs perfectly. Nevertheless, he adjusts his glasses to make sure he doesn't miss anything.

The twitch of your leg, the way your hand cramps up, the way your lips curl into a delicious O - he sees it all, commits it to memory.

“ Faster , please.”

“ Doesn't –” You're frustrated, clearly chasing something that refuses to surface. “Not the same. Can't fucking reach. ”

He titters, nipping at your thighs and soothing the bites with the flat of his tongue.

“Poor baby. Will you let me help?”

Fervently, you nod, slipping out your fingers as he takes off his glasses. They're discarded, too foggy to be useful right now.

“Did I tell you to take them out?” He sighs and gestures for your hand. Wrapping his lips around them he sucks them clean, humming lightly. He pats your clit with a wet slap, content. “Put two fingers in, sweetheart.”

Doing as he says, your head feels full - cotton wool and bubble wrap, only able to focus on the pleasure building behind your clit. And when he slots two fingers in next to yours , it rips out a gravelly moan.

“ Here? ” He says dragging himself deeper, curling his fingers up. “Or is it… here? ”

You groan, limp against his hand as you feel impossibly full. It reminds you of the stretch of his cock; creaming around the base of his two fingers and yours. That wonderful curl as he pumps himself in and out, cupping your hand in the process to make sure you match his pace. He can feel your walls spasm around him, impossibly soft and velveteen.

“Can't say no to you,” His eyes are low, grunting as he palms himself roughly. “Even though… fuck … even though I should.”

It's wet, the slap slap slap of skin against skin echoing in his room. Miguel sits up, pressing his lips to your neck, and you take the opportunity to slip your other hand into his sweats. You start pumping, in time with his ministrations, eyes blown as you swipe your thumb over his weeping slit.

You know he likes it rough, and you jerk him into your palm; fast and hard and you watch as he matches your pace. Even now, you're competing, trying to catch the him up; to see who can make the other cum first.

You push back on his fingers, hips slotting against his, whispering nonsense into his neck. You're too fucked out to care; confessions you never thought would see the light of day. All the little things you like about him, things he says, things he does; and you don't even register the ochred flush smattered along the ridge of cheekbone.

He spills into your hand, and you're quick to follow; cumming around him as his fingers stutter in and out. It feels good , dangerously so, and has you pressing shaky kisses around his mouth, and nipping at his bottom lip.

He stills, but you're greedy, aching for more. You want him in you; seating his thick cock deep inside, painting your walls with hot cum, and pushing it back in with deft fingers. Every part of you is on fire, barely satiated by your heated foray.

You tip back onto the bed, and he joins you; caging you in with thick forearms, looking at you like you've stolen all the stars in the sky. That feeling , again, slams into your chest like a bullet. Messy hair, ruddy cheeks, hand gently tracing your jaw; he looks gone, and oh so soft. You want to kiss him ; and it's a thought that sticks, embedding itself somewhere you can't reach to dig it out.

“ Miguel .” You whisper, enough alcohol at the edges of your mind to stop thinking and spill your guts to him, unfiltered. “Are you sleeping with someone else?”

His eyes flit over your face before answering and he shakes his head.

“No. No. Just you. Only you.”

“ Don't believe you .” But you want to. So, so desperately. “Promise me?”

“I promise, sweetheart.” He swallows. “Are you?”

“No. Don't think I could if I tried.” It comes out watery, stuck at the back of your throat.

He just looks, for a moment, cradling the back of your head.

“I want to kiss you.” It spills out from your lips.

“I know.”

“Then why won't you kiss me?”

“Not a good idea.” He strains, kissing your forehead, and then each cheek. Hesitating, he places a gentle peck to your chin. “Ask me tomorrow.”

He says it simply, too easily; and it makes you want to sob. When Miguel slips away, and you hear the sound of a light turned on in the bathroom, you can't move. Catatonic; you blink, and he's cleaned you up, and slipped a shirt over your shoulders. Laying back in his bed, you watch as he lingers by the doorway, shrouded in shadow.

Goodnight. Y ou think you say it out loud, but it echoes in your head.

He says back, but not really. Instead, he leaves that goodnight hanging by the doorway like an old coat, and you wrap it over your shoulders.

It keeps you a little warmer through the night.

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ozzgin · 11 months ago

Note

Heyyy just checked your masterlist and saw that despite you being into obey me! fandom, you don't have a fic. I'm married to Solomon in my mind so how about a situation where the reader (fem or gn your pick) is equally in love with this old man and begs him to recreate that time potion which made him immortal. Oh? Did i mention i want him to be a yandere? Please do that as well ^^

I love me my morally grey wizard ;)

I have 3 unfinished drafts for Diavolo, Barbatos and Satan on my Wattpad, but it was around the time I started getting Baki related requests here so I haven’t had the time to continue them. This goes for everyone reading, if you see a fandom title with no works you can always request something! :) This blog is only a few months old and I wasn’t writing much before (twice or thrice a year if I was generously inspired), so the variety is rather limited still. (I also finish requests at the pace of a snail, sorry about that)

Yandere! Solomon x Reader Headcanons

Featuring your fellow human classmate and now soon-to-be husband who couldn’t be happier about your wish to spend an eternity with him.

Content: gender neutral reader, obsessive behavior

It started rather subtle. Just idle curiosity at first, a mere feigned surprise that was quickly swept aside for more important matters. Sure, Diavolo bringing another fellow human to the Devildom, especially one without any powers, was at least mildly intriguing. Your situation was as tempting as a puzzle to fiddle with in between tasks. Beyond polite offers to help you handle the new challenging environment, Solomon was not planning on prying further. Then the surprises begun to queue one after another. To think that you had barely learned your way around and somehow still forged a contract with one of the devilish siblings. Then another. And another. Fascination crept its way in and the greatest sorcerer found himself begging to learn more about the mysterious (Y/N).

Naturally such fascination should’ve had an intellectual grounding and nothing more. What is it about you that has caused such a ruckus across RAD? All he needed was an answer. Yet he discovered much too late how embarrassingly involved he’d become. Childishly clutching his D.D.D. in the middle of the night, wondering if you’ve already fallen asleep, and grinning when the screen lit up with a response from you. Cancelling all plans the instant you’d ask - casually - if he wanted to join you after class to check out a new café. No, of course he had nothing else to do. Yes, it’s definitely a lucky coincidence that he’s always available when you want to hang out with him.

Once he accepted he was madly in love with you, he began fretting over all possible obstacles. The demon brothers, life after RAD. He’d never engaged much with other humans and his charisma only covered superficial pleasantries. How was he to properly convey that he’s - mildly put - obsessed with you to the point where rejection won’t be taken lightly? Uh oh. Closer to a threat than a confession. Thankfully the Heavens were gracious and you immediately returned his affections. No need for potions or hexes (not that he would’ve…he had them prepared just in case). He remembers it to this day, years after, the wide, innocent smile that you so generously bestowed upon him. Almost like a premonition, he knew you’d be the person to marry. Something he never considered in his long, lonely life.

You lazily lift your hand and admire the ring again. Solomon is quite clumsy and forgetful, but he goes all out for the things that matter. The proposal had been planned to a dizzying amount of detail and you couldn’t believe how much thought he put into it, with many aspects you otherwise assumed he’d forget or omit. Yet staring at the intricately carved band adorning your finger now, you can’t help the pang of melancholy blooming in your chest. Solomon lifts his gaze from the book he’s reading, sensing your discomfort. “Something bothering you?” He inquires with a hint of worry in his voice. “What happens after the wedding?” You demand, turning to face him. “Oh my. I personally prefer to focus on the present.” He answers with a chuckle. “Sure, because you don’t have to worry about your future. It’s mine that will end at some point.” His eyes widen and his hands are suddenly cold. He’s been so entranced by your company that he didn’t even entertain the idea of a potential end to it. He almost strokes his cheek to soothe the hard slap of your words, leaving him in a frightened stupor.

Oh no. No, no, no. Within the blink of an eye he finds himself standing before the alchemy shelves, rattling the bottles for the right ingredients. You didn’t even need to mutter a word. He knew exactly what you’re thinking of. How shameful of him to have caused you this distress in the first place. You’re young, and time for him has lost its human meaning, so your mortality hadn’t crossed his mind this entire time. He would’ve found a solution for it later, most certainly, but he didn’t expect this postponement to make you so anxious. His lips are quivering and his slender fingers are visibly trembling. Partly from the fear of almost failing you as your future husband, partly from the excitement of what’s about to come. He always imagined there’d be nothing more beautiful and precious to witness than you in your wedding attire as you tie the knot. But now? Oh, how ravishingly tempting and seducing, the fact that he can listen to the mundanely repeated words of “Til death do us part” and stare down its meaning until there’s nothing left of it. Not quite. Not for you two. The veil will be lifted and your face will radiate eternity.

After all, nothing will stand between him and his fated soulmate. What’s death to a wizard of his caliber?

#obey me #obey me headcanons #obey me x reader #obey me x mc #yandere obey me #solomon x reader #obey me solomon #solomon x mc #yandere headcanons #yandere x reader #gender neutral reader #gn reader

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iceiceicecold · 11 months ago

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What Your Favorite Band of Brothers character says about you (revamped and based on personal experiences)

Winters- You’re either a pretty level headed person or your life is in complete shambles and you find comfort in characters that know how to handle stress.

Nixon- You love a good self destructive character and more than likely see yourself in them. Also, how is your undiagnosed mental illness treating u lately?

Lipton- You just want to be held and cared for so bad it’s not even funny anymore.

Speirs- You most DEFINITELY read wattpad stories as a kid. The mafia kind. You’re also unnecessarily horny on the internet and probably say he’s “Lana-coded.”

Roe- You love a good tragic and tortured character, I’ll give you that. You also listen to boygenius and love religious imagery.

Babe- I’m gonna take a wild guess and say you’re on some type of lgbt or autism spectrum.

Liebgott- You have a really weird self-confidence complex and read a LOT of enemies to lovers. I’m lowkey scared of you even though you’ve probably never hit anyone in your life.

Webster- You’re an artist at heart and view the world in a way that might set you apart from your peers. You can never and will never tell if that’s a good or a bad thing. Also you call grown men “babygirl.”

Guarnere- You have TERRIBLE taste in men and can never tell the difference between being mean or flirting.

Toye- Ditto ^ but also may I add you probably have a thing for people in uniform.

Buck- You are a very simple person. You like everything to just be kind of normal and calm all of the time. Sometimes you dip your toes in the water, but it’s more of a once a year kind of thing. Your favorite superhero as a kid was Captain America.

Luz- You are just cool. Very Ferris Beuller, Bill and Ted, Matthew Lillard kind of cool. You’re also probably transmasc or into guys to some degree.

Shifty- You’re either one of those “omg smol bean” people or you just love a good ray of sunshine kind of character. Your favorite pony as a kid was probably Fluttershy.

Malarkey- I’m so deeply upset just looking into your eyes dawg you need to take a nap and book a therapy session. Not a single one of you guys is completely and totally stable.

Renee- You so desperately wanted this show to pass the bechdel test and wished more women were included in the production. You’re also into women.

Perconte- You’re either really cool or you’re really annoying. No inbetween.

Bull- You really liked the SNL “Big Boy” skit with SZA

Muck- You want to be the funny friend so bad and you’re still not sure if you’ve earned that title yet. Mad respect though bc I know ur ass has seen supernatural in full. More than once.

Welsh, Penkala, Spina, Talbert, Grant, Martin, Penkala, Hoobler, Skinny- Either you’re lying to be different or you genuinely love a good underrated background character.

Blithe- Mm you’re lying lol

Sobel- Hey, girl! What the fuck!

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marsbutterfly · 7 months ago

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The Princess and The Pauper

Summary: Your father has arranged for you to be wed to a prince in a nearby kingdom, but when you tell your beloved, the two of you plan to run away.

a/n: hey everyone <3 I actually started writing this fic back in 2022 and just went back to it in March, I believe? anyway, this is by far the longest fic I have ever written, so please, enjoy <3

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: medieval au, fem!reader, non-binary!hanji zoe, NSFW, childhood friends to lovers, parental death (mother), secret relationship, mentions and description of disease, panic attacks, mentions of forced marriage, massive age gap (between reader and the man she is meant to marry/ reader's parents), blood, parental abuse, physical abuse, kissing, face-sitting, cunnilingus, fingering, scissoring, not really beta read, we ball.

small glossary: Libet - Lady-In-Waiting | Tegan - reader's cat| Elowen - reader's horse

ao3 | wattpad | cover by: bbybluemochi on twt | wc: 24.1k

The warm spot on the window ledge had never seemed more comfortable. The sun had been shining right above it all day long, the music that came from the kingdom faded into the background and your cat purred by your feet. You knew in your heart that this was the perfect time of day to bring out a blanket and cuddle up against a pillow, a good book in your hands. These days, it was rare for you to have a moment all to yourself like this, and, deep down, you knew one way or another, your parents would interrupt your peace.

It was the third time you were reading this book, or trying to read it. The story of two lovers from different classes, brought apart by their parents and the stress that came with their titles, a story you knew all too well. You couldn’t help but sigh at the irony, of course, the book you chose had a similar story to the one you found yourself living at the current moment.

The rumors of your secret affair with the doctor’s child had been spreading like wildfire all across the kingdom, especially after a few of the night guards had caught you sneaking around late at night while trying to make it to your secret meeting spot. No matter how much you paid them to stay quiet, the word still got out somehow and you had yet to receive punishment for it.

The words on the book float around you in a silent dance as you lose focus, your thoughts traveling thousands of miles away towards the distant memories of the night before, when your beloved held you in their arms and read to you from their personal journal about remedies they had discovered, about the star constellations they had studied a week before, or just simply as they played with your hair while listening to your breathing in the cold night.

Before you can daydream much further than that, a bad feeling takes place in your stomach. Something in the atmosphere felt… wrong, though you couldn’t quite put your finger on what it was. You quickly close your book and place it on top of the cushion next to you before gently nudging your cat away to give you the chance to stand up. Even though the pet cries softly, you apologize and offer it a small smile, followed by a quick scratch on the top of the head, that’s when you hear it in the distance.

The loud, carrying voices became closer by the second and you could hear loud footsteps against the marble floors. With a heavy sigh and a roll of your eyes, you begin to make your way toward the entrance to your bedroom, your hands going through your dress to destroy any wrinkles before finding a resting place crossed against your thighs.

The doors swing open and they quickly collide with the wall. You close your eyes tightly for no more than a couple of seconds before regaining your composure, not a word escapes your lips before your father, a plump man with a large beard and gold chains that are hidden by all the facial hair, enters the room. His voice carries around the area, the excitement palpable in his words, “My darling daughter!”

“Father,” you say politely, lowering your knees a few inches while your head hangs from your neck. Once you bring yourself back up, you decide to flash him a gentle and warm smile, knowing damn well that it was nothing but a fake, something you and your family were more than used to, something to stop yourself from actually telling him every single bad word that has crossed your mind in the last twenty seconds, “It has been a while.”

The man waves his hands, silently asking the servants around to leave you be and they quickly do as they are told. Not a minute goes by and you find yourself trapped in his tight embrace, a warm sensation taking over your face as embarrassment settles in, he has always been a man of action rather than words. “How have you been?” He inquires, awkwardly attempting to make small talk.

His hands fidget around for a few seconds, restlessly going from his beard to the diamonds around his fingers. The smell of cheap cologne mixed with whatever he has had for lunch overtakes the room, the crumbs still stuck to his beard and the small part of his hair-covered belly that pokes out from the far too small shirt are nearly enough to break through your facade and bring out the disgust on your face. But somehow, you power through.

“I have been doing alright,” you respond, placing your hands behind your back while fidgeting with your fingers, nearly pulling out your own nails in an attempt to ground yourself and keep yourself sane. He has never once asked you how you were doing without having another intention in mind, but you decide to play along regardless, “How was your recent trip to the Pephia Kingdom? I hear their knights have recently returned from a quest with a bigger amount of gold than they have ever seen, is that true?”

The man laughs, his breath hits your face and, as an instinct, you look away. Your eyes are closed shut for a second until you force yourself to stare at him again, his face red from the laughter. “Oh, so you have heard about it, yes? Good, that will make things easier.”

You can’t help but tilt your head, your eyebrows furrowing in response to his words as you continue to pick at the side of your nails, the area getting progressively more raw and inflamed, “I’m sorry, I’m not sure I understand.”

He clears his throat and takes a deep breath, his face becoming redder than before as his voice now takes a low turn, a more serious expression on his face, “It has come to my attention that you have been... Fraternizing with... A peasant?”

Your breathing seems to stop for a second, all the air is completely sucked out of your lungs and suddenly it feels like the room has started to spin. You weren’t sure what to do, should you lie and pretend that it was a made-up lie by the guards? But how could you know that the information came from the guards? Should you own up to it and beg for his forgiveness? No, you would never find yourself stooping to such a low level. Time seemed to be moving so fast and yet so slowly, the doubt clouding your judgment. Since you weren’t able to offer an answer, he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose while his eyes close.

“y/n, we have talked about this!” He says, his voice has a cold tone to it and it sends a terror-filled shiver down your spine, “You were told to stay away from the doctor’s child. They are nothing but trouble and the entire kingdom knows they are… you know… a bit insane. They are considered the lowest of the low.”

Your face snaps back to look at him, how dare he speak of the one you loved in such a despicable manner? You can feel your cheeks burning, a mixture of anger and embarrassment, while your jaw clutches into place. It’s painful but you don’t even seem to notice it for the time being. “They have been teaching me to become a healer, so I can be better prepared for when the day comes when I become the queen!”

The man sighs, his eyes now squinting as he tries to remain calm, “I was not born yesterday, y/n. I raised you and I know you better than anyone ever could.” Another lie, this man may be your father but he did not know anything about you. In his head, you were still the little star-eyed girl who would love to watch her parents working for the good of her kingdom, but that stopped being the case long ago.

You continue to pick at the skin of your finger, feeling as a trickle of blood now makes its way down and lands on your dress. Your eyes shift focus for a small second before you are forcefully brought back to the situation at hand when your father grabs your chin and your cheeks with his rough hand, the sharpness of his many rings leaving behind scratches on your skin as he looks directly into your eyes. Your breathing begins to tremble as his grip tightens, you want to push him away, but that would only make things worse.

After a few seconds like this, when he finally decides that you have been brought down to your place, he lets you go. Your knees hit the ground and not even the size of your dress was enough to prevent your skin from bruising, your face is numb and you look at him through the hair that covers your eyes, wiping the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand.

“Do not lie to me again,” he says, the “loving father figure” persona completely gone now and the real version of him shining through, “have you or have you not been… intimate with this filthy low life?” The disgust in his voice was palpable, his nose scrunching up at the simple thought that his daughter, the perfect princess who was raised with everything good and nice, could have been defiled by someone of a lower class.

“Yes,” you respond, trying hard to keep the tears that desperately want to flow down your face at bay.

The look on his face sends a wave of terror down your body, he clutches his teeth so intensely that it nearly seems like they are about to break, and his face is so red that anyone who walked into the room would assume he was having a heart attack or really bad indigestion. He clears his throat and adjusts his shirt, his hands clutching the fabric, the sound of his shoes against the marble floors filling your ears as he begins to pace around.

“During my visit to the Pephia Kingdom, I was pleasantly surprised to find out that King Pierre’s eldest son was in search of a bride,” he says, his fat fingers brushing against your books, leaving behind greasy marks on your precious and rare volumes, a part of your heart breaks for the once clean pages, but his voice echoes through the walls once more, demanding your attention, “and your name came up.”

“What?” You catch yourself responding, certainly, you misheard what he said and he wasn’t suggesting what you assumed he was? Your own father would not be as cruel as to punish you in such a manner, “Porter? He is… much older than me.”

A smile takes over the man’s features, “That is true, but I was also much older than your mother, and stepmother, and yet, here we are.”

“P-please, you can’t do this. I’ll behave, I’ll do anything!” You try to plead with him. No, this is much deeper than a simple plea, you are begging. Your body is trembling and the tears you tried so hard to keep hidden now shamelessly fall, there is nothing you want less than to be wed to a man twice your age, a man whom you have never met, not when your heart already belongs to someone else.

“Oh, but I can. I am the king and you will do as you are told!” He roars, his fist slams against the wall and it causes you to whimper and cower away in the corner of the room, “this marriage will finally end the war that has been going on for nearly a century. The war between the four kingdoms will come to an end and it will finally put my name as the rightful ruler of all men. You are my daughter, you were born to do your job as a woman.”

You want to scream, you want to beg some more but you know that there is no changing his mind. The thoughts go through your mind so quickly that you can barely keep up, the air in your lungs burns on the way in and on the way out, like there are small particles of glass all around you. “Please.”

“Accept your future, y/n, and I will spare the filthy peasant who dared sully my daughter.” His eyes shot daggers into your heart, the idea of losing them, the one person who you have loved your entire life, is nearly enough to kill you. So for them, maybe this once, you could do something useful. So you nod, your head hanging low as you wrap your arms around yourself, your once light-colored dress now covered in dirt. “Excellent, I will send a messenger over to Pephia and let them know the wedding will happen tomorrow, at dusk. You will be out of here and you will never see that... Freak again.”

The sound of his shoes leaving the room would usually fill you with a sense of hope, but this time, it only meant that you would soon meet your doom. There was no getting away from this, it was your duty as the crown princess to do what was best for your people and those around you, but... The idea of living without them? Without Hanji? It was a pain that could only be compared to the feeling of having your heart ripped out of your chest and stomped on.

You can’t move your body, your face still burns from the mark of your father’s rings, your knees are scraped and covered in dirt and your hair is now a mess from being thrown around like a cheap and replaceable doll. You stay like that, wondering if this was your life now, just another pawn in your father’s sick game for power and control.

The stars start to show up in the sky, the lanterns in the kingdom taking over the once colorful streets and turning them into a dark shade of orange, covered by shadows that dance in pathetic rhythm. Once you are finally able to collect yourself off of the floor, you walk towards the balcony, your legs nearly failing you as you hold onto the walls for support, the tears won’t stop pouring from your eyes.

Your body drapes over your favorite spot on the window, the pillows are now freezing cold as the night air hits the fabric, your fingers gripping tightly onto it as you bury your face in the surface, a scream leaving your lungs. The desperation you feel in this moment can only be absolved by one thing, by the one person who could save you.

You reach under the window for the loose tile on the ground, hoping to find the box you have kept hidden for so long. You were careless once before, the people of the kingdom had found out about your most precious secret, but not anymore. From inside the compartment, you pull a black cloth, the smell of your beloved taking over your nostrils and filling you with a warm sense of security. With trembling hands you wrap it around the window ledge, your eyes finally noticing the armed guards that keep a close watch on your room, your father must know you have a plan.

The different colors of fabrics you hide in that box represent different things: yellow if you missed them, red if you wanted to meet at your usual spot, blue if you would not be able to see them that night, and so on, but the black one is the one color you never had to use before, it meant you were in danger. You prayed so hard that this moment would never come, that the worry on their face when Hanji handed it to you and you laughed quietly, saying it wasn’t necessary, wasn’t warranted but, once again, you were wrong.

The night was cold, a complete contrast with how sunny and warm your day had been up until that unfortunate visit. While a few tears still stream down your face, you decide to get yourself ready while waiting for Hanji to come, you know they won’t take long so you want to be ready, the sooner you can get out of this hellhole, the better.

Thinking of what you were actually going to take with you was a harder task than you’d ever imagined. There was nothing inside these empty palace walls that you would want to take with you, nothing that couldn’t be replaced. Only two things came to mind: the love letters Hanji had written to you throughout your relationship and the sapphire ring that belonged to your mother. The rest? Could easily be bought or traded or forgotten.

In a small bag gifted to you by a young peasant girl from a nearby village, you decide to pack the two essential items and a few more things, such as a small sewing kit, a small book where you have written down your knowledge about every herb and fruit you have ever come in contact with, a hairbrush and, of course, a bit of food that was bound to last the two of you a few days.

Your once beautiful dress is now covered in dirt and some blood, the sight is so disgusting that you can barely look at yourself. When you walk past the mirror and realize the pathetic state you find yourself in, a fit of rage takes over your body and you can’t help but follow your first instinct to throw a book at the surface, shards of glass exploding all over your room as you cover your face.

Your nails dig through the fabric of the outfit you are wearing, ripping it to shreds as you attempt to remove it as fast as possible. The grunts that come from deep within your chest represent the frustration you are feeling at that moment, nothing else could compare. The idea that you are being sold to a random kingdom… for loving someone? Fuck that.

You catch yourself staring into nothing, a thousand thoughts going through your mind and you can’t help but bite off your fingernails, waiting for your beloved to appear, for them to make their grand entrance through the passage you found hidden in your room years before, as a child. The idea that they wouldn’t come crosses your brain and you shake your head vigorously, pushing the thought so far deep that it won’t see the light of day again.

Not long after, you hear a faint knock coming from the secret door underneath your carpet. You can’t help but fly towards it, ripping the fabric off of the ground and throwing it across the room, immediately unlocking the heavy area. The moment Hanji comes into your field of vision, you notice the scratches on their face, the dirt on the palms of their hands, and the growing concern behind those whiskey-colored eyes, even the slight way in which their nose scrunches up when they try to catch their breath doesn’t go by unnoticed.

You have barely any time to react before their arms wrap around your waist, pulling you closer. Your arms, in response, grow a mind of their own and immediately wrap around their neck, your face buried in the area as you try your best to muffle your desolate cries. With tears of their own, Hanji guides you backward towards the bed, where the two of you lay for a while, crying in each other’s embrace.

The room is filled with outside lights and the deafening sound of your sobs. Hanji’s grip on you never loosens as you dig your nails through their clothes, your heart has never called their name quite like this before, it’s almost as if you need them to survive, more than food, more than air. All you need is Hanji. After what feels like an eternity, they break the silence.

“It’s true, isn’t it?” Their voice exhales a fake sense of calm that is completely unmasked by the trembling of their arms. They are desperately trying to keep the tears in their eyes at bay, trying to find a way to control their breathing while waiting for a response. You can only nod. “It’s all over the kingdom. I heard from my father that they are sending you away tomorrow?”

“I didn’t... I - I can’t…” You try to speak but the words simply won’t come out, they die in your throat before even being able to escape and all you can do is quietly gasp for air, clinging onto Hanji as tightly as you possibly can. Their fingers go through your hair, attempting to calm you down but it’s futile, especially when they feel themselves break down as well. Their lips press against the top of your head intensely as they pour all of their love for you into this one small action. “I can’t… live without you.”

“I know..” They respond after a few seconds, seemingly lost in thought, “Do you remember when we first met?”

You pause for a second, the clear memory of the day coming into your mind. It was a rainy day, the dark clouds in the sky making it seem a lot more hurtful than it already was. You couldn’t have been more than eight years old at the time, barely old enough to attend your first meeting between your father and his counselors as they talked about the plans and tactics for the war at hand, nothing they were saying made much sense to you but you sat there and listened regardless, as it was your duty as the royal princess.

In the middle of a very serious part of the conversation, one of your mother’s lady-in-waiting bursts through the door. You can still see the pure look of terror in her eyes, not sure if she was afraid of your father’s reaction to this rude interruption or because of the reasoning behind it. Her breathing is ragged and she tries to catch her breath, her voice trembles, “Your Majesty… the queen... She collapsed!”

The room falls silent and all eyes now rest on your father, analyzing his facial expressions as he stands up from his seat. “What happened?” He asks, calmly. Your poor heart is racing in your chest as you want to desperately run out of this room, to your mother’s side, but you know that if you do, there will be consequences.

“We were on a walk and she simply collapsed onto the ground, I tried my best to catch her but…” She attempts to continue but your father raises a hand, her mouth immediately closing in response.

“Was the doctor called?” He asks. She nods.

“Yes, your Majesty.” The lady-in-waiting responds quickly. You notice that her hands are trembling and her breathing is still a bit out of control. When she notices your curious eyes, she straightens her back and places her hands in front of her body, trying her best to look as collected as possible.

“Good,” the king says loudly. Finally, he looks at you, “Y/n, why don’t you go and check on your mother while I finish this meeting? You can report back to me with everything once you have found out what is going on. I will be counting on it, ok?”

A smile forms on your lips, the idea of pleasing your father was always the first one in your mind, with every movement being perfectly planned and calculated. You salute and respond with enthusiasm, “Yes, sir. I will do my very best!”

He offers you a smile as he ruffles your hair, tilting his head towards the door so you can calmly but quickly follow the person who would lead you to your mother.

The walk towards your parents’ bedroom is long. You can’t even hear the echoing of your footsteps with the heavy rain that falls outside. Your little brain works overtime, trying to figure out what is going on with your mother and what could possibly have resulted in her injuring herself like this. “So.. what’s the doctor’s name?”

The woman next to you jumps slightly, a clear sign that your words startled her, though her footsteps never cease to move forward. She thinks for a second, “I’m not sure what his first name is, but the people of the village call him Dr. Zoe. He is from a small city called Gillamoor, which is hidden in the mountains of the Vatebia Kingdom. One day he simply showed up, saying he was looking for refuge from the war for him and his child, I believe they are about your age. People say that his wife passed away on the way here. So far, he has treated pretty much all of the Kingdom for Sheep Fever and casualties have gone down drastically.” She smiles at you softly, “I think that covers all of your questions?”

You can feel your cheeks heat up as the embarrassment takes over, you can’t help but avert her eyes as you nod. Until one final question pops into your mind, that is, “You said he has a child my age?”

She smiles widely again and nods, “Yes, their name is Hanji. They may be a year or so older than you but I still think the two of you would get along greatly. Both of them are on their way to take a look at your mother, so you know she’ll receive the best care all of us can offer.”

Once you find yourself standing outside the doors to your mother’s chambers, reality strikes once more. You had been so caught up in the idea of having a friend, in the idea of having someone to show your books to and maybe even play with, that you completely forgot the dire situation you were now facing.

Your small, trembling hands knock on the door but have little to no effect. Your breathing is a bit unstable as the fear of what you might encounter on the other side of the wooden door might be, but quickly you pull yourself together, showing this amount of emotion was unfitting of a future queen. You knock again, with more confidence this time, and, in response, you can hear a familiar and welcoming voice inviting you in.

The door finally opens and your eyes go through the room, attempting to find your mother. It doesn’t take long for her weak figure to come into your field of vision: she’s laying on the bed, dark bags under her eyes and a weird contraption touching her chest. You want to run towards her, to hug your mother and cry into your arms, but instead, you simply walk towards her, holding your hands in front of your body tightly.

You barely notice the presence of other people in the room, the cold feeling in the pit of your stomach never ceases, no matter how much you try to force it to fade away. Finally, you find yourself standing by your mother’s side, she looks nothing like the strong woman you are so used to seeing.

The sound of a man clearing his throat fills the air and you are forced to acknowledge the presence of other people in the room besides your family. The doctor offers you a comforting smile, he isn’t someone you’ve met before. His brown eyes match the color of his nicely parted hair, a pair of glasses sitting on his nose as he places the contraption that was once pressed against your mother’s chest around his neck.

“Your Highness,” he bows towards you slightly and you can’t help but feel your cheeks flush in embarrassment. “I’m Dr. Zoe, I’ll be in charge of your mother’s care from here on out.” All you can do is nod, your fingers lacing with the ones of the woman who lays on the bed. You notice a small figure hiding behind the doctor’s coat, their fingers slowly pulling the man’s sleeve down, the gesture earns a heartfelt giggle from the man, “This is my child and prodigy. Why don’t you introduce yourself, sweetheart?”

Your heart stops beating for a second as soon as your eyes meet the other child’s. Their eyes are a deeper shade of brown than their father’s and their hair is in a messy ponytail, a complete opposite of the adult standing by them. They have a pair of glasses sitting on top of their nose and, when they speak, you notice they have a tooth missing, “I’m Hanji, Your Highness.” They repeat the man’s gesture and bow before you slightly, dropping a few papers in the process. When they notice the mess, they bend down to pick it up and your first instinct is to help them collect the pages.

You proceed to reach for the last one, not noticing that the other child is about to do the same thing, and, for a split second, your hands touch. It’s a brand new feeling you have never experienced before, almost as if there are flying little creatures around your stomach. You are too young to understand what is going on but that was the moment your first, and only, crush took hold of your brain.

The two of you stare at each other for a few seconds, your eyes meeting as you hand them the loose page on the ground. You notice the reddish blush that spreads across their cheek and it sends your little heart ablaze, almost enough to stop your breathing. “H- here you go,” you say in a shy voice.

They nod and look away, quickly standing up and retaking their spot next to their father. You shake your head and decide to do the same, taking your mother’s hands in yours while she smiles lovingly at you, a part of you can tell she knows exactly how you feel about the doctor’s child and you can’t help but ignore her gaze in embarrassment, which in response earns a weak giggle.

“So… Do you have any idea of what might be wrong?” The lady-in-waiting that stands next to you asks and you realize you were so caught up in the moment that you nearly forgot the reason why you were here in the first place. The man on the other side of the bed adjusts his glasses, looking over the results of the tests he performed on the queen.

“Unfortunately, it does seem Her Majesty has come down with Sheep Fever, this case in particular seems quite severe and in its later stages. It must have been dormant for quite some time now,” the doctor places down his papers, his eyes now looking directly at you when he flashes you a gentle smile, “Are you familiar with the disease, Your Royal Highness?”

You look down at your feet, embarrassed of the response you are about to give. “No, sir,” is all you can say. You’ve heard about it, sure, from the maids, the chefs, every single person who comes by the throne room every day to speak with your father, but you had never actually seen a case up close. The man smiles at you once more before turning his attention towards his own child.

“Hanji, why don’t you enlighten the princess on the condition?” His child looks at him through their glasses, their dark brown eyes meeting you within a second of the doctor finishing the first half of his sentence, “Maybe it will give her some peace of mind and sound a bit less scary if it comes from someone her own age.”

The nine-year-old takes a few steps closer to you, the papers they hold and the side of their hands smudged by black ink, a bit also smudged on their nose and you can’t help but feel your small heart skip a beat. They stop just at arm's length, clearing their throat and straightening their back, clearly attempting to look and sound older and more mature than they actually are.

“Sheep Fever has been associated with the consumption of poorly prepared meat or the consumption of milk that came from an infected sheep. Considering that the chefs of the castle always prepare the food to perfection and the tasters haven’t gotten sick, I would assume the cause comes from the latter.”

You pay close attention to their words, entranced by the way they sound so… grown-up and so smart, no wonder they were already taking after their father’s profession, it seems like they have a natural gift. You can’t help but feel your face heat up, looking down at the floor in an attempt to hide the embarrassment that appears in the way you scrunch your nose.

“Symptoms often include muscle weakness and leg swelling, both of which we found to be present in your mother, I mean, Her Majesty, at the time,” they correct themselves before taking a quick look at their father, hoping for approval. The man nods softly and the child in front of you continues their explanation, “Shortness of breath can also occur, and that was the reason why she collapsed during her walk today.”

“Is there… anything else?” You ask, making a mental note of all the information they are presenting you with so you can later report back to your father regarding your mother’s condition. You notice for a second as their eyes sparkle, almost as if… nobody had ever asked them that before.

“Actually, yes!” They respond with a bit too much excitement in their voice. Immediately, they correct themselves, “I mean, yes. Toe numbness and excessive yawning can also occur in more severe cases, such as the Queen’s. Father and I believe the swelling has traveled from her legs to other areas of her body since her fingers have also grown in size.”

For a second, they stop talking. You aren’t sure if they have simply finished their explanation or if they’ve noticed the tears that stream down your face. The once giddy expression on their face dissipates as they carefully place the stack of papers in their hands onto the ground, taking a few steps closer to you. You can’t look up at them anymore, so your eyes avert toward the stack of pages on the ground. You try your best to think about what to say in this scenario but nothing comes to mind, you are just a scared little girl after all.

When you look back up again, you are hit by the sudden pressure of a pair of small arms wrapping around you. You freeze in place, not knowing how exactly to react. Rushed footsteps try to reach you, someone telling the other child to pull away but all you can hear is their voice, a soothing tone ever so different from the overly excited one they presented earlier, “I’m sorry, Your Highness, but if anyone can help Her Majesty, it’s daddy. He learned from my grandparents, who were healers way before my parents were even born.”

You smile softly through the tears, “is that why you are learning?” You ask through the sniffles and they nod, the eager expression taking hold of their face one more time. They look so adorable that you can’t help but giggle once more.

“I want to be a great healer one day,” they respond, the blush that spread across their cheek now deepening as they avert your gaze, their fingers begin to fidget with a random strand of hair that falls on their face, “so if you are sick, I can take care of you… and I promise to save you, no matter what.”

You are finally brought back to reality after a trip down memory lane, your face snuggling close to Hanji’s chest as you are reminded of the situation you currently find yourself in. You nod in response to their question, “Yes… I remember the day we met…”

“I made you a promise,” they say, their voice barely louder than a whisper as their fingers ghost above the skin of your shoulder, “that I would save you, no matter what, didn’t I?” You nod in response once more, trying to understand where exactly they are going with this rant, not that you ever minded hearing them talk, it was definitely one of your favorite things in this world, the sound of their voice contained soothing properties that could only be compared to the lightest of teas. “Let’s run away.”

Your heart stops for a second and your breath gets caught in your throat. The idea crossed your mind and you had already packed a bag while you were at the peak of your rage, but to hear Hanji actually suggesting it… That was a completely different scenario. “A-are you sure? What about your father’s clinic?”

They shake their head, “ever since he passed, the only thing in this place that has felt like home has been the barn outside the mountains where we would meet. The moments I’ve held you in my arms like this have been more comforting to me than the memories I’ve had at that clinic. Besides, my father wanted to expand his knowledge further, to treat more people in other areas but… I asked him to stay here because… Well, because I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember.”

You can’t help but hide your face in the crook of their neck, snuggling your body as close to theirs as you possibly can. Hanji can’t help but allow a small giggle to escape their lips, feeling as your body trembles slightly beneath their touch, their grip on you tightening slightly and it is nearly enough to stop the air from flowing to your lungs. You don’t mind it.

“That’s so nice to hear,” you respond in a whispered voice, “my heart has been yours since our hands touched for a split second years ago. Even before I knew what romantic love was.” You prop your body up on the pillow, your hand resting underneath your chin as you stare into Hanji’s eyes, those adoring glasses shoot at you causing butterflies to flutter around in your stomach, “my heart beats for you and no one else.”

They smile smugly, attempting to hide the red tint that covers their entire face, they bring their face closer to yours, lips brushing against one another ever so gently, just barely enough for them to tickle each other. Hanji’s voice is quiet but their words hit you with the same effect as if they have just screamed at the top of their lungs, “Say you’ll run away with me.”

Your eyes flutter closed and you nod, it’s subtle and almost undetectable but Hanji is more than used to every tiny movement you make. Their lips finally press against yours, gentle at first, caring for you like you are a wounded animal, but it suddenly escalates into something much deeper. Their tongue traces the outline of your lower lip, silently begging for entrance and you quickly oblige, parting your mouth ever so slightly and the way they hum in response lets you know that you are doing something right.

Your tongue dances with theirs in a passionate tango, exploring the inside of each other’s mouth like it is the first time all over again. It’s a feeling you will never get tired of, the feeling of being this close to them, to the person who has been by your side in the hardest times, the person whose name is echoed with every beat of your heart.

Sadly, you are forced to pull away, cursing yourself for needing to breathe, a small string of saliva connecting your bodies and you can’t contain the smile that makes its way to your lips. Your fingers gently brush against their cheek, your foreheads touching for a while as you continue to enjoy this moment together.

“Yes…” You finally respond, your eyes still closed as you teasingly brush your lips against theirs again before pulling away, “I… I’ll run away with you.”

“I don’t know where we are going, but give me an hour to gather some things,” they whisper, slowly pulling away from you. You reach out, fingers brushing against the skin of their arm as they pull away, your lower lip trembling as a sense of panic takes over you, the fear that something will happen to them in the meantime taking over, “I promise I will be back for you, so be ready, ok?”

You nod, watching as Hanji blows you a kiss before disappearing through the small door underneath the carpet once more. The dark shadows of the night dance around your room, taunting you of the destiny you are bound to face if your father were to catch you.

Deciding that you can’t simply stand around and do nothing, you get up, reaching for the water jug that rests on the corner of the bedroom. With a bit of soap, you wash away the dried blood and dirt from your hands, watching as the water turns into a deep shade of maroon, the metallic smell entering your nostrils and you can’t help but turn your head away.

You change out of the destroyed dress, throwing it in another corner of the room. Your heart aches slightly, it was a dress your mother had chosen for you before she passed, something that reminded you of her and your father had, once again, taken that small sense of comfort away from you.

Your memories go towards the times when things weren’t so bad when your parents were still in love and happy with the blessing of finally having an heir after many, many years of trying. The times when you could still see light in his eyes when he looked at you and not the shell of a man who now was only interested in power and full control.

As the night progresses and the moon descends, a bottomless pit forms in your stomach, waiting for Hanji to return. Your small bag had been packed since earlier that day and you were wearing the least fancy outfit you owned, which was still extremely fashionable regardless, you knew there was a possibility that it would cause you to stand out, but that is a chance you would have to take.

Finally, when you feel as if your heart can no longer wait, you hear the sound of Hanji’s knock coming from the ground, a few tears of relief brew in your eyes as you move the carpet away, giving them the space needed to enter your room. They carry two small bags in their hands, one bigger than the other but still relatively petite.

They immediately drop them onto the floor, freeing their arms so they could wrap around you. It takes very few seconds for your body to respond to their actions, your legs grow a mind of their own as you rush to their embrace, tears streaming down your cheeks as you nuzzle your face against Hanji’s chest, “what took you so long?” You ask, your voice trembling in a mixture of fear and relief.

“I’m sorry,” they responded quietly, their voice shaking as well, “I was gathering things from the clinic, such as a few samples of the herbs my father kept and the book my family kept on every condition we have ever treated. It took me a while to get out of the village, you know how much those women love to gossip,” they giggle quietly and you hum. The room falls silent for a moment as you enjoy the feeling of being in their arms, “I got you some of my older clothes, they might be a bit big on you but… I think it’s better than... Whatever you are trying to go for right now”

You gasp dramatically, playfully pushing their shoulders away and they chuckle, a sound that sends goosebumps down your spine and you can’t help but look at them with lovestruck eyes. The love in your heart emanates throughout your body and all you want to do is jump on their arms and stay intertwined with them forever.

“I tried my best, okay?” You respond, trying your hardest to make sure your voice doesn’t carry through the room. This is the first time all day that you have felt a genuine smile creeping onto your lips, even if you are rolling your eyes and pouting at Hanji the entire time, “I don’t have any less extravagant clothes.”

“I can tell,” Hanji muffles a laugh and you gasp again, your hands brushing against their chest as you land small and gentle hits on their skin. In response, Hanji wraps their arms around your waist, tightly pulling you into another hug while lifting you off the floor, and spinning you around. You try your best to contain your squeals of excitement, biting down on your lower lip as you do so. After a while, they finally place you back on the ground, brushing a strand of hair off of your face, “Go change, I’ll make sure no one is coming.”

You nod, rushing towards the partition wall that stands by the closet. Every small movement you make seems to be louder than the town crier’s voice at early dawn, but maybe it’s just the nervousness taking hold of your emotions. You try your best to remain calm, the plain thought that Hanji is in the room with you is enough to soothe your nerves more than any possible tea could.

They were right, their clothes are indeed a bit bigger and the fabric is not nearly as soft as what you are used to. There are a few holes here and there and the mysterious stains that cover most of the shirt remind you of the experiments Hanji used to do when you both were children, but there is a bright side: the scent of her skin has now been engraved on the clothes and, with every step you take, it feels like their arms are constantly wrapped around you.

Once you walk out from behind the fake, wooden wall, Hanji’s curious eyes fall on you and, even through the dim light from the candle, you can see a dark shade of red spreading across their cheeks when they fully take in the sight of you wearing their clothes. It sets their heart ablaze and they can barely focus on the challenges the two of you are about to face.

“You look beautiful,” they say, their voice is barely louder than a whisper and the timid way in which they look in a different direction doesn’t fail to get a heartfelt chuckle out of you, “are you ready?”

You take their hand, a deep sigh escaping your throat as you two prepare to get down through the secret door on the floor. Until someone knows on your door, that is.

At that moment, your heart stops beating. The fear that courses through your veins is too severe to express and you feel as though you are frozen in place, unable to move, breathe, or even blink. The palms of your hands begin to sweat and you feel yourself beginning to shake. Tears form in your eyes as you squeeze Hanji’s hand, the panic clearly written all over your facial expression.

They place their index finger in front of their lips, silently asking you to remain quiet. You struggle to fight back the sobs that form in the back of your throat, using your free hand to cover your mouth. The two of you stay perfectly still for a while, hoping that whoever is standing on the other side of the door will soon give up and walk away.

Another knock and you can feel your body beginning to sink to the ground with fear. It isn’t until the third knock that the person on the other side identifies themselves, “Your Highness, it’s me.” You would recognize that voice anywhere, your mother’s favorite lady-in-waiting, the one who was by your mother’s side in her last moments and who was also by your side when you and Hanji first met. There had never been any secrets between the two of you, but for some reason, you found yourself terrified of what she would do if she were to find out your plans.

You and Hanji begin to make your way towards the main door, fingers permanently laced together as you place your ear against the door, responding in a hushed though shaky voice, “Yes?”

“May I come in?” She asks, the tone of her voice is full of worry and care for you and it reminds you of your own mother. You look at your beloved for any signs of disapproval but all you see in their eyes is a lot of love and support. Carefully, you open the door and, just by the way she looks at you and holds a package in her hands, you can tell that she isn’t here to yell at you.

“Libet, you should not be here,” you whisper in the most cautious voice you can muster, still tightly holding onto Hanji’s hands as the woman closes the door behind her. She wears a dark cloak above her nightgown, her hair is down in a tangled mess and the redness in her eyes tells you that she has been crying, the sight is the complete opposite of the strong woman you are so used to. “What happens if you get caught?”

She shakes her head furiously, arms wrapping around your body in an intense hug. You can feel your own body trembling as you return the affection, both of your bodies sinking to the floor after you finally let go of Hanji’s hand. They take a step back, allowing you to have some space while still remaining on guard, just in case something goes wrong during this exchange.

Silent tears stream down your face, the tightness in your chest increasing as you finally stop to think about the good things you are leaving behind. The woman can tell that you are lost in thought, so she brushes your cheek with her thumb, stopping a tear in its tracks.

“I… I needed to say goodbye,” she whispers, hands carefully brushing your face, much like your mother used to do when you would have a bruise or a cut. She reminds you so much of her. “I brought you a few supplies, it isn’t much but it will last the two of you a few days. There are also a few extra seeds, once you find a suitable place, plant those and remember that they were your mother’s favorites. Also a bit of money.”

“But… How did you know?” Hanji asks quietly, kneeling beside you. The woman smiles, her free hand now gently touching your beloved’s arm and you notice a dark blush spreading across their cheeks as they attempt their best not to look away.

“I know Her Highness like the palm of my hand,” she whispers softly, touching her forehead with your own, “and, if she’s anything like her mother, which believe me, she is, she wouldn’t just sit still, and allow her dad to ship her off to somewhere distant, especially if it meant she would never see you again. Her heart calls your name, after all, Hanji.”

“But…” the two of you speak in unison, sharing a look of confusion as the woman chuckles, clearly amused by the expression on your faces.

“You two have never been very good at hiding,” she responds, and your eyes immediately fall onto the ground, too embarrassed to look at either the woman or Hanji. The only reason you lift your gaze is because you can hear Hanji’s inquisitive tone coming from beside you.

“That day at the tower… When I felt like someone was watching us… Our first kiss..” They say, the words fighting to come out as their brain works overtime to form the necessary sentences, “That was you?” Their question is responded to only by a simple nod and a smile. Do you want to disappear, knowing that someone saw the two of you in such a vulnerable state? It makes your face burn and your vision nearly goes black.

The sound of footsteps and shadows dancing outside of your room is a reminder that you don’t have time to sit around and talk. If you were to escape before sunrise, this is your one and only moment to do it. So you take the package from her hands and stuff it in with the rest of the things you’ve packed. It isn’t very big so it doesn’t take up a large amount of space.

As you stand up, you wrap your arms around her once more, her green eyes meeting yours as she plants a gentle kiss on your forehead. Her voice is quiet.

“For guidance.”

Another kiss, this time on your fingertips.

“For control.”

And lastly, she plants a kiss on the tip of her own fingers before brushing it against the left side of your chest, her eyes filled with tears and you can barely see her pupils through the tears, her voice is trembling and her hand isn’t as steady as it usually was.

“For eternal love.”

You want to say something, maybe stay with her for a few more moments, but when Hanji opens the secret exit to your room, you realize you are out of time. So with one more look, you take your beloved’s hand, making sure to take in the view of the room you grew up in one last time.

Before you can leave, you decide to ask for one more favor, “would you care for Tegan for me? I want to entrust his safety to someone I trust and I would prefer it if my father would stay away from my cat.”

Libet nods, “Don’t worry, I will care for him like he is my own. I’m sure he will get along great with my own animal. He’s always had a precious heart, much like your own.”

You flash her another look and she can tell you are hesitating, but when a shadow lingers around your door for too long, she gives you that necessary push you need to finally get things up and running. She smiles at you while Hanji guides you down the steps for the very first time.

“Good-bye, Your Highness,” the woman waves at you, finally allowing your hand to be free to take Hanji’s. Your eyes meet hers and, for a second, you feel like you are staring at your mother. Your heart beats a bit faster than before and you offer her a smile.

“Call me y/n,” you respond, a single tear falling down your face. Libet chuckles, her hand reaching for the doorknob so she can shut it as soon as you and Hanji are completely out of sight.

“Goodbye, y/n,” she says, her voice is so docile it could almost be compared to freshly made honey, “I hope to meet you again someday. But if I don’t, I will make sure to see you in my next lifetime.” Her words strike you like lightning, your whole body feels like it's on fire, the fear of leaving her alone in this castle is so strong that you are only brought back to the reality of your situation when she pushes you at the same time as Hanji tugs at your hand.

Your eyes only leave hers when you are out of view and you can hear the door shutting behind you. Even though Hanji instructed you not to speak, you want to say something, to ask them if this moment is really real or if it’s just a stupid dream your mind created to cope with the situation. But you don’t say anything, you just follow them, their certain footsteps letting you know that they’ve crossed this cramped space more times than you could count.

The walls of the tunnel are covered in spiderwebs, a smell that you could only assume came from a dead animal hidden somewhere behind one of the bricks and the only light comes from the small candle that rests in Hanji’s hand. A thousand thoughts go through your head but, when you notice that they are shaking slightly, you squeeze their hand three times, a silent way of saying “I love you.”

That small action causes Hanji to stop dead in their tracks, their shaky breath finally returning to normal as they turn around to look at you and you can’t help but be mesmerized. Even in this dim lighting with dirt covering their cheeks, they are still the most beautiful human being you have ever laid your eyes on and just the thought of starting a new life with them nearly makes all the nervousness dissipate from your body.

A careful arm wraps around your waist, their forehead touching yours as they silently mouth back the words “I love you too.” No sound is needed for you to realize that they meant every bit of it. With your eyes closed, you lean forward ever so slightly, your lips brushing against theirs softly.

Hanji’s breath smells like a mixture of berries and bananas, a small snack they would often munch on before an important event or when they were nervous. They’ve told you in the past these particular fruits contained soothing properties and were known for the mixture of sweetness and tanginess, the perfect effect to ground someone back to reality. Your heart breaks slightly when you realize just how intense the taste of their lips is.

Their body melts against your touch and, even though you are in a hurry, they can’t help but give in to the sensation. They part their lips ever so slightly, a clear path for your tongue to gain entry and you can’t contain the smile that forms on the right corner of your mouth.

Teasingly, you brush the tip of your tongue against theirs and you hear Hanji whimpering quietly in response. The sound alone is enough to send goosebumps running down your spine, all you want to do is strip them and just spend some time together, right there in the dirty, old tunnel. You bring your hand up to cup their face, not only trying to calm their nerves but a way of grounding yourself back again in the seriousness of the situation.

When Hanji tilts their head to the right, you know you’ll be done for unless you pull away. It takes every ounce of your strength, every last bit of it to part ways, a small string of saliva still connecting your bodies while you look at them with love-filled eyes. Hanji was your very first kiss and, even though years have already passed, you still hope they will be your very last.

A small smile appears on the corner of their mouth as they press their lips against yours in a much quicker kiss, they look at you with thankful eyes, almost as if silently saying how badly they need that small token of your affection. But both of you are aware that talking in this situation is not an option, so you are left to only interpret what they have to say.

Once the two of you regain your composure, you begin walking towards the exit once more. Your steps now carry more confidence than before, certain that this is for the best, the doubts that once clouded your mind have now cleared and, even if you are not sure what the future holds, you know that you’ll be fine as long as you and Hanji are together.

Finally, the moonlight comes into view and the cold wind of the night hits you in the face, it is the most refreshing feeling you have ever felt before. You are still scared: of the guards finding you, of what might happen to Libet, of your father’s reaction. But one look at Hanji’s face and you can tell this is the right choice for you, after all, this is the most freedom you’ve had since your mother’s death.

You had never seen this pathway to the stables and you pay close attention to how dangerous it is. Something was covering the ground that you couldn’t figure out if it was mold, moss, or a disgusting mixture of both, but all you could actually tell was how slippery it was. You realized this because, if it weren’t for Hanji’s protective hands on your lower back, you would have found yourself sitting on the ground after slipping. At least three separate times.

This hidden part of the city was different than anything you had ever experienced. It has a different smell than the ones from the main areas, even the way the lights from the lanterns cover the walls seem somehow different. You can see people dancing around in bars, the sound of laughter and music fills the streets, and, even though it is late at night, children are playing around with street animals. It’s a kind of life you had never been introduced to but always dreamt about.

You can see your breath every time air comes in contact with your lungs, your body shivering in a mixture of fear, excitement, and cold. Hanji’s hand in yours is so warm and it causes your blood to flow at a rapid speed, somehow keeping you from freezing on the spot.

“Okay, we are almost there,” they say, their voice so quiet and full of love, while their gaze transmits a concerned expression, “are you doing okay?” You’re enamored by the way they look under the pale moonlight, the way you can clearly see the droplets of sweat that form on their forehead, even though it is extremely cold. Their fingers brush against the top of your hand, comforting your racing heart. You nod.

“Y-yeah,” you respond and Hanji smiles. God, the way one of their teeth is slightly crooked is such a small detail and you would only be able to notice it if you were paying close attention, but for you, it was one of their most endearing physical qualities. Faintly, you can hear the horses as the stables come into your vision.

You and Hanji pick up the pace of your steps, freedom is within your reach, and all you need to do is make sure to grab a horse. From afar, you can see Elowen, the horse you’ve had for a few years now and the fastest one you’ve had throughout your entire life, you couldn’t see yourself riding another horse out of this situation that isn’t her.

Before you have time to reach the building, Hanji’s strong grip pulls you into a dark alleyway, their index finger quickly taking place in front of their lips as they silently begs you to remain quiet, and, in response, you cover your mouth with your hand.

They lean their head forward, peaking out of the area in an attempt to see what is going on. You copy their action, noticing a couple of castle guards walking by. The two men, whom you’re more than familiar with, are part of your father’s personal guard and it sends a chill up your spine. Could he possibly already have noticed your absence?

It’s not until both men enter a bar nearby that you allow yourself to breathe. Your body trembles and your blood runs cold, you can feel a surge of panic washing over you, is this a mistake? Maybe you should fulfill your duty to your kingdom and not selfishly run away. Maybe you should accept that you are nothing more than a simple tool, maybe... Just maybe... You aren’t good enough.

Hanji notices the look on your face and the way your eyes are fixated on the ground, the way your body begins trembling once again, and the way you seem to hyperventilate. So they look around again quickly and, when they notice the coast is clear, they pull you in for a tight hug, holding your body against theirs as tightly as they possibly can.

“This has already been one hell of a ride, huh?” They chuckle in a desperate attempt to mask the trembling in their voice. Their breathing is shallow, almost as if they are afraid to let their guard down for even a nanosecond. Your fingertips brush against their cheek softly, a smile forming on your lips as you look up at them, your eyes meeting.

“I’m so in love with you,” you whisper softly, your head laying against their chest, “ever since I first met you, I’ve wanted nothing more than to be your bride.” Immediately, you notice a maroon blush spread across their face and, with it, an endearing smile, it causes your heart to race in your chest and you nearly stop breathing.

“I… I’ve dreamt of hearing you say that for so long,” they whisper, their voice soothing and warm in contrast with the cold air that surrounds you, “I’ve spent my entire life, from the moment I first saw you, trying to crawl my way up as the most successful doctor in all the land, just so one day I could be worthy of a princess. Let’s get moving, the sooner we get out of here, the sooner I can make you my bride.”

“But you are worthy!” You spout, a little louder than you initially meant to, so you quickly take a look around to make sure no one heard you. Once you realize the coast is clear, you continue in a much quieter tone of voice, “You are extraordinary. You were able to study and explore such complicated diseases, finding cures and even causes. There is no other like you, and for my final command as your princess, never speak such things about yourself again.” You say with a serious expression on your face, “Please.”

Hanji snorts quietly and nods, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead, “Yes, Your Highness. As you wish.” You roll your eyes but the butterflies in your stomach begin to float around once more, the mere sight of their smile is enough to awaken the turmoil inside of you.

The two of you begin to make your way towards the stables once more, you could not be more than a minute or so away when you realize that Elowen has already been prepared and set outside to wait for your arrival. A pit forms in your stomach as you fear you’ve been discovered by someone else but you are quickly greeted by a message from Libet.

“Your Highness,

You have no time to lose, so I took the liberty of preparing your horse myself. She has been fed and there are a few food rations and treats for her in the small pouch around her neck. I am so sorry there isn’t more I can do for you, but do know that I am rooting for you.

Your mother would have been so incredibly proud of the woman you are becoming. It is unfortunate we will never get the blessing of seeing you as our queen, I think you would have been able to change our world. But no matter where you are, Her Majesty and I will be with you, protecting you from afar.

Please, may the two of you be safe and happy on this new journey. May we meet again under better circumstances.

Libet”

Your heart is flooded once more by the intense feelings of appreciation. It was a different kind of love, the kind you had been missing since the Queen’s passing. To have someone care for you and want nothing more than your happiness… It was something your father had never gotten even close to achieving, something he could never understand: how to love his own child.

As you read the letter, Hanji places the two bags you were carrying onto the horse’s saddle, making sure everything is tightly packed into place. They quietly guide the animal a little further outside of the range of the night guards, who are too drunk to even realize what is happening. You place the piece of paper into your pocket, ensuring that this final piece of home will stay with you during your travels.

You decide to mount the horse first, seeing as you have more experience with this kind of situation than Hanji does. Their firm hands give you a gentle booster as you wrap your other leg around Elowen’s body, straddling her back. Then, it’s your turn to offer Hanji some help. As you extend your hand, you notice the pinkish blush that covers their cheeks, their fingers brushing against your palm before they accept your pull, and you can’t help but smile.

Once they find a comfortable position on top of the horse, they pull out a small blanket from one of your bags, placing it above their shoulders and making sure it reaches you as well. Lastly, they wrap their arms around you, still holding onto the cloth as they rest their head on your back. You can feel their soft nod against you, the sign that the two of you are ready to start moving.

Carefully but firmly, you poke the heel of your feet against the horse’s ribs and she starts to move, slowly at first but once you repeat your movements, she begins to pick up speed.

Using the moonlight as your guide, the two of you find yourselves going into the forest. For the final time, you bid the kingdom that raised you goodbye, silently waving goodbye to your mother’s resting spot and the place where she had raised you. But even from an early age, you knew the burden of wearing the crown was too much to bear, so finally managing to get away from it was like a weight had been lifted from your shoulders.

As the hooves of your horse crunch the leaves and sticks that fly from the trees onto the ground, Hanji rests their head on your back, arms tightly wrapped around you while always making sure your body is covered by the blanket, protecting you from the night wind as best as they can. You aren’t sure how long the two of you have been moving for, could be a few minutes or a few hours.

Raindrops begin to fall from above, the earth beneath you turns to mud and it splashes onto your clothes. With a sigh, you take a look around, trying to find a place for shelter. When the rain begins to intensify, you hear Hanji’s voice coming from behind you.

“I remember coming into this area with my father once,” they say, snapping their fingers a few times as they try to think of the words, “if I’m not mistaken, there is an abandoned barn just past the old, dirty road. Turn left on that crooked tree and we should be there in less than two minutes.”

You nod, hitting the sides of your horse with the balls of your feet, prompting her to speed up her movements. As usual, Hanji is correct and the barn finally comes into view. By that point, the two of you are already soaked as water has begun to pour from the sky, and loud claps of thunder fill your ears, scaring all three of you.

Once you reach the area, you make sure to place some food down for your horse as Hanji removes the equipment from her back. The two of you begin to pet the animal, reassuring her that she is doing a great job and how thankful you guys are for her hard work bringing you this far. Of course, she probably doesn’t understand, but you like to think she looked content nevertheless.

When you look at Hanji, they have the brightest smile on their face and it turns your heart into a pounding mess. They take a few steps closer, their hand grabbing onto your waist as you feel your body heating up from that small contact, trembling softly not knowing if it is because you are soaked from the rain or due to the softness of Hanji’s touch.

Their hand reaches inside of your shirt, slowly gliding up and down your back as it leaves a trail of goosebumps behind in its wake. Without even realizing it, you avert your gaze, too embarrassed to look at them, only for you to feel their free hand reaching for your chin and carefully forcing you to maintain eye contact, “don’t look away.”

You nod, your lips quivering softly as you shiver. Even in the dark, you can see those hypnotizing brown eyes staring at you, a devious and dangerous smile on their lips as Hanji knows they have you in the palm of their hand. They bring their fingers back to your hips, slightly digging their nails into your soft skin, dragging a whimper out of you.

“H-Hanji…” Your voice falters and you can hear a faint chuckle, their shadow leans forward towards you, lips brushing against your neck and you can’t help but lean back slightly, giving them better access to such a sensitive area. Just as you are starting to fully surrender to them, Hanji pulls away.

“Let’s make a fire and…” Their eyes travel up and down your body before they smile again, “then we can get you out of those wet clothes.” You can feel your entire face burning in embarrassment but you nod, moving around the barn as you look for things to use as kindling.

Most of the things around you are wet as a result of the rain but hidden underneath what used to be a workbench, you find a pile of dry pine cones. Carefully, you bend down to reach for them, watching closely for any rusted nails that might be poking out or any bugs that could be crawling around the area. Once you feel the rough surface against your hand, you call out to Hanji.

“Hey, I found these, do you think it would be enough until the rest of this wood dries off?” You ask, wiping away the hand you used to prop yourself up from the ground. They nod, taking the plants from your hands and running their fingers through it, feeling the texture.

“Yeah, these would be perfect,” they smile, taking a few steps toward the center of the barn. The moonlight and raindrops come through a broken patch on the roof, so while Hanji is in charge of making a fire, you decide to make your way toward the supplies and retrieve some dry clothes while hanging the wet ones to dry.

Slowly, you remove your shirt, the feeling is nearly identical as though you still have the wet clothes on. Goosebumps travel through your skin and you can’t help but shiver violently, your nipples hardening as your skin comes in contact with the chill air.

As you hook your thumb onto the waistband of your pants, you feel a pair of hands wrapping around your torso, the sudden feeling bringing a small gasp out of you. Hanji buries their face on the side of your neck, gently taking in the aroma you exhale, it earns a small chuckle out of them.

“You smell so good,” they whisper, their voice is tender, carrying the softest of tones, yet you can still hear that devious sound, the desire that has been brewing for the past few days, from before the two of you even decided to run away. You nuzzle yourself against their touch and your action only serves to fuel Hanji’s appetite. Their hands grow bolder, tickling your abdomen as they make their way towards your breasts, cupping them tightly, “you are so soft.”

A breathless whimper escapes your lips and you close your eyes, leaning into the sensation their hands are providing you with. Their warm breath now transforms into heartfelt kisses, which then proceed to turn into love bites, marking the area with their teeth. Their left hand carefully shifts so that their index finger and thumb gently pinch your nipple while their right hand begins to glide down your body. You moan quietly in response, not pulling away from the touch.

Hanji smiles, humming softly as their hand finally finds its way toward the waistband of your pants, “take these off,” they order as they pull away, leaving you wanting for more. You can already begin to feel the wetness pooling in your underwear, so you nod and oblige, removing the clothes from your legs and standing before them wearing nothing but your underwear. They shake their head, “I meant all of it.”

The seriousness in their tone catches you off guard but, once again, you nod. Your fingers gently hook to the sides of your panties, pulling them down your body before you drape them over the improvised clothing line you’ve hung on the barn. You’re too embarrassed to look at them, almost as if it was the first time they were seeing you naked.

Your eyes are closed, but you can hear the sound of their footsteps as they place their own clothes onto the line. The thought of their naked body exposed to you causes another surge of wetness to drip down your legs, the excitement coursing through your veins almost as if it were an essential part of your blood. When their fingers touch your arm, you finally open your eyes, sensing their body behind you.

Their touch is featherlike, so soft that it nearly tickles. The words that leave their lips are sweeter than honey and they make you melt as soon as you hear them, “You’re so beautiful, I could just stay like this with you all night.”

You try to think of words to say in response, but your body betrays you and not a single coherent thought goes through your mind, the only answer you can provide them with is a low whimper, a vocal representation of how much you crave their grace.

Their bare chest presses against your back, lips gently brushing against your neck while their right hand travels to explore your skin, going from your arms, then gently brushing against the lower part of your breasts, continuously making its way down your stomach, only to finally find its resting place just above the mound of your pussy. You reach behind you to wrap an arm around their neck, pulling them even closer to your body and you can hear a faint gasp escaping their lips, it has an instant reaction in your heart as it feels like it’s about to run out of your body.

Carefully, their fingers spread your folds apart, exposing your swollen clit to the cold night air. You hiss quietly in response, shutting your eyes tightly as you nuzzle yourself against them. They glide down a bit more, swirling their digits around your tight entrance and gathering the wetness that was once trapped inside.

“You are already so wet for me,” they whisper, nibbling on your shoulder softly. Your face feels like it's on fire and all you can do is surrender to their touch, instinctively spreading your legs apart slightly so Hanji will have better access to the most sensitive area of your body. They chuckle, a low and rough sound, “Good girl.”

Hanji moves their hands away and you grunt in disapproval, but it quickly goes away when Hanji flips you around so you are facing them as they proceed to pick you up in their arms, almost as if you weigh nothing. They carry your body closer to the fire, carefully laying you down on the small camping area the two of you set up.

Their eyes never leave yours, that loving gaze you’ve grown so used to analyzing your every move, every small reaction your body may have to their actions. The smile on their lips never fades, it in fact grows wider once you bring your hand up to cup their face and begin to brush their cheek with your thumb.

Hanji nuzzles themselves against your touch, one hand supporting their body upwards so they are above you and the other softly travels through the sides of your body, forcing a mixture between a moan and a giggle out of you.

“I love the way you react to my touch,” they whisper, their voice laced with desire and passion. Their movements become a bit rougher and it turns into an evident contrast with their kisses, which could only compare to the silk pillows you were so used to sleeping on.

“I love the way you touch me,” you whisper in response, your voice is so low that it is barely audible. Hanji smiles, a simple action that could easily outshine the sun if they tried. Your heart races in your chest and you can feel your excitement dripping down your legs, leaving behind a trail of your dedication towards your beloved.

“I know this is no way to speak to a princess…” They whisper, moving a strand of hair away from your forehead, “But I know how to make this night special for you.” You tilt your head, puzzled by what could they possibly have in mind but, before you have time to ask, they remove the ribbon that holds their autumn-colored hair up. The strands fall on their face and the shadows dance with their skin, your breath hitches in your throat and you can’t seem to be able to look away, absolutely mesmerized by their beauty. This is why their next sentence catches you so off guard, “sit on my face.”

You choke softly on your own spit, using both of your elbows to prop your body up, “I beg your pardon?” You find yourself blinking repeatedly, trying your best to process their request, no, their demand. Hanji chuckles in response, laying their head on the floor.

“You heard me,” is all they say before patting their cheeks, much like you would do on a chair or a… Different “seating” surface. Your entire body burns in embarrassment as your eyes meet, the expression on their face indicating they could not be more serious.

“I don’t want to crush you,” your voice falters and it’s now Hanji’s turn to prop their body up with their elbows. They vigorously shake their head and you know exactly what they are thinking, so you continue, “I… We’ve tried this before… And I almost hurt you. You know I can’t hold myself up after a while.”

“y/n…” The softness in their voice is almost alarming, a dangerous tone that they only used when they wanted to convince you of something, “if you start to hurt me, I will push your ass back up with my hands.” You can tell by the expression on their face that they have been thinking about this for quite some time, just waiting for the perfect moment to bring it up to you again. You let out a long sigh.

“Alright,” you nod as there is a sudden light in their eyes that was not there before, “but if I start to hurt you AT ALL, you will let me know, right?” You give them a pleading look, silently begging them to make this promise. Without missing a beat, it’s Hanji’s turn to nod.

“I promise!” They eagerly respond and, with that, they lay back down on the floor, their cheeks a crimson color as a love-drunk smile takes over their lips.

With unstable legs, you move closer to them, your breathing is shaky and, for once, it’s not from the cold. You can hear your heart beating in your ears and it might as well have been the loudest sound that echoes through these empty barn’s walls. You feel your stomach twirling around anxiously but the sight of Hanji’s eager lips is enough to send a shiver down your spine and put your mind at ease.

Carefully, you place your knees on each side of their face. Your eyes meet theirs and you can’t help but feel embarrassed once more, almost as if this is the first time the two of you are being intimate. The genuine expression on Hanji’s face sends your heart into a flutter and you look away.

As they hook their arms over your thighs, they speak to you in a caring tone, their voice filled with what could only be described as the most raw and unfiltered love for you, “I want you to look at me, please.” Your lower lip trembles but you oblige, tilting your head down so that your eyes can meet, “your scent is intoxicating, I could spend the rest of my days down here, just living in between your legs.”

“S-shut up!” You stutter, the words barely being able to leave your throat. You want to look away, to avert their hungry gaze at all costs but you are drawn to it like a magnet. So you simply look into their whiskey-brown eyes when they first flip their tongue against your wet slit, your body shivering as a moan erupts from deep within you.

Even with their arms wrapped around your thighs, they are able to use their middle fingers to spread your folds apart, giving them better access to your swollen clit. You can hear the wet sounds of your arousal and their saliva being mixed together, along with the sound of their breath as they inhale your essence.

With each time Hanji flicks their tongue, you buck your hips forward in response. The loud sound of the thunderstorm outside covers any noises you are making, so you don’t even worry about trying to remain quiet. Though the cold air feels nice when it comes in contact with you, it doesn’t prevent the strands of hair that stick to your skin or the droplets of sweat that drip down the side of your forehead.

Suddenly, the singular layer of pleasure is split into two when their tongue stops its teasing motions on your entrance and softly begins to enter you. Not only that but there is a second point of pleasure that you can’t quite decipher until you look down at them, their adoring eyes focused on your face once you notice that their nose brushes against your clit.

There is a blush that spreads across their cheeks, their breathing warming up your exposed pussy as they continue to lap their tongue around the deepest areas inside of you. They gulp down every drop of your essence, their movements are so certain that you can tell they have been waiting and preparing for this specific moment for a very long time.

You can feel yourself succumbing to their touch with each passing second, the lack of finesse to their movements would be enough to make any nobleman cry, their tongue pushing and prodding around the entrance to your wet pussy, teasingly lapping inside before returning to the outside while the tip of their nose continues to attend to your swollen clit.

You can feel yourself growing weaker, not because of an orgasm, but because of the way they make sure every inch of your aching cunt is being properly attended to. Your thighs tremble slightly and you can feel your body lowering itself on their face and, as a confirmation, you feel Hanji’s hands shifting from their spot on your pussy to a spot on your ass, where they use very little strength to gently prop your body up once more.

Moans erupt from you with the same intensity as the raindrops that fall against the rooftop. Their name falls from your lips repeatedly, almost as if you are chanting to the world who is the one to make you feel this incredibly good. The sensations increase once you feel their nails digging at the skin of your ass, a quiet gasp escaping from you as a result.

“Did I hurt you?” They stop their movements as soon as they hear you, a concerned expression taking over their features. You shake your head desperately and it earns a giggle out of them, “Do you want me to do it again?” Your voice betrays you and not a single coherent word comes out, only a quiet mumbling sound and a nod.

The feeling of their nails dragging across your skin and leaving behind red marks is enough to cause your body to lower itself against Hanji’s face once more, not from losing balance but because you are desperately seeking more contact with their tongue.

Hanji makes sure to use every part of their face to bring you the maximum amount of pleasure: their nose brushes against the swollen bundle of nerves that sits at the top, their tongue playfully teases your entrance while moving up and down and their lower lips brushing around the area, making sure not a single part of your aching cunt is left unattended.

Their movements are precise, almost desperate as they work their hardest to bring you some well-deserved release. You can’t help but move your hips in perfect synchrony with their tongue as you feel it entering your thigh entrance, exploring every inch as it drags loud moans from you.

“H-Hanji…” You whimper loudly, and your voice is hoarse as a result of trying to compete with the loud sounds that come from outside. Your breath is shaky, one of your hands travels towards their hair, playing with the loose strands of their side bangs as the other rests above their chest, holding yourself up and helping you keep your balance as your hips grind against Hanji’s face, “It feels… So good…”

You can feel the warmth of their breath as they giggle against you, clearly amused by the reactions they are getting out of you. When they pull away slowly, you whine quietly, annoyed by the empty feeling their tongue left behind, but then you hear their voice, low from desire as lust takes over their eyes, “Moan my name… Show me that your heart belongs to me.”

Their words alone are enough to cause another rush of pleasure to gush out from inside of you, straight into their mouth and Hanji can’t help but let out a delighted sound. The warm sensation rises to your cheeks and you find yourself embarrassed to say it, even if they have asked you to, even if you desperately want to.

“Hanji…” You decide to start off quietly, their whiskey-brown eyes shooting open as you feel a smile forming on their occupied lips. Their tongue continues to make its way inside of you, feeling every little contraction from the inside while the tip of their nose is now glistening with your juices. You’re embarrassed, there is no denying it, but your need to please them overturns any of the shyness, “H-Hanji, please… Keep going… I… I need more.”

Your words are breaking up and your hips gain a mind of their own, bucking against your beloved’s face like a loose horse on a track, there is no stopping you now, especially not since the familiar warmth has started to form on the pit of your stomach.

Hanji’s hands hold your ass up, making sure they are not being suffocated by your thighs. They can tell you are getting closer so they use that knowledge as leverage to speed their movements, their entire face now entirely focused on bringing you over the edge.

“Hanji… H-Hanji, you’re going to make me come,” you say in a shaky voice, your breath trembling just as much as your legs as you attempt to keep yourself steady. They take your words to heart, softly and meticulously moving around. Their tongue thrust in and out of you as their hands tightly squeeze your ass, their nails digging into your soft skin.

They know exactly what they are doing to you, there is no doubt in their mind that they are the only one who can make you feel this way, and the thought alone is nearly enough to send Hanji themselves into an orgasm.

With a loud gasp, your body leans forward, your legs shake violently and you nearly feel yourself collapse on top of Hanji’s face but luckily, your hands hold on tightly onto a pile of old wood that finds itself in front of you. That is the only reason why you did not come crashing above them.

Their name falls from your lips with ease, cries of pleasure erupting from you as they slow their movements but refuse to cease them, slowly teasing your aching clit with the very tip of their nose. Your walls contract around their tongue and, by the look on their face, you can tell Hanji is in heaven.

The pleasure washes over your body like a crashing wave and it lasts for a while, just giving you this insane high that could only be comparable to the one you have seen from the guards who go venturing in the forest. This one feels different from the other orgasms you have had while having sex with Hanji… Not only more intense but more intimate as well.

Tears form in your eyes as you finally find enough balance to hop off Hanji’s face, catching a glimpse of your juices covering their face before they use the back of their hand to wipe it all away. Your cheeks burn with embarrassment and you want to bury your face on their neck and never look at them again, but you decide against it.

Instead, you lay down next to them, their hand grips tightly around your waist while your fingers gently brush against their face. You lean closer to them, fully taking in the scent that you left behind, lips ghosting above each other before you take a step further and actually kiss them, finally tasting yourself on them.

Hanji’s tongue swirls around with yours, exploring your mouth to the fullest, not an inch goes by untouched and the combination of your saliva and theirs, plus the remainder of your fluids that is left on their face is enough to bring a whimper out of your partner. It’s a taste Hanji has never and will never grow tired of.

Reluctantly, they pull away, the necessity to breathe outweighing the desire the two of you feel in your hearts. The warmth from the fire flickers around you and the shadows of the night dance around their face, making them more beautiful than ever before. The love they have for you is evident in the simple way in which they hold you by the hips, pulling your body as close to them as they possibly can, almost as if they are scared that you will disappear the second you are not within their reach.

“You truly taste like the most addictive treat…” Hanji whispers, their voice husky with desire as their lust-filled eyes analyze every inch of your body, “I can’t help but crave more of you. That pussy of yours is all I can think about…”

Your breathing ceases for a few seconds as you silently choke back on your spit, not because you are embarrassed, although that was slightly the case, but because that was not at all what you were expecting them to say to you.

Not sure how to respond, you bring your lips against theirs once more. Your tongue rushes above their lower lip carefully, taking in every drop of your wetness that you might have missed. You can hear a faint moan escaping their throat, covered in desire.

Slowly, your fingers begin to trace their way down their chest, carefully touching the space in between their breasts. You start with circular movements, using the tip of your nails to leave behind a few red marks on their sun-kissed skin, and, in response, Hanji closes their eyes, finally allowing themselves to be vulnerable.

Once a breathless whimper escapes their lips, you decide to get a bit more daring, tracing the contour of their underboob with your finger. Their skin is soft and you know it would be so easy to leave a love mark if you so desired, but this time isn’t about marking each other, it’s about feeling the love the two of you have shared toward each other for more than a decade.

You nuzzle your face against their neck, leaving behind love-filled kisses that awaken goosebumps along their skin. The smell of their sin has always been one of your favorite things about them, the feeling of their wet hair brushing against your cheek, tickling your face ever so softly.

Your fingers continue to travel and explore every inch of their body, tracing a gentle line above their stomach and it causes Hanji to giggle and then immediately pout. You know how ticklish they are and yet, you just can’t help yourself but be delicate in your touches.

With a smile on your face, you take a second to grip tightly at their hips, pulling them as close to you as you possibly can, eyes closed as you enjoy the warmth emanating from their body. The fear and anxiety you felt just mere hours ago dissipate with each passing second, the horrifying thought of a life without them seeming more like a memory than a possibility.

“Feeling clingy, aren’t we?” Hanji whispers, a grin so big stamped on their face that you could even see the singular dimple on the left side of their face. Normally, this would be the moment where you would roll your eyes, playfully push them away or even tell them to shut up, but they are right. You are feeling clingy.

“I just…” You begin whispering, trying to explain your track of thought without making a complete fool out of yourself, you are failing miserably, “I love you. I have loved you for so long that I don’t know who I am without having these feelings for you in my heart.”

“y/n, I- I,” they begin but you shake your head, squeezing their hips just a bit harder. Hanji knows that this is your silent way of asking them to stop talking and let you finish whatever it is that needs to come out of your chest. With a deep breath, you continue.

“You saved me, more times than I can count,” you whisper, your voice is shaky is a cocktail of emotions, “so I am thankful for the chance of ever being with someone like you. So yeah, I guess after everything that has happened today, I am feeling a little clingy.”

By the look on their face, you can tell they feel the smallest bit of remorse about teasing you, but it is not like they are going to apologize. You both chuckle softly, Hanji’s hand gently brushing against your cheek as you find yourself mesmerized by the spring in their smile while autumn was the season that stared back at you, those brown eyes doing wonders to your heart.

Hanji’s tongue brushes against your lower lip, traveling from one corner to the other before they proceed to nibble on the thin skin. For the next move, their tongue invades your mouth, swallowing the chorus of sounds that comes from your throat like it's a pond of crystal clear water in the middle of a desert.

Before you give them a chance to reply, you decide to finally continue to move your fingers down, playfully twirling their pubic hair around. Your kiss continues, slowly and tender at first, bringing out the years of practice you have had with each other, perfectly in sync. Your fingers finally brush against Hanji’s clit, so you gently rub it in circles for a few seconds before using your hand to push their legs to the side, giving yourself better access.

Their desire is undeniable and palpable, they can’t hide the blush that has been spreading from their cheeks onto their ears nor can they hide the wetness that begins to pool onto the bed in a reaction to their lack of underwear.

“Tell me what you are thinking about…” You whisper, your curious fingers dipping a little below their original spot to drag out a bit of the wetness that begins to pool inside of them. You can hear Hanji’s quiet gasp and a smirk creeps onto your lips, “Tell me what has made you this wet.”

You can tell they are embarrassed, not only by the way their entire face immediately goes from a faint blush to a dark red as it spreads to their ears but also by the way they squirm beneath your touch, hips moving forward in desperate search for more contact with your fingers.

They struggle to keep their breathing steady but every attempt is futile, the words they were so proudly flaunting around when it was your turn to be vulnerable suddenly disappear and the only sounds that they can express are breathless and desperate moans.

Only when you threaten to move your fingers away do the words return to them, the response is nearly immediate as a sudden fear takes over their heart, “I… I keep thinking about y-you…” They know that isn’t a good enough answer, they trip over their words, flustered as their mouth dries up. Your eyes never leave their face, admiring every small freckle, even droplet of sweat that falls to their eyebrows, every spec of dirt left behind by the blowing wind and rain.

“What about me?” You inquire, wanting to hear the specifics of their desires. Your heart beats powerfully in your chest, so much that it nearly hurts. Your love for them has never faltered, from the first moment the two of you met, you have been inseparable, hearts beating together as one. The scenery of your beloved by the fire is engraved in your brain as you make a point to memorize every detail about this moment.

“T-The way you looked when my tongue was inside of you,” Hanji begins to speak breathlessly, with every word that exits their lips, you increase the pressure on their clit, rubbing gentle circles while using their own wetness to make sure there is no friction, “all the ways I can make you sound,” they moan, eyes rolling to the back of their head in pleasure.

“Keep going,” you indulge, the devilish smile on your face never once faltering. Gently, you begin to nibble on their earlobe, feeling as their grip around your shoulders tightens. They want to be as close to you as possible, even if it means your bodies will melt together under the fire and become one.

“I keep thinking about the way you look at me when you are about to come,” their voice falters slightly, trembling from desire. Their heart beats at a thousand miles per hour, and a few droplets of rain make their way inside the barn and dare to fall onto their head, mingling with the sweat that forms on their hairline. You can see their breath with every word that exits their mouth and yet, the cold doesn’t affect either of you in the slightest. “I think about the way your lips feel against my skin, especially when they - Ahh..”

You don’t give them enough time to finish the last sentence. You lower your torso softly, bringing your attention now towards their breasts, your left hand supports your body up as your lips tightly wrap around their nipple, tongue firmly swirling around the raised bud while your finger starts to slowly make its way towards their entrance.

Hanji arches their body slightly, attempting to guide your digits towards their most sensitive area. You can see how eager they are, not only by the way their hips buck forward but also by the small quantity of viscous liquid that has slipped from in between their legs, you chuckle quietly as your tongue continues to move around their nipple,

A small part of you wants to be slightly cruel and continue to tease them but when you look at them, those pleading eyes tugging at the strings of your heart until you can’t deny them any longer. Carefully, you slide your middle finger inside of them, their nails gripping at your skin as they close their eyes, a happy grin tugging at the corners of their mouth.

Once your finger is fully settled inside of them, you begin to thrust it in and out, dragging pleased moans out of Hanji, even if your movements are still slow and loving. But even though Hanji found themselves enjoying this experience, they needed more, you had been teasing them for a while, and having you sit on their face earlier was the cherry on top. They weren’t sure how long they would last at this pace. Their fingers drag over your arm, begging for more.

Not only do you comply and begin to speed up your movements, you decide that adding a second finger would be the best course of action. With your index and middle fingers buried down to the third knuckle inside of them, you pick up the pace, your fingers scissoring quickly.

Hanji is nothing but a blushing mess, their moans are loud as they try to bury their face on your neck. You continue your assault on their breasts, suckling on their nipples like your life depends on it, the tip of your fingers brushing against their g-spot, tickling them from the inside out as you try your best to help them reach their climax.

The palm of your hand grinds against Hanji’s clit, adding an extra layer of pleasure to the whole thing while your fingers continue to move in and out, dragging against the walls of their pussy as they continue to dance inside of them. Up and down, one side to the other, there was no direction you weren’t moving in.

You can feel their cunt getting wetter, more desperate for you as they continue to moan. You finally move your lips away from their breasts, your eyes finally meeting once more as Hanji’s free hand runs over your face, thumb gently brushing above your cheek and you can see a single tear of pleasure forming beneath their eyelashes.

“I love you,” they whisper, their chest rising and falling desperately as they continue to buckle their hips in perfect unison with your fingers, there is no stopping this now. Their breaths become even more dysregulated, the desperation in their voice nearly palpable as they continue to repeat the same words over and over again, almost like a mantra, “I love you.”

“I love you too, sunshine,” you smile, hoping that your words will reach them, “I want to make you feel good.”

“You are…” They move their face closer to yours, foreheads touching as they wrap both their arms around your neck, propping themselves up in a way that allows your fingers to reach even deeper inside of them, “it feels so fucking good.”

It was rare to hear them curse, so for Hanji to say such a thing, meant you were more than definitely doing something correctly. You continue your movements, your lips ghosting above theirs as you speed up once more, the tips of your fingers fully exploring every single inch of their insides, leaving no pleasurable spot untouched.

They close their eyes tightly, mouth nearly hanging open as they barely find the strength to speak, “y/n,” your name falls from their lips with such ease, like their vocal cords were made to play the symphony that is your name, “you are going to make me come.”

“Come for me, Hanji,” you whisper, lips brushing above their cheek, carefully planting kisses on the area. You can feel their walls begin to tighten around your fingers, their pelvis raising in the air as they get closer to the edge, all you need to do is that one final push, “I love you.”

Those three sacred words always did the trick. With a loud scream, Hanji’s body begins to shake next to yours, arms pulling you closer as your fingers are nearly pushed out by the intensity of their spasms, but that itself isn’t enough to stop you. As you readjust yourself slightly so your body is more on top of theirs, you push in deeper inside, the tips of your digits continuing to brush against their g-spot while you slowly switch from in and out movements to circular ones.

They cling to you for dear life, wanting nothing more than to feel themselves being cradled in your arms. Once the intense pleasure wave has passed and their body finally seems to stop convulsing around your fingers, you decide to pull them out, leaving behind not only an empty feeling inside of them but also a long trail of their juices.

“You did so good, sunshine,” you say, bringing your digits close to your lips. Hanji’s eyes widen as they realize what you are about to do and their cheeks become covered by a darker shade of red than you have ever seen before. You smile, taking your fingers into your mouth as your tongue swirls around, taking in every last drop that they have left behind. You can’t help but hum happily, the taste of their pussy being the most delicious meal you have ever had in your entire life.

They watch you in a daze, almost as if they are under hypnosis. A mixture of scents fills the air: the smell of the rain against the grass outside, the smell of the fire crackling next to you, the smell of your sweaty bodies as you become one, but the smell of sex overpowers any and all others.

After a few seconds, you remove your fingers from your mouth, not a single drop of Hanji’s juices remains and, instead, a small string of saliva finds itself attached to the area. It’s the most sensual scene they have ever seen and, for some reason, they simply can’t avert their eyes.

Hanji places their hand on the back of your neck, their fingers lacing themselves with the strands of hair attached to your skin by a layer of sweat. Once they finish readjusting, they pull your face towards theirs, lips crashing against yours in a hunger-filled kiss, swollen lips desperately searching for some sort of relief as they can taste themselves on your tongue.

Your teeth gently nibble on the soft skin of their lips, pulling the flesh towards you until it earns a long moan from Hanji and it draws a few drops of blood and neither of you seem to care about or mind about the newfound metallic taste.

Reluctantly, the two of you pull away, only a single string of saliva connecting your bodies. Your eyes meet Hanji’s and you are met with a look you are more than familiar with: the necessity for more. A warm feeling takes over your features as your chest rises and falls, you want to say something, anything that would make this feeling go away but the words fail you. All the confidence you had mere moments ago disappears and it’s up to Hanji to take the next step.

“You are so beautiful,” they whisper, their words washing over you like warm water on a cold winter night, “I am so lucky that I am the only one who gets to see you like this, the only person who gets to see Her Highness, Princess y/n, in a flustered state, sweaty and with your hair all tangled up. I want to be the only one… for the rest of our lives.”

“It has always been you,” you respond quickly, your voice trembling with emotion as you continue, “My first crush, my first kiss, my first time, every first I have ever had has been yours and I plan to keep it this way.”

It’s now Hanji’s turn to look away, their eyes are fixated on the wall until you bring your fingers gently towards their chin, moving their face ever so tenderly so they are looking at you once more. Your heart races in your chest, wanting nothing more than to look into their whiskey-brown eyes while you declare your love.

“One time, after I grew tired of reading the same old books in the castle’s library and begging my father for new ones, Libet secretly snuck into this extremely old book,” you begin to explain, noticing how Hanji’s eyes are shining even more brightly than before, they pay close attention to every word that dares leave your lips, “it came from a very distant land, somewhere I had never heard before but somehow it was still in English, much to my luck.”

“You and your books,” they smile playfully and you roll your eyes in disapproval before letting out a heartwarming giggle.

“In the book, I read about something called “The Red Thread Of Fate,” and it’s a theory that two people connected by a red thread are destined lovers, regardless of place, time, or circumstances. The cord may get tangled, but it will never break.” Your voice is now lower than a whisper, blood rushing through your cheeks as you explain your favorite tail, “The following day, I met you. It always felt like we were - “

“Meant to be,” Hanji finishes your sentence and you nod. You cup their face gently, thumb lovingly brushing above their cheek until you notice goosebumps forming on their skin once more. You lean down slowly, placing a couple of kisses on their neck, earning a few eager moans as they lean against you.

Your hands begin to explore their torso, aiming for their breasts while your fingers pinch their nipples gently. When they begin to exhale those sweet, sweet harmonies, you are no longer able to control yourself. You sink your teeth onto the smooth skin of their neck, leaving behind a mark, not a big one, but enough that they will remember it by tomorrow morning.

You desperately want to taste them again, this time directly from the source, but you don’t have the chance to make your way down. Instead, Hanji takes your chin away from their neck, fingers sliding down towards your throat as they ever so gently squeeze around it, earning a moan out of you.

“You’re going to be a good girl and listen to me, won’t you?” They ask, pulling you closer with a devious grin on their face, teeth digging into the flesh of their lower lip. All you can do is nod, your mouth hanging open for a slight second as you pay close attention to them.

You want to respond, you want to say something but words simply refuse to come out. Your brain has been wiped clean and the only coherent thought that even remotely comes to mind is Hanji: their slightly crooked smile, the raspy sound of desire in their voice, the desperation present on their touch as they dig their nails into your skin.

You whimper, that is all you can do in this situation. Their usually sweet eyes are now piercing through your body like a wild animal looks at their prey like they are addicted and you are the most fascinating drug they have ever had the luck of tasting.

Your hands go through their abdomen, fingertips carefully analyzing every little crook and dip, every scar they have acquired throughout their life, and even the smallest strands of hair. Your heart dips into your throat, nearly escaping your body but somehow, you can hold onto it. You want to tell Hanji how beautiful they are, how much you love them, how much you want this, but they are faster. Their words break the silence.

“I’m going to spread my legs, okay?” Hanji says, guiding you through the process. You nod and you catch a quick glimpse as the corners of their lips lift into a smirk, they continue to speak, “I want you on top of me, just like we used to do.”

You nod once more, focusing all of your attention on making sure you are following their instructions perfectly. Just like they said, Hanji’s legs part ways, their left leg is stretched on the bed while they adjust their right upwards, you take in the sight of their soaked pussy, the last few drops of her cum slide down her ass and land onto the ground, soaking the area below.

With your left hand, you carefully move their right leg up slightly, their knee touching their chest as they let out an amused sigh, this being the first time in years that this particular scenery plays in front of them. You slowly throw your right leg above theirs, your wet pussy pushing against Hanji's as you position yourself above them.

As your wet vulvas begin to touch, the two of you can’t help but moan in perfect harmony, a symphony of breathless whimpers filling the atmosphere. With your free hand, you guide Hanji’s palm towards your breasts and, eagerly, they begin toying with your nipple, pulling at the bud while watching for the pleasured expressions on your face.

It’s like something flips in your brain and your hips gain a mind of their own, eagerly bucking back and forth. You push yourself forward, applying more pressure to the point of contact between your two bodies and you can tell exactly where Hanji’s mind is in this moment.

With your free hand, you begin to explore their torso, nails dragging against their sun-kissed skin as it contrasts with the red marks you leave behind. The sweat on their face glistens as the light emitting from the fire washes over their features, their fingertips toying with your nipples before ghosting over to your hips, pulling you closer as they increase the pressure of your bodies pressing together.

“I love you,” they say in between whimpers, their voice trembling in a mixture of desire and need. You can’t help but feel yourself melting in response, a smile plastered on your face as you throw your head slightly back, your hair tickling your skin. Their fingers begin to dig bruises into the skin of your hips, an attempt to encourage you to speed up your movements, the sweet words pouring from their lips like a waterfall that cannot be stopped, “my heart calls for you with every beat, with every breath I take. I’m yours and yours alone.”

Your heart beats forcefully in your chest and suddenly all the moisture disappears from your throat, it’s nearly impossible for you to swallow and you almost choke on your words, but you want to return the sweetness they are expressing to you. So you sink yourself deeper against their aching core, the wet sounds filling the air as it mixes with the desperate moans the two of you let out.

“You’re angelic,” your brain isn’t sure as to what you are trying to say at this moment, so you allow your heart to do the talking for once, your breath is unsteady in between whimpers, “every part of you, every strand of hair that falls out of place, every freckle on your shoulders, every little scar on you is perfect. It’s almost like you were made for me to love.”

You continue to roll your hips, your cunt rubbing against theirs in a frantic rhythm as the two of you search for a high that seems closer than you could ever imagine. Despite what it may seem, Hanji’s body is more defined than they allow other people to know, it’s a direct result of constantly working in their father’s herb garden for most of their life.

From this angle, you can fully admire the silhouette of their body. You can pay close attention to the small arch of their spine, their back no longer touching the ground as they search for an even more intense connection between your two bodies. You close your eyes for a split second, still being able to taste their juices on your tongue.

Once your eyelids lift once more, you realize Hanji’s face is starting to contort into one you are more than familiar with. You yourself begin to feel the familiar tingling sensation as it forms in the pit of your stomach, and it only encourages you to pick up the pace.

"Fuck, baby girl," Hanji hisses in pleasure, their fingernails digging at your hips enough to draw a couple droplets of blood but that little bit of pain only adds to your pleasure. The way your wet pussy rubs up against theirs in a slow grind, the bundle of nerves colliding against one another as the two of you continue to whimper each other’s names. Hanji tilts their hips up ever so slightly, grinding back against you and matching your quick pace. You can feel your blood rushing faster and faster through your body, “I’m close…”

You nod, hands wrapping around their abdomen as you continue to hold yourself against them, “I-I’m close too…” You want to sound like the confident person you were just a few minutes ago, but that persona is long gone. All that is left behind is a whimpering mess, who can’t stand the mere thought of stopping her movements, “H-Hanji… Hanji, I…”

It hits you like a tidal wave. You aren’t even able to finish your sentence before your body begins to shake violently, your grip around them tightening as you throw your head back, you tried so hard to be quiet throughout the entire night but, just this once, you can’t help but scream their name in pure bliss.

Hanji isn’t far behind. In fact, the sight of your orgasm on top of them, your excess of juices dripping onto their entrance and mixing with their own was enough to shake them to their very core. Their nails dig into you tightly as they continue to move, drawing out every last bit of pleasure they can from this interaction.

You hold yourself into place and you can feel their clit spasms against yours, tears of pleasure forming in your eyes as you continue to whimper weakly. It takes nearly a minute for the entire effect to end and, only when the two of you are certain that there is nothing else in the tank, is when you unhook your legs, allowing your limp body to carefully come crashing down above their abdomen.

The two of you breathe heavily, lungs burning in a desperate search for oxygen. Your skin sticks together due to the sweat and neither of you even dares to move, except for Hanji’s fingers, which begin to lightly brush above the back of your right arm.

“I - “ the two of you say at the exact same time. Neither of you can help but chuckle at the situation, before doing it again, “You go first.”

With a small nudge of your head, Hanji begins to speak, “I knew from such a young age that I wanted to be your partner, that I needed to make you my girlfriend, even if at that point, it only meant holding hands and reading books together.” You notice a few tears begin to form in their eyes as they shift their face away from yours, trying to hide how vulnerable they feel at this moment. Almost as an instinct, you bring your hand up towards their chin, carefully turning their face back towards you, a few tears of your own threatening to fall down, “my entire childhood, I was surrounded by so much tragedy and death that I just assumed I was a bad omen, attracting sadness wherever I went.”

As soon as their words leave their mouth, you frown, a pout forming on your lips as you listen to them. You shake your head, refusing to continue to listen to them as they continue to speak about themselves in such an ill manner. But before you have time to intervene, kiss them, or even just tell them to shut up, Hanji takes your hand on theirs, fingers lacing together as their lips plant a small token of their affection on your knuckles.

“You taught me that wasn’t the case,” they whisper, tear-stained cheeks turning even redder as they blush, “you showed me that good things CAN happen to me. After all, I ended up with you, and I’ll be damned if I don’t admit you are the very best thing that has ever happened to me.”

You prop your head up on Hanji’s chest, the most beautiful brown eyes meeting yours in a love-filled stare. No words were needed at this moment for the entire atmosphere to be completely overtaken by the passion the two of you share for each other.

“I thought my life would always be this straight line,” you being speaking, your voice barely managing to get out of your throat, a result of all the moans but also the emotions that you had bottled up for a while, you want to let them out calmly but your mouth refuses to listen to your brain, so you continue, “I thought I would always have to dress up, play my part, marry a man and have several kids to make sure the bloodline and the kingdom were secured.”

“The idea of another person, especially a man, touching you makes my skin crawl,” for a second, you notice as their usually brown orbs turn dark, the jealousy in their voice not subtle at all. Before they have the chance to continue their rant, you plant a kiss on their lips. It doesn’t last long and, unlike the previous kisses you had been sharing that night, this one isn’t filled with lust, but with longing.

“My point is that from a very young age, I knew exactly who I was going to be,” you whisper against their lips, still planting a few kisses here and there as the words pour from your mouth, though your voice is still trembling, you have never been more certain of what you are trying to say, “and then when I met you, I was even more certain.” When Hanji shoots you a confused look, you smile and continue, “I knew I wanted to be your bride.”

A comforting silence grows between the two of you as you lay your head back down on their chest, the beats of their heart directly against your ear plus the sound of the rain outside truly made the entire experience so much better. It felt almost… heavenly. A while passes, you aren’t sure if it is minutes or seconds, but it’s enough for your eyes to begin growing heavy, a smile stamped on your face.

"I guess I haven't officially asked, have I?" They say, their fingers just ghosting above the back of your arm. You open your eyes just enough to look at them before propping yourself up on their chest, placing your chin on your hand in the hopes of not causing them any discomfort, a puzzled expression of your own on your face, and it drags an endearing laugh out of Hanji. "To be my bride."

Your face suddenly feels like it’s on fire. Of all the things you were expecting them to say at this moment, this one was not on the list. Yes, you were expecting a proposal eventually, maybe even at some point soon, but that wasn’t the reason why you brought it up in the first place. Not that you are complaining, to actually hear them say it? To hear them ask the very thing you have been craving since you were eight? Oh, the speed at which your heart beats in your chest could only be compared to a healthy stallion being set free in the wild for the first time.

"Please, Your Highness," they begin, a smug smirk stamped all over their features and a giggle escaping their throat once they notice how you roll your eyes at them, "y/n... will you give me your hand and marry me?"

Now it's your turn to laugh, a sound Hanji could never get used to, for it always meant more than the entire world to them. For some reason, they seem so nervous, almost as if they are afraid that you will actually say no to their proposal. You shake your head and place a kiss on their cheek, "I will marry you. I will gladly take your last name and get rid of my father's. I want nothing more than to live a long and happy life with you, Hanji Zoe.”

The light from the fire makes your shadow seem angelic like a goddess descending from the heavens just to bless them. Hanji can’t help themselves. They immediately pull your face closer, their lips meeting yours in a tender kiss, their voice is a mess of hums and whimpers, but there is no sexual connotation behind the sounds.

After you pull away, Hanji doesn’t open their eyes. Instead, they pull you closer into their chest, burying your face in the crook of their neck while their fingers hold onto your back tightly, desperately hoping to keep you from moving, but it’s not like you had any plans on doing so.

There is a smile on your lips that refuses to fade. The warmth from your beloved’s skin plus the sound of the pouring rain are enough to lull you into a deep slumber and for the first time since the night your mother died, you find yourself free from the nightmares that have haunted you.

By the time you wake up, the thunderstorm feels like nothing but a distant memory as the dark clouds have been replaced by the bright sunlight that enters the barns through the broken windows and the cracks. It takes your eyes a second to adjust and, by the time you become fully conscious, you realize you are lying there alone.

Your naked body is now covered by the previously rain-wet blanket and the fire next to you is now extinguished. You take a quick glance around, and can’t help but frown when you can’t seem to find Hanji anywhere. You stand up, finding your dry clothes lying next to you and the small hairbrush that was once in your bag now sitting on a compact mound of hay.

Once you are dressed and miraculously remove all the knots from your hair, you make your way outside. The first thing you see is your horse, happily eating and drinking by a small lake a few feet away. The pout that once took over your features now dissolves into a happy smile as you make your way towards her.

Carefully not to startle her, you place your hand on her flank, fingers gently brushing against the soft fur as she turns around. The horse’s head bobs up and down a couple of times before she immediately returns to her previous affairs and you decide to leave her be.

From the other side of her silhouette, you can hear the water splashing around, so cautiously you find yourself making your way toward the origin of the sound. Your heart immediately melts and you have to fight all of your instincts to prevent your body from turning into mush as soon as you see the view ahead:

Hanji’s pants are cuffed up to their calves, they aren’t wearing a shirt since it would just make it completely wet, so the water droplets fall directly onto their skin. Their hair is tied up in a messy bun and they hold a knife in their hand. One quick glance over to the side and you notice a quickly handmade basket holding a handful of fish and some fruits.

You take a few steps forward and clear your throat, wanting to make your presence known without alarming them. Promptly, they turn their head around and flash you the brightest smile you have ever seen, your heart rapidly swells with a thousand emotions, but the most prominent ones are love and affection.

“Good morning,” they say, taking a few steps towards you. Their arm wraps around your waist as they pull you close, a grin tugging at the corners of their mouth as their lips press against yours in a quick and messy kiss. It doesn’t last for long but it’s enough to make you smile from ear to ear, a truthful reminder that when it comes to Hanji, you always wear your heart on your sleeve.

“Good morning,” you respond once your lips part ways, your voice having a sluggish and almost needy tone to it, “you should have woken me up, you know. I could have helped!”

Hanji chuckles while shaking their head, their grip on your waist tightening as they place the knife on their belt, “I didn’t need help. Besides, you look so beautiful, I couldn’t bring myself to wake you up.” That stupid response, always made your entire face burn and always made you feel so shy just to hear it, but this reaction is exactly what they are looking for. “Let me make you some food, you must be starving.”

At the simple mention, you can feel your stomach growling. Your fingers brush against the fabric of the shirt that covers your stomach, allowing you to feel just how hungry you are. So you decide not to put up a fight anymore, simply nodding as they let go of you and reach for the basket on the ground, picking it up before making their way back to the barn.

Your eyes keep tracing the outline of Hanji’s body as they walk in front of you, the love marks you left behind on their neck are oh so visible when their hair is up like this. You can see every small mole hidden on the back of their neck and it sends a shiver down your spine, the thought of the previous night returning to you as you feel the heat growing in between your legs once more.

The only reason why you are pulled out of those thoughts is because Hanji dries their body off and puts on their shirt. A chuckle escapes their lips as they notice just how deeply you had been staring but, for once, they decide not to tease you about it.

Instead, they walk towards the spot that used to be the firepit, reaching for the same objects you used to make a fire the night before in the hopes of igniting it again. Gently, they pat the spot next to them, silently begging you to take a seat. It takes you less than two seconds to make yourself comfortable, your head resting on top of their shoulder as they begin to clean the fish.

It takes around two hours for the both of you to eat and clean up after yourselves, wanting to hide any and all traces of your stay as best as possible. While Hanji makes sure to cover up the fire, you place everything back in the bags, looking around for signs of anything you might have forgotten or anything around the barn that might be useful.

When you’re done, you reach for the piece of paper with the visual representations of all the lands explored by men. Your eyes go back and forth, trying to analyze every and all possible scenarios, the most hidden yet safest paths, and routes that might lead you towards freedom. Though, it is hard when you aren’t exactly sure of where you are going.

You can feel yourself growing more anxious, your breath trembling while a knot forms in your throat. It only dissipates when you feel Hanji’s presence behind you, the warmth that emanates from their body immediately calming you down as you realize they are just what you need.

“There’s a village a few more miles west,” Hanji says, pointing towards the blurry smudges on the map that slightly resemble a pair of mountains. Their chin rests on your shoulder, fingers brushing from the paper towards your hand and you can’t help but smile, “Maybe when we get there, we can get some more supplies and I think Elowen here would appreciate some more fresh carrots and apples.”

You hand them the map and nod, resting on your forehead on your horse’s muzzle, your heart beats at a rapid pace as you scratch her favorite spot on her chin. Her fur is warm and she doesn’t seem to be in any pain or discomfort despite the extremely long journey, so you let out a content sigh, knowing that this is all you could ask for for your most loyal friend.

“Do you think we will ever stop running?” You say in a whispered voice, a subtle hint of regret imprinted in your words but it is enough for Hanji to notice it. For a few seconds, all you can hear is the sound of the wind blowing the leaves of the trees and you ask yourself if they heard you, but before you can repeat your question, they sigh.

“I don’t know,” there are a lot of feelings laced in their voice: fear is the most prominent one, but also a bit of sadness. However, never once did you find a single shred of regret in their words. They continue, “But if it means keeping you safe, I will go with you to the ends of the Earth. We will go beyond the areas on the maps and form a little life of our own at the edges of the universe.”

You feel your entire face heating up at their words, even more so when you feel their hands wrapping around your waist as they place their head in between your shoulder blades. Your heart nearly skips a beat and a brand new wave of butterflies awakens in your stomach. It’s your turn to sigh.

“Do you mean it?” You ask softly. You already know the answer and still, your heart yearns to hear them say those three little words yet again. Hanji nods and you can feel them as they smile against your back.

“With every bit of who I am.” They respond, their fingers digging at your hips as they flip you around so the two of you are facing each other. Their hands continue to rest on your hips, thumbs gently brushing against the dips while your arms wrap around their neck, your face standing mere inches away from theirs. Their voice is now smooth like butter, as they finally proclaim what you have been desperately craving to hear, “I love you, y/n.”

A shaky moan escapes your throat, your body melting as an immediate response to Hanji’s words, to their actions, to the mere way they look at you. It’s like your lips gain a mind of their own, immediately seeking solace and comfort in their kiss.

Every flick of their tongue raises the hairs on the back of your neck, the moment their saliva mixes with yours, it fills your taste buds with a flavor you could only compare to the sweetest nectar derivative from a sunflower born from a drop of sunshine. Your eyes are tightly shut but you can clearly see their face in your brain: the small way their nose scrunches when they are moving their head, the twitch on the corner of their lip when they realize how badly they have you in the palm of their hand, or even the way their eyelids tremble, struggling to remain shut.

As Hanji’s petal soft lips continued to brush against yours, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself, all the fear you once had about running away melting with every beat of your racing heart. For the first time in a while, you fully allow yourself to be submerged in the overwhelming feeling that is loving Hanji Zoe.

The need for air begins taking over your body as your lips tremble against theirs but your mind is too clouded by the need to stay in this moment to pull away, so unfortunately for you, Hanji is the one to listen to reason and separate themselves from you. You pout, sadness clearly engraved on your features but it doesn’t last long. Hanji brings one of their hands up from your hips towards your face, their thumb brushing against the skin of your cheek ever so softly.

There is no need for words to be said between the two of you, so all you can do is nuzzle yourself against their palm, a trembling breath making its way out of your chest, almost as if it had been sitting there for as long as you have been alive.

You sigh, turning away from their touch as you take a few sure steps towards Elowen, who begins to excitedly clap her hooves against the ground when she notices that you begin to adjust her saddle. You can feel the warmth of the sun soaking into your skin and into your heart as you watch Hanji place your bags in their designated spot. They smile shyly to themselves as they gently pat the horse on the ass, a playful action that earns a neigh from the animal.

Once the two of you find yourselves ready, you are the first one to hop on the horse’s back, carefully scooting forward and adjusting yourself so that your beloved will have enough space to sit down. You reach your hand down carefully and Hanji giggles in response at how delicate your movements are, the blue blood that courses through your veins still apparent.

Nevertheless, their rough fingers brush against your palm as they grab hold of you. Their foot shakingly touching the stirrup, unsure of when it would be the appropriate moment to leap from the ground. So in hopes of giving them a bit of assistance, you squeeze their hand gently, tightening your grip just enough to give them a boost of confidence.

That simple small action works like a charm and, within milliseconds, Hanji finds themselves sitting behind you on top of the horse once more. They wrap the cloak around the both of you once more, making sure that at least your heads are properly covered but not blocking your vision. Then, once you are both settled, they wrap their arms around your waist tightly, their cheek resting in between your shoulder blades once more.

You can tell that they have a smile on their face and the warmth of their body provides you with a sensation that is more than enough to keep the cold fronts away. So with a sigh, you carefully hit the heel against the horse’s ribs, kissy sounds making their way past your lips as she begins to gallop towards the village Hanji mentioned earlier.

As the trees pass you by, a sense of calm washes over you. “I would be getting married right about now if I had stayed behind,” you think to yourself. You can’t help but wonder if the royal guards are looking for you right about now if everything is okay with Libet or even Tegan. If your father has had yet another heart attack while having a fit of rage.

You shake your head, pushing away every thought that could be related to your old life. Your Highness, Princess y/n, the king’s only child and heiress to the throne died the moment her father discovered her secret romance with a peasant.

At this moment, all that matters is that you can’t wait to find out who it is that you can be now that you are free from the chains of royal duties and responsibilities that tied you in place. You can’t begin to conceive of a life in which you aren’t with Hanji, a life in which the two of you aren’t living together in a cabin far away.

It’s a life you have been dreaming about and finally, you are about to discover just how happy you can be while living the simplest of lives. After all, that was one of the many benefits of being a pauper.

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