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jk97 · 6 months ago

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Unprofessional Attraction | THREE

♡ pairing - yunho x afab!reader ♡ word count - 23.6K ♡ warnings for this chapter - fluff, ANGST, and explicit content (mdni), teacher/student relationship, some other members are featured, drinking alcohol, bigdick!yunho, pet names (angel, pretty, sweetheart, etc.), possessive/obsessive/toxic behavior, cunnilingus, hickeys, fingering, praise, unprotected sex, creampie(s), jealousy, blackmail ♡ A/N - I’m soooo sorry this took me forever to write (it’s so many words ahhh 🫠) but hopefully this is worth the wait. The next part will be the finale of this series. This also isn't beta read so I apologize for mistakes ahhh. I love ya’ll, thank you for your patience friends, STREAM GOLDEN HOUR ♡

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

“You could at least try a little harder to pretend you want to be here with me, ____.”

Wooyoung’s antsy fingers pinch at the straw of his drink while he watches you thumb away at your phone. Going back and forth with your friends in the group chat about Jongho’s upcoming recital is the only thing calming your nerves this afternoon. When you had agreed to his ruse, you didn’t realize you were signing up for public humiliation. Those two words might be a bit dramatic, but sitting together in the dead center of the campus food court has you immensely anxious either way. This is entirely way too public…

You don’t mean to offend him with your embarrassment. It’s not like Wooyoung isn’t handsome; in fact, that might make things worse. It helps draw in too much unnecessary attention from other women, and it feels as though there might as well be a spotlight circling your table. Luckily, Yunho has a lecture through the next hour today, so you’re not too concerned on that front. Regardless, your first fake date with him is starting to be nothing short of awkward.

“You can’t even look me in the eyes?” He inquires further.

“I’m sorry,” you find it within yourself to apologize, placing your phone face down on the table and sliding it away. To offset your anxiety, you put new effort into inspecting your food and preparing to finally eat it. Anything to just keep busy. “This is just a little out of my comfort zone.”

“Pretend I’m Mr. Jeong if that makes it easier,” he suggests, but his tone hangs on the edge of condescension. It’s not all that intentional, but he’s poking the bear. “I have access to the grade book all the same, you know.”

With narrowed eyes, you try to let his wisecrack roll off your shoulder, “That’s not a very funny joke.”

Continuing to avoid his eyes, Wooyoung watches you put all your attention into eating the meal he’s bought you so that you both can pretend to be on this lunch date. He was gracious enough to offer to pay for any meals you share moving forward, as long as it would make things easier on you while being a part of his plan. That’s what a real boyfriend would do anyway, right? Though, right now you’re not treating him like a boyfriend— you’re treating him like some kind of dirtbag with an open wallet. He can feel his own appetite slipping away slowly but surely.

“What are you both anyway, fuck buddies?” He asks a little too bluntly.

It might be a bit muffled, as your mouth is stuffed with food, but you still manage to retort, “That’s none of your business, actually.”

His increasing annoyance is evident by the deep exhale he tries (and fails) to suppress. Wooyoung doesn’t want things to be so tense, but you’re not exactly making it easy. He supposes you might gain some sympathy for him if he explains his troubles. You seem like a genuine person despite any contempt you might hold for him right now, so he figures you’ll be understanding. He needs to make conversation in some kind of way, anyway.

“How about I tell you a bit about my situation then?” He finally offers. You hum to let him know you’re listening, so he continues, “She and I were together for the last three years, but then she broke up with me a few months ago. And over something so stupid, really.”

“Go on,” you encourage, swallowing the bulk of food in your throat.

“Well, I need a master's degree to get the specific job I want… After telling her, one of her friends got in her ear about how me staying in school might hold her back after we graduate next year.” Wooyoung tries to sound indifferent to her friend’s heavy influence on her decisions, but the look behind his eyes, as he glances around to see if she’s in the area, says otherwise. It’s full of bitterness and hurt. “She wants to travel for a year before getting a job, and they told her I’d stress her out too much with a long-distance relationship. She took that to heart, for whatever reason.”

Would it be a lie if you said you didn’t support a tiny bit of actual pity towards Wooyoung? Probably. Knowing what you know now, you ponder more about the tight situation between you. He’s an intelligent guy, and you’re sure he knows exactly what Yunho is to you with the way you get touchy about his name even being mentioned. That’s why he’s using someone else’s happiness to retrieve his own once more. While that’s not exactly just, you’re aware that love makes people do crazy things. Moreover, you know you in particular can’t judge anyone after doing what you’ve done to achieve Yunho’s attention.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” is all you can reply, but it’s genuine.

Before you can process what’s happening, Wooyoung suddenly reaches across the table and links his fingers with your free hand in an act of endearment. Your cheeks prickle with heat, not from being charmed, but from more humiliation. This is embarrassing, suddenly having to do public displays of affection with someone you don’t even like in front of whoever is looking hard enough to notice.

“Don’t turn around, she’s here with a friend,” he mumbles, and then an affectionate smile tugs at his lips. It looks fairly genuine… He is much too good at looking charming on the drop of a dime. “Do you think it’d be too corny if we wore some matching outfits a couple times?”

You hesitate for the briefest second before squeezing his hand with false affection and leaning forward on your elbows to seem more interested.

Nobody is close enough to hear you reply, “Are you trying to win her back or get her to block you? Because I honestly can’t tell.”

“It’s just a little joke. Laugh a little, I beg,” Wooyoung pouts.

He leads your connected hand to fondle his cheek, trying to inconspicuously guide you through the motions. If Wooyoung didn’t know any better, he would assume you’ve never been on a date in your life. His hopes were much higher than this, as you’re much too pretty to be this stiff when it comes to showing affection. It almost has him second-guessing whether he’s right about you and Yunho being involved more than just sexually. Much to his surprise, your hand finally relaxes against his face, and he revels in the way you even stroke his skin with your thumb. The timing couldn’t be more ideal, truly. He can sense the attention of his intended audience, and the corners of his mouth curl into a subtle smirk of approval.

“That’s perfect. Keep going.”

“Don’t push it, please.”

For the rest of that week, Wooyoung insisted on repeating these kinds of daily rendezvous. This request also accompanied another for walking each other to class when applicable. He knew he couldn’t always time it right for when she’d be present, but he had his workarounds. He was fairly knowledgeable about a few of her friends’ class schedules, and he made it a point to walk with you on paths that would often intersect with those who he knew would inform her of his behavior instead. Occasionally, he would ask you to show up to school a little more fetching than usual, with prettier clothes and makeup. Wooyoung also made a point of concealing her identity from you, for reasons unbeknownst to you. He failed to tell you any more details about her after your first date, and that included basics as simple as her name. Several possibilities were considered when you finally identified this as a problem. The rational explanation would be that he doesn’t want you approaching her on your own time and taking things into your own hands. A particular irrational explanation starts infiltrating your thoughts with the more days that pass by bearing no evidence of progress:

“I’m starting to believe this ex of yours doesn’t exist.”

Your snide remark about his secrecy started as a joke.

“I have nothing to gain from lying to you.”

His terse reply didn’t necessarily extinguish the conspiracy behind your jest. After consistently being told not to look in certain directions for nearly two weeks, and no updates on her position, it became harder to believe his words. Despite everything, you do as you’re told and pray that his ex breaks through sooner rather than later.

I’m sorry.

It seems as though those two words haven’t stopped coming out of your mouth ever since you stepped foot in Yunho’s home this evening.

It begins with apologizing profusely for asking to come over on such short notice. Your complex’s Wi-Fi went out due to the wintery mix storm slamming the town tonight. Wooyoung’s been trying to lay it on thick the last few days and make your presence more than known to his ex, anywhere and every way that he can. Consequently, with a lot of your free time being taken away by him, you found little time to put towards important assignments due at the end of this week. The lack of Wi-Fi is the absolute last thing you need to happen right now.

Yunho doesn’t care about your abrupt presence at his door or even the way you track slush past his doorstep. He's more concerned about how you drove in the middle of a huge storm so late into the evening with no care for your safety. Over and over, you find new things to apologize for that make no sense to him. Another set of frazzled apologies comes from your mouth for keeping him up late after an hour or two passes. Yunho can’t help but genuinely laugh at this one.

“You do realize what day it is, right?” He inquires. The clueless look on your face makes him sit up, “It’s Saturday, ____. The day you typically come over and spend the night. I actually texted you about it earlier today, I didn’t know if you still wanted to or not since you were so busy last Saturday.”

This epiphany makes you immensely bashful and draws many more apologies out of you for your poor memory and lack of communication. How could I have lost time so badly that I forgot to reply to him about something we do so routinely? Under your stressful circumstances lately, your days are running together, and there’s just too much on your plate to appease everyone. Yunho visibly sees the shame blanket you from head to toe, and he hopes he didn’t come across as if he was upset with your behavior. In fact, he’s more concerned than anything.

Your lover can hear you type much faster after this brief exchange and he scoffs. Surely you don’t believe he’d willingly let you make haste of your work so you can disappear for another week or two… he groans internally when he realizes that’s exactly what you’re doing. He doesn’t understand why you’re so self-conscious and sheepish tonight, but he’s not going to press it. Instead, he rises from his spot on his couch and creeps over to where you’re seated at his table. His hands find the slopes of your shoulders and thumbs rub comforting circles into your muscles.

“You know you’re not going home tonight, right?” He questions after a moment of being nosey and peeking at your screen.

“And why not?”

The abrupt feeling of Yunho’s large palm skating up the skin of your throat before pushing your chin up to meet his gaze above you makes a chill run up your spine. His eyes are warm and concerned, yet stern.

“Because I said so,” he says point-blank.

Whether it be because of the terrible storm still slapping at his windows, or maybe even the fact that he hasn’t seen you outside of a classroom in quite some time, he knows this succinct answer suffices just as well those do. The subsequent pout on your lips to him is seen simply as an invitation to kiss them, and he does just that. You don’t even try to argue any further. It may not be your best work this semester, but it’s not too much longer after that when you finally submit everything due before its midnight deadline.

After briefly disappearing to his room to rummage through his dresser and change into something more comfortable, you eventually join him on the couch. Tonight’s position of choice has your head using his thighs as a pillow, cheek squished against his soft sweatpants as he spends endless minutes massaging the tense muscles of your back and shoulders with his fingers. He smells so good… that lavender and musk mix has you closing your eyes every handful of seconds just to breathe him in. Even if he can’t see your face, it’s obvious that you’re not paying attention to the movie he has on the TV, so he suggests that maybe you both should move to the bedroom so you can be more comfortable. You assure him that you’re more than comfortable right where you’re at, and that’s the truth.

Despite laying so peacefully with him, in what should be a moment of sedating intimacy, your mind is still reeling with things that need to be accomplished in the next few weeks. Every time you mentally check off something on your list, there are several more things added after, such as your three final exams, Yunho’s final paper, returning your textbook rentals, finally figuring out your ceremony dress, picking up your guests’ ceremony tickets–

“Are you going to attend my ceremony?”

Yunho hears you mumble this randomly after a while of sitting in comfortable silence. You’re sure he doesn’t need a ticket as a teacher, but the thought of having to get them brings you back to earth and reminds you of his presence.

“That was the plan,” he confirms, but hesitantly adds, “Unless you don’t want me there. I don’t want to make things awkward.”

The way you’re acting lately has him questioning things like this, now that he thinks about it. You immediately dispel his apprehension with a displeased grunt.

“No, I… really need you there.”

Yunho’s hand falters slightly in its kneading. He’s grateful that you’re unable to see his face with how you’re lying because the apples of his cheeks are taut from the overjoyed smile threatening to break through his lips. It’s one thing to be admired or adored by someone, but it’s another thing to be needed. He doesn’t hear that word often, if at all, but hearing it come from your mouth makes it even more monumental to him. That’s something he could get used to. Yunho hums in understanding, wordlessly confirming that he’ll be present. Following along the topic of graduation, he decides to ask something present on his mind recently.

“Have you thought about what you want to do after graduation?”

“Career-wise or celebration-wise?”

“Whichever… or both.”

You close your eyes to think. Nothing immediately comes to mind in terms of celebrating, but you’re sure your friends will be holding parties to attend. Putting that aside, you turn over and decide to open up a bit about your impending employment.

“I had a great internship last semester that I put my all into,” you divulge, “They wanted to bring me on full-time, so I asked if they could hold the position and wait for me to finish my degree this semester. Lucky me, they agreed.”

“Already set up for success right after you leave that stage… You’re amazing,” Yunho marvels. “I suppose I’m just as lucky too, huh? I get to watch you shine, front row.”

There’s a brief moment where you peer up and match his fond smile that’s already beaming right back down at you. When you reach up to caress his cheek, Yunho leans into your touch as if it’s second nature. The further you both dive into this relationship, it feels as though maybe you’ve finally found an additional frontline cheerleader.

“Mhm, something like that,” you tease. When he turns to kiss your palm in his form of congratulations, you sigh. Your hands have been tainted by someone else’s touch, and here he is blindly showing them genuine affection. Before you can help it, another apology comes out, “I’m sorry I’ve been so busy lately, Yu.”

“Why do you keep apologizing tonight for things you can’t control?” The gentle, unsuspecting laugh he lets out makes the guilt sitting in your chest about Wooyoung just a little bit heavier. “It’s finals season, I know how it goes.”

When your hand returns to your chest, your gaze falls just the same. He’s right, albeit unknowingly. With those words, you can finally accept that you have no control over your current situation at all. No matter how hard you try to convince yourself that you’re guiding this blackmail ship forward, you’re just not. In any case, you still feel like you’re doing what’s best for Yunho's future. Tonight’s tornado of apologies have all been unconscious overcompensation. As much as you feel like you need to, you know you shouldn’t have to apologize for your shortcomings when they result from such unmanageable circumstances. You’re doing your best, even if your best isn’t enough just yet.

Yunho can’t figure out what it is about tonight, but you seem like your head is a bit more in the clouds than usual. You’re here with him physically, but he can tell you’re somewhere else mentally. However, he acknowledges that he could be reading into things too much since it’s been a while since you both have spent time privately.

“Hey, stargazer, everything okay?” he finally asks in a soft voice, gently tugging on your cheek to bring you back to the present.

“Sorry—yeah, everything’s alright,” you reassure him. There’s something behind those soft eyes you’re giving him that makes him question your answer, but he keeps those concerns to himself and simply nods. “Thank you for being so understanding. I’ll make it up to you when this is all over with, I promise.”

You’re no longer talking about school with those words. He’ll probably never truly understand how much weight that sentence holds, but that’s okay. For the rest of your time with him tonight, you pretend that none of your problems exist outside his home. He deserves your unwavering attention tonight, at the very least.

On the first day of the following week, Wooyoung requests your presence in front of some familiar dormitories. It’s been quite some time now since you’ve been on this side of campus, considering you moved into your current apartment around the end of your junior year. The nostalgic feeling you get when meandering your way to your meeting place doesn’t do much to alleviate the anxiety you regularly get every time Wooyoung brings you somewhere so populated.

“What are we doing here again?”

“I heard she’s swinging by here today to drop something off for a mutual friend,” he explains while his eyes still scope the area for her presence, as usual.

You busy yourself with playing on your phone, keeping your head down and yourself hidden for as long as you can manage. This place, while technically not as densely populated as the dining space you frequent, has too many opportunities for lurking gazes. This particular set of dormitories sits on the side of campus that encompasses a good amount of academic halls and the largest campus library. There are plenty of teachers and students walking to classes or accessing the library, and even more lingering outside within the surrounding courtyard despite the frigid weather. Wooyoung had insisted on holding you by your waist for the time being as well, citing something about how “normal couples warm each other up”. You just want this to be over with as quickly as possible before too many people can see you both standing so close together.

“Hey, ____,” Wooyoung hums after a while, catching your attention quickly.

“Hm?”

Before you can even fully look up from your phone, Wooyoung’s head dips down and seeks out your lips. Shock is an understatement; the feeling of your heart seizing in unison with your limbs makes you feel like you might as well be flatlining. This cannot be—

“Relax,” he whispers before deepening this kiss, interrupting your thought as his tongue enters your mouth.

Reluctantly, you do as he says and try your best to relax while kissing him back. Over and over, you remind yourself this is supposed to be putting on a show in front of his ex. You try to allow yourself to fully slip into the role you have been forced to play. Your hands find purchase on his jacket, albeit uneasily. For someone who’s making your life so much more difficult, you can’t deny he’s at least a decent kisser. This moment feels like it lasts entirely too long, but eventually, Wooyoung pulls away and you watch his eyes dart around somewhere behind you.

“She’s gone now,” he sighs, “Pretty sure she saw that though. Nice job.”

“Don’t ever do that without warning me beforehand again,” you scold him in a voice low enough for his ears to hear only. Wooyoung rolls his eyes, though he follows up with an apology. Even though it seems genuine, it does nothing to quell the immediate guilt that washes over you the moment you go to swipe saliva off of your lips with your thumb. The nauseous feeling stirring in your stomach over simply kissing someone else other than Yunho begins to build up and feel unbearable, “Can I go now? I’m supposed to meet with a teacher during their office hours soon.”

Despite the tremor of uneasiness in your voice, Wooyoung believes your lie without question. That uneasiness doesn’t depart your system for the remainder of the day even after removing his presence, and you decide to call it quits early instead of attending your final class. This feeling of guilt, almost as if you cheated while in a relationship, has you more saddened than frustrated tonight. To make things easier to deal with, you repeat the same phrase about you and Yunho in your head over and over.

It’s okay, we’re not together yet.

While you cook yourself dinner–

It’s okay, we’re not together yet.

While working on your final paper–

It’s okay, we’re not together yet.

Yunho’s failure to text you back that evening before going to bed makes that fact easier to swallow. It’s the truth, so it shouldn’t be so hard to digest, right?

Yeosang does not expect much when he asks you out of the blue the next day to come and spend time with him after school. His roommate is gone for the week to visit family and he’s all by his lonesome. For the majority of the month, he’s become used to you declining in favor of completing overdue work. He’s not used to you being so behind on your work, and it doesn’t quite make sense to him when other times you say you’re even busier throughout the day. You look a bit more drained than usual when he Facetimes you that afternoon to suggest it, but he figures he wouldn’t be that upset to hear another no if you need the rest.

The answer was yes, for the first time in a while.

As luck would have it, the imaginary shackles on you had been released for the day, and having time to yourself for an entire weekday almost felt strange. Your personified migraine had texted you early in the morning informing you he’d be out of town for the day to attend some seminar that you didn’t care enough to remember the details of. Yeosang doesn’t do a good enough job concealing his shock the moment confirmation comes from your mouth, and you feign offense.

“I'm being punked, right?”

You scoff, “I don’t like the way you’re acting like this is bizarre, loser.”

You both know that’s a fairly accurate word considering your disappearances these last couple of weeks. His broad smile at your usual banter makes you feel cherished and missed, and it’s comforting for him to know you still have such a sense of humor even through your fatigue. He’s secretly been concerned for your well-being, but he didn’t want to seem meddlesome. Eventually, you go from two faces on a screen to you perched at his kitchen table. Yeosang insisted he cook you a nice homecooked meal when you mentioned to him in passing how much you miss eating his food. His back might be turned away, but he’s still actively engaging in discussion with you over the controversial love triangle taking place on the dating reality show he has you catching up on with him tonight. Toward the end of an episode, it takes you a few minutes of rambling to realize your best friend has grown silent while he cooks. Behind your back, he’s busy ruminating over thoughts of love triangles when he decides to finally uncork the bottle he’s been keeping closed in an attempt to have a peaceful evening.

“Can I ask you a question?” Yeosang calls out suddenly over the sound of oil popping in his pan.

Your eyes stay glued to the television, but you hum in consent, “What’s up?”

“Is it true that you’re dating Wooyoung?”

Wooyoung.

His name is a burden to you these days; the syllables of it only bring you discomfort. Hearing it mentioned on a day when you almost felt like you could get away from him draws a long beat of silence from you, though Yeosang doesn’t turn around to confront such silence. He allows you the time to answer however you’d like to if you would even provide one. Even though he was somewhat putting you on the spot with such a question, Yeosang is still your best friend at the end of the day. He’s not the kind of person to pressure you or give you a hard time about your private business, despite the times he rags on you in jest.

The truthful answer is right on the tip of your tongue, begging to be shouted, but you don’t have the strength to say such a thing yet. Instead, you inquire, “Who did you hear that from?”

You don’t mean to, but you sound a bit miffed when asking. Until this point, you had hoped your fake relationship with Wooyoung wasn’t too obvious to those who don’t pay close enough attention, but the feeling of failure is now pooling in the depths of your stomach. You should’ve known better.

“When someone begins getting close to the TA who’s in charge of their grades, I guess it’s understandable that there would be some rumors… Some people in our class are saying you’re together now,” Yeosang explains, voice as calm as ever while he continues to push around the meat in the pan. “I overheard those speculations and I didn’t really believe any of it at all. Unlike them, I know you’re already seeing Mr. Jeong.”

Yeosang pauses to allow you a chance to say any words you wish to insert if anything. Being amongst speculations of wooing someone to raise your grades is the least of your worries, and you honestly couldn’t care less if people believed such silly things in the last semester of your college career. At this moment, you are much more concerned about Yunho catching light of such rumors, or really anything regarding you and Wooyoung in the same sentence reaching his ears. It didn’t seem that way when you were both in each other’s presence a few days ago talking about your future, and you’re sure that he would’ve confronted you about such things if he could. Still…

“I’m not dating Wooyoung, nor would I even think of doing that for my grades. You know me, Yeo.”

You’re sure Yeosang can feel your eyes gazing over at him now, boring anxious holes through his back. You know he can hear the uneasiness plaguing you, making your words waver.

“I understand, I do. It’s just…” Yeosang pauses once more to find the right words that don’t sound so accusatory, “Hongjoong told me he saw you both on each other on his way to class the other day. I figured I’d simply ask you about that before I come to any conclusions, that’s all.”

Several beats of silence pass before you feel like you’ve finally drowned deep in this ocean of stress you’ve been trying to keep afloat in.

“Yeosang, I’m in over my head and I can’t handle this anymore.”

Yeosang finally ceases his stirring and peers over at you the moment the last syllable leaves your lips. This is the first time you’ve both met each other’s eyes since he began cooking and his gaze is undeniably the most concerned you’ve seen him give you in years. He can’t help it when he can so clearly hear the hurt in your voice. He knows you’re a bit more reserved these days when talking about your relationship with your teacher, and he understands that it could be out of respect for his privacy. This moment doesn’t seem like a situation where that’s applicable anymore.

Navigating this situation all by yourself is draining.

These last months in college are supposed to be nerve-wracking in an exciting way, finishing finals and prepping yourself to walk across the stage for your diploma. You’re supposed to be anxious about what to wear and how to do your makeup for your ceremony, about how you should smile when the ceremony’s photographer tells you where to look as you grab that fake symbolic roll of paper. Instead, you’ve been running yourself dry trying to appease a man who’s threatening to ruin one of the best things to happen to you thus far in life. You just want to be happy. Yeosang was right in warning you about playing with fire when pursuing Yunho, but it all still hurts so fucking badly.

“I want to help you ____, but you have to be honest with me,” he stresses, “I’m concerned about you. Tell me what’s wrong, please.”

You’re uncomfortably silent for a moment, eyes glued to his while contemplating his words. At last, you decide to broach the subject of all your mental stress. If you trusted anyone to help you navigate this situation, it was going to be him. This was no longer something you could handle on your own.

“I’m being blackmailed by Wooyoung.”

The words don’t even sound real coming out of your mouth when you finally betray the promise of silence you made to Wooyoung.

Yeosang’s brows draw together even closer in concern, “What?”

“Wooyoung found out that Yunho and I are together,” you confess further, words running out as quickly as you can think to say them, “And now he’s forcing me to date him to make his ex jealous. He wouldn’t stay quiet otherwise, and it’s all my fault, Yeosang. It’s all my fault.”

Your best friend pushes his pan away from the eye of the stove and makes haste over to where you’re sitting. He knows you better than you know yourself sometimes, already sensing you crumbling before you can realize that you’re finally breaking down. All of the pent-up stress over the last couple of weeks was finally taking its toll.

“I thought it would be over quickly, but it doesn’t seem like we’re making any progress,” you sputter, putting your head in your hands and pressing your palms to your eyes. The last thing you want to do is cry over a man who doesn’t deserve your tears. “He won’t even tell me who she is. I can’t handle this anymore, I just can’t.”

Yeosang’s arms wrap around you to ground you before you can allow yourself to descend further into your breakdown. Very few times has he seen your foundation be shaken so badly by something. You’re one of the strongest people he knows, and it takes a lot to disintegrate the fortitude you hold. He knows he can help you build it back later, he’s your best friend for a reason. For right now, though, he’ll let you get everything out that you’ve been holding in and dealing with by yourself. He knows you probably had your reasons to keep such things inside and away from him.

“He kissed me yesterday and I felt so guilty for the rest of the day, like I betrayed Yunho,” you tell him, and before you realize it tears are finally brimming in your eyes.

“Be kind to yourself, ____,” Yeosang hums while he holds your face in his hands. “You didn’t do that because you wanted to, it’s okay. You don’t have to deal with this alone anymore, okay?”

Hearing those words for the first time since this all began allows a veil of peace to cover you and you nod, finally accepting your need for help. Yeosang promises you that he will do whatever he can to find out who Wooyoung has his sights set so heavy on without interfering enough to throw things out of kilter. His help could be the only chance you had at getting this charade to end faster, even if it meant riskily trying to nudge things along behind Wooyoung’s back. You were no longer satisfied with being patient, and you now realize you don’t have to settle for that anymore.

While you might’ve gained some peace that night, around 2 AM that morning, there is no peace to be found in the home of your lover.

Yunho’s been staring at his ceiling for the last hour, unable to sleep even though he knows he needs to be up in a handful of hours for work. He had tried to push this situation plaguing his thoughts out of his mind all day yesterday, but his brain does its worst on nights when he’s left to his own devices and his thoughts spiral. At least tonight it’s not for self-sabotaging reasons like he’s prone to.

He allows himself to close his eyes and relive the moment when he saw you and his assistant kissing on his way to a multi-department meeting at the library. The moment he recalls the way your hands were clutching Wooyoung’s chest, he grimaces with unadulterated resentment. For the entirety of yesterday, he felt numb. He went through the day simply going through the motions, lacking any of his usual charisma and cordiality amongst most people he crossed paths with throughout the day. He was able to put on a mask for his students at the very least. How is one supposed to act when they see their girlfriend kissing another man? That’s when he has to remind himself:

She’s not my girlfriend.

At least, he doesn’t know if you are or not, since you haven’t said it out of your mouth yet. This is exactly the kind of bothersome bullshit he was so worried about weeks ago when he realized the severity of his feelings for you. He should’ve had the conversation with you earlier to see where your head was at, but he put it off for so long under the excuse of being afraid of scaring you off. He wonders if maybe you think he’s not serious about you enough since he’s never brought it up first. And sure, he knows you both aren’t technically together right now, but you could’ve at least let him know that you’re seeing more people than him, right? It hurts a little more that it’s also his assistant of all people.

He turns onto his side in a huff and buries himself deeper under his blanket. Yunho wishes he hadn’t fallen for you so hard. It’s hard enough to deal with his feelings as things are now, especially with the circumstances, but the introduction of competition might just drive him insane. She’s a grown woman and she’s allowed to do whatever she wants, he reminds himself reluctantly while closing his eyes once more, but again—a heads-up would’ve been nice. He doesn’t even know how to approach this situation moving forward. How is he supposed to look you in the eyes today during class?

The answer is that he doesn’t.

If he can help it, he actively avoids those engaged eyes of yours while he goes on for an hour about pragmatics. He doesn’t even look over at your side of the room. It’s not until the mid-class break that he takes multiple swift glances over at you chatting with Yeosang about something that’s got you enthusiastic. That smile on your face while excitement physically pours out of you makes his eyes soften. He wonders if you’re discussing graduation, as it is coming up in some weeks now. Then, he remembers that he wanted to take you away or do something relaxing to celebrate since you seemed to not have existing plans. Would that sway you back over to his side, if he planned something nice and spoiled the surprise early? Before he can even finish that train of thought, he finds himself finally meeting your eyes while you briefly let yours wander around in the middle of a sentence. The sneaky flirtatious wink you send his way makes him clear his throat bashfully and adjust his tie.

Yunho spends the remainder of class discussing the final paper and offering to read any final drafts that people would like feedback on, as long as they’re submitted by a specific date. He knows he’s probably shooting himself in the foot by putting that kind of work on his plate so close to the deadline, but he genuinely wants people to do well on his final and he knows there are quite a few seniors in this particular class section. The least he can do is make sure those of you end your college careers with a satisfactory grade to finish off your transcripts. He did very well with his midterm evaluations as well, so he wants to do the same for his finals.

When class ends, Yunho finally takes notice of how Wooyoung has been leaving as early as everyone else lately. He could’ve sworn Wooyoung used to stick around to ask him questions, and often times he even departed after Yunho had already departed. He also notices that you are nowhere to be found now even though Yeosang is still present, seemingly already having fled the room for one reason or another. He doesn’t want to think about if he’s been so oblivious to these kinds of things up until this point, but the thought of you and Wooyoung rushing to meet up after his classes sticks with him for the rest of the day.

Yunho can admit he’s a bit toxic sometimes.

It happens in moments of weakness where he lets his selfishness outweigh anything else. He reasons to himself that this isn’t one of those situations as he stands in front of your apartment door late into the evening of that same day. He had called you and asked if he could come see you at your place, which rarely happens. While it caught you by surprise, and you were in the midst of work, you were still as welcoming as ever. He knows you’d never say no. He’d never admit it aloud, but he’s not solely here just to see you—he’s here to be a bit nosy.

It’s freezing outside, so when you finally open the door he’s scrambling to get inside.

“That was fast,” you marvel.

When you wrap your arms around him and pull him into a hug, your shivers and giggles are like white noise in his ears as his eyes sweep the room. He doesn’t notice anything out of place, nothing that would make it seem like anybody other than you had been present here anytime soon anyway. His cold hands slide up the slope of your back to cup the sides of your face, and he offers you a sweet closed-mouth smile before briefly pressing his lips to yours in greeting.

“Yeah, traffic was pretty non-existent,” he hums.

“I made soup since it’s so frosty,” you glance towards the kitchen as your hands go to unzip his jacket for him, “Are you hungry?”

“If you’re cooking, always.”

Tonight, Yunho takes things slow.

From graciously eating your cooking to cuddling on your couch, he builds up the intimacy minute by minute. It’s something he’s been craving from you lately, that feeling of intimacy and domestication. He’s more than willing to indulge you when grow aroused by something as innocent as him mindlessly drawing shapes on your thighs with his fingers, slowly shifting them inside your pajama shorts when you whisper, “I want you to touch me.”

“I’m already touching you, baby.”

You push his hand just a smidge lower, whining, “You know what I mean.”

When things finally move to the bedroom, Yunho fucks you nice and slow, and it feels much more intimate than any of your previous times together. Slow, steady rolls of his hips into yours like he’s intent on showing you every ounce of love he holds for you in his body if he’s unable to say it outright himself. Nothing inherently strikes you as odd about the way his demeanor is different tonight. In fact, this kind of pure intimacy is something you’d been curious to experience from him. It almost makes you feel like you’re officially together. Sure, sex is naturally intimate, but this? This feels different.

His hands go from holding yours beside your head so affectionately to passionately gripping and kneading the plush skin of your sides and thighs like they’re fresh dough. It’s like he’s trying to solidify that this is reality, that you’re truly here in his hands and not someone else's. Grip strong enough to dig deep into the tissue and make you moan, but gentle enough not to leave bruising marks. Truth be told, he’d rather leave marks of where he’s been in less covert places. That’s why his mouth subconsciously finds its way to your neck before you feel the gentle drag of his teeth on your skin. It’s too quick to even be considered a warning.

“Yu, wait–”

You begin to tell him he can’t leave hickeys in such open places, but Yunho quiets you by sucking your skin anyway. The first one is on the tender skin just under your jaw, right where he can feel the pulse of how fast your heart is beating with his tongue. The desperate whine you let out when he finally lets up with a quiet pop! of his lips off your skin encourages him to put another on the column of your throat. You’ll probably throw a fit later when you see how bad these are and complain about the trouble of covering them up, but he really couldn’t care less.

When he finishes off the second hickey, he kisses his way up to your lips so sweetly as if he didn’t do something so obviously possessive. As if he didnt do something so mischievous which’ll draw questions from your friends and get you flustered trying to explain. These marks are warnings as much as they are bites of love. You throw your arms around his neck and arch your back, itching for more than what he’s offering. It doesn’t matter that it still feels euphoric, those long drags of his cock against your walls just to fill you up again—it’s too slow. The breathy laugh he lets out against your lips draws a pout from your own.

“What’s wrong pretty girl, don’t I make you feel good?” Yunho asks in a whisper, deep chocolate eyes holding your gaze while he continues to roll his hips at his leisure. He doesn’t like that he needs a bit of reassurance right now, but he wants to hear it so badly. When you nod with fervor, it’s just not good enough for him, “Tell me, angel. Tell me how good I make you feel.”

“You’re everything I crave, Yu,” you oblige him breathlessly, hands scratching at the sensitive nape of his neck while you arch again. For the first time this evening, Yunho’s hips falter in their steady rhythm. He’s quite caught off guard by your choice of words; it’s as if you know exactly what he needs to hear more than he does himself. “Nobody could ever make me feel like you do.”

“Yeah? This pretty pussy needs me, huh?”

There’s that word that he now loves so much: need.

“More than you know,” you gasp when he pushes his hips into yours as deep as he can manage, obscenities bubbling from within your chest.

Even though you both have had sex many times since this all began, this part still feels fresh. The way he manages to reach new depths inside of you and stretch you out to his heart’s content feels fresh every single time. Yunho’s thrusts begin picking up some speed finally and whines claw at his throat.

“My sweet, needy baby… You’re the only one who gets this, ____,” he admits, voice trembly while he drags his lips against the sensitive skin of your jaw, kissing his previous artwork, “It’s all yours, okay?”

In a perfect world, he’d love to hear you say the same back to him, but he’s snapping his hips too roughly now to allow for words. The way you begin begging for him to give you more of himself makes up for it. Bitten-off moans tumble from your lips as the coil in your stomach grows tighter and tighter, and it makes his cock throb and ache for release. The way you’re chanting his name has his eyes fluttering up in bliss. There’s no doubt in his mind that you want him, mentally and carnally, but the real question is if he’s not enough to satisfy that want. Yunho doesn’t have time to let his mind wander off into that kind of insecure territory. His brain becomes fuzzy as he becomes eager to feel you cum stuffed full of his cock, and then see his own paint your sweaty skin. Those familiar heavy pants he lets out against your lips make you simper.

“Getting close?”

“So close,” he nods, hissing when he feels you clench at his answer, “H-hah, oh fuck.”

“Wanna cum inside?” You offer this so shyly against his lips that he nearly doesn’t hear you talking altogether. When he offers you an absentminded ‘huh’ in response, you giggle and move to speak directly in his ear, “Want you to cum inside.”

Something behind Yunho’s eyes changes when you pull back—those blown-out pupils of his with little hearts swimming in them zero in on yours with a look you can’t quite put your tongue on. You cross your ankles behind his back to emphasize your words, to show him you’re serious.

“Really want me to fill you up, pretty?” he rasps. When you bite your bottom lip and nod, he offers you a lopsided grin, “Use those fingers and catch up, then.”

You don’t need to be told twice, one hand moving from being around his neck down to your clit to rub quick circles that’ll push you over the edge together. He’s never cum in you ever since you both started having sex, but he’s feeling overwhelmingly possessive today and it might just subside if he sees his cum leaking from your cunt onto your sheets. It’s now the only thought screaming at him in that fucked-out head of his. Your mouths connecting in a messy, sensuous kiss is the final push he needs.

Yunho’s fingers wind deep into your sheets with as much strength as he can muster while he buries himself inside you, pelvis to pelvis, pushing you deeper into your mattress. The throb of his cock and the broken moan he lets out while he finally cums trigger your own orgasm. The moment you lock your legs around him to keep him in place, your walls flutter and squeeze his cock to help milk him dry. He makes a note somewhere in the lusty haze of his mind that he just has to get you both to cum at the same time like this again at another point in time because the way you’re practically squeezing every last drop from him while you fall apart is nearly making him whimper repentance for how sinful it feels. When your legs let up on their grip, he gives you a few shallow thrusts before finally pulling out. Focusing on catching your breath is hard when he’s gazing so heavily at the mess he’s made of you.

“Don’t stare...” Yunho doesn’t even realize he’s been fascinated with watching the way his seed spills from your heat until you poorly block it with a self-conscious hand. Only then does he finally look up and find you flustered, the pout on your face growing more prominent by the second, “It’s embarrassing...”

“God, you’re so fine,” he coos. The jolt your body produces when he takes his fingers and pushes what’s been wasted back into your sensitive hole makes him laugh. “Even prettier like this too. Let’s get you cleaned up, pretty baby.”

Yunho hadn’t originally planned on sleeping over—it is a weekday after all, and he has work tomorrow morning. After showering, though, his willpower is tested. He loses nearly all his self-discipline to leave like a responsible man when you use this irresistible voice the moment he steps foot back into the room, humming honeyed words while holding his briefs behind your back to keep him from getting dressed.

“Can’t you just wake up early to swing by your house and get ready?” You eventually pout up at him when he looks as if he might change his mind. With the way your gaze is focused on his attentive eyes, you can’t see the way his cock is already twitching back to life again at your pleading eyes, the same ones you use on your knees between his thighs. He’s so thankful for that. “This is why I said you should leave some outfits over here just in case.”

“I know, I know. I should listen to you more. Can I please have my underwear back now?”

“Are you gonna stay? Please?”

He chuckles before finally conceding, “I can’t say no when you ask me so nicely, can I?”

You nearly fall apart at the way he pulls your face up by your cheeks with firm fingers before planting a kiss of surrender on your lips. Yunho doesn’t even remember why he’s over your house anymore, now only focused on getting his underwear back from your hands before you can see him getting hard all over again. He has enough sense to know that a second round will surely be much longer than the previous one, and you both need to sleep soon if he wants to wake up early enough. Lucky for him, you’re much too tired from a full day to stay up too much longer anyway.

It’s 8 AM when Yunho’s phone starts chiming with an annoying tone he set specifically to force his awakening. That grating sound is also your punishment for persuading him to spend the night. He’s slow to turn it off specifically for that reason, and a lazy smile stretches across his face when he hears you groan. Success.

“You’re so annoying,” you murmur. You instinctively search for your phone on your nightstand to glance at how early your lover has you suffering, then slowly slide yourself out of bed to go blindly search for a bottle of water.

Yunho screws his eyes shut and open a few times to regain his vision before flipping over and patiently awaiting your arrival. He gave himself a fairly decent buffer on the off chance you decide to stay awake and eat breakfast with him. At least, that was the plan until something happened that immediately changed his brain chemistry. Yunho’s eyes swivel towards your phone when it vibrates a couple of times on the nightstand. It really wouldn’t have been a problem had he not seen and recognized the name on the screen. Against his better judgment, he picks it up gently. He sees two older notifications from the prior night and the two new ones now piquing his interest.

[Wooyoung: Don’t forget lunch tomorrow]

[Wooyoung: Usual place]

...

[Wooyoung: Good morning]

[Wooyoung: If you get on campus by 10 let's do breakfast instead, they’ll be there. lmk]

His eyes constrict to slits almost instantaneously.

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me…

He doesn’t care that it's petty, he swipes each of the message notifications and deletes them with a pool of satisfaction boiling in the deepest pit of his stomach. You were too busy with him last night to notice his other messages anyway. If he could delete those messages permanently, he would. Realistically, there was no way he could keep you from eventually meeting up again with Wooyoung, but maybe distracting you enough to be late could be worth being a bit late to his own obligations. He’s extra needy on purpose this morning, immediately seeking out your attention the moment you groggily slip back into bed after chugging water. Feeling his warm hands grope your butt just makes you groan in that special kind of annoyance that naturally comes with waking earlier than need-be. When his fingers travel to fiddle with the elastic of your panties, an indirect request of sorts, you muster enough energy to nudge him weakly.

“S’too early, Yu,” you pout without even opening your eyes and bury your cheek deeper into your pillow.

“I know, I know. I have to leave soon,” he acknowledges. Still, his hand dances its way into the fabric. He watches you shudder when his middle finger pushes against your clit experimentally. His brow lifts when you open your legs. He licks his lips eagerly before murmuring, “You don’t even have to do anything, I’ll take good care of you. Go ahead and rest, okay?”

The hum you let out, signaling him to do as he pleases, has him gently working your panties down your legs and tossing them on the floor. He spends all the time he can, all the way until the last few minutes before he has to leave, with his face buried between your tired thighs. Always a starved man when it comes to your greedy cunt, the one that he confirmed last night needs him oh so much, he french-kisses his way into a sore tongue and a stiff jaw.

“Mhm, that’s it,” he talks directly to your heat, holding open your lips with his thumbs while watching the way slick, cum, and spit seep out to sully your sheets, “Gimme another one.”

Sleepy whines and garbled whimpers of his name have him rutting his hips against your bed. He would touch himself if he could, but his hands are too busy massaging your tense thighs in rhythm with his aching tongue lapping at your clit. The friction isn’t enough. He supposes his poor underwear will just have to suffer from precum leaking out his deprived cock, drenching the fabric the more he gets aroused. Each orgasm he’s able to pull from you drains your body of its energy more and more until you’re a meek puddle of fatigue splayed out on your mattress.

Yunho doesn’t remember what number orgasm his mouth finally parts from your core, but at some point, he finally reminds himself that he’s a man with responsibilities who still has to go home and change into his work clothes. He also needs to take care of this painful hard-on quickly when he gets somewhere private. Self-admittedly, this all was as rewarding to himself in fulfilling it as it was to you receiving. Seeing you absolutely spent and on the verge of (hopefully) deep sleep puts a shameless smile on his face.

He’s still a gentleman above anything else, taking the extra time to clean your skin and the mess he’s made of your cunt with a wet cloth before lovingly redressing you in your undies. He doesn’t even know if you can hear him after a certain point, but he still tucks you back in and whispers sweet nothings that he’ll overthink about later when he’s in his office after remembering why he was here in the first place. He even apologizes for ruining your sheets, again. The timid, fleeting kiss he leaves on your temple is followed by him carelessly saying, “Love you.”

The moment those two words tumble from his lips his eyes grow wide, and he waits with bated breath to see if you are even the slightest bit awake to hear his blunder. When you show no signs of stirring, Yunho releases all air caged within his chest and decides it’s best to leave quickly before he can make a fool of himself any further. You don’t hear from him for the rest of the day.

“I see… so she does exist,” you mutter sarcastically.

At the end of the week, following your shared linguistics lecture, you and your best friend convene at a table deep in the back of the library. Yeosang had spent a good amount of his time in the last few days covertly asking questions about Wooyoung to random acquaintances in hopes of getting bits of useful information about him or his ex. He was finally able to give you her name and class year, but he came up short otherwise.

“I wasn’t able to get any of her socials, I didn’t want to seem like I was pursuing her. However, I do have another idea,” he says, hands motioning for you to hear him out after he sees your spirits drop, “I was told she’s in Hongjoong’s capstone class and–”

“Oh brother,” you groan and sink further into your seat.

If Yeosang’s words days ago were anything to go by, Hongjoong was already convinced you were dating Wooyoung, so asking him for his ex-girlfriend’s number is surely just going to cause prying questions. You’re fully convinced that he probably won’t even consider giving it to you because he might think it’ll lead to drama.

“I know. Just hear me out,” Yeosang leans forward and lowers his voice, “I honestly don’t think it would be hard to get him to tell you. If you can come up with a plausible reason why you would need to reach out, I think he wouldn’t hesitate too much.”

“Which would be?”

“Well, I don’t know anything about her other than that she’s in a sorority. You can figure something out from that, right?”

You couldn’t deny that this was definitely a useful piece of information. Yeosang watches you purse your lips while you toss around some of the logistics in your head before nodding with some renewed optimism.

“Which app do you think I should start on?”

“I’m sure the majority of our sororities have IG pages to promote their activities. That’s probably your best bet,” he recommends, “I can help you search in between finals prep–”

“You’ve done enough, I can definitely handle that part,” you interject with a reassuring smile, “Thank you for even getting this info. I appreciate it, Yeo.”

While things definitely looked more positive from this conversation, there was an odd feeling lingering in your stomach over the next few days. From his time at your home through the weekend, Yunho’s communication and presence were lacking a bit more than usual. While it made things easier for you to see Wooyoung when requested without fear, it didn’t make things any less disappointing. Knowing he’s still there for you even through all of this mess was the only thing keeping you afloat, so it’s troubling when that disappears out of nowhere. Nevertheless, the end of the semester was creeping up faster than even you realized, so it makes sense that his schedule is being affected. Moreover, his job is what you’re doing this all for anyway, right? Even without his presence, you’d silently root for him in the shadows if it meant that December ended with you both together.

In the meantime, you push these feelings to the back of your mind and give yourself a break from being so worrisome. With this charade moving deeper into its timeline, it’s time-sensitive and imperative to ask for his ex’s phone number from Hongjoong in an effort to contact her. Wooyoung might be intent on keeping you from meeting her, but he’s severely underestimated the fire in your belly when it comes to getting what you want. You’ve played along with his shenanigans long enough.

Hongjoong’s brows furrow while he shoves a few of the fries in his mouth from a meal you asked to treat him to this particular Monday afternoon.

“I should’ve known you wanted to see me for ulterior motives,” he takes a swigger of his soda with pursed lips, “Buttering me up with free food for my connections, huh?”

“I didn’t remember until just now, I promise,” you lie, trying to remain composed. You’re not exactly the best at lying to your close friends and this time is no different. “If I knew about anyone else having her number I would’ve asked them. I wouldn’t lie to you, Joong.”

His eyes examine your body language keenly before scoffing, “I’m still caught up on how you didn’t tell me that your mystery man was Wooyoung all this time. That was a lie by omission.”

“I am not dating Wooyoung, I already told you this.”

“Then why do you suddenly want his ex’s number?”

You swallow the nervous lump in your throat and offer him an easygoing smile that you had practiced a plethora of times before even leaving to meet him.

“I’m reaching out on behalf of a mutual friend about possibly being commissioned to make the graduation stoles for their sorority. That’s all.”

Yes, through hours of snooping and finally finding her Instagram, you discovered that she is a die-hard sorority girl for one of the smaller sororities on your campus. You had almost talked yourself into simply contacting her there, but as luck would have it, her messages were turned off for strangers that she doesn’t follow back. There was no doubt in your mind that she would never follow you back if you tried that route.

“You sure you’re not trying to stir the pot?” Hongjoong inquires playfully, eyeing you with an elvish grin. You groan in annoyance. “I’m all for a little mess sometimes, but I don’t like being the gateway.”

“Come on Joong, it’s nothing like that at all. I didn’t think you would be so difficult to ask about this… You’re supposed to be my rock—”

Your heart is threatening to break out of your chest when he holds up his free hand to quiet you with a roll of his eyes. Then, with his other hand, he finally scrolls through his phone to find said information.

“I’ve heard enough, please stop being so dramatic,” he sighs. His thumb stops swiping as soon as he sees what he’s looking for in his class’ group chat, and he hands you the phone reluctantly. “Under no circumstances do you tell her who gave this to you.”

“You know I love you the most, right? Even more than Yeosang!” You smile and he matches it sarcastically.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you liar. I love you too.”

While Yunho’s impromptu visit might have subdued his anxiety briefly, he knew it wouldn’t be a permanent fix. He spent some time away from you under the excuse of helping other people prepare more for the final paper deadline approaching, but that only made things worse. The longing he feels these days is stronger when he realizes you could be spending the valuable time he’s avoiding you by seeing Wooyoung instead. It’s embarrassing really, being so envious of someone younger than him. He shouldn’t be letting some university student get under his skin so easily, but there’s too much he’s given of himself to you to just be calm and collected about things.

These things swirl about in his head while he’s seated alone at the bar’s counter, patiently waiting for his friends to finish playing Rock, Paper, Scissors to decide who pays the tab tonight. It was fairly evident that it had been a rough start to the month for Yunho from his mood, so his best friends were intent on treating him tonight. Today and the next were the university-designated study days for finals. Seonghwa personally coaxed him out of hiding by stopping by his home and offering to drive. He knows Yunho has a hard time saying no when confronted directly. As karma would have it, it was looking to be an expensive night for Seonghwa unfortunately, marked by the heavy groan Yunho can hear come from behind him when the two finish.

When he finally joins Yunho at the counter, he searches through his wallet for his credit card while asking, “Which beer do you want?”

“I need something stronger tonight,” Yunho states before flagging the bartender down himself.

Nowadays, he’s more favorable to something light and bubbly like beer because it’s easy on his body and the buzz is manageable over a longer period of time. He can’t remember the last time he drank pure liquor… It had to have been New Year’s Eve or some other holiday that’s usually burdened by alcohol. Yunho’s not remarkably sensitive to liquor and he’s by no means a lightweight, but tonight he’s truly done a number on himself. Three Long Island Iced Teas and a few extra shots of rum have him loose and on stage in front of many eyes doing what he does best: singing. Singing karaoke duets with Seonghwa always makes him feel like a college student again, bringing him back to the days of their music classes.

When the next hour comes around and several more shots enter his system, the second phase of his inebriation hits: heartache and depression. Distractions are wonderful until they’re not, and his throat hurts from doing too much falsetto. He keeps thinking about how he’s supposed to show you this side of himself eventually, serenading you like a cheesy romcom just to hear your pretty giggles telling him that he actually sounds like an angel, and those thoughts make him sad. On top of that, his social battery is depleted entirely and now all he can think about is going home. Distancing himself for the last several days is finally coming to an end, as you’re the only person he can think of to call since he doesn’t want to ruin his friends’ time by asking Seonghwa to take him back home. While booking an Uber ride would’ve been the smarter idea, Yunho’s too lovesick to pass up on a moment to hear your voice right now.

So, while Seonghwa is busy using the bathroom and San is distracted by an attractive woman who’s gone out of her way to challenge him to a game of pool, his hazy eyes manage to find your contact card in his favorites before calling you. You take a bit longer to answer than usual, but the moment he hears that familiarly sweet ‘hello there, handsome~’ come across his speaker, he physically melts into a heap on the counter. You can overhear the loud music coming through the speaker clear as day and figure he must be at the bar tonight with other teachers since they’re all essentially off tomorrow. Calling you of all people while with his friends is risky, but you understand why he’s being so reckless the moment he opens his mouth.

“I need to see you, please,” Yunho drawls, his free palm pressed to his forehead to ground himself, “Drank too much, wanna go home.”

“Where are you, Yu?”

Yunho’s heart feels like it’s ready to take flight at the way you ask this with no hesitation and how he can hear you already shuffling to grab clothes. Maybe your feelings are as strong as his afterall.

“At that dumb bar near campus. Hwa drove me,” he sighs, and you can practically hear the drunken pout stuck on his lips. “I’ll just send my location… Can you come, baby? Please?”

“Of course, I’ll come take you home. Sit tight, I’m leaving now.”

When you do finally arrive, Yunho lets his friends know that he ordered an Uber to go home, and successfully convinces Seonghwa not to walk with him outside even though his steps feel leadened.

“Go back to karaoke,” he waves him off with an anxious smile, “I’ll let y’know when I get home.”

Parking so close to the entrance might’ve been a bit daring on your part, but you expected Yunho to have some trouble walking too far with too much distance. To offset the risk, you’re donning a black face mask with the hood of your jacket pulled over your head, and you figure that should conceal any particulars about you enough for any lurking eyes. Yunho’s surely more operational than he sounded over the phone, and even though his feet are slow on his way over, he slides in easily enough and even buckles himself in. From there, you focus on leaving the area before either of his friends gets curious enough to look outside.

The drive is comfortably silent. You keep the music low and drive a bit slower than usual to make sure he doesn’t feel too dizzy during the trip. Yes, you care for the man dearly, but the last thing you need is his vomit in your passenger seat. With his head resting idly on the cool glass of your window, he tries to relax his mind and settle the stuttering of his heart. He doesn’t know why he’s so nervous to be around you right now.

“Overdid it tonight, huh?” You ask him after a while to make sure he’s still conscious.

“I don’t ever drink this much,” he replies with his eyes still closed, “M’so sorry for bothering you so late.”

“You didn’t bother me at all. Go ahead and relax, we’re almost home.”

His call was perfect timing actually, as you were just wrapping up exam prep for the day. Usually, you don’t take study days seriously, but with this being your last semester you figure giving your all includes taking advantage of the academic liberties that are offered by your university in exchange for not having to go to class. He was on your mind tonight as he always is, and even though the moment is unconventional, you appreciate him finally calling you at all. That’s all you can think about for the remainder of the drive to his home.

This is so embarrassing, he mopes internally. Yunho feels extremely vulnerable with every lug of his feet up his steps to his door. He’s not sure he ever wanted you to see him in such a state either—liquored up and liable to say anything lingering in his chest without inhibition—but it’s too late to worry about those things now.

“Thank you for coming,” Yunho sighs upon entering his abode, shrugging off his coat and kicking his shoes off to a place he probably won’t remember tomorrow.

His throat is dry and itching for something else, anything other than liquor. You know better than anyone that he needs to be drinking water right now and flushing his system as well. Closing his front door, you follow suit with your shoes and jacket.

“You don’t have to thank me, sweetheart,” you assure him with a smile, “I’ll go get you some water.”

However, before you can slip past him, Yunho’s warm hands gently clasp around your cheeks. Your back hits the door as his sticky liquored lips squish against yours in an affectionate kiss. Much to his dismay, after only a few seconds of gratification you manage to pull back enough to talk.

“Water first, kissing later. Okay?” You chide with a giggle.

Yunho makes a whiny noise in the back of his throat in place of a ‘no’ before stealing your lips once more. This time, his arms fall to wrap around your torso. There’s something desperate about the way his arms squeeze the air out of you as if he loosens them even in the slightest bit you might slip right from his grasp. That’s how he’s felt for some time recently like you’re slipping away right into someone else’s arms. Somewhere deep down in his intoxicated subconscious, he’s able to acknowledge the feeling of his heart slamming against his chest from pent-up anxiety of seeing you again, touching you again… and maybe lack of oxygen. Yeah, perhaps that’s what this intense feeling is building in his chest is, a blatant lack of oxygen. Breathing is just not something present in Yunho’s impaired mind.

You, you, you, you, you!

All he wants to do is think about how he loves you more than you know.

He feels like he’s suffocating, but his brain won’t let his limbs move to breathe, lost in the thoughts and desperation of just needing to be connected to you. Just then, when he feels like he’s about to nearly pass out, you find the strength within yourself to push him from you hastily. The way you gasp for air lets him know that he was inadvertently suffocating you as well. His arms finally release their intense grip and a flurry of apologies tumble from his lips.

“M’so sorry,” he offers one last time, words running together, “I just missed you so much.”

Yunho’s head falls and rests in the crook of your neck while embarrassment floods his cheeks.

“It’s okay, really. I missed you too,” you tell him, lungs settling while you card your fingers through his hair soothingly. He’s so fragile at this moment and seeing this side of him makes your heart melt. You could never be mad at something like a little stolen oxygen. “Let’s get you settled in first though, okay?”

“Please le’me stay like this for a couple minutes…”

He’s a bit dizzy, and your fingers lovingly massaging his scalp are making his heart feel ready to burst out of his chest. It doesn’t matter that he’s older than you, or that technically he’s an authoritative figure in your life. You’re always so soft with him, so attentive to his needs, and tender in your touch. You even came and picked him up while he was a mess, with no hesitation. For some reason, in Yunho’s inebriated mind, he’s so sure that a positive answer to this next question will finally solidify your loyalty and how you truly feel about him.

“Can you stay with me tonight?”

There’s a moment of silence where you’re unusually still, and Yunho can practically hear your answer before you even open your mouth. Mentally, you’re battling with yourself because of premade morning plans with Wooyoung interfering with his request. Normally, you’d never decline to spend some extra time with him, but you’re not sure if blowing off Wooyoung last minute will have some consequences. Yunho’s the most important thing to you, but which choice proves that the most?

“I have some important obligations in the morning, Yu,” you mumble a moment later, unable to outright say no. It’s hard, but you figure the best way to show him his importance to you is to put his career first, ahead of your feelings.

In the crook of your neck you can feel him inhale, and for a second, he’s so still that you could’ve believed that he’d passed out. You’re just about to call his name when you feel him begin to tremble and snivel, and alarm bells begin blaring in your head. Lifting his head with your hands gently, you gaze up at him in panic.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” You comfort him softly, thumbs on either side of his face wiping away fat tears that begin spilling down his rosy cheeks. “I’ll stay, I will. I’m so sorry baby.”

“I can’t do this anymore, ____.”

You’re no longer worried about the warm tears spilling onto your fingers as you are the immediate tightness in your chest at such simple words. Simple, but hurtful. The last time you heard that kind of sentence, it was followed by a breakup. The pang in your chest at the realization that this is what’s probably happening makes you feel sick. Nevertheless, you wouldn’t blame him if your behavior over the last few weeks ended up being the final straw for him, and if leaving him alone drunk was the cherry on top. Your diminished communication and sudden lack of availability with obligations you could not explain… and who knows what he’s heard about your increasing closeness with his TA, if anything. You ponder if maybe that’s why he has been acting differently recently, how perhaps the rumors had finally gotten back to him. It’s hard to meet his eyes while you try to prepare yourself for words you figured you hear eventually but still never built your confidence up enough for.

“Look at me, please,” he requests. It takes a moment, but you find it in yourself to do as asked. The way Yunho’s glazed-over eyes only hold dejection when you meet them lets you know something is seriously wrong. You’ve hurt him, you just know it. You’re not sure what to expect, but it surely isn’t him following up with, “I love you so much, it’s beginning to hurt, ____.”

Yunho didn’t expect this genuine divulgence that he had finally found within himself to reveal to be met with annoyance of all things. The way your brows crease and the corners of your mouth downturn throw him for a loop.

“I know you’re drunk but you really shouldn’t say a serious word like that so easily,” you chastise him in a soft voice.

The gentleness of your tone doesn’t change the fact that you mean that statement wholeheartedly; he’s never used that word with you when sober, so why now? You don’t want to be made a fool of when these drunken words get taken back when he’s in his right mind tomorrow. Being drunk doesn’t excuse playing around with your feelings like that.

“I mean it. I do love you, so much. Not gonna pretend to be so casual about things anymore,” he retorts. While his voice still has that intoxicated twang in it, it’s now alarmingly firm.

That sudden tone and the way his face remains determined to make you understand him make your heart stutter. In the context of romance, ‘love’ is a word you haven’t heard from someone in a long time. To be fair, it’s a word you haven’t offered to anyone you’ve dated in a long time either. How long has it been since you met someone worthy of a word that powerful… You’re at a loss for words. The increasing tightness in your chest with the more you take in the situation won’t let up, and you wonder if he can feel your anxiety through the trembling of your hands still caressing his wet cheeks.

Yunho doesn’t mind that you don’t say it back, he may be intoxicated but he still knows he’s coming on very strong right now. Instead, he adds, “You don’t have to say it back, but I can’t handle not knowing what I am to you anymore. I can’t tell how you really see me.”

The way your face immediately only offers confusion at that final statement is involuntary—his complete obliviousness to how you feel about him, about everything you’ve done till this point, is just baffling. Despite any impending consequences of being involved with your teacher, you’ve given this man so much of your time, your adoration, your body—what is there to question? When you finally take your hands back and place them on your temples, Yunho senses your frustration. He begins to feel bad when he realizes too much liquid courage may have made him go a bit too far.

“Yunho, I thought it was pretty obvious that I want to be with you. I’m just waiting for graduation to say it officially,” you explain. “I– We’ve been dating for 3 months, for Christ’s sake.”

You try to remind yourself that he’s intoxicated and that maybe you should treat this situation with a bit more grace. The next question he throws out completely shatters that mindset.

“Then why did you kiss him?”

The immediate mortification you feel at that string of words hits you like a sledgehammer, and the silence that consumes the room following this question is deafening. Yunho’s eyes hold your shameful stare before you finally become physically uncomfortable, and you avert your gaze sheepishly. Yes, you had considered he might catch you in the act sooner or later, but did it have to be the stupid unwanted kiss of all things? This is not something you had readied yourself enough to be confronted about. It’s something you wish you could’ve taken to the grave if possible.

The lack of an immediate reply to such a simple question has him pressing his palms to his eyes because he feels himself needing to cry again. He’d do anything to turn off those leaky faucets behind his eyes for good right now if he could. Crying over someone he had no business falling for in the first place is exasperating because he knew better. He’s sure he’d be able to compose himself more than this if he wasn’t so drunk as well, but it’s too late for those kinds of thoughts now. Everything is out in the open, all the way down to the intensity of his feelings for you, and there’s no turning back.

“It’s not what you think, Yunho,” you finally offer after taking some seconds to sort out your thoughts. The thing is, there is no other viable option at this point: it’s either tell him the truth or lie and break his heart further. You would never consider doing the latter. “I want to explain, but this isn’t the best time—”

“You can be honest, I promise I can handle it,” Yunho interjects. He runs his hands through his messy hair, trying to mellow himself out and prove that statement, but his insecurities start to get the best of him. Words begin spilling out of his mouth without much thought, “Is it because we can’t go out like normal couples? Am I not giving you enough attention? I know it’s tough right now but—”

“No, no, of course not! None of that matters to me in the slightest.”

“What is it about him, then? If it’s something I can fix or do better, I will. I promise,” he tells you earnestly, but his face already looks defeated. He still can’t even say his name. Seeing him so distraught and broken like this over your actions is like a stiff punch in the gut. The last thing you ever wanted to do was make Yunho feel like he’s not enough.

Instead of answering, you ask him, “Do you trust me?”

As much as he should be inclined to say no with everything he’s seen, or the way you won’t give him straight answers, he just can’t say no.

“Of course I do.”

“Then I’d really love for us to have this conversation in the morning when you’re sober,” you insist, hands seeking out his for comfort and reassurance, “Please, Yunho.”

“And what happens if I wake up alone again?”

There it is. The hint of pessimism screaming at him in the back of his mind slipped through. He remembers the last time you left with no word and how it sent him irrationally spiraling. He just needs that final bit of reassurance.

“I’d never do that to you again, okay? I love you too much to hurt you like that. I promise.”

Yunho's left mute at this reply, damp lashes blinking repeatedly as his brain struggles to compute that you just said three very pivotal words he��s never heard from anyone else he’s ever dated. After not immediately reciprocating his sentiments earlier, he didn’t really ever expect them to come from your mouth anytime soon.

“You…love–”

It happens way too fast, the wave of nausea that consumes him with how overwhelmed he begins to feel. Pulling his fingers away from yours, he clasps a clammy hand over his mouth and stumbles off toward his hallway bathroom in haste. This, of course, is not the ideal response you’d like to get back after fully confessing your feelings to a man. You try not to take it to heart and finally go to grab some water for him while he’s emptying his stomach in the bathroom.

The night comes to a close not too long later with you both burrowed in the blankets of Yunho’s bed, and he falls asleep against your chest faster than your brain will allow you to join. How lucky he is to have alcohol easily lull him to sleep after such a mess, you muse. You suppose this is as good of a time as ever to sort your thoughts and words for your explanation tomorrow. That and the possible consequences following you finally revealing the truth. While Yunho might seem mild-mannered and easygoing on a day-to-day basis, you are now aware of just how sensitive he is as a person inside. He feels with his whole heart, and he keeps certain things locked inside of him. You want him to feel comfortable enough to share those things with you as a partner. You want him to trust you wholly with his entire heart, but you suppose that begins with being entirely honest with him first. He’s more than enough, and you want him to believe that. Before you can let your mind wander too deep into the territory of that subject, your eyes finally feel unbearably heavy, and you fall asleep with your fingers curled around his own a little more securely than usual.

One thing Yunho prides himself in is not being prone to heavy hangovers, and this morning is no different. From his first couple years in college, he had learned that lots of water, sleeping in, and a good meal was the cheat code to his body’s ability to survive a night of binge drinking. This was partially thanks to his first roommate who was a Nutrition Major, because if he couldn’t discourage him from drinking he could at least aid him in recovering from it. Aside from you forcing him to drink a few water bottles before he could sleep, throwing up the prior night and purging most of it helped a lot as well, of course.

You’re not in bed when he stirs awake, but he can hear miscellaneous noise coming from another part of his home and smell the third element of his cheat code in progress. When he finally ambles out of his room and into his kitchen after chugging the bottle of water left on his nightstand, he finds you cooking something with what little groceries he has stocked in his fridge. The sound of him pulling out a chair at his table tears your attention away from the stove.

“Good morning,” you hum. He seems fully coherent, which makes things much easier on you. “How’s your stomach?”

Yunho rubs his bleary eyes with the back of his hand while yawning, “Much better… What time is it?”

“Around eleven, I think.”

“I thought you had something to do?”

“I canceled,” you tell him, “You’re more important.”

Earlier, while Yunho was still passed out, you found some time to slip away and call Wooyoung to raincheck. You’re not entirely sure if he believed the performance you put on about coming down with something last minute, but it didn’t matter. The least he can do is give you a day off of this charade. You move the food you’ve been working on off of the stove’s eye and turn off the heat before snatching up his mug of coffee and joining him at the table.

You look different this morning, the way your eyes lack any of their usual whimsy or humor, and how you sit yourself to his left with body language more reserved than normal. Your stress is palpable, and that doesn’t help settle the sad feeling beginning to manifest in his stomach when he realizes the conversation that’s about to begin. Nonetheless, he decides to prepare himself for the worst.

“I promised you an explanation,” you sigh, “So let’s talk.”

Messily relaying this story to Yeosang first helped you a lot with finding the confidence to make things more concise if a moment like this were ever to happen. You were able to tell Yunho the full extent of Wooyoung’s actions without getting as emotional as the last time. Even though you were trying to be truthful, you ultimately decided not to tell him about trying to connect with Wooyoung’s ex behind the scenes, as you didn’t want to give him any false hope if things happened to fall through. When you finish spilling anything left lingering in your guts about the entire situation, there’s an unbearable silence that settles over the whole room. Yunho’s eyes are trained on his coffee, finger circling the rim of his mug while he lets his mind run wild. The guilty feeling that washes over you feels heavier and heavier with every passing second of him not replying.

“I’m really sorry,” you finally break the silence with a final apology. “It’s my fault for being so pushy in your office that day. This wouldn’t have happened if I had just taken no for an answer.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for, ____,” Yunho tails your sentence quickly. The tension in your chest finally dissolves when he speaks, and hearing his caring voice is really all you can ask for right now. He reaches a gentle hand over the table to cover yours for some well-needed comfort, before offering you a soft, sober smile, “I don’t want you beating yourself up for decisions we made together. I’m a grown man who makes my own choices, don’t forget that.”

When Yunho dares to ask how far Wooyoung has made you go for him physically, you assure him the worst has only been that kiss.

“I’m not going to pretend like this doesn’t fucking suck,” he groans, brows furrowing at the thought of being so stuck between a rock and a hard place, “I would remove him from class if I could. Seeing his face is going to piss me off even more than before.”

“I understand. The semester ends in a couple of weeks though… I know it might be a lot to ask for from you to deal with, but it won’t be too much longer,” you offer resignedly, though it’s not much of a consolation. Optimism is the only thing you have worth giving him at this point. You’re only optimistic yourself while banking on his ex wanting to meet with you. When he goes from frustratedly rubbing his eyes to running a hand through his hair, you feel the need to add, “I’d understand if you don’t want to deal with that though.” Yunho turns to you, his expression one of sheer incredulity.

“You really believe I would willingly let someone like him end our relationship?” The teasing lilt in his voice is refreshing to hear, even if it is a serious question underneath. He reaches his hand over and holds your chin while assuring you, “You can’t get rid of me that easily, okay?”

“That sounds more like a threat than a promise,” you chuckle.

“Maybe he should take it that way, then.”

For the remainder of the week, Yunho tries to bear through the new knowledge that Wooyoung is somewhere on campus turning you into a puppet for his own gain. It hits harder on the days when he texts you in an effort to check in on things but is met with radio silence. He was made aware that Wooyoung preferred you off of your phone when with him, but goddamn was it annoying. For your sake, he tries to keep these kinds of grievances to himself. He knows he needs to be supportive if he can help it. During this time frame, you also secretly began your effort to contact Wooyoung’s ex-girlfriend. Getting left on read with your first message was to be expected. It took her a full day before she entertained you by replying back, even if it was a little snippy. Regardless, her replying at all was a step in the right direction. She opened the door and you planned to slip your way in as best you could. Between Yeosang asking for updates, his ex contacting you sporadically throughout the days, and Yunho checking in occasionally to make sure his assistant isn’t causing you problems that he’s more than happy to fix, you decide it’s best to keep your phone face down and away from Wooyoung when you’re together this week. Even if you want to keep up with your friends to pass the time, it’s just too risky.

“You haven’t told him anything, correct?”

Wooyoung asks this out of the blue when you both convene for breakfast on Friday. You find it funny how neither of them can say each other’s name, but you suppose Wooyoung is a bit more cautious these days to keep you from getting an attitude. You’re much too tired to even entertain such a question, but you don’t want to cause any suspicion by choosing not to answer.

You yawn after muttering, “No, why?”

“He looks at me differently these days,” he muses, pushing his fork into the plush of his lips, “It’s giving me bad vibes.”

“He has a lot on his plate with finals that you can’t help him with. I’m sure the stress is overwhelming. Cut him some slack.”

Picturing Yunho trying to give Wooyoung the evil eye when they cross paths everyday has you turning your head away, suppressing a smile to keep from laughing at the end of your sentence.

“You know better than I do,” he acknowledges with a nod and leaves the conversation at that.

Yunho begins losing a bit more of his resolve that same day when he catches Wooyoung rushing to meet you out the door after class, calling out your name right in front of his face. He doesn’t particularly care for the carefree tone of his voice, and he feels like doing something so openly is too cocky for his liking. His fingernails rake at the material of his slacks irritably from behind his podium as he opens his mouth.

“Wooyoung,” Yunho calls out before he can consult his better judgment.

When his assistant spins to face him, Yunho finds himself at a loss for words. He didn’t really think this part through. His eyes flicker to you, who’s waiting patiently by the door for your puppetmaster to join you, then back to Wooyoung. That’s when he makes the executive decision to steal him away from you for the next hour or so. He deserves that satisfaction at least.

“I wanted to discuss some things about my schedule regarding final papers next week, and then submitting final grades,” Yunho exhales while clasping his hands together.

He throws in a free and easy smile to twist the knife because his assistant loses all joy in his face at his words. The brief glance you exchange with your teacher as Wooyoung reluctantly ambles back to his station holds a world of emotions, conveying everything words cannot. The gratification he receives from simply seeing you nod and smile while departing alone for the day gives him everything he needs to complete his day with renewed composure.

Mondays generally suck for Yunho, but this final one of the semester is absolutely atrocious.

Today, he’s had the worst technical difficulties in both of his morning lectures with no valuable help from the University’s IT department. One of his biggest pet peeves is not being taken seriously when he’s working, especially as a younger teacher, and it seems that they put his issues on the back burner all morning since he’s not one of the elderly professors. Regardless, he made things work even through the giggles of some students. It’s his final class before exam week begins, the least he can do is end his spiel of encouragement towards the final paper deadline on a good note.

If things had ended there, then he would’ve had a decent rest of his day. Spilling hot coffee all over his white button-up that he rarely ever even wears puts a permanent grimace on his face for the remainder of the morning. He tries his best to dab it out with water when he gets a free moment during his lunch break, but he’s one hundred percent sure he made the liquid spread much worse. Coupled with him not even being able to put his tie back on properly in an attempt to fashion it in a way that hides the stain, he’s exactly three seconds away from deciding to go home for the rest of the day.

He decides to work through lunch in his office instead so he can end the day early once he’s finished. At least this way nobody could see how much of a mess he is today. But, after a while of Yunho holing up in his office and hiding from the rest of the world as long as he can manage, his phone vibrates with an unexpected call from San. He presses the answer option reluctantly and puts it on speaker.

Before he can even say hello, San’s voice is already excitedly asking, “You on lunch?”

“Something like that,” he chuckles weakly, and San can hear the clicks of his mouse in the background. When he hears San ‘tsk!’ in disapproval of him working, he sighs, “You know me, work’s never done. Shouldn’t you be teaching a class right now?”

“Bathroom breaks are important for everybody.”

“And you decided to call me during yours why?”

“Listen, I know you told me not to make any unannounced visits to your classroom but,” San pauses to laugh at the foolishness of what he’s about to say. “But, it seems that your student has done this to me today instead. I suppose that means today is fair game, right?”

Yunho’s hands pause their movements as he filters through his mind what exactly his friend might be referring to. When he finally recalls that line from their conversation on the day his friends briefly met you, his face pales. San adds that you seem to be dressed oh-so-pretty today and Yunho’s brows crease, not only in irritation at him talking so liberally about you but in confusion. Yunho’s prolonged silence at what should be insignificant information is duly noted in San’s mind.

Truth be told, San did not call Yunho just for shits and giggles. A few days ago, during a shared lunch break, Seonghwa had come to him secretly about Yunho’s recent behaviors:

“You can’t be serious Seonghwa,” San laughs wholeheartedly at his friend’s implications. “Yunho is a bit desperate these days, but he’s not that desperate.”

“You can’t say I’m being delusional.”

“That’s not what I’m saying at all. I’m just saying that it probably isn’t what it seems like.”

Seonghwa rolls his eyes so far back that it almost hurts, “Enlighten me on why he’s being so secretive when I ask then.”

“You asked him about her directly?”

“Not exactly… but I asked him about dating someone,” Seonghwa leans back in his chair and sighs, “He told me nothing. Barely even got a peep about where he met the woman. A Tinder match has got him so quiet? It just doesn’t make sense.”

“And you think it’s his student because of what exactly?”

“I didn’t say anything at the time but I saw a glimpse of his phone a month or so ago,” Seonghwa snaps his fingers while he tries to remember the details, “That night we went to that fancy lounge uptown, remember?”

“And?”

“When he was using the bathroom, he left his phone face up on the couch. I didn’t mean to pay too much attention to it, but it lit up with a text and I recognized the name.”

San pushes the food around in his Tupperware with pursed lips while he tries to rationalize this revelation. Seonghwa does have a point… Why in the world would you have been texting him at 10 PM? San’s a pretty laid-back teacher himself, but none of his students have his personal number. All teachers do things differently though, he knows this. Still…

San lowers his voice to ask, “What did the message say?”

“I didn’t see that part,” his friend continues, the disappointment in his voice making San snicker, “He came back too quickly. I mentioned it in passing though, and he said they text occasionally about her schoolwork.”

Seonghwa uses his fingers to put air quotations around that last word; as if he’d ever believe a student is texting their teacher close to midnight about “schoolwork”. He’s slightly offended that Yunho thinks he’s that much of a fool.

“That’s not that implausible—”

“I’m calling bullshit. She’s at the very least got a crush on him and he’s playing into it,” Seonghwa states plainly.

San resumes eating his lukewarm leftovers, humming, “I really don’t think he would risk getting fired over hooking up with his student. We barely even see him flirt with people outside of work… Anything beyond that just isn’t him. You know this.”

The conversation didn’t last much longer than that, and San had effectively convinced Seonghwa to simply mind his business at the time. He ponders for a second if he should have a serious talk with Yunho about the repercussions that could come to him if Seonghwa’s speculations were true, as he obviously doesn’t want to see one of his best friends lose their job. San may joke around a lot about these kinds of things, and he’s overly flirtatious with a numerous amount of people that may or may not include younger women, but he knows he’d never cross the line and put his job in jeopardy like that.

It’s always been complicated. Yunho is an exceptionally loyal person and a hopeless romantic, but very few people get to see that side of him. San has seen plenty of women attempt to pursue him with both good and bad intentions, and Yunho has difficulty deciphering sometimes. That being said, when his friend is head over heels for someone, there is nothing he won’t do. There have been plenty of times when Yunho has done some stupid things because of stupid impulses when it comes to women he falls hard for. Don’t get him started about when he had to talk him out of getting a tattoo just because a girl he fell for told him she preferred “bad boys” when turning him down. He feels with all of his heart, and that’s honestly something San admires about his friend.

He supposes while he has him on the phone, he should push the boundaries to see how he replies.

“She’s been outside of my class for nearly half an hour,” San continues in a nonchalant voice, stoking the fire, “I was wondering if I should invite her to join in on the lecture, maybe chat—”

Unfortunately for San, Yunho’s already having a bad enough day, and he doesn’t need his friend joking about trying to pick up his woman.

“Do not bother her,” Yunho interrupts him in a voice with a steely edge that makes the instruction come out slightly more bitter than he intends it to. He immediately regrets letting that kind of emotion slip through and becomes bashful, quickly sputtering a playful jab at his friend instead, “Getting a girl’s attention without buying her a drink first? That would be an amazing feat from you anyway.”

“Getting a girl’s attention at all recently would be an amazing feat for you too,” San quips back with a laugh, but he makes a mental note of this peculiar reaction. It surely doesn’t help extinguish Seonghwa’s conspiracies planted in his head. “Anyway, my class ends in half an hour, so I’m sure she’s just waiting for a friend to come out.”

At that suggestion, a thought crosses Yunho’s mind that makes his stomach churn.

“San, tell me something. Do you have a student named Wooyoung Jung in your class?”

“I do indeed, how did you know?”

I’ve got to be losing my mind…

That’s the only explanation Yunho can come up with as to why he’s speed-walking from his building in the middle of campus to the one that hosts San’s class a handful of minutes away. It’s brisk out, evident by the sharp chill of early December running down his back with every quick stride, but it’s a perfect excuse for why his cheeks are so red. He’s not flustered, he’s just cold… of course.

The moment he spots you rocking back and forth on your feet in front of San’s lecture hall, patiently thumbing away at your phone, his chest aches. You’re dolled up today just like San alluded to, wearing a pretty dress that he’s never even seen you in before. Coupled with some makeup and your hair done charmingly, he gets flashbacks to when you both went on your very first dinner together. This doesn’t fare well with Yunho’s mood.

The tap he does on your shoulder startles you enough to elicit a squeal, and that shock doesn’t change even when you realize it’s Yunho beckoning for your attention.

“I– What are you doing here?”

When Yunho’s brows furrow in offense at your question, you wince. You don’t mean to sound like the last thing you want to do is see him right now, but this is not the best time for him to be showing himself. The last thing you need is for him and Wooyoung to cross paths outside of the classroom with you directly in the middle. Nevertheless, you don’t even get an answer to that query. The moment your arm is snatched and your feet drag while your captor hauls you away from your waiting spot, you internally scold yourself about how you’re probably the easiest kidnapping victim ever. To be fair, he’s a lot stronger than he looks.

“Wait, I have a date with Wooyoung–”

“I do not care,” he snaps back.

He doesn’t bother responding to any more of your attempts of chiding him, eyes too busy following the signs that guide him to where the nearest restroom is. When he stumbles upon an unoccupied handicapped restroom, he sighs in relief and pulls you in before closing and locking the door.

“What is wrong with you?” You sputter in a dumbfounded, hushed voice.

Yunho’s face is splotchy, and he’s visibly agitated while his eyes dodge between your outfit and your face, “Why do you look like that?”

What a silly question, truly.

In his mind, the problem lies within who you’re looking so beautiful for, and not the fact that you look beautiful at all. Yunho rarely gets to see you as it is, but this prick’s got you dressing up for him? Surely this isn’t necessary, because you’re beautiful enough to make anyone jealous as you already are. In his eyes, anyway.

“I just told you I have a date and I needed to look nicer,” you argue. Before he can muster up another pointless question, you fold your arms across your chest, “Right now is really not the time to be jealous.”

“I’m not jealous, I’m annoyed.”

“Then why are we here, Yunho?” His eyes finally shy away from yours when you motion to your surroundings. He hates it when you use his first name like this because he knows that often accompanies the tone of displeasure. The last thing he wants to do is upset you. You sigh, “Can’t you hold out just a little longer?”

“Dressing up so pretty for him doesn’t help me feel any better.”

“Making a scene about it doesn’t necessarily help anything either, does it?”

You’d snicker at the shameful silence that follows that statement if the situation wasn’t so genuinely distressing to him. He’s genuinely upset, you get it. You’d never admit it out loud, but a piece of you likes seeing him like this: wound-up, needy, and protective. The roles were reversed not too long ago about Wooyoung particularly, so seeing him show that same yearning and agitation when the tables are turned, even if it’s in terrible circumstances, makes you feel validated. Still, you do what you can to ease his mind for now.

“You’re too handsome to be this envious, love,” you murmur sweet nothings. He remains silent, letting those words swirl around in his head while you reach out to fiddle with the kink in his tie until it’s fixed. His lip juts out when you chuckle at the stain sullying his shirt underneath. Your eyes gaze up at his fondly before you add, “How many times do I have to tell you that I’m yours and yours only before you start believing it?”

Yunho soaks in every syllable of that soothing voice of yours while his eyes settle on your glossy lips when they talk. Anything not to look at those eyes that could surely make him get on his knees and apologize profusely for causing a scene. He’s so predictable sometimes, you muse. You’re sure a kiss or two to help settle his jealousy before you have to leave won’t hurt anyway.

Just as you predicted, he can’t help himself, and the feeling of his impatient hands grabbing at your waist and his lips slotting over yours ignites this fire inside the pit of your stomach. Your butt hits against the counter of the bathroom sink and your hands try to find purchase on his blazer.

“Reminders never hurt, right?” he breaks briefly to mumble before slipping his tongue into your mouth. You indulge him, falling victim to that sinful mouth of his as you always do.

And, sure, maybe kissing you should be enough to quell such intense feelings inside of him, but it’s just not. The thought that Wooyoung also has the ability to kiss you whenever he wants to enhance whatever convoluted plan he has going on makes it almost insignificant. Instead, his hands haphazardly drift under the hem of your dress, because he’s the only one allowed to touch you like this. He hopes so, anyway.

His warm fingers drag up the soft skin of your inner thighs with no hesitation, and your hands grapple onto his blazer tightly when he reaches the apex to stop briefly at your clothed cunt. Yunho swallows the surprised yelp you let out into his mouth when he begins to rub up and down, pressing on your clit through the cotton and feeling how damp you already are just from kissing him. God, it never gets old, the way he turns you on so easily. You shudder when he tugs your panties to the side and drags his lips in wet kisses from your lips to your ear.

“I’m gonna be late, Yu…” you complain, voice airy and whiny when his thumb rubs at your clit.

“I’m really sorry,” he murmurs while kissing the shell of your ear, “I’m just really pissed off today. You understand, right, angel?”

He punctuates that statement by finally slipping two fingers into your sopping cunt.

Yunho’s a mess.

He stares at himself in the mirror behind you while his fingers busy themselves with pushing in and out of your cunt. How did he get to such a point, experiencing so many intense emotions over someone he never should’ve fallen in love with in good conscience? How did he end up in this bathroom with his fingers evoking such sloppy noises from between your legs? He stares at how flushed he is in the cheeks with your glittery lipgloss smeared all over his lips and beyond. This is beyond silly…

Yunho swears he’s not actually such a jealous person, he swears, but the current circumstances are doing a number on his mental health. He deliberately curls his fingers up against that plushy spot he loves to find within you and watches tremors travel through your back. Aside from some tiny gasps and whimpers that are barely audible unless you’re close enough to hear them, you’ve learned your lesson on being quiet in these situations, and you keep your lips pressed together tightly. The way your knees are buckling and your hands are clutching onto him for dear life—yes, this is just what he needs. He’s never felt such an intense need to see someone cum in his life.

“Do you want more?” Yunho suddenly breathes against your ear, pressing a loving kiss on your warm skin before pulling back to look you in the eyes, “I’ll do whatever you want me to, even if you just want me to stop.”

As God is his witness, he means every word. He’ll get down on his knees and suck an orgasm from you if you want him to. He’ll hold you against the wall and fuck any word other than his name out of your head if you want him to. To be honest, deep down he just wants to see if you’d blow off your date with this nuisance—even for just a few minutes—to let him satisfy you. Those shiny eyes of yours innocently blinking at his inquiry could make him melt on the spot. You don’t know how much time has passed since you got dragged in here, or how much time there is left of Wooyoung’s class, but your hands move faster than your brain when considering these things as a problem.

His fingers slip out of your core and into his mouth the moment your hands drop to fumble with his belt hurriedly. There are no words spoken, and the only sounds filling the quiet air of the bathroom are Yunho’s belt buckle coming undone and clattering against the floor tiles once his pants are shoved down. He pushes down his underwear and quickly fists his cock while you turn to bend over the sink. It doesn’t take much to get him hard because seeing you so wet and ready for him to stretch you out with no care for anything else turns him on to the highest degree.

After tugging your panties down what he deems is enough, he doesn’t even bother teasing and prods at your hole so eagerly that it’s almost embarrassing. The soft gasp you both share when Yunho’s tip fully slips into your cunt by accident makes your stomach manifest butterflies.

Your hands grip the edges of the counter while he continues pushing forward, mouth agape and brows drawn together while watching the way the tight skin stretches around him and sucks him in greedily. When you finally feel his thighs meet yours, you release a deep breath you didn’t even know you were holding heavy in your lungs.

“You’re so wet, slipped in so easily,” he huffs, giving you an experimental thrust to see all your arousal coat his cock again before he bunches your dress around your waist in his hands. “Gonna be good for me and stay quiet, right?”

“I should ask you the same,” you whisper, giving him a coy gaze through the mirror.

The smirk tugging at his lips in place of laughing is followed by a knowing nod, and you close your eyes when he finally begins moving his hips. Yunho has no intention of purposefully rushing things to get you back to your obligations any quicker than him bringing you here. Even so, he isn’t going slow or taking his time like he treated you the last time you had sex. No, this is an exceptionally needy fuck today, with hasty, desperate thrusts that make his eyes flutter closed and chest feel heavy with noises of arousal just begging to creep out. He just can’t help himself; Yunho swears your cunt was perfectly crafted just for him.

When he feels your knees buckle after one particular angled thrust, he groans lowly, “Right there, angel?”

With a nod of your head, Yunho's hands move from your dress to your hips, fingertips digging deep into the plush skin while he reciprocates that previous thrust over and over and over until you’re gripping the sink spout to maintain some of your sanity.

“I need more Yu, please,” you beg him in a whisper, cock-drunk eyes meeting his own in the mirror, “More, more—please—harder.”

You want nothing more than for him to just grab a fist full of your hair and make a mess of your sopping cunt—to ruin your makeup and send you back out to Wooyoung looking like a mess. You crave that pure and raw act of Yunho showing him who you truly belong to. Knowing your lover, he wouldn’t decline the opportunity to assert his dominance in this situation, but you have enough self-control to keep those desires to yourself. He’s giving you enough to handle anyway, firmly pressing your stomach to this counter with strong hands and settling on a brutal pace to satisfy your request. The sounds of skin slapping skin echo amongst desperate pants and gasps from you both every time he bottoms out just as fast as he pulls back.

The steamy air of the bathroom is interrupted when your phone begins ringing on the counter. You know it’s probably Wooyoung finally out of class and wondering where you are. You can’t blame him, as you had explicitly told him you’d be waiting for him outside the classroom.

Even so, you can’t seem to care enough to remove your focus from Yunho, your unwavering eyes still locked on his own through the mirror as he continues snapping his hips into you quickly. Yunho would be lying if he said this attention didn’t go straight to his head. He knows you shouldn’t ever have to prove it, but the reassurance he feels from seeing your devotion to him in real time makes his chest tight with adoration. The way nobody else matters to you right now, and how he’s the center of your attention, chips away at every inch of jealousy he was feeling earlier.

Yunho’s hands abruptly pull you off the sink by your arms and up against him. This new position with your back arched and you on your toes has you seeing constellations, and you know you probably aren’t going to last much longer with the way he’s also heaving just behind your ear. When one hand of his moves down to rub sticky circles on your clit, you presume he’s close as well. Yunho feels like he’s going crazy, mind spinning with thoughts of if you keep squeezing him like this, he might just accidentally cum—

“Inside,” you whimper, “Please.”

He finds himself groaning against your skin, teasing you by breathing, “Going on a date with another man’s cum in you’s kinda rude, no?”

“Don’t care, please, please.”

As usual, how can he say no when you beg so cutely? He did say he’d do whatever you want, after all. Your eyes flutter closed and you focus on the final sounds of Yunho’s soft grunts and your shaky exhales mingling in the air while he ruts up into you quickly. It always seems like he knows your body better than you know yourself these days because his hand covers your mouth before he gives the last few sharp thrusts that precede him finally spilling into you, and he successfully stifles the desperate moan you would’ve let fly out once you fall apart in his arms.

“Quiet– Oh fuck, that’s it,” Yunho hisses, letting out a soft moan at the way you struggle to stand while your legs tremble and your cunt milks him for all he’s worth. He’s dangerously too addicted to this feeling already; you should’ve never introduced something so heavenly to him. He can’t stop his hips from beginning to buck again in messy strokes, intent on fucking you through your orgasm even if he’s sensitive himself. Watching the way you bite down on your lip to keep quiet as told, he whispers well-deserved praises in between kissing your skin, “Taking it so well, sweet girl. You really were made for me. Shhh, I’ve got you.”

Yunho only stops himself when your body becomes pliant in his arms, fully surrendering to fatigue and overstimulation. He waits patiently until you can put your weight back onto your feet before finally releasing his grip. When he finally pulls himself out, he’s not quick enough to step away, and his seed spills from you onto his pants still pooled around his ankles. The handful of curses spilling from his mouth at his fuck-up has you shushing him in between breathless laughs.

“I’m an idiot,” he groans.

“Yes, and that’s exactly what you get for dragging me in here.”

Yunho spends a handful of minutes using wet napkins to make his pants look a little more presentable while you do the same with the mess you’ve both made soiling the insides of your thighs. He doesn’t even try to hide the satisfied smirk tugging at his lips while inconspicuously watching you try your best to get his cum to stop seeping out of your core. There’s just not enough to properly clean up, and he finds this just as gratifying as getting you here in the first place. To be fair, you were the one who told him that you didn’t care. On that note, he goes to grab your discarded phone and ushers it your way eagerly.

“You should call your date and let him know you’ll be wherever very soon,” he insists, “I’m sure he’s waiting patiently.”

“Rushing me out after throwing such a fit is crazy,” you mutter while pulling your panties back up. You’re sure he’s just obsessed with the thought of his cum making a cameo on your date.

“A man can’t change his mind?”

As you stand in front of the bathroom mirror, quickly dabbing at your neck with napkins to clean any smeared lip gloss, Yunho leans against the bathroom wall and tries to decide how long he should wait in the bathroom before leaving after you. Between watching the way you apply a fresh coat to your lips and entering post-nut clarity, he’s a bit too scatterbrained to think about this critically, but he’s brought back to the moment when you finally spin around with a sigh.

“Do I look okay?”

There’s a bit of anxiety hidden in that question, evoked by the fear of looking disheveled or being perfumed with the smell of sex, but those thoughts are quickly extinguished when he gives you those eyes that look as though he’s falling in love with you all over again. Maybe it’s that special afterglow that sex grants, but to him, in this moment you look even better than when you enter this bathroom with him. You’re exceptionally beautiful at all times, and he doesn’t even have to answer that question for you to know his thoughts. After planting a quick peck of farewell on his cheek, Yunho stays hidden away against the wall out of view of the door so you can finally leave and call Wooyoung. He’ll hold off on teasing you about the little limp in your walk until you see each other again in private.

The following day, you find yourself seated alone at the familiar table tucked away in the back of the library, the very spot where you and Yeosang often retreated for private discussions. Wooyoung’s ex was supposed to be seated in front of you 10 minutes ago. I’m giving her 5 more minutes before I leave. She was the one who finally asked you to meet with her after a bit of cordial back and forth, so being late to her own plans didn’t necessarily make you as sympathetic to her situation as before. You suppose you should give her a little more grace, considering this is your only opportunity to try and put an end to the madness of Wooyoung’s chasing. Still, you’re a busy woman who needs to prepare for your first exam tomorrow.

“____?”

A soft voice emerges from behind you that has you craning your head to seek out its owner.

“Hello,” you greet her, and your eyes follow her as she ambles around the table to set down her bag to settle in across from you. “Didn’t know if you were still going to show up.”

“I apologize for being late,” she sighs, embarrassment blossoming on her cheeks. With her first question, she wastes no time delving into the purpose of your meeting, “So, how long have you and Woo been dating?”

Due to her Instagram page being locked down, you hadn’t seen very many pictures of her before this meeting. You were only able to get glimpses of her in a scarce amount of posts on her sorority’s page that included all sisters. In person, she’s exceptionally beautiful, and you expected nothing less of someone being so heavily pursued. Your blatant staring and lack of reply to her question have her glancing at you quizzically.

It’s a bit surreal at first, but it finally sinks in that sitting in front of you is the very person of Wooyoung’s desires. An involuntary giggle escapes you at how silly this situation is, as you were never really prepared to be confronted by the very girl Wooyoung kept you from knowing this whole time. She was merely a faceless hindrance to your life, to the point of even doubting her existence at one point. Your reaction doesn’t fare well with her, and she’s noticeably bothered at being laughed at.

“I’m sorry, that was rude of me,” you offer a genuine apology before leaning onto the table on your elbows and admitting truthfully, “Not too long at all, just about a month.”

Still, way too long, you’d like to add. Even though she visibly relaxes at this revelation, you can see a conflicting look flicker behind her eyes.

“I still don’t really understand why you contacted me,” she sighs, but the look in her eyes just doesn’t correspond.

You’re sure she knows exactly why you reached out and exactly what you want to say; surely she already knows she is all Wooyoung wants. During this conversation, you had planned to tell a series of half-truths. She didn’t need to know how you got wrapped up in this mess, but you figured it’d be helpful to admit that Wooyoung only thinks of her when he’s with you. Maybe you’d give her some empathetic spiel about how you “think” he hasn’t moved on from his feelings for her, and make it a bit emotional on your end. Despite those words dancing on the tip of your tongue, ready to give your best performance, you realize that she looks as if she wants to do your job for you. So, you play into it and let her take the wheel.

“You look like you want to ask me something,” you observe, “I’m all ears.”

Sitting up a bit more erect in her chair, she meets your eyes head-on.

“I’d like to ask you if…” But, her voice falters before she can get to the tail of her request.

You wonder if it’s a pride thing that’s keeping her from being honest with herself. She wants him back, you’re sure of it, but she’s the one who broke things off initially. Maybe she’s embarrassed, you muse. You suppose you could gently guide the conversation, posing the question she hesitates to voice herself.

“Do you want me to break up with him?” You ask forthrightly.

“I do,” she finally confesses, “I was hesitant about rekindling our relationship, but you reaching out to me made me feel more confident that I should ask. I’m so sorry.”

Feigning indecision is easy, and pretending to fight your feelings about the situation is the cherry on top. It wouldn’t be believable if you gave up too easily, so the uncomfortable silence is more than necessary. The false front is believable enough because she cuts into the tense silence before you can even respond.

“I made a mistake and I would just like a second chance with him. I know I’m asking for a lot from you, and I want him to be happy, but I can’t pretend that I don’t still love him anymore,” she rambles on, trying her best to be authentic, “We were together for quite some time and—”

“I’m aware,” you finally interject. When she downcasts her eyes, you perch your head in your palm and sigh, “Wooyoung is still in love with you as well. I don’t want to be with someone who’s still caught up on someone else anymore. You understand?”

The way her eyes light up at this revelation makes yours soften. Even though Wooyoung’s actions may be maddening to you, you can tell he genuinely brings her joy. They both truly love each other.

“I don’t know how to go about this,” she admits after a moment of thought.

"Just tell him you want him back. He'll probably end things with me right away," you say bluntly. You feel it's best to give her a gentle nudge to act sooner rather than later, though. So, you add, "I think he’s been planning a trip for us after finals, but I'm sure he'd rather go with you. Please, do it soon."

Underscoring the word please to her might come across as begging, but at this point, you are beyond caring. Going your separate ways after closing this conversation feels like a hefty weight lifted off of your shoulders. In the end, you’ve done what needed to be done in terms of setting the stage; now it was time for her return to the spotlight as the lead.

The next morning, you awaken to a text from Wooyoung finally breaking your arrangement off. He doesn’t go into any specifics of what happened, but at any rate, you don’t need or care to know. As far as you’re concerned, he’s fully evaporated from your life the moment you delete his text thread. You find that your coffee and breakfast taste better than normal with one less weight of stress hanging over your head. Exchanging many [Good luck!] texts with Yunho has him subsequently requesting to meet with you after today’s exam. That is how you ended up dawdling around your favorite aisle in the campus bookstore just before lunch. You had decided to turn in your textbook rentals early and put all of your faith in your notes for these next few days. The only other thing really lingering over your head was to finally turn in your final paper for Yunho’s class before midnight.

You start to get a bit impatient when Yunho fails to show up after your proposed meeting time, and you wonder if maybe he’s in the wrong spot. With calculated steps, you begin to roam the nearby shelves, reluctant to call out his name too many times in such a quiet place. There are only but so many aisles he could be in within this store anyway. After a couple of minutes peeking into different empty aisles, you finally decide he’s simply just late. You venture back to your original aisle and decide to browse in the meantime; this is the last time you’d ever be stepping foot in this place, so it couldn’t hurt to chew over a last-minute purchase. No matter how frequently this aisle has seen your presence in the last few years, you never fail to find something new that piques your interest. Unfortunately, today’s mark is a small book with the prettiest spine, and it sits just out of your reach on the top shelf. Being unobtainable only makes your curiosity even more inevitable.

Stretching every muscle in your body as far as it’ll give to try and at least graze the spine fails; there’s just no use, and it seems appealing to simply give up. The moment you finally fall back on the heels of your feet, you can feel the sturdiness of a chest slyly pressing against your back while reaching for that very same book just out of your reach.

“You should really be more aware of your surroundings,” Yunho’s smooth voice hums next to your ear after feeling you freeze up underneath his presence. He plucks the book from the shelf with ease and sighs. You can feel his breath fan out on your neck and even smell the mint on his breath when he adds a playful jab, “Short stuff.”

“And you should really be more punctual,” you quip back, trying your best to ignore his proximity.

He’s dressed casually today, charmingly sporting a comfortable pair of jeans and an oversized sweater since classes are officially over. If you didn’t already know who he was, a simple glance would have you thinking he was a student himself.

“Oh c’mon pretty, at least I’m here like I said I’d be, right?” He reasons excitedly while offering you a toothy grin that’s way too cute for your liking. The gentle tap of the book on the crown of your head has you scrunching up your nose, and he sets it aside. “You sure this section is private enough?”

“One hundred percent. I used to sit here in my free time when I wanted to read books without buying them,” you admit, adding, “No cameras over here either.”

Yunho eyes you curiously. You're practically glowing today, evident to him by the smile you can’t seem to keep off of your face even when you feign annoyance at his tardiness. He presses a hand to the shelf ledge behind you while the other finds solace in his pocket with his belongings.

“What’s got you so happy today?”

He’s torn between whether you’ll say something about already being rid of one exam, or maybe your spontaneous rendezvous with him here has you that giddy. Your eyes gaze back into his expectant ones and you find yourself finally able to relax for the first time in many weeks.

“It’s all over, Yunho.”

Normally, a sentence like that would seem ominous, but the wide stretch of your lips has his poor heart shooting into his throat. It’s the way your eyes are lit while saying his name that really gets him. His pocketed hand finds its way to your cheek and his thumb skims the apple of your cheek. This kind of smile is something he hopes he can evoke from you on his own in the near future.

“I really missed seeing you this happy,” he confesses, “You look like you can breathe again, ____.”

Something about the way those soft chocolate eyes of his are openly admiring every inch of your face, committing this kind of happiness from you to memory, has you shrinking back in shyness and averting your gaze.

Eager to move the spotlight off yourself, you inquire, “So… why’d you wanna meet up here?”

Oh, that’s right…

Yunho’s decision to drive to campus today mainly stemmed from the fact that you would already be here. He didn’t want you to have to go out of your way just for him to see you, especially after an exam. A clandestine meeting in the bookstore, which you assured him beforehand would be devoid of many students, seemed like a feasible option. He moves to wrap his arms around you, pressing you against his chest in a firm embrace. You don’t hesitate to wrap your arms around his waist.

“It’s going to be a very busy week for me with grading final papers all by myself,” Yunho begins tentatively.

His eyes close and he focuses on slowing down his heart that’s beating a bit too prominently in his chest when your ear is pressed against it. There are a lot of emotions coursing through him today, many he can’t quite decipher, although he supposes maybe that’s just everything he’s been feeling throughout the entire semester coming to a head: love, jealousy, desperation, angst, and more. Even amongst the newfound happiness blossoming within his chest at such a detrimental obstacle being overcome, anxiety is still the most overwhelming feeling consuming him. It’s a bit nerve-wracking inching closer and closer to the final moments where he can confidently say you’re his with no repercussions. He’s been reflecting on how things will change between you both when finally crossing over this hump, and how things will flourish sans the threats to your futures. He doesn’t want to get too ahead of himself, though.

“Continue,” you encourage him, “I’m listening.”

“I just wanted to see you in person before I have to disappear, and tell you that I know you’re going to do amazing on your exams,” Yunho’s gentle voice imparts. He lowers it further to add, “I’m very proud of you and…”

When he trails off, you turn to plant your chin on his chest and peer up at him with coy eyes, “And?”

“And… I love you,” he whispers, eyes flickering up for the briefest second to confirm you’re still in solitude.

Your gentle laughter at his neverending caution is like music to his ears. He’s still learning how to comfortably say those words without being fearful of not hearing them back. The feeling of his arms letting you go in favor of his hands holding either side of your face steals the opportunity to return his words of adoration. Instead, you put those unspoken words into the kiss he doesn’t hesitate to initiate. When you reach up and pull him by the back of his neck, deepening the kiss and encouraging him to let go, he feels his nerves finally melt away for this moment and this moment only. Yunho pulls away before he can get too lost in the feeling of not caring where you both are, and the way you’re led to chase his lips has heat prickling your cheeks.

“You know, the store’s nearly empty… Might even just be me and you,” you hum. Yunho’s eyes don’t leave yours, even as he feels your hand mischievously skirt down his chest to tap at the belt buckle under his sweater. When your fingers dare to dance further down to the crotch of his jeans, he finally takes hold of your wrist. “Oh come on, are you still nervous?”

He shakes his head confidently, “Just think it’d be more fun to reward you once your exams are over. Making you wait a lil might be fun, no?”

“You sure you can go a couple weeks without it?” You taunt him with a cock of your head. “All that stress while grading finals adds up, no?”

“Is this coming from the same woman who spent two weeks away from me in the arms of another man before I knew about it?” He immediately counters, eyebrows dancing with mischief. “I’ll be just fine. You, on the other hand, are a needy little thing it seems.”

“Don’t make me consider going back,” you warn him.

Yunho’s eyes find the ceiling as he inhales a deep, frustrated breath. Provoking him like this is unfair and dirty. If he were a man with no self-control, he’d have half a mind to have you in this aisle on your knees, putting that mouth to better use than spouting such nonsense. For now, he simply purses his lips and nods curtly.

“That’s okay, be that way,” he concedes in a voice low enough for your ears only, “Because the next time I get my hands on you…”

He trails off while palming your ass through your leggings and squeezing to his heart’s content. The yelp you let out at his fingers sinking in a little deeper than usual makes a pleased smile tug at his lips. He’d say a lot more, let those lewd thoughts entering his mind go freely for once, but the sounds of feet shuffling not too far away shut him up just as fast as he could think to say them. You both separate abruptly and face opposite shelves. How disappointing…

Yunho clears his throat before finally sighing, “On that note, I look forward to receiving your paper tonight.”

“I look forward to you reading it, Mr. Jeong,” you hum, and he can hear the smile lingering on your words. It’s been quite some time since he heard such formalities come from your mouth. “I hope it ends up being worth the wait. You did help me craft it, after all.”

Behind you, his warm chuckle is followed by him laying a comforting hand on your head.

“See you at graduation, ____,” he whispers.

When he departs, being left alone doesn’t feel so lonely for once.

♡ taglist: @yeos-bunny @sharksandminhos @sannieluvrr @txt-yaomi @thisisntmyrightera @oreoqueen @jadeneliz @atinism @uarmytess @nopension @aaaaajonghooooo @tmtxtf @ateezallday @bloomyroses @shingene @likexaxdaydream @innsomniacshinestar @st4rhwa @eixila @sunflower-png @jadeneliz @witchlaughwoo @ashlurrr @justthattheatregirl @bts-army380 @trivia-134340 @marvelous-llama @uarmytess @hyukssunflower @ateez-atiny380 @dazzlingstarrs @fxckinmingi @348kg @moonlightgrleric @kirilunimimi @tvxqnnie

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rileyslibrary · 11 months ago

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Ghost shares his New Year’s resolution with you.

A/N: This is an automated message. I’m still on a break. Also, a warning for you: this story does not follow canon. It’s fluff, though.

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You look around as you move through the groups of people, making your way toward the buffet. These New Year’s Eve parties at the military base are something else. It’s not the celebration that fascinates you; it’s the way people, just for the night, ditch their ranks and show another part of them that duty tends to conceal.

Seniors and subordinates talk like equals, and the rigid structure fades into the background, much like the slow jazz music playing from the speakers. Annoying ads occasionally interrupt the rhythm, and you make a mental note to locate the source and plug in your Spotify.

And yes, you’ve seen different aspects of their personality while on missions or in more casual settings. However, when you add alcohol into the mix, pair it with the excitement of the upcoming new year, and factor in the human need for closeness when away from family, everything feels different.

For example, you’d never have thought that Gaz gets an itch that lasts for days whenever he has to wear a Gillie suit or that Price can distinguish between different brands of cigars just by smelling them. ‘They need to have the right humidity level,’ you hear him say as you walk past the group and stand in front of the buffet. You scan the pastry platter, trying to find one that’s intact so you can pop it directly in your mouth since no plates are left. That or you haven’t spotted them yet. You look around, searching for a pile of clean ones, but pause as your eyes land on the training ground perimeter outside.

Approximately six feet-something, broad, a glass in his right hand, balaclava slightly raised, leaning against the fence, gazing up at the sky.

Your appetite for pastries is gone.

Leaving the buffet, you walk towards the door leading outside, but as you slide it open, a teammate grabs your shoulder. She urges you to share with the rest of her group about your time in Norway when you mistook a group of migrating salmon travelling upstream for a raid. You smile in response and promise her you’ll join them shortly, motioning towards the training grounds. She follows your gaze, and once she understands what you’re on about, she releases your shoulder and nods understandingly.

You slide open the door; Ghost looks over his shoulder but not directly at you. He’s not alarmed.

“The salmon story is not that funny,” he remarks in a low voice, wiggling his glass. “You should tell them about that time in Mexico.”

“You mean when I complained to the bartender that there was a worm in the tequila bottle?”

He nods, taking a sip. “Like finding a fly in your soup,” he murmurs, lowering his glass.

“I’m surprised you heard the conversation,” you state. “It’s chaos inside.”

Ghost shrugs and lowers his head. He’s not much of a talker lately—not like he’s a social butterfly on other days—but he’s not very keen on the chaos inside. Not only that, but the recent events have shaken him quite a lot, even though he conceals it well.

You rest your arms on the fence beside him, dangling your wine glass on the edge and look at the stars. He follows your lead and does the same. You lean in closer, and your shoulder touches his. He doesn’t move away—instead, he steadies himself further to support you. When you feel ready and secure, you shift your weight onto him and rest your head on his shoulder.

“I won’t ask you if you’re ok.” You whisper.

“That counts like asking.”

“Yeah,” you reply, “but I didn’t.”

“Good.” He says and takes a sip from his glass.

“Should I change the subject?”

“Should you keep on talking?” He asks back.

“Yes,” you murmur. “Yes, I absolutely should.”

He sighs and shakes his head. “Go on then.”

“So,” you begin, “any New Year resolution for you, Lt.?”

You feel him nod, and you stand upright in shock.

“Why look at you, Lt!” You shout wide-eyed, “I didn’t peg you as the resolution type.”

“What can I say,” he mumbles. “I’m a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside a fucking enigma.”

“Churchill said something like that.” You state proudly.

“Indeed.” He replies. “Minus the ‘fucking’ part.”

“So?” You ask, “What is it?”

He looks at his glass, searching for the right words. “No more casualties.” He finally states.

“Don’t you think that’s a little far-fetched?” You ask, tilting your head to the side. “Considering the nature of our job and such?”

“So was your ‘no more chocolate’ resolution last year.” He replies.

“Hey!” You shout, “At least I tried!”

“That’s what I’m saying,” he rolls his eyes. “I’ll try to keep everyone safe.”

“That’s more like it,” You nod, lifting your glass. “Here’s to trying our best to keep everyone safe.”

He turns to face you. There’s a solemn expression behind those eyes of his. As if he’s determined to make this his life’s goal. He brings his glass closer to yours, and they clink together.

And as you’re about to drink from your shared toast, the door slides open, and a face pops in between.

“Here’s Johnny!” Soap shouts. Although he sports that annoying smug look, the top of his head is wrapped in a fresh white bandage, courtesy of the bullet that grazed him last month.

“I see you’re feeling better, Soap.” You say with a smile. “Would you like to join us?”

“Nah,” he replies. “Captain told me to tell you to come inside; cake’s about to be served.”

You thank him, and he shuts the door behind him. You turn to look at the lieutenant, who is slowly shaking his head.

“Scratch my New Year’s resolution,” Ghost murmurs, looking at the remains of his drink. “For this year, I plan on moving bases so I’d be away from him once and for all.” He states and downs the rest of it.

“You don’t mean that.” You chuckle and slap his arm.

“I don’t,” he admits, “but he made us all lose ten fucking years of our lives.”

“Everything turned alright, Lieutenant.” You say and wrap an arm around his waist. “Now, pull down your balaclava and come inside before you catch a cold.”

He wraps an arm around your shoulder and plants three little kisses at the top of your head before covering the rest of his face with his mask, leading you inside to celebrate the new year.

———————————————————————

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon ghost riley x y/n #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #simon riley x y/n #simon riley x f!reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley #cod ghost #call of duty #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon ghost riley fic #simon riley fluff #simon riley x female reader #ghost call of duty #ghost modern warfare #cod mwiii spoilers

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bahablastplz · 2 months ago

Text

All in | Chapter 15

pairing: Lee Felix x f!reader (mafia au)

summary: You didn't know what you were getting yourself into when you started dating Yang Jungwon, notorious mafia boss. Your life gets flipped upside down when you're found beaten and bloody by SKZ, the rival mafia group, and you're quickly integrated into their lives. What will happen when you try to leave your old life behind and start anew?

chapter summary: Chan has thought up a punishment for you that doesn't really help your mental state; someone thinks of a plan to help.

chapter warnings: smut! unprotected sex

warnings: please see series masterlist for all warnings.

series masterlist ~~ series taglist ~~ main masterlist

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Beep, beep, beep, beep. Click!

That’s the sound you get accustomed to a few times throughout the day. It’s Chan, unlocking the door to let himself in. Every time he brings in a tray of food for the two of you to eat, and most of the time you pick at it but you can’t find too much of an appetite.

The first few times, you don’t talk to Chan at all. You’re completely silent, looking out at the forest through the barred window. Occasionally you would watch his mannerisms or react when he moves something a little bit too loud. Other than that, you make it a point not to speak at all. That’s how it started, at least.

Each time a few hours pass in total isolation, you slowly become more and more stir crazy. Mostly, you look out the window. Sometimes, you do situps and pushups or practice the self-defense exercises that Changbin and Felix had taught you until exhaustion. You take a few naps. You take a shower. You finish the latest book that Hyunjin let you borrow. Chan visits you for dinner. You do not speak with him, eat your meal in silence, and watch as he leaves. You go to sleep for the night with an empty, hollow and rotting sensation in your chest that you have never experienced before. It might be anger directed towards Chan, but also an empty feeling knowing that you are unable to see Felix, who is in the same house as you. You wonder if he feels the same as you right now.

Beep, beep, beep, beep. Click!

You wake up to the sound of Chan unlocking your door in the morning with breakfast. You break your silent treatment, finally, though probably more out of boredom than anything else. You only respond to his small talk, tell him that the food is alright.

The longer increments of time that would pass, the more anger you would find bubbling in your chest.

“Do you really expect to keep me locked here forever?” you snap at one point. You have just finished rereading The Stranger by Albert Camus for the third time. “You know that’s how people start to lose their minds? Is that what this is? A torture device? Or is it still a sick, twisted ploy to get me to fall in love with you?” you walk around the room, pacing. Your hands are strung through your hair haphazardly as you let out a laugh. “Some sort of Stockholm syndrome to the extreme? You already fucking tried that, Chan! I’m stuck in this house with you, I can’t leave, and it didn’t work. What is your plan here?”

He blinks at you, sitting on your bed and crossing his arms across his chest. “I don’t know.”

“You… you don’t know?”

He chuckles and you feel your blood begin to boil. “Well, I mean, I don’t know how long I plan to keep you here. At least until the Heeseung drama boils down. Until I feel confident that Felix is just as broken down about this as you are? I mean, it’s the point of a punishment, yeah?” He runs his fingers through his hair and lets out a sigh. “Obviously I know you aren’t going to fall in love with me right now, not like this, yeah? But the thought of you and Felix, it’s so wrong, y’know? So I gotta nip it in the bud.”

You blink away a tear but wipe it away quicker than he can see. You won’t give him the satisfaction of letting him see you cry.

“I hate you,” you spit. When Chan stands, he closes the distance between the two of you. He swipes a strand of hair behind your ear.

“You might want to watch your mouth for now, especially when you’re the one who’s not in control,” he coos. “If you want to start getting your privileges back, you might want to consider upping the sweet talk.” He leaves as a chill racks through your body and the door slams shut, lock clicking into place behind him.

You’re not quite sure about *sweet talking*, per say, but you suppose you could calm it down with Chan for now in order to get things back to the way they were. It’s really hard, with the way your anger bubbles every time he enters the room, every additional hour that passes. You start to feel delirious, depressed with nothing much to do, sleeping far too much and eating far too little.

The flowers start to wilt.

The flowers that Chan had given you for your date. You don’t even know how long ago that was at this point, feeling a bit too disoriented. You watch over days as the petals start to turn brown, curling up into themselves and falling to the floor. It’s only once every flower has finally turned to black that you convince Chan to let you leave your room.

It’s only to Hyunjin’s room that he lets you go at first. He supervises your visit. You sit on the corner of Hyunjin’s bed and you sit and talk, nodding politely when he speaks. He updates you on Seungmin’s condition, shows you his newest painting (which is stunning beyond belief), and talks about his latest venture to the bookstore. It’s more than he’s ever talked to you at once, and you’re sure he’s doing it because he knows the effects that the isolation has had on your head, but you appreciate it more than he could ever imagine.

Chan checks his wrist watch, clearing his throat. He tells you it’s almost time for you to go and you can’t help the panicked feeling that bubbles in your chest. You know that Hyunjin notices it too, the frantic look in your eye as you look to him for help, but there’s nothing he can do about it. You wonder if he and Chan got into a disagreement about it, if anybody besides Felix had the gall to stand up to him about your circumstance but it’s unlikely.

As Chan guides you out, Hyunjin remembers something, handing you a new book as if it were an afterthought. A brand new copy of Wuthering Heights is placed into your hands.

“I think you’ll really like this one,” Hyunjin muses. “I hope we get a chance to talk about it soon. I purchased this at that bookstore I was telling you about. Let me take you there one day, okay?”

You smile at him. A true, genuine, smile before Chan takes you back to your room for dinner. Feeling a little more hopeful, you eat more than usual and talk to him more than yesterday. You think he’s expecting you to thank him. You don’t. He wishes you a good evening before he locks you in your room for the evening.

Something about Hyunjin’s words had struck you as odd. “I hope we get to talk about it soon.” Since you moved in and Hyunjin had started giving you new books to read, although he was always very sure of himself in his choices, you had never really talked about your choices. Even today during your conversation you didn’t talk about Albert Camus’ The Stranger, which you had read a whopping four times since your isolation.

This is why you’re not as surprised when you open the book and you find a note, wedged neatly between page eight and page nine. It’s not Hyunjin’s handwriting, but Felix’s. You can’t help it when your heart picks up and beats against your chest, a smile against your face despite yourself.

‘Dear Sunshine,

I am so sorry for everything. Each day that I have not been able to see you and that I have known that you have been behind those doors has been Hell for me, as I’m sure they’ve been Hell for you as well. Let me take you far, far, away from this place if you would let me.

If you will take me, if you want this as much as I do, let us leave tonight. Leave your bathroom light on tonight and I will know that it will be okay for us to make our escape.

Love, LF.’

Are you really reading this correctly?

It was the first night here that Chan took off his belt and whipped you with it just for leaving when he told you not to leave. What would the punishment be if you and Felix were caught? You knew the answer, and you found yourself grimacing as you thought about it. If Chan found out that you and Felix had escaped—and you had a very, very short window of time before he came looking for you, until breakfast tomorrow—he would surely kill the two of you in cold blood.

Felix, was he really to risk it all for you? No questions asked? You knew you were.

Turning off all lights in your room, leaving just your bathroom light on for the signal and to light up your path, you get ready. You throw on some clothes, a pair of thick socks and a pair of sneakers, athletic pants and a t-shirt underneath a hoodie. You try to dress both light-weight but also warm, easy for mobility in case you have to do some running. And you take a quick nap, since it’s still light out and you’re sure that the plan won’t take place until after nightfall and you should probably be well-rested.

You’re right. You wake up a few hours later and it’s dark outside. Felix still hasn’t shown yet. You sit right by your door and wait for him. You wait and wait and wait, your heart beating so heavily out of your chest it might explode. You literally have to calm yourself down with breathing exercises several times because you find yourself so worked up. You can’t help it–you’re so nervous about seeing him again, and about the escape, about his plans, though you’re sure he has something planned out.

After some time has passed, you almost wonder if maybe he isn’t going to show, but you laugh at that thought. It’s Felix. Of course he’s going to show. You have never met someone more true to his word and dedicated. You just hope that everything is going according to plan. And sure enough?

Beep, beep, beep, beep. Click!

Light from the hallway spills into your room, encasing the darkness that surrounded you. When you jump to your feet, Felix pulls you in for a very chaste kiss. His name spills silently from your lips and you see him smile before grabbing your hand, pulling you into a silent run down the hallway. You can already tell that there is going to be a long night ahead of you, though you’re relieved when Felix leads you to a mundane car, a dark mini-van, and you can’t help but think thank god we aren’t literally running away.

You hurriedly get into the passenger seat, Felix the driver’s seat, and the two of you drive away. You watch as the house gets smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror behind you until it completely disappears, and most of your anxiety along with it.

“You came for me.” you say finally.

“Of course I did,” Felix says, his voice soft. “I just had to work out the logistics. I’m so so incredibly sorry it took me that long. I hope you can forgive me.”

“It’s really happening?” you ask him. “We’re really leaving?”

Felix only smiles. “I did everything I could. I was even able to get your sister out of your house, I sent her somewhere safe where Chan can’t find her to retaliate.”

“Thank you, Felix,” you say, breathing out a sigh of relief. “Really, really, thank you.”

He reaches over the center console and grabs your hand, bringing it to his face to kiss along your knuckles.

“You have no need to thank me. This is my escape too. In reality, I owe you just as much.” Your heart squeezes at his words. You don’t really understand the weight behind his words but you hope that he will open up to you about them one day. About his past and his history with Chan. You stare at Felix, at the way the passing headlights illuminate his face and accentuate his features, and you just sit there and watch and watch, drinking him in and hoping that you will never have to let him go again.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

You’re expecting to arrive at some sort of hotel/motel, similar to the one you and Felix had shared after the night at the gala. What you weren’t expecting was an apartment building, at least ten stories tall in the middle of a city a few hours away.

Felix parks the car, a protective hand around your waist the whole walk to the building. He holds you so close you find it almost difficult to walk. The elevator takes you up to the eighth floor, where Felix leads you down the hall. The building looks well-kept, maintained inside, contrasting from its run-down exterior.

Felix leans over the door, typing a code into the keypad. It swings open revealing a large furnished studio apartment.

“This place looks really nice,” you admit. “It is a step-up from the motel. How did you…”

“Chan isn’t the only one that has his connections,” Felix says, sighing as he throws a backpack down next to him. He closed the door behind him, locking it. He walks around the apartment several times, making sure that every window is locked and secure as well. “It’s safe here. We should be able to stay here for a few days before we need to pick up again. But this place is completely alarmed and equipped with security codes. He won’t find us here, okay?”

“Okay,” you nod. You really do trust him. You feel safe.

“The password for the front door is 0325,” Felix tells you. You don’t know why that action alone makes you want to tear up. You’re not a prisoner anymore. You’re really free.

“Thank you,” you tell him, shucking your hoodie off of your body. You don’t miss the way his eyes rack over your frame at the way your shirt picks up slightly. How does he still manage to make you blush? “How did you get the code for my door?” you ask him. You had been wondering about it for a while, as there was no way that Chan had given it to him.

“Hyunjin told me,” Felix discloses. “He was the only other person besides Chan that knew the code, in case of an emergency or if Chan was away and he needed to give you food.”

“He was the only one?” you ask. “But that means… Won’t Chan know that Hyunjin…”

“Hyunjin has already come to terms with things,” Felix says remorsefully. “I didn’t want it to go down like this either, but Hyunjin really was willing to make a sacrifice for you. For both of us. Nothing horrible is going to happen–he isn’t going to be killed, but I’m sure the punishment will be brutal.”

You shake your head, unwilling to believe his words. “I can’t believe Hyunjin would do that for us. I really thought he was loyal to Chan.”

“At the end of the day there must have been something he found more important to put his trust in,” he smiles. “I think he realized how bad your mental state was after spending over a week in that room.”

“It was over a week?” you nearly cry. Felix holds you tight to his chest. You don’t cry–you’ve already come to terms with what has happened. When you pull apart, you look into his eyes and find that he has tears of his own that have started to build up. Now that is something that you had not anticipated.

“I’m sorry–” he starts to say, but you crash your lips into his instead. Your hands pull into his hair and you push your body into his, do anything you can to get your body as inhumanly close to his as possible, so that you can feel every touch of his skin against yours.

Felix’s hands wander underneath your hoodie, tugging off the material and throwing it to the floor in a desperate show. His hands roam your body, his lips never once leaving your skin. This time he makes it a show to suck a mark into any available surface, licking and sucking dark purples and pinks into your neck, collarbones, shoulders, breasts–any area of skin that was once pristine now has Felix’s claim on it.

“You’re mine, do you understand? You’re mine and I’m yours.”

“Yes, Felix, yes,” you agree, letting him push you back against the bed. He towers over you for a second, dropping to his knees onto the floor so that he can pull off the material of your pants. You lift your hips, allowing him to. You push your thighs together, utterly exposed in front of him but also so aroused by his stare and he grabs your thighs, pushing them apart.

“Beautiful,” he comments. You throw an arm over your face, embarrassed by his comment. “Don’t hide from me, angel,” he says, kissing the insides of your thighs. “You’re mine, right? Can I compliment what’s mine? You’re not going to hide away what’s mine, hmm?” When you don’t immediately answer him, your chest rising and falling rapidly from his words, you feel a slight pinch come from inside your thigh. You look down at his mischievous face to realize he has just lightly slapped your inner thigh to get a response.

“N-no, Felix,” you moan.

“No, what?” he teases, his mouth going higher and higher still, his breath right above your center but waiting.

“No, I’m not going to hide from you. Yes, you can compliment me,” you reply.

“Fuck, that’s my girl,” he groans. “Prove it, then. Open those legs wide for me.” And you do. You spread your legs as far as they would go and Felix rewards you by immediately diving in, his tongue lapping at your clit like a man starved. As much as your thighs tremble and shake and threaten to close, you don’t let them. Your eyes stay on Felix, and his eyes on yours.

Suddenly, Felix pulls away with a pop.

“What–”

He climbs onto the bed and lays down, leaving you utterly confused before he grabs you by the waist, manhandling you effortlessly by the waist onto his face.

“Felix, what are you doing?”

“I want you to sit on my face,” he responds, his hands caressing your thighs as if trying to coax you down to properly take your seat.

“Are you sure? I–”

“Please, just, use me. Make yourself cum, and then I’ll fuck you open on my cock.” You can’t deny how appealing his words sound, and he had already worked you up just seconds ago so you can’t find the resolve to protest much longer. Eagerly, you sit. His tongue prods your entrance, pushing in as far as it will go. You rock yourself back and forth on his face, your clit occasionally catching on his nose, and you find Felix’s hands taking place on your ass to help you find your pace.

Once you build up a rhythm you ride him in earnest, like nothing matters but him beneath you right now and your climax building up. He knows you’re close when he feels your thighs clench tighter around your head and your back starts to arch back, and your noises have become louder. You do exactly what he told you to do–you use him for your pleasure until you’re having one of the longest, most drawn-out orgasms of your life.

When you finally crawl off of him, Felix wastes no time before flipping your positions, making your stomach turn with butterflies. He pulls his pants off in one swift motion and you take a moment to look at him in awe, to really just appreciate him and his beautifully toned body despite seeing it a few times before.

You watch as he strokes his cock a few times, his eyes fixated on your pussy. He pushes forward, and just to tease–intentionally catches the head of it on your overstimulated clit, causing you to cry out.

“Felix!” your hips buck up, your legs wrap around him, doing anything you can just to get him to enter you properly.

“Do you want me that bad?” he asks with a smile, his voice a low timbre in your ear.

“Yes, Felix, stop fucking teasing me, you know I want you–” and with that, he pushes right into you, fully sheathing himself in one thrust. Your hands come up to push crescent fingernail indents into his shoulders, just to ground yourself from the overwhelming sensation.

Felix wastes no time before fucking you like he really means it, his hips pulling out to meet yours flush each time. The way his hips roll in a fluid motion into yours has you crying out, wrapping your legs around him.

“Fuck, you’re clenching me so tight,” he pants. “I’m going to cum soon, baby. Where do you want it?”

You wrap your legs even tighter around him.

His hand snakes up to your neck, just placing it there, not even squeezing but it still causes you to cry out with a moan that is borderline pornagraphic.

“You’re being so dirty, baby. Are you trying to tell me something? You want me to cum inside? Because you’re going to have you use your words to tell me that or else it’s not gonna happen,” he grins.

His hips snap into yours so hard it’s almost bruising, but you’re so close to your second orgasm that you think you could fall over the edge any second.

“FELIX,” you finally cry out. You’re sure the scratches you’re leaving into his back are going to leave marks, if not bleed.

“Fuck, you gotta tell me now.”

“Inside! Inside! I want you to cum inside, fuck, I love you Felix, please!” you sob.

He kisses you. Rather, his lips smash into yours so hard you’re not sure what is happening, but you’re cumming so hard it’s blinding. You can feel him still as he fills you up with warm ropes of his cum.

When you both finally come down, Felix flops beside you and you immediately curl into his chest. He embraces you, his hands stroking unknown symbols into your skin.

“Did you mean it?” he finally asks.

You don’t have to ask what he’s referring to. “Yes,” you reply. “I think I’ve known it for a long time.”

“I love you, too.” Felix tells you, grabbing your chin so that he can press another kiss into your lips. “You mean the world to me.”

That night, Felix looks around the apartment again, making sure that everything is in its place. When you see that there is both a couch and a bed, you make a joke about sleeping on the couch that causes him to quite literally pick you up and throw you into bed with him. You fall asleep like that, intertwined in his arms, not worried about accidentally getting caught and what the consequences might be tomorrow.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

You toss and turn. Images plague your mind. A guilt-ridden feeling plagues your gut.

Minho, who gets anxiety on missions, who wanted to get away from his family and the life of crime from his childhood, but couldn’t let Jisung go alone for fear of what Chan would do to him.

Changbin, who has only wanted to protect his family, but instead Chan has held that over his head.

Hyunjin, who didn’t really know how to find himself after being told who to be, who didn’t know what to do with his life, exploited by Chan.

Jisung, who has never had anybody tell him that he is good for more than shooting things and a life of violent crime, and had Chan take advantage of that.

Seungmin, who had only one dream and had it taken away through an injury, was falsely promised by Chan that one day he could get the surgery and recover to play baseball again.

Jeongin, who turned to a life of crime but was told he could have the money to go to fashion school, all if he would become Chan’s lackey.

Even Felix, who you’re sure has been through something just as horrible, though he hasn’t told you yet…

At the end of the day, there’s one common factor in all of this evil.

You know that you can’t stay here and live a fantasy life, where you get to escape and be free while the rest of them are trapped there and still living in a nightmare. At the end of the day, you have started to develop close relationships with each and every one of them, and you can’t bring yourself to think more about the horrors that Chan continues to inflict on them each day while you get to run away with Felix.

Picking up Felix’s arm, you kiss him on the head. You feel very remorseful for what you’re about to do, for the amount of mental anguish you are probably about to put him in when everything was finally going to go your way. You wish you could have relished in this a little bit longer.

Opening up the bedside table, you grab Felix’s car keys and his gun.

This has to end, and it has to end now.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

a/n: we're getting close to the end! two main chapters and two mini chapters left!! sorry for the delay today guys, I only had this chapter half written i wrote the rest in a coffee shop lol <3

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@mbioooo0000 ; @lovemepie67 ; @lemonn015 ; @jaeminie-cricket ; @cookiesandcreammy ;

@jchotch726 ; @cookielixie ; @xxeiraxx ; @chuuyaobsessed ; @anime-addictot8 ;

@raspberrii ; @holdontoitwhileitlasts ; @korthbum ; @nxtt2-u ; @drinkingrumandcocacola ;

@changbokkii ; @1810cl ; @sillyhal

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holylulusworld · 6 months ago

Text

Unworthy (1)

Summary: Thor doesn’t think you‘re a good friend to his brother.

Pairing: AU!Thor Odinson x fem!Reader, AU!Loki Laufeyson x fem!Reader (platonic/best friends)

Warnings: past addiction, mentions of drug abuse/addiction (Loki), angst, classism, Thor being an ass, BBF trope, mentions of spiked drinks

Unworthy masterlist

Thor doesn’t think you‘re a good friend to his brother and won’t stop telling you, his parents, and Loki so.

You’re not rich, and don’t come from a wealthy family. You’re just you, and that is not enough in Thor’s eyes.

“How can you believe she wants to be your friend,” Thor’s voice booms through the hallways. You sigh and try to focus on work, not the fact that the brute is yelling at your friend again. “You’re blinded by lust!”

“Y/N and I are only friends. I know you cannot be around a woman without getting between her legs, but I cherish my friendship with Y/N. Stop trying to ruin our bond.”

“Bond,” the blonde snorts when you step out of your office to come to Loki’s aid. “Ah, there she is. The she-devil.”

“What is going on here?” You glare at Thor, not afraid of the tall man. He’s much taller than you and easily towers over you. “People try to work here, Mr. Odinson.”

“He tried to ruin our friendship again,” Loki defensively says. He moves closer to you, seeking your closeness. He’s still not out of the woods, and the confrontations with his brother do him no good.

You straighten your back and try to look taller while glaring at Thor. “I know you cannot understand that people want to be friends, but this doesn’t mean you can argue with your brother about our friendship all the time. This is ridiculous. Why do you hate the fact that Loki is my friend? There is no harm in being friends with me.”

“Says you,” Thor huffs as he eyes you up and down. “I know exactly what you are up to. Loki is just too blind to see who you truly are.”

You gently take Loki’s hand when he starts fidgeting next to you. He needs someone to help him with his insecurities and not fall back into old patterns.

Drug addiction is a dead end. If you don’t find a way back out, you are stuck. Loki is doing well. You’re a big help and the constant he needs to stay clean.

Thor doesn’t get that you are Loki’s anchor when the world gets too much again.

“How about we get you something to eat, darling,” you wrap one arm around Loki’s shoulder to guide him toward your office. “My office is a haven. Don’t worry. You’re safe, and I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Thor watches you guide his brother away from him with angry eyes. One day, he’ll find a way to get rid of you.

He doesn’t care that Loki and his father think highly of you. Thor Odinson swore to himself to remove you from his brother’s life, and he won’t stop until he succeeds.

“Son, I won’t argue with you again. Y/N is a hard-working woman. She’s smart, eloquent, and always professional. Stop trying to make her a bad person,” Odin warns one last time. Thor tried, once again, to get you fired.

“I do not trust her. Father, she’s not like us. I know there is something wrong with her. Why would she want to be friends with Loki during his darkest times if not to take advantage of him and his vulnerability.”

“I’m right here,” Loki rises from his seat to glare at his brother. “I’ve been clean for almost a year. Y/N was one of the reasons I did not have a relapse. She’s a good person and a kind soul. Stop being a classist!”

“I’m not a classist!”

Loki pants heavily. “YES YOU ARE!”

“Sons!” Odin slams his fist onto the table. “Thor, stop right there. Do not go any further.” Odin’s features soften seeing Loki’s hand tremble. “Loki, we believe you. Y/N is a good person and she’s always welcome here.”

“Thank you, father,” Loki nods before he turns to leave the room. “Please excuse me. I lost my appetite.”

“Morning darling,” you try to cheer Loki up. He told you about the scene Thor made during dinner. “I got you breakfast and the tea you like some much.”

“You’re the best,” he grins and takes the offered tea. “I’m sorry for chewing your ear off last night. I know I can be…too much.”

“Loki,” you cup his chin with one hand, “let me stop you right there. We are friends. You’re never too much. If you want to talk, even if it’s two am, come over or give me a call. That’s what friends are good for.”

Thor watches you run your hand up and down Loki’s arm. He squares his jaw and huff.

“Only friends. Who are you trying to kid, woman…”

Thor feels like he defeated a dragon. He crosses his arms over his wide chest and smirks as he watches your downfall.

Odin didn’t waste time. He’d do anything to protect Loki. Even if it means to fire one of his best and most reliable employees.

It took one old picture to ruin your life. Thor didn’t let up until he finally found something he could use against you.

A snapshot of you, stoned and barely awake as you hold a drink in your hands. To anyone else, it’s a girl partying during college. To Odin, it’s a picture of a woman bringing drugs and alcohol into his drug-addicted son’s life.

Your ears ring from the yelling you received from Odin. He called you an addict, and a bad influence. You don’t care that you lost your job. The only thing that pains you is that Odin forbids you to see Loki again.

“Are you done?” You coolly reply. “If so, you should know that I do not drink and that I didn’t take drugs. That’s a very old picture taken by someone I didn’t even know.”

“I cannot have someone like you near my son or at my company,” Odin regrets his harsh words, but Loki is more important than an employee.

You angrily wipe your eyes while Thor watches you clean out your desk.

This is it. He made it. You not only lost your job, but your friendship with Loki is over too.

His father will not allow you to keep in touch with his son. Not after his golden boy made him believe you’re a bad person. You knew the first time you met Thor Odinson that he would be your downfall.

“I knew you’re a bad influence,” he sneers when you look at him with teary eyes. “You’re tears and pout won’t work on me. I’m not my unstable brother eating out of your hands.”

“Do you think I care?” you choke on your tears. “Did you…” You take a deep breath. “Did you dig a little deeper? Did you find out that the picture was taken after some rich, entitled frat boy spiked my drink to show the poor and shy girl what happens when she turns his advances down?”

Thor blanches at your words. He doesn’t want to believe you, but your eyes give the truth away. “I—” It’s the first time the tall blonde is at a loss of words. He doesn’t have an answer or a comeback.

What if he just destroyed your career and friendship with Loki over nothing?

He was so blinded by his ignorance and jealousy that he did more than damage your career. Thor Odinson destroyed you completely. Your reputation and career lie in ruins all thanks to him. Everyone saw the picture you desperately tried to forget.

What’s past is past you told yourself whenever the memories flash back up. You tried to move past what happened back then and you believed, at least for a while, that you succeeded.

“Did you find out that I ended up in hospital, and that I only got lucky because a friend found me before that very same frat boy could finish his plan?”

“Why would he do this to you?” Thor’s tone is softer now.

“Well, he was just like you. A rich boy who never heard the word no,” you throw the last knick-knack into the box and pick it up. “He believed he can tell me to suck his dick and I’d happily oblige. That guy didn’t get that I’m not the kind of girl seeking attention from guys like him.”

“Wait—if that’s true,” Thor touches your arm, but you shake his hand off. “I talk to Father and explain my mistake. We can figure something out.”

“Save it,” you huff. “He didn’t believe me. I was nothing but loyal to your father and the company. All I ever wanted was to do a good job and be a good friend to Loki. Just you know, I stopped Loki from taking drugs anytime life dragged him down. I hope he finds help soon.” You sniffle. “I’d hate to watch him fall for the poison again only because you made it impossible for me to be there for him.”

Thor swallows thickly when you storm out of your office. You brush past Odin and Frigga who heard every word you threw in Thor’s direction. They feel as guilty as their son when their eyes meet Thor’s blue ones.

“Is that true, son?” Odin questions while you walk away, holding your head high. You didn’t do anything wrong. All you ever did was to support Loki.

“I don’t know yet,” Thor hastily says. “I’ll find out and then…” he trails off watching you walk past your co-workers. None of them even says goodbye, even though, you’ve been there for them whenever someone needed help. “I’ll make amends.”

Part 2

Tags in reblog.

#thor odinson #thor odinson x reader #loki laufeyson #au!thor odinson #business au #thor x reader #thor odinson x you #thor x you #Unworthy

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whimsicalcotton · 2 months ago

Note

Waiter waiter‼️ I'd like to order number 71 & 101 for the fic snippet prompt, amberpricefield 🙏

bon appetit! sorry for the wait

101: Anniversary

okay The Visual of this wouldn't leave my brain so i. tried scribbling it instead hfjdjhdgd i hope that's okay (and sorry for my janky handwriting)

--- --- ---

71: Spooning

“I don't know what you guys are talking about,” Rachel scoffs, hunched over her homework and unaware she looks about five seconds from face-planting into it. “I'm not tired.”

Chloe takes a breath to argue, but Max beats her to the punch with an unimpressed sigh of her own. “That's bullshit, Rachel.”

She knows she's in hot water if it's gotten to the point that Max is actively calling her out on her nonsense. Still, she follows perfection’s urge to deflect any and all concern.

“I’m fine,” she insists, giving them both her most reassuring smile. “Really. I wouldn't lie to you guys about that, would I?”

A beat of silence passes, wherein Chloe and Max share a long, disbelieving look.

“Uh, yeah you would,” says Chloe.

“Pretty much all the time,” says Max.

“Practically every day since I met you.”

“You're literally lying about it as we speak.”

“Alright, alright,” Rachel stops them before they can go any further. “So maybe I'm not always entirely honest. But how can you be so sure I'm lying now?”

She expects them to have to think on it for a moment, to at least have a few second's struggle in dismantling her facade of a well rested and perfectly functional human being. Instead, they both come out swinging.

“You look like you've been up all night,” Max offers, brows furrowed in concern.

“And you sound like you ate your fucking cigarettes,” Chloe adds.

“Plus, there's your shirt,” Max notes, moving a little closer. “It's done up all uneven. You only do that when you haven't slept well.”

Chloe leans over to look at the precarious stack of notebooks and worksheets in Rachel's lap. “Not to mention the only thing you have written down for this question is the number three. And it's a goddamn English assignment.”

Rachel glances both down at the paper Chloe's pointing to, and at her shirt buttons, and realizes they're both right. Although instead of admitting to such unquestionably sleep-deprivation induced follies, Rachel chooses to double down on her deflection.

“You guys really pay that much attention to me?” she asks, taking care not to let the elation sneak into her tone. “That's pretty fucking gay.”

Chloe fires back an immediate, “You're pretty fucking gay,” while Max goes red and mumbles, “Maybe so.”

“Besides,” Rachel grins, getting perhaps a little too cocky perhaps a little too quickly now that she has them off balance. “What're you gonna do about it, make me take a nap? Hold me hostage and spoon me against my will?”

Chloe and Max go quiet. They're giving each other another one of those looks too; the kind Rachel has come to learn can never mean anything good. That's about all she has the time to register before her stuff is snatched out of her hands and she's being unceremoniously hauled across the bed.

“Hey, hey, wait a damn second.”

Neither of them say a word. Chloe just keeps dragging her around, not content until they're all tangled up and close as close and be. Max gathers up Rachel's things in succinct and suspiciously squirrel-like fashion, moving to lay them in a semi-neat and equally precarious pile atop the girl's desk.

“Guys, c'mon, I was just kidding.”

She tries to sit back up, or at least wriggle her way out of the Chloe-shaped bear trap she's found herself in, but she really must be tired because all she manages to do is mess her hair up and bury half her face in the pillow.

“This is so unfair,” Rachel announces as Max sits on her other side. She peers up through her wild hair to give Max the most piteous, dramatic look she can manage. “You're not gonna let her get away with bullying me like this, are you?”

“Oh no,” Chloe says, looking more than pleased with her new position half wrestling, half snuggling up to Rachel. “Max, is she giving you the doe eyes? Don't fall for it, she's just being a drama queen.”

Max hesitates a moment more before slapping her floppy sleeves over her face. “There. Now I don't see any bullying or any pouting.”

“Ignoring a girl in need?” Rachel huffs, giving up and fully burying her face in the pillows. “That's low of you, Caulfield.”

She's answered with a duet of laughter and the feeling of Max shuffling close and pressing up to her other side, joining Chloe in laying an arm over her waist. It's impossibly warm nestled in between them, and all those assignments are still taunting her from the desktop, and she really ought to get up again before Max and Chloe succeed in their little scheme and she winds up spending the afternoon lazing away with them instead of getting any work done.

“This is kidnapping,” she mutters, not moving an inch. She tries and fails to hold back a yawn. “This is harassment. You'll be hearing from my lawyers.”

“Sure, babe,” Chloe says, pressing a kiss to her shoulder.

“Whatever you say,” Max hums in agreement, nuzzling closer.

#ouhg and Then i sat down to draw it and realized what the fuck i was getting myself into. but i Committed hsjsh #thank u for the rq! hope the food is good #cerealshroom #nova answers #nova scribbles #nova writes #damn all three at once. combo

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yunirgo · 7 months ago

Text

steve harrington x fem!reader ; fluff/comfort(?)

tw: mentions of food, reader doesn’t want to eat and is struggling a bit with self image, bad writing (sorry), pretty self indulgent

“you have to eat something, honey,” he insists.

“i’m not hungry steve,” you insist back.

steve noticed how you’ve been reluctant to eat lately. at first it was you turning down snacks he’d offer, then you started eating a meal a day.

today though, you haven’t had anything to eat and it was already nighttime. to say he was worried was definitely an understatement.

“babe, you haven’t eaten anything all day! that’s not good for you, you know that,” you try to not roll your eyes, but aren’t very successful. “look, if you at least eat a toast i’ll leave you alone, i promise.”

“steve, i’m not hungry. i’m not not eating because i don’t want to, i’m just not hungry,” tears well up in your eyes. you weren’t lying, not entirely anyway.

you’d looked in the mirror the other day and weren’t that pleased with your body, which made your appetite vanish. you’d tried to eat something for your own good, but the thought of food made you feel uneasy, guilty even. and the fact that you’d been having a lot of snacks and food the past week didn’t make it any easier. it was like your own body was punishing you for eating so much to the point of forbidding you to have some food.

a heavy sigh escapes his lips, followed by his hand pushing his hair back. steve leans over the kitchen counter, his arms crossed in front of his chest. “i’m not letting you go to sleep without eating something first.”

“stevie-“

“y/n, please. just a toast, okay? so i can feel at peace knowing you have something in your system. what do you say?” and he has the audacity of using those stupid puppy eyes to convince you. what an asshole.

a good thirty seconds pass when you finally cave in. “i hate you,” and that smile, god, it makes you want to eat all of the toasts in the whole fucking galaxy if it means seeing him grin like that for the rest of your life.

“and i love you. i’ll even put on lots of that butter you like, baby. just sit there and let me be your cook for the night, yeah?” he kisses your head and starts working on your little meal. you watch him move around the kitchen, his arm flexing when he reaches up to the cabinet for a plate, his tongue sticking out when he spreads the butter on the toast; it makes you feel loved and cared for. “here you go. one golden, buttery toast for the prettiest girl in the whole world,” the boy smiles, pearly whites in full display for you.

“i’m still mad at you,” it was a lie, both of you are fully aware of it.

“i can handle that. now eat,” after staring at it, you finally take a bite of the toasted bread in front of you. the taste of melted butter makes you feel better instantly. you practically inhale the toast without noticing. it definitely wakes up your appetite. “good job, baby.”

“oh god, im so hungry now,” you say with a whine.

“well, you’re in luck because your favorite chef in the whole world will be very happy to feed you,” and he does. he prepares something small. not much to not scare you, but enough to feed you properly. you eat his food with content hums here and there and he watches you with satisfaction. “you know, you shouldn’t feel guilty about wanting to eat. it’s your body trying to keep you alive,” he comments once you’ve finished your food, pushing a hair strand behind your ear.

“i know… i just- i feel gross about it sometimes, having to eat. i know i shouldn’t feel guilty, but i can’t help it,” steve, the sweetheart he is, pulls you to his chest and leaves a kiss at the top of your head.

“i know, honey. i’m sorry,” he starts swaying side to side, your ear right by his heart. his heartbeat calms yours. “it makes me really sad to see you struggle with that, but i will always be here to remind you that it’s completely normal and okay to feel hungry and eat. maybe eating together can help. i love watching you eat” you look up at him; he looks down at you, both melting at the love in each others’ gaze.

“you’re really weird, but i really love you, you know?”

“mhmm, i love you more”.

a/n: i get a lot of these little episodes and my best friend is the one who reminds me it’s just my body doing its job and that i shouldn’t feel guilty for being hungry or eating. i know it’s not easy dealing with it, but if you go through this too and ever need someone to talk to, i’m here for you<3 remember you’re perfect just the way you are!

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington stranger things #steve harrington x you #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington fic #stranger things blurb #stevie harrington #steve harrington being the best boyfriend ever #yuni writes #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington comfort

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hopepetal · 1 year ago

Text

Masterlist

Read on AO3!

Part Eight!

Reblogs and comments are much appreciated! :)

@applestruda

CW: broken bones and blood

Many thanks to Elle Periwinklemoonlight for giving me several ideas for this chapter, and Mochi for helping me with some of Mumbo's dialogue <3

Mumbo had always liked sunsets.

He'd never been that big a fan of sunrises. Don't get him wrong, they were pretty and all! But the only times he had been awake to see the sun rise at all was when he had been up all night working on some sort of contraption. The early morning light had forced its way through any crack it could find and pulled Mumbo's attention away from his work, alerting him to the fact that he'd lost track of time and was about to have a very bad day.

(Look, his stomach was sensitive! If he didn't get enough sleep, he'd get all nauseous and lose his appetite the next day. One would think that would be enough of a reason to not stay up all night, but there was a difference between being smart and making smart decisions.)

Anyway! Where was he? Oh, right. The sun. Fascinating thing, really. Some might even call it essential! Most people would, actually. Mumbo certainly did.

Sunrises had always been something Mumbo only saw every once in a while, and dreaded every time. The first rays of light peeking over the mountains were a taunting reminder of one's folly. And with the rise of the sun came the song of the birds, declaring in their high pitched tremolo that it was time to wake up and go about one's day.

Scar had asked Grian what the birds were saying once, over their lovely lunch which was actually just breakfast for the late risers. Grian had given him the most deadpan stare Mumbo had ever witnessed (and that was saying something– he'd known Doc, after all). “Just because I'm an avian doesn't mean I can understand the birds, Scar.”

Scar frowned, giving Grian a confused look. “You can't lie to me! I just heard you talking to the chickens, mister.”

Grian's look became much more pointed. “What chickens, Scar?” he asked sweetly, in the tone that held threats hidden under the surface.

Scar's eyes widened almost comically as he immediately tried to backtrack. “Oh! No! Nooo, no chickens here. None at all! What chickens? I've never seen a chicken. Ever.” He looked over at Mumbo, before leaning forward and stage-whispering to Grian, “I think I fooled him.”

Mumbo had chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his neck. “Scar, I'm sitting right next to you,” he pointed out.

Scar blinked. “Oh. Well! Nonexistent chickens aside, Grian, you still haven't told us what the birds are saying.”

Grian had stared at Scar in silence for a full five seconds before sighing deeply. “They're laughing at me for not getting enough sleep to deal with this.”

“See!” Scar smiled triumphantly, looking over at Mumbo. “I told you he could talk to birds!”

“Pretty sure he's just lying, mate.”

Grian lazily waved his spoon in the air. “I don't know what you're talking about, Mumbo. I never lie.”

Scar's eyes shone. “Now, if my time as a businessman has taught me anything, it's to tell when someone is lying. And that, my dear Grian, was a big ol' lie.”

Grian's eyes narrowed, almost imperceptibly. “I'm going to bite you.”

“That's a lie!”

Grian then lunged across the table and tackled Scar to the ground. Mumbo shrieked, nearly falling off the bench with them. “Oh, goodness, don’t break the man, G!”

Grian didn’t even have a chance– Scar pinned him to the ground with a triumphant whoop, laughing as Grian squawked and flapped his wings helplessly. “I win! Haha! You are not immune to the good times!”

“What does that even mean?” Grian shot back, unable to stop himself from laughing. “Scar, get off me!”

Scar stood, brushing the dirt off of his pants. “Aww, G, now I’m all dusty! Dusty and sweaty! Eugh!” He moved to take his shirt off, and Grian shrieked.

“Scar!” Grian shot up and smacked Scar’s hand. “Put your clothes back on!”

Scar whined, pouting slightly. “C’mon, G! I didn’t even take anything off”

Mumbo groaned, putting his head in his hands. “I miss Impulse and Pearl.”

Sunsets were different.

Mumbo… didn’t really know how to describe it. In the same kind of way people liked going to bed more than they liked waking up, Mumbo enjoyed sunsets far more than he did sunrises. Sunsets were calm, whereas sunrises were frantic, harried. They were a declaration of the day ending, and that rest would come soon. They were an end to the scorching hot temperatures of the summer and a prelude to the cool kiss of the night’s breeze against his face. Not to get all poetic and everything, but they just were nicer.

He enjoyed how the sky would be painted in oranges and pinks and purples, and how slowly the knights would gather together on the more clear nights to sit under the stars and talk. He enjoyed how in those moments they were all at peace and happy, and how they cared so deeply for each other it felt less like a group of friends and more like…

Family.

That’s what it was.

Sunsets reminded him of family.

Not this sunset, though.

As the sun slowly set, and shadows grew to cover the whole land, Mumbo felt… different. As he rode alongside his fellow knights (his friends, his family), he couldn’t shake the feeling of urgency that usually accompanied the rising of the sun, rather than the fall. This sunset was not something of love and rest.

This sunset felt like a warning.

They were running out of time. As the clock ticked, as the sand fell through the hourglass, a sense of impending doom settled over each one of the knights. Mumbo, in his often anxiety ridden state, was no stranger to the feeling that sat tight in his chest and caused his heart to race, tearing air from his lungs in sharp gasps.

Scar, riding near him, glanced over and saw the poorly concealed panic on the man’s face. Urging his horse closer, he got Mumbo’s attention with a soft ‘psst!’

Mumbo startled, torn from his thoughts as he so often was. He met Scar’s gaze and gave him a nervous, half-hearted smile. Scar could, most likely, see past any pretense he was putting up. The man was good at what he did– good at reading people, good at looking for certain nonverbal clues that cued him into what the person was actually thinking. “Hey, Scar.”

Scar reached out, holding the reins in one hand as he gave Mumbo a pat on the shoulder. “You doin’ good? You’re not looking so hot.”

Mumbo sighed, looking away. “I’m… I dunno, Scar. I just… goodness. This whole thing is so… it’s overwhelming, Scar. What are we even supposed to do?” He laughed, a tense sound. “It’s– it’s just… it’s not something we can just… it’s not simple, Scar. We can’t just solve it with some redstone, or some crazy invention– this is so big. And I don’t– I don’t know how to fix it.”

Scar pressed his lips together into a thin line. The setting sun cast long shadows over his face, the little light remaining creating dappled patterns on his skin as it filtered in through the trees. He thought for a moment before speaking. “Mumbo, you don’t have to know how to fix everything. You know that, right?”

Mumbo let out a strained laugh, his grip on the reins tightening slightly. “Well, Scar, mate, isn’t that kind of… my job? You know, brilliant redstone inventor over here, coming up with solutions is my whole thing. It’s not like I could… well, I have to make up for my lack of physical prowess somehow.”

Scar shook his head, chuckling softly. “Oh, Mumbo, Mumbo, Mumbo. I’ve been there! I get you, I really do. You know, back in the day, I had a bit of a job myself. I was a businessman, Mumbo Jumbo! And a very good one at that. And my job was to sell things to customers! And…” he frowned, cutting himself off sharply. “I don’t know where I’m going with this. Man, Cub’s so much better at this than me.”

Mumbo felt himself relaxing slightly, the tension slowly being let out of his body. He smiled, giving Scar a half-shrug. “Cub has a lot of skill, that’s for sure. Plenty of experience to go along with it, as well.”

Scar nodded, and let silence fall over them for a moment before taking in a deep breath. “So, Mumbo, what I was trying to say… I guess, you don’t need to solve everything? I mean, none of us have any clue what we’re doing. Kinda.” He thought for a moment. “That’s not it. What I’m really trying to say is that we’re all in this together? It’s not your job specifically to figure it out alone. Impulse is our friend, and… we all really care for him.” His voice trembled slightly as he finished, eyes darkening. “I hope he’s safe.”

Mumbo furrowed his brows, concern shining in his eyes as he looked over at Scar. “You doing alright, mate?” This whole thing had been hard on all of them, but something seemed… off… about Scar.

Scar blinked, and shook himself out of whatever sort of trance he had been in with a slight jerk of his head. “Oh! Yes, don’t you worry, mister. I’m doin’ just fine over here! Just thinking about the scolding I’m gonna give Impulse when we get back home.” He flashed Mumbo a bright smile, and Mumbo let it rest.

He knew that smile was forced. He knew when the cheerful persona of Scar’s came out to play. He knew, and yet… what could he do? Mumbo wasn’t good with words. He was probably the worst out of the knights when it came to social interaction, and that was saying something given they were practically hermits outside of the occasional job they’d pick up and shopping trips.

So Mumbo did what he did best.

He let his body go on autopilot, and got lost in his thoughts.

At the front of the group, Grian and Pearl were talking in hushed voices. Grian remained stubbornly in his watcher form, despite Pearl’s insistence on taking a break and letting his eyes rest. He’d given her a look, feathers rustling irritably as she spoke. “Stop nagging me, Pearl. Gosh, you’re starting to sound like Timmy.”

She let out an indignant sound, glaring at him. “I am not! And it’s not nagging, mate, you’re going to give yourself a headache with all that looking!”

Grian scoffed, looking away. “It’s called watching, thank you very much. And you’re the one who’s gonna give me a headache, with all your talking! I know what I’m doing Pearl, I’m not a baby.”

“Well, you’re acting like one,” Pearl shot back. “I’m right here, Griba. You don’t have to be hyper vigilant, or whatever it is you’re doing.”

“And what happens if I don’t?” Grian snapped, his voice dropping slightly. “What happens if I lose sight of the demon and Impulse, what if–?” he cut himself off, taking a deep breath, “Pearl, I need this,” he admitted, voice low. “If I don’t keep my focus on this, I think I’ll go crazy, Pearl. I’ll get all… you know me, Pearl.” Desperation seeped into his voice. “I don’t– it doesn’t matter if I get a headache or strain myself or, anything, really! But I can’t…”

Pearl sighed. “I know. I know, Griba. I’m just worried. About you, about Impulse, about this whole Watcher thing, about… well, everything. It’s just such a big mess, y’know? And we’re all tangled up in this big web and…” She laughed, shaking her head. “It’s pretty overwhelming. Just… we gotta also take care of ourselves, mate. We won’t be able to do anything if we run ourselves ragged before we even get to Impulse.”

Whatever Grian was going to say in response was interrupted by the sound of rattling bones and an arrow flying right by his head, narrowly missing. He shrieked, wings flaring out as the horse beneath him startled. He grabbed the reins and pulled back, stopping the horse from bolting, though it still took a few steps forward.

“Skeleton!” Pearl called out, though the announcement was unneeded. “Stay on your guard!”

The undead’s bones creaked as it came into view, appearing from under the trees. Normally, along more well-traveled paths, the surrounding areas would be lit up enough to stop the mobs from spawning, and the frequent patrols would be enough to discourage them from wandering too close. Unfortunately for the knights, they were traveling through an uninhabited area with no path in sight. They could handle the mobs just fine, but it certainly made traveling a little more difficult.

Scar drew his crossbow, fingers brushing over the enchantments carved into the material, and nocked a bolt. “I got it!” He drew the bolt back and fired, the skeleton collapsing into a pile of bones with a rattling groan. “Yes! Hotguy strikes again!”

Grian would’ve rolled his eyes if he could. “You and that Hotguy thing, I swear…” His feathers began to settle back down, and he folded his wings behind his back. “Right, then. That’s probably our cue to stop for the night.”

“We’re stopping?” Mumbo asked, slightly confused. “Why?”

Pearl sighed, dismounting. She gently stroked her horse’s neck before answering Mumbo. “As much as we’d love to get to Impulse as soon as possible, we can’t be riding through the night. The horses are tired, and we need time to rest and recuperate as well. I…” She looked over at Grian, watching him dismount as well. “I don’t want to stop. I really don’t. But we have to.”

Scar nodded. “Makes sense! Gotta be our best selves if we’re gonna deal with that demon guy!” He dismounted, Mumbo following a moment later. “Mumbo and I can go light up some of the surrounding area while you two make a fire and deal with the horses?” he suggested.

“Good idea. You have those…” Pearl gestured vaguely with her hand, trying to think of the word. “...magic torches? The fancy ones, so ya don’t burn down the whole forest?”

“I never leave home without them!” Scar grabbed Mumbo’s arm. “Come on, Mumble Jumble, time to light up this forest!”

Mumbo yelped as he got dragged away, casting one last terrified glance at Grian and Pearl before disappearing into the woods with Scar.

“I swear,” Pearl chuckled as she dealt with the horses, “he never loses energy. I’ve rarely ever seen that man get tired.”

Grian busied himself with clearing a small area for a campfire, using his bird-like feet to help dig up the grass. “Scar’s… definitely something,” he agreed, shaking the dirt off his talons before hopping (not walking– hopping) awkwardly over to a tree, his wings flapping slightly to help balance him. He began to snap some smaller branches and twigs, gathering them in his arms. “Dunno what we’d do without him. Without any of them.”

Pearl smiled sadly, giving one of the horses a soft pat before walking over to help Grian with his task. “Barely feels like any time’s passed at all, yeah? Since we first met in that old town.”

Grian laughed at the memory, shaking his head. “You’d just crashed into the ground. Still had no clue how to use those wings of yours.” He glanced at the colourful moth wings that were folded delicately behind Pearl’s back.

She was scared, Grian could tell. Wide eyes that were the same blue of a storm-promising sky and filled with barely held back tears. She was scraped up and bruised from her fall, the wings trailing behind her seeming unnatural and unwieldy.

Grian didn’t ask questions. She needed help, and that was all he needed to know.

Later, he would hear stories of feathered golden wings, carrying Pearl through the sky alongside her flock. He would listen in from behind a door that hadn’t been completely shut as she told Jimmy what it was like to soar high above endless fields of sunflowers and wheat, racing her flockmates at speeds she would never again be able to achieve.

Grian and Jimmy had lost their flock when they were young. It was no wonder that Jimmy was interested in Pearl’s memories of her flock, who had treated her with kindness and love. Flockless avians were often unable to defend themselves and died without the protection a flock was supposed to provide.

Jimmy and Grian had been lucky enough to find an old town nearby, with inhabitants who were more than willing to let them in. They’d made a life for themselves there, when Pearl had come crashing into their lives.

“I broke my leg,” Pearl recalled, wincing slightly at the bittersweet memory. “And you and Tim helped patch me back up. And then I just never left.”

“I’ve cursed that day ever since,” Grian joked, yelping when Pearl elbowed him. “Hey! Not cool!” he squawked as Pearl giggled softly. “I wonder how Tim’s doing right now,” he added after a moment. “Do you think he misses us?”

Pearl raised her eyebrows. “Grian, we do visit him. He’s doing just fine, you saw for yourself. Got a whole new bunch of friends and everything!” She examined Grian’s face. “Oh, you’re not upset he didn’t join us, are you?” she teased lightly. “You know Jimmy would hate the outdoorsy life we’ve got going on. He’s perfectly comfortable where he is.”

Grian sighed, turning and hopping back to the area he’d prepared for their fire, beginning to place the sticks down. “Can you grab some rocks?” he asked, “I hate not being able to fly. Walking is so hard.”

Pearl laughed, setting her sticks down near Grian before starting to search for smaller rocks. “You do look cute though, hopping around like a little birdie. Oh, don’t give me that, you know it’s true!”

“It’s humiliating is what it is,” Grian muttered, “Mumbo and Scar are never gonna let me live it down.”

“Good!” Pearl chirped, bringing back the stones she had collected to make a circle. “You deserve it, honestly.”

Mumbo’s shriek rang out through the forest, startling the two. Grian nearly fell over from how much he jumped, eyes going wide from shock. What made the shriek more concerning was the explosion that followed soon after, and Pearl was about to charge off into the woods before Scar yelled, “Just a creeper! We’re good!” his voice tiny from the distance.

Pearl shook her head, sighing softly. “Those two are going to give me gray hairs early,” she murmured fondly.

“You’re not the only one,” Grian muttered, earning a laugh from Pearl. “What?”

“Maybe if you’d stop being such a scaredy cat–”

“I am not–!”

Despite their bickering, they were able to get the fire going before Scar and Mumbo came back, looking a tad singed but none the worse for the wear.

“Area is successfully lit up!” Scar proclaimed. “We should be safe from all the spooky things out there now. Should be.”

“We’ll set up a watch nonetheless. Better be safe than sorry,” Grian decided, as Mumbo and Scar joined him and Pearl at the campfire. “I’ll go first, because there is no way you’re waking me up once I’m out.”

“I’ll go second then,” Mumbo volunteered, “if no one else wants to,” he added after a moment.

Pearl shrugged. “I’ll take the third shift, then, and Scar can go last?”

“Sounds good to me!” Scar agreed, and the knights fell into silence.

As the makeshift campfire crackled softly, spitting sparks into the night sky, the knights lingered for a while around the small source of warmth and light. For a while, there was a somber sort of quiet hanging over the group– silence settling in the empty space that Impulse usually filled.

Grian, still in his watcher form, leaned forward to gaze into the fire, light reflecting off eyes as black as the night sky. Scar glanced over, and despite everything, had to suppress a giggle.

Clearly, he didn't do that very well, and Grian looked up at him with a slightly confused expression. “Are you alright, Scar?” he asked, and Scar couldn't hold it in anymore.

He giggled, reaching out and patting Grian's face. “You look like a kitty cat!” he exclaimed, “with your big ol' eyes and everything!”

Grian blinked. “I'm sorry, what–”

Pearl started laughing. “I guess we didn’t have to worry about them being scared by our other forms then, huh!”

Grian’s face flushed a light pink, and he shooed them all away. “Oh, go to bed! I’ll wake you for your shift, Mumbo!”

The other three dispersed, laying out the sleeping bags Pearl had thankfully thought to pack. Better to be over prepared than under, in her opinion.

Sleep came surprisingly quick, though it seemed like she had just closed her eyes when she felt Mumbo’s gentle hand on her shoulder, waking her for her shift. Pearl blinked away the sleep in her eyes and quietly thanked Mumbo, before taking a seat by the slowly dying campfire.

There wasn’t much to do during a night watch, other than to sit alone with her thoughts. And that’s exactly what Pearl did, until she thought of something too important to leave floating in her mind.

The plan was for Grian and her to expel the demon from Impulse using their own magic. But where would the demon go after, when it had been forced from its host?

Pearl quietly walked back to her sleeping bag, opening the small pack she had set beside it. She rifled through the contents for a moment before pulling out a small, clear cut crystal. She’d gotten it so long ago she’d forgotten how it came to be in her possession, but it would work just fine for what she was thinking of.

Walking back over to the campfire, Pearl shifted into her watcher form, holding the crystal in her hand. Sitting down, Pearl closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, feeling the magic of the world around her. Another breath, to feel the magic buzzing in her veins. In and out, once more, and she began to imbue the crystal with her magic.

It was a simple enough task. All Pearl needed to do was prepare the crystal to bind the demon to it with her magic. Once the demon was expelled, it would be a simple enough task to pull it into the crystal. And then, as long as she kept checking on it from time to time and strengthening the binding magic, the demon would remain sealed away.

Deep breaths. In, and out.

Pearl let the magic flow through her and into the crystal, caught up in the feeling of casting. She didn’t do it often, not like this. It was nice to finally use her magic again. She didn’t even realize how much time had passed until she felt a hand on her shoulder, and Scar’s quiet voice in her ear. She opened her eyes to look at him, continuing to cast as she did. “Oh! Scar!” She kept her voice down, aware of how close they were to the two who were still asleep. “You good, mate?”

Scar nodded. “I think it’s time for my shift,” he explained, glancing toward the sky, “and also, I felt your magic. Whatcha doin’, Pearl?”

Ah. She had lost track of time, then.

Pearl finished casting, tucking the crystal into her pocket. “Just makin’ a lil magic crystal thing. For later,” she explained. “Sorry for not waking you up. Or… kinda waking you up? Since you sensed my magic and all? I guess?”

Scar shrugged, smiling slightly. “Nah, don’t worry about it. I got plenty of rest. Which you should probably try to do as well. Big day tomorrow.”

Pearl stood, shifting out of her watcher form. “Right, then. Have fun with your watch shift, Scar. And I’ll do my best. G’night, Scar.”

“Good night, Pearl.”

The morning came too quickly, and not quick enough at the same time. There were few attempts at conversation as the knights began to break down camp, kicking dirt over their small fire and packing up what little they had taken out. Grian, who had shifted into his “normal” form to sleep, shifted back into his watcher form and took a minute to relocate Impulse and the demon.

“I can’t see him, exactly,” Grian explained to Scar and Mumbo. “It’s a bit blurry, I guess. I know where he is, I can see the magic around him, but I can’t really make out small details like his face. I don’t really know why, but that’s just how it works.”

“Sooo… like looking through a really bad spyglass, then,” Scar concluded, earning a sigh from Grian. “What? I’m right!”

“I guess,” Grian admitted as they mounted their horses, “but that’s kinda like comparing a bow to Mumbo’s rocket launcher. They do kinda the same thing, but one’s a lot more complicated and powerful.”

Scar hummed thoughtfully. “I see… well, as long as it works!”

Grian remained in his watcher form as he led the tense ride through the forest. The sky above was streaked with clouds that occasionally would cover the sun and cast the land below into shadow. As the knights got closer to their destination, the trees began to thin out, promising open fields up ahead.

“You’d think he wouldn’t have gotten this far,” Grian muttered to Pearl, “but humans have so much endurance. It’s fascinating. And somewhat annoying.”

Pearl hummed softly, her gaze fixed straight ahead. “I’m worried for his health. I’m honestly doubting the demon cares too much for Impulse’s well-being, and I don’t think it has to deal with the negative effects of what it’s putting Impulse’s body through. If that makes sense.”

Grian nodded, his eyes focused not on what was in front of him but on something– someone– far away. “Demons don’t feel exhaustion or hunger, do they?” he asked, speaking mostly to himself.

“I think some do,” Pearl answered, “but not this one. Since it’s only in the blood, y’know? And it’s only borrowing… Impulse… so that’s not it’s… well. Body, I guess.”

Grian suddenly stopped, causing Pearl’s horse to almost run into his. “We’re dismounting here,” he called back to the other three. “Impulse is just up ahead, in the fields beyond the treeline.” He dismounted carefully, tying the reins to a sturdy branch. “Right. Let’s go over the plan one more time. We’ll find Impulse and confront the demon. Pearl and I will begin casting while Mumbo and Scar keep the demon busy and stop it from running off. Once Pearl and I start casting, we won’t be able to stop until the spell is over. So if something happens– if one or both of you gets injured, let’s say– we won’t be able to help.”

The others dismounted with serious looks on their faces, tension hanging in the air so thick one could almost cut it with a knife. Scar glanced over at Mumbo, who looked several shades paler than usual. “I’m the best at physical combat,” he began slowly, “when I go vex, at least. I’ll do my best to keep it from attacking you or running away, without hurting Impulse too badly.”

“The demon will be attacking to kill though, won’t it?” Mumbo asked, wringing his hands together as he looked between the other knights. “It won’t fight fair just because we are.”

Scar laughed sardonically. “Oh, I’m not gonna be fightin’ fair, mister. I’m just not gonna strike lethally, is all. But you’re right,” he added after a moment, “the demon is gonna try to kill us. And it’s– it’s strong. We know this. But the other option is letting Impulse die, or lettin’ someone else die in his place.”

“Impulse would never forgive us if that happened,” Mumbo pointed out, “and, well, given the other option is his death…”

“We can’t give up,” Scar finished, earning nods from the rest of the group. “We’ll get Impulse back. We have to.”

Pearl looked over at Grian, shifting into her watcher form as she did so. “Right, then. Time to head out?”

Grian nodded, clenching his hands into fists. “Time to head out. Let’s go save Impulse, guys.”

The sun peeked out from behind the clouds as the knights made their way out of the forest and into the wide open field. The wind rustled the grass around them and blew through their hair, and carried with it the promise of a fight.

Grian had shifted out of his watcher form if only for a moment, just to make travel on foot easier. He was, after all, not suited for walking with those bird feet of his in his watcher form. He carefully ran his hand over his wings and plucked three loose feathers, silently handing one to each of the knights. A promise. No matter which way this went, he’d be with them.

The knights each tucked their feathers away, Pearl reaching out to take Grian’s hand in one of her own and giving it a light squeeze. We’ll be okay, the action said, I’m here.

The knights continued to walk through the field, walking over a small hill when Grian suddenly stopped, his wings extending slightly so as to stop the knights who were walking behind him. “...I see him.”

And there he was.

Impulse stood in the field, facing away from the knights, slightly below them where the ground evened out after the hill. He seemed unsteady on his feet, the sword in his hand dragging against the ground as if he had unsheathed it only to forget why he had done so, and lacked the strength to fully pick the weapon back up.

And his hands… even from a distance, Grian could tell that Impulse’s hands were covered in blood– some dried, some freshly spilt. He… couldn’t think about that. They didn’t have the time to. Not now.

“Impulse!” Pearl called, her voice strong and steady. Grian wished he had the strength to do what she did. “Impulse, we’re here. It’s okay.”

Impulse startled, nearly dropping his sword as he turned around sharply. And finally, after so long of trying to find him, the knights were able to see his face.

He looked gaunt, scared. The bags beneath his eyes were a testament to the exhaustion that plagued his body, and the shake in his hands matched the fear in his eyes. That wasn’t the worst of it– twin horns poked up from his hair, unnatural and out of place. Mumbo sucked in a horrified breath at the sight, paling and covering his mouth with one hand.

“What–” Impulse’s voice sounded strained, raspy– “what are you doing here?” Tears filled his exhausted, scared eyes. “Why did you follow me? I could– I could hurt you!” And suddenly, it wasn’t Impulse anymore, but red eyes and a straightened back and steady hands that belonged to the demon. “Yes… why did you follow him? Don’t you know?” it mocked in Impulse’s voice, smiling. “He can hurt you pitiful little things.”

Scar’s eyes shone a brilliant blue, the colour fleeing from his hair as he glared at the demon that wore Impulse’s face. “What have you done?!” he yelled, his hands clenching into fists. Sharpened claws pricked into skin, drawing small beads of blood, but Scar didn’t even feel the pain. That was Impulse. Impulse was hurting and it was all because of that demon, the demon that stood in front of him and smiled at Scar with a face that wasn’t its own, that it had no right to use.

“Oh!” The demon tilted its head to the side. “Oh, nothing he didn’t ask for.”

Eyes filled with rage, Grian shifted back into his watcher form. “Scar! Mumbo!” he called, and the fight began.

Scar held himself back from going full vex at first, throwing himself at the demon. It hadn’t been expecting the initial attack, stumbling back several steps before pulling itself together. The shock didn’t last long, and the demon was soon fighting back with a fierceness that Scar did his best to match.

Grian looked over at Pearl, meeting her eyes. “Right then. Let’s end this.”

Standing side by side, the two siblings fixed their gaze on the demon in their friend’s body. The magic that swirled around him was wrong, unnatural, evil– and it was their job to fix it. Pearl reached out and took Grian’s hand in one of her own, giving him a nod. They both stretched out their free arms, and called upon their magic.

The clouds darkened as the very magic that flowed through the air began to change, as if even the sky stopped to focus its attention on the two Watchers. The ambient magic flowed around them like a gust of air, rustling through Grian’s feathers and Pearl’s hair.

Grian's wings extended to their full span, and Pearl's followed suit, snapping open as a glowing purple eye appeared behind them. The wind picked up as the grass around the two began to glow as well, the broken portal symbol of the ancient Evolutionists appearing at their feet.

Faces set with determination, the two began to cast.

Scar did his best to keep the demon’s attention on him as he fought. It was much different than normal fights– his goal was to keep the demon from running off, all while trying to dodge the blows that were aimed to take his very life. Scar felt the vex magic inside him boiling in his veins, begging to be let free, to run wild and take over his mind. He stubbornly fought it back down– he was in control, not the vex. He wasn’t ready to go full vex again. Not yet.

Unfortunately for him, the universe didn’t care if he wasn’t ready.

The demon, by possessing Impulse, had gained every bit of the man’s strength and skill. And given the strength-enhancing magic it likely held, it was no wonder that Scar was struggling. The demon attacked again, and Scar wasn’t able to get out of the way in time. He took a heavy blow to the side and stumbled back, losing his footing on the uneven terrain and falling to the ground hard.

Mumbo stumbled back as the demon suddenly turned toward him, fumbling to quickly draw his sword in order to block the sudden attack. He strained under the pressure of the demon bringing Impulse’s full strength to bear, his arms shaking as he tried to push back. “Scar!” he yelped, “Scar, I can’t–”

The demon brought the sword down, and it was only Mumbo’s quick thinking of jumping to the side that kept him from dying instantly. The blade still sliced into his arm, and Mumbo let out a frantic scream that made whatever restraints Scar had holding him back shatter. Mumbo dropped to the ground, blood flowing freely from the wound, and Scar…

Scar snapped.

Not in the same way he had before, not at all. He was in control, and could feel the power of the vex flowing through his body as natural as the blood in his veins. Power buzzed behind his eyes as shining vex wings appeared behind him, and he shot up, taking a few steps forward before attacking the demon, the overwhelming need to get it away from Mumbo singing in his movements.

The demon turned to attack Scar, and he dug his claws into its chest and pushed it back as hard as he could, almost throwing it with how hard he shoved. He’d clearly underestimated his strength, as the demon flew back and landed hard on its arm, the sickening gunshot snap of a bone breaking making Scar wince.

And for a moment, the scream that tore its way out in response was purely Impulse, his voice unchanged by the timbre of the demon’s. For a moment, it was just Impulse, only Impulse, and guilt swept through him like a torrent.

But then it was the demon again, pushing itself back up and switching the sword over to its left hand, shining red eyes glaring at Scar as it shifted into a fighting stance once more. “Well? Fight me, then. See how long it takes for your precious friend’s body to break down and give up.”

Scar’s eyes narrowed. He glanced over to where Mumbo was, clutching his arm close and watching the fight with wide eyes. He’d be alright, and that was what was important. Lifting his gaze once more, Scar met the demon’s gaze. “Impulse is stronger than you’ll ever be. You’ll be long gone before he ever breaks down,” he spat.

The fight didn’t get a chance to continue– with a shout, Grian drew Scar’s attention back to him and Pearl. The magic around the two siblings had become wisps of purple light, swirling around the two as they casted. Scar knew with uncanny certainty that the spell was almost complete.

The demon did as well, judging by its roar of anger. “No! I will not be defeated by pathetic little mortals–!”

Scar saw it attempt to go for Grian and Pearl and dashed forward, throwing himself at the demon and bringing it and himself crashing to the ground. He winced at the impact, mentally making a note to apologize to Impulse later, when they were all safe.

“Scar!” Pearl yelled, and Scar took that as his cue to get the heck away from there.

He jumped up and scrambled away, uncaring if he looked a little undignified in the movement. He made it to Mumbo and collapsed by the man, bleeding and gasping, and turned just in time to see the spell hit its mark.

The demon screamed, an awful sound that tore into Scar’s heart, because it was Impulse, it was Impulse’s voice and Impulse’s face and Impulse’s body but it wasn’t Impulse at the same time. It wasn’t Impulse, and the eyes that bore into Scar while it tried to stand and was inevitably forced to its knees were not Impulse’s.

And then they were.

And then it was over.

Pearl pulled out the crystal from her pocket, drawing the demon’s essence toward her and binding it into the crystal. The once clear gem turned a scarlet red, and once she was certain it was sealed away, she slipped the gem back into her pocket.

A weak sob tore its way from Impulse’s lips as he gingerly held his broken arm in his other. He squeezed his eyes shut, shrinking in on himself, and for the first time since Grian had met him, Impulse seemed so small.

Scar stood shakily, helping Mumbo to his feet as well. “Okay… okay, okay,” he breathed out, making sure Mumbo was really alright before turning back and forcing himself to walk– walk, not run, he’s scared and hurt right now– to Impulse, kneeling by him. “Hey, Impulse.” He could see the other knights approaching in his peripherals, but for now he stayed focused on the injured man in front of him. “Hey.”

Pearl settled in the grass a little bit away, still leaving enough room to give Impulse space as she shifted back into her normal form. Grian followed suit, tucking colourful wings behind his back and sitting next to his sister. “Hey, mate,” Pearl started gently. “Can ya hear us? We’re here.”

Impulse let out a broken sob, shrinking in even further on himself. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, and the words were so quiet they were barely audible. “I’m so, so, sorry.” Hot tears slipped down his cheeks, mixing with blood and dirt.

Scar shared a look with Mumbo, before turning back to Impulse. He tried to keep his eyes from drifting to the horns that stuck up from the man’s head, and focused more on his face. “Impulse… Impulse, it’s okay. We’re okay. Can I touch you?” he asked, waiting for confirmation before reaching forward and carefully, as though Impulse were made of glass and would shatter at the slightest touch, drew him into a hug.

Impulse began to weep freely then, and Scar felt himself slowly relax out of his vex form, the colour seeping back into his hair and skin. He kept his arms around Impulse, murmuring soft comforts that had once been said to him.

It wasn’t long before Impulse passed out, from the exhaustion and exertion combined with the sheer pain and shock of the day’s events– of the weeks he had been dealing with the demon inside of his head alone. It had been exhausting, overwhelming, and Scar didn’t blame him in the slightest.

The journey home would be a long one, and the road to healing stretched out seemingly for an eternity. But the knights were no stranger to traveling, and this was just another path they would have to walk down.

Together.

#my writing #boatem knights au #impulsesv #pearlescentmoon #grian #goodtimeswithscar #mumbo jumbo #hermitcraft fanfic

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secretswiftymarvelfan · 8 months ago

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Burnin' On - Firefighter!Chris x Reader (2 am)

A/N: Okay it was no secret that I absolutely love these two and I couldn't stop writing them! So here's the extensions series! There's no real over-arching plot, just interconnected one-shots as and when I think of them! This will contain spoilers to the original series so go check that out of you haven't already

Summary: After a very long day you return home surprised to find Chris had waited for you

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: Fluff!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Meet the Characters!

Burnin' Up Masterlist / Series Masterlist / Masterlist

2 am

Your eyelids felt heavy as you finally pulled up outside the house. You let out a long sigh as you dragged your hands down your face before glancing at the time.

It was well past 2 am.

Glancing back up at the house you could see no lights were on. You had texted Chris the code to tell him it was going to be a late one so he no doubt had gone to bed hours ago. There was nothing you wanted more than to climb into bed and snuggle up next to him, if Dodger had left you any space that is.

Even though you were exhausted you remained sat in your car for another couple of minutes just gathering the energy to move. It had been an exhausting day, not just physically but emotionally too.

Eventually, you did manage to bring yourself to climb out of the car and head inside. You made sure you were as quiet as possible as you closed the door, took off your shoes and jacket. You didn’t want to accidentally wake Chris.

Even though you didn’t have much of an appetite you knew you needed to have something to eat. The last proper meal you had was lunch and that was over twelve hours ago. You also knew you’d just wake up hungry again in a couple hours if you didn’t and you really wanted to sleep for hours after today.

Walking into the living room you flicked on the light only to be startled by Chris startling awake from his spot on the couch. You clutched your chest as you tried to get your breathing back under control.

“Chris what the hell? You scared the shit out of me!” You complained as your heart rate finally returned to normal.

“Sorry,” he said rubbing the sleep from his eyes “I didn’t mean to scare you, or fall asleep, I was trying to stay awake until you got home” he explained.

“Why? I texted to say I’d be home late so you didn’t need to stay up” you told him, pulling out your phone to double-check you’d actually sent the code.

“I know” Chris said pushing himself up from the couch and walking over to you “I also knew tonight was gonna be a hard night and I didn’t like the idea of you getting home and being alone” he explained placing his hands on your arms.

You instantly softened hearing his reason, stepping into his embrace, burying your head in his chest as you let out a shaky breath. Chris instantly wrapped his arm around you pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

“Wanna talk about it?” He asked softly, rubbing your soothingly.

“Not yet, I think I’m still processing it all, I just wanna sleep but I should eat first” you sighed pulling away enough to look up at him.

“Okay, I saved you a plate so I’ll go warm it up, make yourself comfortable” Chris smiled softly, nodding to the couch.

“Not too comfortable otherwise I’ll be asleep before you even get into the kitchen” you pointed out.

Chris lets out a small snort of laughter “Okay make yourself uncomfortable” he chuckled.

You give him a tired smile as you sit down on the couch, sitting on the edge as you knew that if you sat too far back sleep would be too inviting. Thankfully it wasn’t long until Chris returned with a plateful of food for you, and a smaller plate for himself.

The two of you sat in comfortable silence as you ate. Once you were finished you set your plate down on the coffee table and let out a long sigh.

“We found the body,” you told Chris.

You heard him let out a long sigh as he put his hand on the small of your back. He didn’t say anything though, he knew to just give you time to talk it all through.

“We still have to confirm it's her because there was a lot of decay but she was in the exact spot he said she was” You continued rubbing your hand over your forehead “I just… I feel so sorry for the families…. Both of them… one lost their daughter and the other has just found out their son isn’t who they thought he was”

Chris let out another sigh as he shifted closer to you, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you closer into his side. He knew exactly where your mind was going, it hadn’t been that long since you found out your own father wasn’t who you thought he was.

You let out a shuddering sigh as you wiped away the stray tears that fell “Sorry” you muttered.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Chris said shaking his head “You have nothing to apologise for”

“I shouldn’t be thinking of him though” you pointed out looking up at him.

“It's okay, it’s natural and you always will it’ll just be easier to move on” Chris reassured you “And I know it sucks and it hurts but it means you understand what they’re going through and feeling and you’ll be able to provide them the correct support”

You sighed nodding your head “Yeah you’re right, thank you” you say looking up at him.

Chris gave you a soft smile “It’s nothing, now let's get you up to bed, you deserve it” he said as he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“I don’t think I have the energy to stand” you admitted making Chris chuckle.

“Don’t you worry about that” he said with a lopsided smile before he stood up, hooked his arms around you and lifted you into his arms.

You let out a squeak of surprise before quickly snuggling into his arms. You smiled up at him forever grateful that you had him in your life to look after you after tough shifts, providing you a safe space that you never had before. He hadn’t even made it all the way upstairs before you fell asleep in his arms.

Sharing is caring so please reblog if you enjoyed this and maybe even leave a comment to make my day!

This series has no schedule, please don’t ask when it will be updated!

Burnin' Up Masterlist / Series Masterlist / Masterlist

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#niamhwrites #Burnin' On #Burnin' Up Series #firefighter!au #Firefighter!Chris #Chris Evans #Chris Evans x Reader #Chris Evans x You #Chris Evans x Y/N

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etoileee · 3 months ago

Text

I HAD A HEART TO HEART WITH THE SON OF HADES.

⤷ a percy jackson dr shifting experience!

ac; the only thing you’re gonna learn from this is I’m a loser I know you don’t need to tell me ╥﹏╥

It got quiet again.

Well, at least I did.

I guess I’m just overwhelmed by everything. I’m at a place called ‘camp half blood’ full of demigods and I'm a part of this ‘prophecy’ and I still have no idea what the fuck that means.

I never ate my s’more. I ended up putting it on the ground because of my lack of appetite.

I lean back and close my eyes, feeling pretty exhausted emotionally and physically from everything going around. The conversation between the other demigods faded into the background as I tried to focus on the sounds of the crickets singing.

I think that at one point I heard them whispering among themselves something along the lines of “Leave her alone” and “She needs time to process all this” from who I think was Hazel and Jason.

I don’t know how long I stayed like that but it was long enough for the sun to have gone down fully and the moon was starting to peep up from behind the mountains.

I open my eyes wanting to look up at the night sky that I love oh so much, only to immediately close them again and jump back slightly, feeling my eyes burn from the light radiating off of the fire.

My eyebrows furrowed in confusion and pain.

‘what the hell was that?’ I think to myself

I try and open my eyes again but snap my eyes shut again, feeling like my eyeballs were being boiled, roasted and then toasted and flambé with a blow torch.

So is the fire hurting my eyes? but fire doesn’t hurt my eyes?

I suddenly remembered the sunglasses I had in the pocket of my jacket, I had brought them for the trip to the camp and had forgotten about them till now because of the chaos that’s been there today.

I put the glasses on my face and only open my eyes once they’re on.

My eyes still feel bothered by the light, but not as bad anymore.

I’M A GENIUSSS

I look up at the sky, the stars and the moonlight being dimmed from the glasses protecting my eyes.

“I- um... I’m gonna go look around a little bit,” I stand up, dusting off my legs and behind from hitting down on the logs. “We'll be here,” Jason nods, pushing his glasses up his nose. His voice was oddly comforting and reassuring. I know he probably didn't mean it as deeply as I for some reason took it, but the way he said it, the way he looked at me, it meant a lot, and I don’t know why.

which is embarrassing. I met this boy not that long ago.

I nod and begin to walk in a random direction. not knowing where I was going. no destination in mind.

I hear their hushed voices speaking behind me, and something like “she probably just wants to be alone” from who I think was Annabeth.

I don’t know how long I walked, but I ended up at a forest clearing.

I let out a sigh and sat down on the cool grass, looking up at the sky.

The moon was slowly making its way up the sky. It was around ¼ of the way there. meaning it was now 10 pm.

don’t ask me how the hell I know that because I don’t know either.

I pull my knees up against my chest lay my forehead against my knees and close my eyes letting out another sigh. The sound of the crickets and the light cool breeze was a comfort for me.

Now that I know whose daughter I am, the night feels a little bit different. I always found comfort in the night, it felt as if while I admired it, it watched over me. and Now that I know who my mother is and how she’s responsible for it, it feels a little bit weird.

The woman I never knew and still to this day don’t know was always there in a way.

I don’t know if I like it or not.

as I sat alone in my thoughts, till I felt a presence behind me.

I turn around.

I don’t know who I thought I’d see, but I didn't think it would be Nico.

We stared at each other for a little bit, our eyes studying one another. It was weird for sure, two people watching each other, not moving or saying anything, but it didn't feel as weird as you would think a situation like this is.

there was mutual curiosity and understanding, at least I hope there was.

I think back to the campfire when Percy introduced him to me. He didn't say anything, not only to me but to everyone there, he seemed like a listener, the kind of listener that doesn’t know if they’re paying attention or not, but they’re holding onto every detail.

I then realized that when I left the campfire, he wasn’t there. He wasn’t there when I opened my eyes with my sunglasses, which means he probably left around the time I had my eyes closed.

after a few more seconds of silence, he speaks up “Did you lose the sun?” His voice is monotone.

He's talking about my glasses.

well damn fuck you too I guess.

I laugh softly and take them off facing forward again. I guess he was right. I put the glasses on in the first place because the fire was hurting my eyes, and there wasn’t fire there anymore.

he got quiet again, to the point that I wouldn’t have known he was behind me if it weren’t for the fact that it felt like his eyes were burning holes through me.

“mind if I join you?” he says out of nowhere almost making me jump a bit.

I shake my head and pat the spot on the grass next to me. giving him an open invitation.

He sits down next to me and looks up at the sky before looking back at me, there's a small break in his stoic façade, but it comes back as quickly as it leaves.

“Your eyes are white,” he says as this happens to him every day, but there's a flicker of something else in his gaze. I just can’t tell what it is.

my eyebrows pull together “What does that mean?” Nico’s expression turns more into an annoyed one “I don't know, that your eyes are white?”

That's not helping.

Nico, being able to tell I'm still not getting what he means, pulls out his phone, a black iPhone with a picture of him and a girl probably a few years older than him in the back of his phone case.

his thumb holds down on the small camera icon on the right corner of the screen opening the camera app, and he hands his phone to me.

I hold his phone up to my face looking into the screen to find my reflection looking back at me, except that my eyes are fully whitened out.

I nearly dropped his phone.

I would’ve started screaming and running around if I was with anyone but Nico, but frankly, I think he would’ve gotten annoyed and being the people pleaser I am, I didn't want him to find me annoying.

“Oh—“ my voice cracks as I speak, I bring the phone closer so it's only my eyes in the camera frame. “You can freak out if you want—“ I cut him off.

“HOLY SHIT WHAT THE FUCK” I yell and rub my eye with my right hand as the other keeps a firm grip on his phone to avoid letting it go in my moment of panic.

“Am I blind? AM I GOING BLIND?” I rub my eyes harder “Can you still see?” Nico sounds both over me but is finding amusement in my reaction. clearly, he said that out of logic and to make me shut up.

that calms me down immediately.

I can still see.

my eyes scan the area around me, if anything, I think I can see better than before.

”Yeah… yeah I can still see,” my voice is now soft and quiet. my heartbeat begins to slow down again. beating at a regular rate.

DID I JUST UNLOCK NIGHT VISION?

Nico didn't say anything. He just looked at me. I couldn't tell what he was thinking.

“Thanks,” I turned his phone off and handed it back to him, our fingers brushing against each other as he took his phone back from me.

He has cold hands.

His nails are painted black, and it's very well done to say the very least. not that boys can’t be good at painting their nails but hell, assuming he did them on his own they look great. I can’t even paint my nails that well.

And hella rings on his fingers.

The metal wrapped around his fingers made a soothing sound when his fingers rubbed together. it reminded me of when I watch ASMR when the person does finger flutters into the mic with rings on.

He put his phone back in his pocket before turning back to look at me. “Your eyes always do that?” one of his eyebrows raised slightly. I shake my head “this is the first time it’s happened,”

He nods before turning back to face the front, looking over the green hills and fields in front of the forest clearing.

He and I didn’t say anything for a little bit. We sat in silence but it didn't feel awkward that one of us was desperately trying to come up with a topic to talk about or try to find an excuse to leave.

A gentle breeze blows making my hair fly in front of my face.

The breeze brings Nico’s scent in my direction along with it, he smells like sandalwood incense, and a little bit of smoke.

I close my eyes and breathe in my hair still tickling my face and neck from the wind.

Okay, I'll admit it’s a little weird, or maybe a lot, but he smells good okay? did you think I’d be there and not appreciate it?

I rest my forehead against my knees and close my eyes, his scent still enveloping me.

I didn’t hate it. I like sandalwood.

”How are you feeling about all of this?” I hear him ask. I didn’t expect him to ask that.

Why does he care? and why do I care so much that he cares?

I lift my head from resting on my knees and sit criss-cross applesauce.

I breathe in deeply but quietly trying to make it seem like I'm chill but in reality, I’m trying to not start tweaking in front of him. I felt my eyes gloss over a bit, but not exactly well up with tears. but they did moisten a little bit. making me feel uncomfortable.

“I guess it's just a lot to take in,” I shrug. “this is my first time being away from my family.. it feels weird,” I say softly and put my hair behind my ears. I'm not exactly feeling too enthusiastic and the fact that my hair is tickling my chin and neck isn't helping my case.

”Ever?” I look over to Nico and nod “Like not even sleepovers?” he tilts his head at me. “Not even sleepovers,” I confirm nodding my head. His eyebrows raise and he hums in amusement.

“why's that?” I watch him pull out a little bag of those chewy caramel candies wrapped in a clear plastic wrapper. I laugh softly and shake my head “You'd become my therapist if I told you,” I run my hands through my hair, pushing my bangs back.

“Oh?” He raises his eyebrows and pops the caramel candy into his mouth. “I’ll listen,” he says simply. before chewing on his candy.

My eyebrows furrow.

Again, why does he care?

And why do I feel comfortable with the thought of telling him?

“It’s not that big of a deal really—“

“It’s a deal of something if it’s affecting you,” he cuts me off.

alright then.

I sigh and press my bangs down. “I guess I just..” I trail off “I grew up pretty sheltered,” I add and look down to the grass. I can see him looking at me from the corner of my eye. his body is now fully turned to face me.

“Does that bother you?” He finishes the candy in his mouth and puts the wrapper into his pocket. I look up at the stars to think. “No, of course when I was younger I didn’t understand why I was never allowed to do anything.. but now that I'm older I understand,” I nod and look over at him.

He doesn’t say anything, he just waits for me to continue.

��My parents are immigrants.. so their view on friendship isn’t..” I trail off again trying to find the right words to explain this idea that's been ingrained into me throughout my life.

“I guess they just don’t find it very important,” I finish and look back at him once more. “I understand why they did it, especially now knowing that I'm a demigod and the dangers that come with it,” I move my hair from resting on my shoulders to behind me.

“But growing up I didn't have many friends... I still don’t,” I shrug “Most of us here didn't,” he says back.

I nod softly, it was a comforting thought knowing I wasn't the only one who had gone through something like that.

”I guess what I’m saying is the mix of never having friends, not knowing how to make them, never being away from my parents… it makes me feel like a little kid almost,” I say nodding my head and looking over at him, he fidgets with the silver chain around his neck.

I look back up at the sky “Everyone here just seems more grown up than me.. they’re fine without having their mom and dad by their sides, friendship is important… It's weird being around people who are interested in me, I just feel so much younger… but I’m not,” I look down at my hands, my fingers swirling the grass.

”I know it's not a big deal. Most people here have had it rougher than me, it's just different from what I’m used to,” my eyes flicker back to Nico’s “I got used to being alone,” I look down feeling my eyes gloss over again, making me close them to suck the tears back into my eyes.

Nico stays silent, his expression is unreadable. “Well you’re not alone anymore, not here,” his voice doesn’t show any emotion, but there's still something oddly comforting about it.

I open my eyes back up slowly “I’ve never had friends before… I don’t wanna mess it up,”

I sound like alexander hamilton I need to shut the fuck up.

“You won’t,” his tone is firm. like he’s not gonna let me doubt myself, he believes in me more than I do.

My white eyes meet his dark ones, he can probably still see the self-doubt in mine. He stays quiet for a few seconds just staring at me before speaking again “You won't,” he repeats and shakes his head.

I lay back against the grass feeling my back start to ache

Nico stares at me for a few moments before laying back against the grass as well, both of us looking up at the stars.

Comfortable silence falls upon us again. It feels nice.

We stayed like that for a little bit, until my curiosity got the best of me and I spoke up “Hey Nico?” I turn my head to look at him. “Hm?” He keeps his gaze on the stars.

“Who’s your godly parent?” His eyes stayed on the stars a few beats longer before turning to look at me. “Hades,” he searched my face as if waiting for my reaction to the news.

I smile softly at him “That’s cool” I say looking back at the moon.

he didn't take his eyes off me, again I didn't know what he was thinking. I couldn’t tell. He turns his head back to look to the sky, his voice the softest I’ve heard it so far.

“Thanks”

#percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #pjo #pjo fandom #heros of olympus #percy jackson fandom #riordanverse #pjo series #pjo fanfic #nico di angelo #nico di angelo x reader #reality shifting #shifting motivation #percy jackson x reader

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lotties-ashwagandha · 1 year ago

Text

DINERO PARA COMER

pairing: lottie matthews x reader

word count: 935

notes: AU where lottie speaks spanish instead of french bc who the fuck speaks french. also i speak spanish but i am NOT a native speaker so i did the best i can,, pls correct me if i made any mistakes bc im sure i absolutely did

summary: lottie teaches you spanish, and you fail terribly at trying to converse with her in it

Spanish was fucking hard.

You’d been trying to learn from Lottie for weeks — after you’d expressed interest in it she had been giving you daily lessons in Spanish, as adamant as Duolingo personified that you learn everything she could teach you. She was surprisingly good at teaching, but still you struggled, caught up especially on irregular verbs and prone to confusing your nouns.

Lottie had taught you enough so far, however, with her daily lessons in nouns and verbs and extremely complicated conjugations, that she had begun to try having conversations with you in Spanish every so often. They were short and you usually did terribly, but it was fun, and every time you heard her speak Spanish you almost fainted.

This time, you wanted to surprise her. She always initiated the conversations in Spanish, and you always fucked up, but this time you were determined to both start a conversation in Spanish and participate it in it perfectly.

You found Lottie in the kitchen. She’d begun to make dinner, was chopping vegetables to make a vegan pasta she’d spent the whole day excitedly telling you about — she’d found it from some hippie food magazine, you weren’t quite sure, and you didn’t understand. She never cooked, you always did, and you tried your best to prepare yourself for the disaster that surely was to come with Lottie in the kitchen.

You crept up beside her, looping an arm around her waist and pressing a quick kiss to her jaw, and she relaxed into your embrace. She was heavenly, and you took pride in being able to be a calming force for her.

“Dinero?” You asked, looking at the dinner recipe she had in front of her.

Lottie grinned, looking from you to the recipe, pausing and meeting your gaze. “Quieres dinero?”

“Si, tengo hambre.”

“Entonces, comerás dinero?”

“Si…” you trailed off, confused at her reaction. She’d started laughing at you, and you watched with a dead serious expression, a bit hurt. You’d only asked if the paper in front of her was the dinner recipe, and then you’d told her you were wanting dinner since you were hungry, and she was giggling at you. “Que hice?” you asked, sighing.

She took pity on you, trying her best to suppress her laughter and pulling you into her arms, kissing you. You allowed yourself to melt into her, letting your embarrassment fade away as much as you could.

“What were you laughing about?” you asked, and she shrugged, smiling mischievously.

“Just your strange appetite,” she teased.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, it’s just that it’s not every day I hear someone tell me they want to eat money.”

You paused, embarrassment crashing over you like a wave as you realized — dinero. Not dinner, money. Cena was dinner.

“Fuck,” you breathed, resisting a smile, for while you were incredibly embarrassed it was also one of the funniest mistakes you’d ever made in learning Spanish, and you’d made many over the past few weeks. “You know, though, I wouldn’t be surprised if your weird hippie magazine recipe had us eating money to stop capitalism.”

She rolled her eyes. “Tal vez yo ya voy a darte dinero para la cena.”

“I don’t know what you said, but it didn’t sound very nice.”

“It means I love you very much and I’m absolutely not going to give you money for dinner.”

“I don’t believe you,” you said, “but I do like the translation you gave me.”

She chuckled, shaking her head, and after a moment her eyes lit up and she gave you the same look of inspiration she always gave you when she’d come up with a new way to make you practice your horrible Spanish skills.

“Come here,” she said, and moved you to the cutting board. She picked up the knife and put it in your hands, standing behind you. “Cuchillo,” she said, gesturing to the knife.

“Cuchillo,” you repeated, and she nodded, letting her hands fall to your waist and resting her head on your shoulder.

“Tomates,” she said, gesturing to the tomatoes on the cutting board. “Corta los tomates.”

You began to cut the tomatoes on the cutting board. You would’ve done anything she said, could have listened to her give you such simple instructions for hours, she was so perfect when she spoke, and in Spanish especially. You were a bit ashamed for getting so flustered by her, addicted to her, but she was so perfect in every way and you couldn’t help yourself.

“Pon los tomates en el sartén.”

You put the cut tomatoes in the pan on the stove with the rest of the ingredients Lottie had already cut. You felt a rush of pride when she hummed in approval, and you turned to face her, still wrapped in her embrace.

“Mi preciosa,” she said softly, and one of her hands came up to trail along your jaw. She kissed you gently, and you relaxed into her arms, letting her initiate and control every moment as your mind left you during every second you spent with her lips connected with yours.

When you pulled away, Lottie smirked, reaching into her pocket. She presented you with a penny, and you glanced at her with confusion, taking it apprehensively.

“What is this?” You asked, and she looked incredibly proud of herself when she answered.

“You said you wanted money,” she said. “Just, please, promise me you won't eat it.”

Sighing, you gave her back the coin. “You’re never going to let me forget that, are you?”

“Never,” she said, and turned back to the pasta.

****

TRANSLATIONS:

dinero: money

quieres dinero?: do you want money?

si, tengo hambre: yes, i'm hungry

entonces, comeras dinero?: so you're going to eat money?

si: yes

que hice?: what did I do?

tal vez yo ya voy a darte dinero para la cena: maybe I will give you money for dinner

im too lazy to do the rest of them oops figure it out

#lottie matthews x reader #yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets #lottie matthews #adult lottie matthews x reader

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twisted-wonderland-shenanigans · 2 years ago

Note

i love your monster au so much!!

pls consider the twst charas reacting to yuu cracking their joints and being like

"did you... just break your bones.....?" or "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU OKAY??????"

or or them reacting to yuu telling them how dangerous human bites are like,,,

"did u know human bites are the second most dangerous animal bite?? (after mosquitos!) because of the amount of bacteria they carry? yeah lol sometimes ppl who get bitten (mostly by children) have to get that limb AMPUTATED bc of infection :))"

"what........ the. fuck???"

these have probably been mentioned before, but i'd love to see you elaborate or share your thoughts on them! it's not a request, but you can write something about it if you want to! :) <3

Technically the human bite one was touched up on in this ask here, but as for the other one...

It’s amazing how—despite the fact that cracking joints is healthy for us when we’re out of sorts—there are so many people who are shocked or recoil when they hear someone seemingly crack and pop every single joint in our body. XD

Humans are weird even to themselves, let alone to monsters who know next to nothing about us hoomans. :V So let’s take an extra crinkly Yuu and toss them in amongst these monsters, shall we?

////-------------////

It was another normal day at NRC, the sunlight streaming in through the clean windows of the freshly renovated Ramshackle Dorm. Stirred from their slumber, Yuu slowly sat up—minding Grim as the chimera continued snoozing beside them—and yawned. Despite the bed being comfortable, they still woke up stiff and tense. Without a second thought, they put a hand to their chin and—

K-r-r-ack!!

“Mrah!?” Grim yowled as he jumped, staring at Yuu in horror as they repeated the process on the other side and earned more pops and cracks. “What the heck was that?! Are you okay!?”

“Mornin’ Grim,” Yuu greeted, stifling a yawn before twisting their back—earning a multitude of creaks and pops. “Just slept a little funny last night and woke up stiff, so I’m getting the kinks out.”

Kk-krk-krk-pop!

“Okay, I’m ready!” Hopping out of bed, they started getting ready and asked, “So what do you want for breakfast today?”

“…I think I lost my appetite,” Grim uttered.

“Okay, breakfast sandwich to go it is, then.”

///

Krk-kk-k-kh!

“Gah! Yuu, what the hell?!”

“Are you okay?!”

“Human! Are you injured?!”

“Wot the hell?!”

“Urk!?”

“Can’t the Great Grim eat his breakfast sandwich in peace?!”

“Sorry guys! I just woke up really stiff this morning and needed to stretch.”

Ace looked at them in horror as he said, “Are you kidding me? Everyone thought you broke your arms and legs with all that cracking you did at PE this morning! How can you still be making more noise?”

“What? I was just loosening up a few joints with some stretches so I could keep up with everyone!”

“Coach doesn’t even chase you as hard as he chases us around the track, yet you’re the one who sounds like a crumpled soda can,” Epel commented warily.

“Is this normal for humans?” Deuce asked in concern, forelegs shuffling nervously as they made their way towards their next class. “It sounded like it really hurt…do you need to see the nurse?”

Yuu shrugged and said, “No, I’m fine, really. It only really hurts if you try to force it and don’t let the muscles relax first. Back home, we have people called ‘chiropractors’ who do the cracking for us when we’re in too much pain to move a certain way. Don’t your joints crack and pop too?”

“Well yeah, whenever we stretch it can happen sometimes,” Ace answered. “But if it’s constant clicking like what you’ve been doing, it usually means that something is wrong like an injury or something.”

“Oh.”

“In canine monsters, it usually means that there’s a torn ligament or it’s bone rubbing against bone,” Jack explained. “My father experienced that once before, and it took him a while to heal after he got the problem fixed.”

“Oh wow…sorry, I didn’t mean to make you guys worry so much,” Yuu said, thinking back to the grape incident as they entered the classroom together. “I’ll try not to do it as often, okay?”

“If you have to do it, then don’t do it before or after I eat!” Grim said.

“You’re still eating the breakfast sandwich I made even though you complained about losing your appetite this morning.”

“As if the Great Grim would ever let good food go to waste…”

Class began as normal, Yuu listening to Professor Crewel as he instructed them on what was on the agenda for the day as the homework assignment was collected. For the most part it wasn’t bad, but today Yuu was feeling more tired than usual after the workout from this morning. As they sat at their desk, they shifted a little uncomfortably. There was some tightness in their upper back, and no amount of shoulder rolls or slight stretching could ease the pressure.

Out of the corner of their eye they saw one of their monster classmates begin to stretch, stretching his arms over his head as he yawned before settling back in his seat. Maybe that was the kind of stretch they needed to do…worth a shot anyway!

Raising their arms and interlocking their fingers, Yuu straightened their back and curved as their arms bent back—

CR-AK-KK-K-KH!!!

The whole classroom fell silent, multiple pairs of eyes turning to face Yuu as they sat frozen in their seat with arms still stretched over them. Even Yuu was stunned by the sheer volume of the cracks that escaped their back, faintly making out their friend’s expressions as they stared in open mouthed disbelief and horror. That was the loudest crack they’d ever heard their body make! At this point Yuu was afraid to move, looking like some comically stretched out statue.

Before anyone could ask if they were okay, Yuu asked, “…am I dead?”

///

Despite the sheer amount of panic and concern the class had over their wellbeing, Yuu was given the all clear by the medical researchers after a quick x-ray revealed that they had not—in fact—broken any bones. It was during a discussion with the researchers that it was discovered that chiropractors were in fact a thing in Twisted Wonderland. But given the fact that most monsters don’t use it as often as other medical practices such as acupuncture, it’s become a rare practice that very few still teach.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland monster au #twst monster au

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callmewrinkles3 · 1 year ago

Text

Peace - DR3 x Fem!OC

Summary: After their whistle stop trip to Perth it’s time for the next race in Baku. A photo causes issues, and Em sees something she shouldn’t have spotted.

Word Count: 9.6k

Warnings: Zak Brown, mentions of food issues (lack of appetite, not eating, what could be considered picky eating), media being assholes, panic attacks, mentions of mental health issues.

A/N: We’re baaaaaaccccckkkk! Sorry for the delay, we’ve been ridiculously busy. But in our defence, this is a monster chapter. We’re sticking with 2022 for the next while.

June 2022

“I have a couple of apartments.”

Em half woke to Dan’s words. She hadn’t really been asleep on the shorter flight from Dubai to Baku. Instead she’d been half dozing with her Beats playing music. London was clutched in her hand while she curled against Dan’s side. There’d been a plane swap and something else but their fancy seats were swapped into a row of three economy ones. Honestly if she was asked she preferred being able to curl up like this on a plane. His arm was around her and she got to chill out with him beside her.

“What do you mean?”

“For London. The city, not the bear I mean. If you still want to move in together?” He turned the tablet towards her to show an option. Three bedrooms, a view, in one of the parts of London they’d shortlisted. It looked nearly too good to be true.

“Talk when we get to the hotel? But yeah. I want to move in with you properly.”

They were two of the first into Baku for the race which meant that instead of going immediately into a bright orange race world Em got to unwind for a night. Dan brought her to an Italian restaurant for dinner and they held hands in public. They went back to the hotel room and curled up in bed before Dan asked her a question.

“So with the apartment thing. I’m looking at places for us to buy, not rent.”

“Danny…” She trailed off and looked at him, at the way he smiled at her.

“I didn’t tell you this. It was supposed to be a surprise. But I got the email the day before you arrived in Melbourne and it didn’t feel right to say it then. I dunno if you remember but do you remember when we were in Austin in 2019? We were in bed and you were talking about how much you like the city and you just trailed off and said it’d be a nice place to show kids.”

The vague memory hit her, the night after the race. When Dan had been jealous of her talking to Charles and Pierre and they went to the hotel. It had been emotional and she was still luxuriating that they’d said I love you a few weeks before.

“Yeah. Kind of?”

“I found a place. I was looking on and off since then but it had to be in delivery radius of that barbecue place we like. Your name’s on it too. I didn’t know if you were coming back or not but it’s our place. Bought, not rented. And if we don’t spend loads of time in Austin but we’ve got a place then we should buy somewhere in London. You don’t like Monaco that much. We just need to be there a bit for taxes and stuff. But we should buy somewhere. A home. Our home.”

“You bought us a place?” She couldn’t get over it. She couldn’t stop thinking about it. He bought them a home when she wasn’t even around.

“Yeah. It’s ours.”

“I love you so much. So, so much. And yeah. I want our home. A real home.”

“I’m getting you your lavender office. I promised you that I was going to get you a lavender office. It’s happening.”

She couldn’t stop grinning, holding onto Dan and sleeping well for the first time in weeks. It was restful at last.

Wednesday meant most people were arriving into the city and that included Blake and Michael. They hugged her tightly as soon as they saw her, both checking in through the day. There was still a divide between them and Dan. She could see the way they were with him. But that needed to wait, she couldn’t deal with all of it. Not now.

Most of the day was spent sitting with Blake and coming up with how she was coming back to work. She wanted to get back as quickly as she could, but Blake didn’t want to risk it for her. Which she understood. But she wanted to feel normal even when she felt like she was barely holding together. The other part of the day with Blake was having a conversation she never thought she’d need to have.

She had to make a plan about how her relationship was going to be made public.

Somehow she hadn’t been spotted much in Monaco, just a few gossip blogs which made life easier and harder. It was easier because at least it wasn’t a complete surprise that she was around. But it was harder because she hated having to do this. The fact that her and Dan were finally admitting that they love each other meant a PR response had to happen felt stupid. They were just two people in love. Why did the world care?

But it was clear that the world did care, the blog posts and TikToks and instagram posts about her were proof of that. The #WheresEm posts on TikTok from fans analysing photos of Dan, Michael, and Blake to see if she was in the background. The slideshows of her and other women who worked in F1. It was kind of surreal now that Blake was showing her.

“You’re in the paddock every week. You work in the sport. Netflix interviews you and every February people wonder if DTS is going to call you “Daniel’s girlfriend”. It happens.” Blake was apologetic as he opened a folder on his laptop called Tax Files.

“You told me that was taxes and that’s why it’s password protected.”

“Yeah, sorry. If you knew you’d have killed me.” She looked at the four PDFs held in the file. Dan_Em_dating, Dan_Em_engaged, Dan_Em_married, Dan_Em_baby. The last one cut like a knife.

“Seriously? Engaged and married? Statements for all of it?”

“It’s the two of you. I wrote them after you were in Vegas, there were rumours online for two months after that the two of you got secretly married. I thought it was better to be safe than sorry. For both of you. But this is the reactive ones in case someone posted photos or something. Right now I think you doing an insta post is enough, it’ll confirm but you don’t need to do details. Do you have any PG photos?”

Twenty minutes later a photo of her in Dan’s lap as he held her and gave her a kiss that was chosen to be the photo. Dan used his grid mostly for work related stuff so it was her account that would post it. The caption at least was her own decision. Thirty seconds of thought and she tapped it out. I know you know, but I love you to the moon and to Saturn. Once the draft was saved the schedule was set. Post it during FP1. It would be fine.

The plan mostly worked for Thursday. Her makeup was thick and Blake refused to let her work for longer than an hour of checking emails, but she walked into the paddock with her head held high. Friends nodded and gave her a smile, Carmen’s eyes widening slightly when she saw her and Em forced a grin. She was part of a team. She belonged her. She knew what she was doing. It would be fine and it was worth it.

Sitting in hospitality for the day Em refreshed one of the gossip instagram accounts she still followed, a photo of her talking to Blake appearing at the top of the grid. The caption made her huff.

She’s baaaaaaccccckkkkkk! Daniel Ricciardo’s assistant Em was seen back in the paddock. The rumour was that she was in Monaco but hiding in hospitality. She hasn’t been seen at a race since the Australian GP at the beginning of April, where she was seen with his parents and extended family. The duo were spotted in Perth for the weekend off last week, but they’ve never confirmed a relationship. Reminder: Em falls under our WAG rules because we don’t have confirmation if they are or aren’t in a relationship. No criticism of how she looks or what she’s wearing.

“What’s so funny?” Blake asked and she turned the screen to him.

“I’m kind of surprised how quickly people started sharing photos of me again. Am I really that impressive?”

“I think it’s more that you’ve been around for so long. Tomorrows probably going to be chaos with the post. You know that, right? You’ll get through it but there will definitely be questions.”

“I know. If we did this years ago it’d have been easier.”

Instead of a third iced latte that she’d asked for, Michael handed her an orange juice as lunch was brought over. He received a glare in its place.

“I thought I asked for a coffee?”

“And you’re vibrating in place. Eat something, Wriggle.”

The chopped salad in front of her was pretty but the idea of even touching it made her feel awful. Encouraging looks made her spear a couple of pieces of chicken that she could just about separate and eat them. At least playing with her food meant that it wasn’t noticed that she wasn’t really eating.

Dan was able to run in and grab food before going back to more team meetings. He pushed a kiss to the top of her head before raising an eyebrow at her bowl, but Em shook her head before he could speak. It was two or three minutes before he had to leave with Michael. Before he did he ran across to the coffee bar and plucked a lemon muffin from the stand to place in front of her. It was a smile and a squeeze of her hand before he had to go again.

She picked at the muffin and at her dinner that night before they were back in the hotel room together. Dan kept giving her looks to eat more but she was too worn out to eat. It was like her body was constantly waiting for the next crisis, coiled and ready to release adrenaline while she was begging it to relax. She needed to curl up with her boyfriend and be held by him. The day went well. People could tell they were truly in a relationship. Everything was public tomorrow. She could do it.

For the first time in years Em stressed about what to wear to the paddock the next morning. None of her clothes fit right and her usual style felt awkward. Normally she tried to blend in but this was the one day she shouldn’t have to. She wasn’t just Dan’s assistant anymore. People would keep caring about what she wore, working out what labels she had on and how much her outfit cost. It was so much stress that she didn’t want to deal with but Dan put his arms around her waist and kissed her neck.

“Wear what makes you smile. You’ll be beautiful no matter what.”

“You’re a charmer.”

“And you need to eat something. I know it’s not your favourite but I got you a bacon sandwich with my breakfast. Try to eat some of it?”

“Just for you.”

The nerves thrummed through her body as she pulled on straight leg jeans and tightened her belt. Her outfit was finished with a Paramore tee that was at least a size too big and one of the merch hats Dan always had around, but she was clothed and felt good. She could do this. She could do it. Em even ate half of the sandwich Dan gave her despite the butterflies in her stomach trying to rebel.

Their plan for getting to the race was simple. The four of them were driving to the track together, Blake taking her usual role as driver. Dan and Michael were walking in five minutes before she and Blake did so they could take most of the attention away. Once he was in the car for FP1 she’d post the Instagram draft and hopefully someone would fuck up in practice so the “Daniel Ricciardo has a girlfriend” story would die down. It was a good plan that they could do.

When they arrived at the drivers car park they all stepped out of the car before Dan pulled her into a giant hug. It was nearly deserted in the early morning and she fell into him before sharing a kiss and a smile.

“That’s the last secret kiss we ever have to do. How does that feel?” Dan asked to make her grin.

“So no more hidden corners in dive bars?”

“I mean that’s a tradition so we have to have some more there, right? I love you. I’ll see you after practice.”

“I love you too. I think Blake is actually letting me work today so I’ll see you then.” They had one final kiss before Dan and Michael walked away while she and Blake stayed behind

“Just for the record, if you and Dan split up again I’m choosing you. You’re my little sister. I don’t want you to go anywhere else.”

“I learned my lesson, Blakey. I’ve no intention of going anywhere. I promise.”

Five minutes later they were walking through the paddock and Em ignored the eyes that were on her. It was a statement to be publicly there in the paddock, to be beside Blake while she wore a 3 hat. She wasn’t ashamed of herself or her love for Dan. She couldn’t be. They were in love and that was what mattered to her.

They sat in Dan’s driver room while Em went through yet more emails that she’d missed while she was gone. The practice stayed on tv and she let the familiar voices roll over her. With ten minutes left on the clock Blake gave her a nudge to post the photo with a smile.

“Ready to be a WAG?”

“Will I ever be? But I’ve basically been one for the last four years without the benefits.”

When she opened Instagram her notifications were already going insane. There were people mentioning her in comments and tagging her and she had to scroll back to see where it all stemmed from. But when she found one of the paddock photographers accounts and started to read the caption her blood ran cold.

Arriving into the paddock this morning ahead of Day One of the Azerbaijan Grand Prix I got to see possibly the rarest sight in Formula One - Daniel Ricciardo and his presumed girlfriend @callmewrinkles3 canoodling and revealing their romance. We don’t know a lot about Emma except that she’s English and has worked with Ricciardo since at least the summer break in 2019. Her first appearance at a race was Barcelona in 2018 where she hid in the back of the Red Bull garage. Most people have assumed that they’re together but they’ve never publicised anything. It’s clear from the photos how in love they are, but why have they never admitted anything before? She’s missed every race since the Australian GP and the rumour around the paddock was that they had split up. I think that can be safely ignored now.

“Blake. Fuck.” She held her phone out to Blake so he could see the post and watched as his face changed while reading. “One hour. One fucking hour.”

The comments began to fill her screen and she couldn’t help but read them.

They’re actually together? I thought that was a joke.

Why did she just disappear like that?

Dan deserves better than an assistant.

Who is she? Just appeared one day like she was always there.

Friends with bennies. There’s no way they’re dating. They’d have admitted it by now. Has to be some PR thing.

“Timmy? Em? Can you hear me?” The panic was rising through her chest as all her deepest fears were on screen. Dan deserved better. He deserved more than her. She’d ruined everything when she left she never should have come back. Why did she come back when she’d ruined things for him?

Strong arms wrapped around her and pulled her tight, Em’s desperation filling her as Blake held on.

“I’ve got you. I’ve got you. Deep breaths in and out.” Tears streamed down her face as she tried to copy his breathing. They were just one hour late to do it. One hour. But the one thing that they’d protected for so long and had been so careful with had been revealed to the world before either of them had the chance to do it. Outside the paddock they were supposed to be private citizens. That area was off limits, it wasn’t supposed to be where they could be photographed. Especially not by accredited ones.

“Why us? Why the fuck does this always happen to us?” It was all she could get out as she kept crying, Blake holding onto her tightly and rubbing her back. It wasn’t the same as when Dan or Grace did it but it helped as she tried to stop herself from spiralling. But Dan had his stupid briefing and then had to get ready for FP2 and she was barely going to see him. All she wanted was for him to tell her it was going to be ok. It wasn’t much to ask. Em lost track of time as she tried to pull all of her broken pieces together. She needed to get it together.

“I can get him out of his meeting. Want me to grab him now?”

“Please?” She felt pitiful with the tiny sound coming out of her mouth, but Blake left a kiss on her forehead before sitting her on the massage table and leaving the room.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can, ok? Just remember. You and him love each other so much somehow. A photo and internet trolls are never going to change what the two of you have. I promise you that TimTam.”

She didn’t know how long it took until Blake returned with Dan but she could feel the fragile parts of herself begin to move and crack again. Why would Dan want her to be there with him? She’d left once before and she should just leave again. Let everyone else be happy. She could make herself be happy without them eventually she thought. The world was acting like loving Dan was some awful thing, that she didn’t deserve to love him and she didn’t know how she could keep going with it. It wasn’t fair.

Her sobs started again and Em’s arms went around her knees to hold them against her chest. It was going to be ok. It was going to be fine. It had to be fine. She couldn’t be too loud or people would hear and that would be worse for Dan if his girlfriend was having a breakdown in his room. She shoved her hand against her mouth to muffle her sobs. She could be quiet. She had to be quiet.

“Emmy? I’m right here Wrinkles.”

“Danny.”

It felt so stupid. So fucking stupid. It was a photo that revealed news that they were about to share anyway, but they wanted to get to do it. It wasn’t up to anyone else to share it. Why did they think they could?

“I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry Baby. You don’t deserve that and you never deserved have comments made about you like that. If you want to go home just tell me and you can, I’ll book the flights for you.”

The words hit her gut and she wanted to get sick. He wanted her to leave. Wanted her to go home.

She didn’t have a home anymore.

She destroyed their home and she was homeless and she had nothing left. It was all gone.

“I…I…We…We don’t have one. I don’t. I’m homeless. I got rid of it and Danny it’s gone and it’s my fault please don’t make me leave.” Her sobs began again as the reality of what she’d done hit her. She’d destroyed their home in a weekend. She was homeless. Michael had offered his spare room but she couldn’t. What had she done?

“No. Oh no, Emmy, no, I promise. I promise you’re not going anywhere if you don’t want to. I want you to stay here. I want to be here with you all the time. I’m right here and you’re staying with me I promise. I promise.”

She didn’t know how long he held onto her for but as her sobs subsided the embarrassment at how she acted filled her. It was all over a photo. This shouldn’t have happened because of a photo. But Dan held onto her and wiped her eyes while she stopped crying, emotionally and physically exhausted with red and puffy eyes. Her foundation was entirely gone but Dan smiled at her like she lit up the universe.

“For the record I hate saying this but we have thirty minutes until Dan needs to be in the car. And I might have a solution. Maybe.” Em twisted in Dan’s lap to look at Blake as he began to explain. Nat from Sky was willing to be outside to ‘run into’ Dan and do a softball interview for him to explain everything.

“Do it.” He hadn’t even finished speaking when Em cut across, making herself stand up on shaky legs and stretching while still holding his hand.

“Emmy…”

“Danny, do it. You get to get ahead of it and say something about how everyone knew. Act like it’s just stupid gossip. And then you can drive and ignore it, yeah?”

“If you’re sure.”

“I am.”

She wiped her face on one of the towels that was supposed to be for after Dan’s practice before nodding at him. Dan stood up and pulled her close, holding his lips against her forehead in silence. They were desperate to stay as close as possible for as long as they could until Blake tapped her shoulder.

“She’ll be downstairs in thirty seconds, it’s live.”

“Go.” It was a kiss to make Dan leave and Em sat down to get her makeup out of her bag.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m watching from the garage. So I’m making myself look vaguely presentable.”

Her fingers were shaking as she started pulling concealer and foundation out. The tv was already tuned to the Sky feed and when she heard Natalie’s voice her attention went straight to it.

“And look who we have here! Daniel Ricciardo was heading over to his garage but agreed to talk to me for a moment. You’ve had all of the attention on you thanks to that Instagram post everyone��s seen about your relationship.” It was open and warm and Em bit her lip while she watched.

“Yeah. It’s funny, we never thought we needed to announce that we were together because everyone knew. You were talking to Em at the AusGP opening yourself. It didn’t make sense to do some big thing when everyone already knew. But now here we are, I guess. At least that’s better news than my driving in that practice. We’ve got a couple of upgrades that we’re trying to learn how they work with this car, so we’ll see how they perform in this practice.”

The way he was so casual about it made Em smile while she finished her concealer and patted it down. It wasn’t anywhere near good but it’d do, and her sunglasses would hide the worst of it.

“Ready?” She asked Blake. He nodded once and followed her across. It was the first time she’d stood in the garage to watch him drive since she and Dan had their fight in Jeddah and he sent her away, but she walked out with her head held high. Dan was standing at the bottom of the stairs to wait for her and held out his hand, Em smiling at him.

“You look beautiful. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

He did better in that practice than the morning one but Em stood there silently. Blake had a hand at her back to keep her steady on her feet, orange headphones glued to her head. She hated the colour. Hated this garage. She wished it felt like home the way Renault had by the end. But she could do this. It was just an hour, and she could see when the cameras caught her and she waved. A small smile stayed on her face as she stared at Dan’s little orange dot on the screen.

She waited for him to get out and they held hands walking to hospitality for food before Dan had to go to more meetings. It was a luxury to hold his and and get to see him as her boyfriend. People stopped to ask for his autograph and take photos and she stepped back to let the photo be taken. One of the girls came up to her after getting the photo.

“I’m sorry about that photo for you. You deserved better than that for how your relationship was made public.”

“Thanks a lot.” It meant more than she could say that a stranger was being nice to her.

That night after yet more picking at food and trying to decide what she could stomach she curled up in Dan’s arms while he pressed kisses to her head. She didn’t know what to do or how exactly she was feeling, but that background anxiety was still there.

“Can I ask you something?” Dan whispered in the dark. It wasn’t too late so she nodded against his chest. “I know you probably don’t want to. But maybe we should find you someone to talk to? You’re not ok, Baby. It’s ok to need some help for a little while.”

“My dad always said that it was weak to need it. That if I couldn’t get through things then I needed to try harder.” The words slipped out before she meant to say it.

“You know I talked to someone last year after Monaco. I think it’s strong to admit that you need some help. It’s such a brave thing to do. It’s up to you but I think it could help.”

It was silent between them for a few minutes before Em could speak. “I think I need some help. Can you help me find someone who does it online?”

“I’ll be right beside you for all of it. I promise.”

“I know.”

Even admitting that she needed to talk to someone took some of the weight off her shoulders. There was something deep inside her that just felt broken and unable to put itself back together. She was freaking out about tiny things. That photo shouldn’t have made her feel this way. The entire Monaco weekend shouldn’t have affected her like that. She’d seen Dan crash before - she’d been in the garage when he crashed in Austria two years before - and the Monaco one wasn’t a big one. But it hurt her in ways she didn’t realise.

Em had never put herself first in her life. It was always everyone else. But this time she needed to put herself at the top of the list or she’d lose herself forever.

The trip to the track was quiet before practice and qualifying. Blake had made the decision that she wasn’t working until at least Austria. And it felt right if she was really honest. The fact that she didn’t want to fight about working proved to her just how necessary it was. Instead she sat in hospitality trading between cups of coffee and juices or water. Michael kept putting big bowls of food in front of her and she couldn’t bear to eat any of it. It was all mixed together and weird textures and the fish curry he tried to get her to eat made her feel disgusting. It was sweet that he tried but no. She could pick out bites when she needed to.

Over what was officially the lunch break but everyone was spending working she flicked through a crappy romance novel on her kindle when movement caught her eye. The teams had all come in and grabbed food before going back to the garage to get the cars ready for setup or do whatever they had to do. Blake was with Dan and Michael before Dan went to a fanzine event. She promised she’d be ok sitting there by herself. Em was convinced that they’d gotten people to keep an eye on her too, but she’d be fine. She could do this.

It was the two men walking through the barely quarter full room that caught her eye but the accent was what really hit her. Zak Brown talking to an Australian wasn’t unusual. What was unusual was that it was Mark Webber and not her boyfriend. Webber. Who managed last years F2 champion who didn’t have a seat. And Brown had been making comments about Dan’s performances needing to improve.

Oh no.

She always trusted her gut. Always. Her gut had yelled at her to not walk away in Melbourne, that it felt wrong, but she ignored it and look how things ended up? Her gut is what made her talk to Dan at Blake’s party nearly five years before. It made her kiss him and fall for him. Helped him make the decision to go to Renault. It was the right thing to do.

And she didn’t trust Brown. Not after the rumours and innuendo and the way her reputation took coordinated hit after hit last year. He had no reason to talk to Webber. Mark had never been in McLaren before, it was just wrong. She knew. Her gut was screaming at her, she knew. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Before she could start freaking out and worrying she saw Dan arrive in with the boys, a girl in her late teens with them. Em smiled as they came over, Dan kissing her cheek.

“Em, this is Rebecca. She flew out here for the race from England. I met her at the fanzone. She wanted me to give you something but I thought she could do it herself.”

“Hey, it’s nice to meet you.” Em looked at the girl who had a sheepish smile on her face before holding out a small bracelet.

“Hi, it’s really nice to meet you too. I saw all the media stuff yesterday and it was awful. I’m sorry people made such a big deal about your relationship like that. I don’t get it. But I make bracelets when I’m anxious and I had beads with me so I made this for you. I hope you like it.”

Em stared at the multicoloured beads and grinned. It said FEA in the middle, patterns of blue, purple, and pink beats surrounding it. It was perfect.

“This is gorgeous. Thank you so much. And thanks for being so kind. Do you want me to take a photo of you and Dan in here?”

“Actually could I get one with you? Feel free to say no. I know it might be weird. But you and Britta and Angela make me think that maybe I could work in motorsport? I’m not good at engineering or anything like that. But maybe I could do something else.” She blushed but Em just smiled, moving her bag with London sticking out of the top so she could sit in.

“Sit in here and we can take one. Just don’t put it online? I haven’t been well, I don’t want people seeing it.”

“Oh no! No way. I just want proof this happened, you know? Thank you so much for this.”

Em watched her leave with Blake, a grin on her face and her new Paddock Club lanyard was wrapped around her neck so she could watch qualifying and the race tomorrow in style. Em slipped her FEA bracelet onto her wrist beside her enchante one, the two comforting on her wrist.

“Sorry for springing this on you. She went to give it to me, said “This is for Em, could you give it to her? There’s loads of people supporting her and she should know that.” I thought you’d want to know.”

“She’s lovely. And that means so much. But what do you mean supporting me?”

Dan opened twitter and she went to groan but instead he showed her a hashtag. #Demma4ever was trending under motorsport. She wanted to groan when she first saw it but the one thing she realised was everyone was so sweet. People unsurprised they were together. People defending them from trolls. People defending her specifically from trolls. A twitter thread from someone calling themselves @cowboydan3 who had traced their relationship since 2018 by pointing out all the times they seemed to be together. It warmed her heart.

“All these people? But they’ve never even met me.”

“Not all of them. But there’s people who did at different events and talked about how you were nice to them. Fans who you pointed out to me so I could say hi and take a photo. People who say I’m in a better mood when you’re around. Yeah there’s trolls and bullshit, but most people have gotten to know the real you. They like you, Baby.”

“Yeah. They do. When’s qualifying?” She needed to not talk about it or she’d cry in public again. She couldn’t cry again.

“Thirty minutes. You gonna watch from here or the garage?”

“The garage?”

She stood beside Blake and watched as Dan was knocked out in Q2. The only piece of justice was Lando also got eliminated, so it wasn’t a “Daniel isn’t performing” kind of day. He had two overtakes to make to get into the points. He could do that. That was definitely something that could happen.

Standing in the paddock she spotted Lance and knew she had an opportunity to get some information. When she waved he made a beeline for her, offering a hug that she gave lightly thanks to the sweaty nomex.

“Sorry about your quali, I know it’s not what you wanted. How are you?”

“We’ll get there. I’m doing ok, how’re you? Especially after everything.”

“I’ll be ok. Unexpected, but I’ll be fine. I had a question for you actually!” She kept her smile fixed and hoped her nerves weren’t showing. “Has Esteban said anything to you about what Oscar is doing while he’s looking for a seat? I know he’s Alpine’s reserve this year.”

“No, nothing. We don’t tend to talk about much work stuff. Unless Alonso’s annoyed him. Then he’ll go on a rant but I ignore it. Dan was the only teammate that Esteban really got on with. But no. Why?”

“You know Dan. Young Australian who came to Europe alone too young, plus we got to know Oscar as a Renault junior in 2020. He wanted to check in but Rossi won’t let him anywhere near Alpine so it’s hard to do it.” He laughed before Lance’s osteo, Henry, came to get him for something.

“If I hear anything I’ll tell you. The latest rumour I heard is possibly a Williams seat. Nicky doesn’t think he’ll keep his seat which sucks.”

“Yeah it does, he’s a good one. Thanks Lance, good luck for tomorrow.”

Everyone knew the rumours about the Williams seat being available. The main rumour Em had heard was that it was a Williams junior who’d get it, there were a couple of prospects in F2 depending on how the season went. Fuck. This was real. It was real and all Em wanted to do was curl up and sob but she couldn’t. She had to walk through the paddock and find Blake to talk to him, and then talk to Dan about it.

As she began to walk back to the meeting rooms Em spotted Ted Kravitz, giving him a wave and a nod as she walked past.

“And of course that’s Daniel Ricciardo’s girlfriend walking past. It’s so nice to get to call her his girlfriend, you know that? Everyone’s known for a long time, back when he was at Renault, which of course is now Alpine, she was known for getting a card for everyone for their birthday. It was probably the worst kept secret in this paddock.”

Getting Blake into Dan’s driver room was easy and she put Fearless on through speakers to muffle their voices. This wasn’t a conversation she wanted to have anywhere near the rest of McLaren but she didn’t have a choice.

“What’s going on, Timmy? Please tell me you’re not leaving again.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” She fixed him with a glare. “But we need to talk and it needs to be private. Nobody can overhear. What do you know about Mark Webber and how his career ended?”

“He was fed up of F1. I was barely in Red Bull when he was leaving, but he was done and everyone knew about it. Dan was nearly pulled up mid season. Why?”

“He had a meeting with Brown today. I watched them leave Brown’s office just beside the cafeteria. Neither of them realised I was there, the cafeteria was basically empty. But they were there for a long time and we’ve both heard him talk about Dan’s performance.”

“Ems, no. No way. Dan has eighteen months left.” She shook her head and watched Blake’s face carefully as she spoke.

“Dan has a twenty five million dollar contract break clause. He’s working himself to the bone for this team and I’m pretty sure that Piastri is going to be in his car next year. I just…maybe I’m wrong. But when has my gut ever been wrong on this? I know this Blakey. I know it.”

“You’re sure?”

“I mean I wasn’t in the room but what other reason is there for the two of them to have a closed door meeting in between practice and qualifying on a Grand Prix weekend?”

“None. Fuck. But are you really, really sure? Seriously.”

“If my mental health wasn’t in the toilet you’d believe me immediately, right?” A sheepish nod. “I know you probably don’t trust me. I don’t trust me about me sometimes right now. I’m hanging on by a thread. But this is Dan’s career, and the one thing I have always done is put his career before anything else. You know that’s what I do. I wouldn’t say this based on anything else. You know that.”

“I know. I know.” I didn’t think they’d fucking do this. I didn’t think they’d do more to hurt him after last year.”

They agreed to keep it to themselves for now, that Em would tell Dan that night. She didn’t want to mention it before the race but he deserved to know. Part of her brain was blaming herself for it. If she hadn’t left then maybe Imola would have been better and the races wouldn’t have been a mess. But she couldn’t think like that. It wasn’t worth it. She couldn’t change the past.

There was a sponsor gala on that she hadn’t realised was even happening, but she was his official plus one to everything. At least she’d learned to always bring a dress to wear to any fancy event with her. It was the same one she’d worn in Melbourne to the race weekend opening but she didn’t care. The dress was looser than the last time she’d worn it, the corset top hanging rather than snug against her chest and waist. Instead of heels she put on ballet flats and did her makeup perfectly. She could get through this. For Dan.

Being on his arm as his girlfriend was a completely different experience to being there with him as his assistant. She smiled and made small talk with people who actually listened to her because of that title change instead of ignoring her. But finally they were face to face with Brown and his wife. Em kept the smile on her face and shook his hand.

“It’s good to see you back, Emma. We were worried about you. Dan didn’t tell us what was happening.”

“That’s because I asked him not to tell anyone. I was ill for a while, we wanted to make sure that I’d be ok before we let anyone know.” It was the same story they’d told everyone in the paddock who’d asked and he paled slightly at it. Worth every minute of not telling the full truth.

Finally they sat down for the dinner and Em stared at the plate placed in front of her. It was all traditional Azerbaijani food, but the worst part was that it was all baked together. There was nothing separate and she could tell from moving her fork through it that the textures were going to be impossible for her. Her stupid food thing and she was going to embarrass Dan if she didn’t eat anything and she couldn’t. She got some meat on her fork and lifted it to her lips, nibbling. It was tasty. But trying to swallow more than the tiniest bite felt impossible.

“You ok?” Dan whispered and Em nodded.

“I didn’t know this was the food.”

“Blake and Michael both checked there’d be food for you. We can just go back to the hotel. You need to eat something.”

“We can’t leave.”

“I’m not letting my girlfriend starve. Not with everything happening Em. You need food.”

“We can’t.” She took a breath and a sip of water, squeezing his thigh. “I’m not that hungry and I can get food when we’re back at the hotel. I’ll drink water. But listen to me. There’s something weird going on right now at McLaren and you can’t leave. You just can’t. I promise I’ll tell you everything when we get back. Just trust me?”

“I always trust you, Emmy. Promise you’ll tell me?” She could hear the worry in his voice but she just nodded, keeping her face smiling like he’d said something hilarious.

“I promise. Pinkie swear.”

A waiter came by about her full plate but Dan stepped in.

“She’s on a medical diet at the moment. We were told there’d be a special plate put aside.”

“Oh, we’re sorry. There’s none.”

She stayed by his side while they did the rounds to talk to people and sit through speeches. Dan’s hand stayed in the small of her back as she nodded and smiled and kept her mouth shut unless it was something she was confident about. Food was the last thing she wanted to deal with when they got back to the hotel. She wanted to go to bed and forget about the day, but that wasn’t going to happen. Instead they got in the same car as Lando to get back to the hotel.

“I mean I get why they didn’t give options but do they not realise picky eaters exist? It was kinda alright but I’d have liked a heads up! What about you, Em? Did you like the food?”

“Didn’t have much, medical diet.”

“Oh. I’m glad you’re back now. He was a mopey git while you weren’t travelling.”

Em knew it was just the younger man’s turn of phrase but she kept a tight hold of Dan’s hand to make sure he knew she was there. Thankfully it was a quiet drive back to the hotel. All the Hiltons in the world felt the same after a year of being sponsored by them. Walk in, hotel reception on the left, lifts around the corner and beside a vending machine. They shared the lift with Lando who waved as he stepped off on his floor. Em kept a hold of Dan’s arm until they were inside his room and he pulled her into a hug.

It wasn’t until she’d ordered room service and it was delivered that she was willing to speak. Once she had this conversation she knew she wouldn’t eat for the rest of the night. Then Dan would get annoyed and it would hurt more than it could ever help and that was the last thing she wanted to happen. So instead Em took a couple of bites of chicken teriyaki while mulling over how to say the words that she knew would devastate her boyfriend.

“When I was in hospitality between practice and qualifying I sat in the corner so nobody spotted me. I didn’t realise that I could see Zak’s office. Mark Webber came out of a long meeting in there shaking Zak’s hand and they left together about five minutes before you came in.”

It was silent in the room until Dan let out a long sigh. He slowly lay back on the bed, his head hitting the mattress. Em watched as he took deep breaths before undoing his bow tie and the top button of his shirt.

“On Saturday night in Monaco, just before I got you from Aston Martin, Andreas called me into his office. He told me that my seat is at risk if I don’t perform better. Fuck. Fuck!” He whisper yelled the last word and sat up while rubbing his face. “I didn’t want to worry you, that’s why I didn’t tell you what he said. You were so fucking fragile Baby. I couldn’t. You still are. I thought it was just a warning.”

“Is it because I left?” The words hung in the air for a moment and she wanted to get sick. Fuck. Fuck all of it. She left and Dan struggled and now he was going to lose his seat and it was all her fault how could she have done that to him?”

“No, no. No Baby. I promise you it’s not because you left.” He pulled his suit jacket off while coming over to pull her into his arms and push a kiss to her head. “I just can’t make the car work. It steers weird and the braking doesn’t work the same was as any other car I’ve ever driven. You being here makes it easier to clear my head when I’m not stuck in the car. But you made me promise in Spa that day to have a clear head before I get in the car. I swear, I clear my mind every single time.”

“Why didn’t you tell me then?”

“Because I couldn’t. You just came back and I was so scared you’d leave again. If I told you you’d blame yourself and leave. I couldn’t. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for not telling you.”

“Don’t be sorry.” She held his face with her fingers and looked up at him. “You were right not to say anything then. I was barely thinking then. I still barely am. I couldn’t hear it.”

“I’m still sorry.”

“And I still forgive you. I love you, you did the right thing, Danny. What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know. If he said that on Wednesday I might have walked away. But I’m not finished. I think I have more left in me.”

She lay on the bed and pulled Dan into her. Getting changed out of her dress was too much work, he needed to be loved and held and cared for. Tears began rolling down his face as she clung to him, her fingers carding through his curls.

“Remember when we were in lockdown on the farm? I promised you when you were deciding if you were going to leave Renault then that I wasn’t going anywhere. The colour you wear on race week isn’t going to change my mind about that. I said it then and I’m saying it now and I mean every word of it. I love you so much and not being together nearly killed both of us. You can learn to be a mechanic and a househusband with our unicorns.” A wet laugh bubbled out of his chest as her words settled into him and she kept talking.

“We can have our barn with our horses and our kids like we talked about. I don’t care about going and working in some office. We can have breakfast for dinner and lunch and breakfast. Pancakes three times a day, yeah?”

“I thought you hate my cooking?”

“I like your breakfasts. And I love you. I don’t love the Honey Badger. I don’t love DannyRic. I love my Danny. You’re the man who taught me that love can be a good thing. Yeah it hurts sometimes but it’s worth it. I want my life with you, whether that’s F1 or endurance or Indycar or anything else. I want you, Baby. I’m going to follow you to the end of the world. Do you hear me? Whatever you want to do next. I’m going to be holding your hand and right there by your side. Wherever you want to go. I promise.” Her voice was low as he sobbed into her dress. He’d held her as she sobbed the week before and it was her turn now. He was her boy and she wasn’t leaving him.

“I love you, I love you, I love you.”

“I love you so much, Baby.” She stayed there holding him as he cried himself to sleep and then just stared at him for hours. Dan needed to get it all out. He’d been holding it in since she left and he needed to cry. Em held him and ran her fingers through his hair and watched as he finally fell into some kind of a restful sleep.

It was another disturbed night for her but she woke to banging on the hotel room door, Dan turning his head into her to get away from it.

“One minute, Baby. Lemme get it.” She squeezed his shoulder before answering the door. Michael was on the other side, his face changing when he saw her attire.

“Dan’s meant to be at breakfast, what’s going on? Why are you…?” He trailed off and indicated to her outfit.

“It was a bad night. Order something for Dan for breakfast, we’ll be down in fifteen. Order me some toast please? Just toast, and if they’ve got smooth peanut butter some of that too. Otherwise plain toast.”

“Can you make it ten?” If she was honest she didn’t think she could make it in fifteen, but ten was definitely out of the question.”

“Fifteen. We’ll be down.”

Getting Dan up and changed was hard but she did it, putting on yet another merch tee and carrying a bag he gave her. Everything screamed “I’m Daniel Ricciardo’s girlfriend” and she didn’t care that it did. She needed to be his to the world. Em was broken and battered and in pain, but her Danny needed her. So she was standing beside him and staring down the world while holding his hand and supporting him because that was what he needed. She could do this.

Walking into breakfast the mood at the table was quiet. They all ate something, Dan swapping the bowl of yogurt and granola at her place for his egg white omelette.

“Mate that was-“

“Em doesn’t eat mixed up food. And she doesn’t eat granola because of the texture. At least this way she’s eating something. When have you ever seen her eat granola?” Michael shushed at Dan’s words, at the clear tension in both of their shoulders. She picked at the omelette before passing more than half of it back to Dan. He was the one racing. He needed to eat. The fucking race.

Arriving to the paddock had her heart in her throat. This was race day. The big event. There were cameras about to be on her and as little as she wanted to see them she knew it had to happen. Sitting in the back of the car Dan looked across at her.

“You can wait for me to go through. I don’t mind.”

“I’m going inside holding your hand. I’m a wag now, i have to act the part. Right?” He grinned at her but the smile didn’t reach his eyes this time.

“Love you.”

“I love you too.”

Her pass scanned easily and let her through the turnstiles as the photographers at the entrance got a picture of Dan waiting for her while holding his hand out. She ignored the loud shouts and just focused on moving forward one step at a time. Dan’s hand was a comforting weight in hers as she kept one foot going in front of the other.

“Emma! Dan! Over here!” The calls were coming from each side but her sunglasses hid her worry. Instead they made it to the FIA building before someone else arrived and attention was taken away from them. It was a relief and she was able to relax a little bit. Race mornings were always hectic and she kissed Dan goodbye before sitting in front of McLaren with a coffee to watch the paddock go by.

“Is this seat taken?” She turned and saw Carmen asking, smiling and gesturing for the younger woman to sit down. They’d texted once or twice, given each other cafe recommendations for London and chatted when they saw each other in the paddock. “Welcome to the official ‘I’m dating a Formula One driver’ group. How’re you doing with the media attention?”

“It’s a lot.” Carmen knew what it was like, Em was able to be as honest as possible with her. “I mean I had it anyway because of work and all the speculation. But this is different. Plus I haven’t been around so yeah, it’s a lot. Hopefully it’ll die down.”

“It will. It’s bad the first couple of races but then it’ll relax because you’re there most weekends. You’ll be fine. I just wanted to check in because I know you were sick. Are you feeling better?”

The nerves and worry and fear from the night before were coming back in full force but she bit her tongue and nodded until she was ready to speak. “It’s gonna take time. But I’m getting there.”

“If you want to talk about it I’m here. I get the going from being in the normal world and then diving in here. Or if you want to get food or a coffee. Lily will be in Silverstone for Alex’s home race. We’re both going to get food the Thursday before. You’re welcome to come for dinner with us as just the girls.”

“Maybe? Dan’s parents are in Europe, they’ll be in England then. Plus we’re trying to find somewhere to live. It’s a whole thing.”

“The offer is there. Especially race weeks if you have time away from work. If I don’t see you later I’ll see you in Montreal? Susie asked if I knew if you were going. She said to say thanks about that restaurant in Melbourne, Jack loved it.”

“Tell her she’s welcome. And yeah, I’ll be in Montreal but it depends how I feel? I’m still doing a slow return to work so we’ll see how it goes.”

She watched Carmen walk away as her hair shone in the sun, effortlessly walking around the paddock like a model. Would she ever get to that stage? She could do it when Dan was at Renault, but most of that was because she blended into everyone when she wore the Renault shirts. It was different now.

Her spot outside hospitality meant that she could people watch while she did some googling. Searches for online therapy turned to hybrid therapy and finding someone she could see in person when she was in London. One therapist had open slots so she booked an initial appointment online. The time difference would suck while she was in Montreal but it was worth it. She needed this. She needed to work through the pain and the grief and the heartbreak she felt over the last few months because Dan needed her and she needed to keep him together.

She went to lunch with the boys and Dan before standing in the back of the garage and kissing the side of his helmet before he got into the car to bring it out to the grid.

“Go fast and be safe, ok?” She looked into his eyes, visor still up. “I love you no matter what happens. I promise.”

A squeeze of her hands was everything Dan needed to do to show his love and she stood in her spot in the garage just waiting. Her pass gave her grid access but she never went up there. Going on the grid felt like she’d be a distraction.

Watching Dan cross the line in P6 made her grin, hugging Blake close. She knew it wasn’t enough. Something in her knew that anything short of a race win wouldn’t be enough. But he beat Lando and that was what she really cared about. She would get to walk out of the paddock holding Dan’s hand, and the next morning they were flying straight to Montreal to have a couple of days together before the chaos of the next race began.

She could do this. She could do it. She wasn’t going to break. She was going to make sure that she kept going forward. For her, and for Dan.

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