#when others could do 14k in a week

[newty]

starting to feel Intense Guilt (tm) over only have written a few sentences of dion fic after 2 weeks of break. it is Not helping me feel any more ready to continue writing in earnest

[magics-neptunes-things]

Williamson Holding

Hi guys!

Sooo this is a request from @holly-wallis and honestly it's massive. Like more than 14K words. It took me forever to do it, that's why I haven't post as much as before those last days/weeks.

I really hope that you will enjoy it. I proofread it two times but it's so big that I might have forgot some faults.

TW : Angst, Jealousy, Break up, One-side love, Game lost, mention of Covid. Reader is Leah Williamson's sister.

Gif credit for Caitlin’s one at @teenwolf-theoriginals

______________________________________________________________

You were an accident. Not really wanted at first, you were born 354 days after Leah, the 18 March 1998. Your parents weren’t ready to have a second child so early after the birth of their first daughter, but you never felt anything but love from them. People joke sometimes that they used the same recipe for Leah and for you. It’s true that you look a lot like her physically and for the character you have definitively some similar points too. You both are determined, loyal, funny, and very close of your family. But the person you are the closest is definitively Leah.

3 years after you, your brother Jacob is born. You like to joke about it and saying that they finally weren’t to traumatize by you more than that. Jacob is your brother, and you love him very much, but your relationship is different from the one with Leah. You like having time with him, but with him being away in Australia now, it’s a little bit harder.

Oh, and like Leah and your mother you’re an Arsenal fan, obviously.

You started football together, but you played the goalkeeper, letting Leah practicing striking and dribbling. You weren’t bad to be honest, but they was to many competition to be a goalkeeper and you decided during your teenager period to go for study instead of football.

You were great in it honestly; Leah sometimes asked you to do her homework when she came back too late from training. You’ll do it with pleasure, happy to help your big sister who paid you generously in candy. Or dried mango, your great passion.

On day after Leah turned 17, she made her big debut with Arsenal senior team. You were so proud of her, cheering her from the stand with all your family. It was very different of what it is now, but you already knew that she would make something amazing in football. And how much were you right.

It was at this period that Leah and you talked about a company that you could make together. Leah was studying accounting in case of her career wasn’t successful and you were very interested in marketing, publicity and human relations.

The Williamson Holding Corporation was founded in summer 2016, when you finished your tuition. You learned several languages (French, Spanish and Mandarin) during your free time and thanks to Leah and your parent’s financial help, you were able to start this adventure. Your company always were able to have a good profit every year. You were able to repay your parents already and Leah always refused, so you made her a founder, just like you.

Through the years, your company get a sponsorship with Arsenal and in particular Arsenal Women, obviously. Along the years, you managed to travel a lot to make your company known in other countries and find other financials, but you always managed to come back to see Leah play. You never missed one of her games, as crazy at it sound.

February 2020 – When you properly met Caitlin for the first time.

“Y/N! Sorry, can I borrow my sister for one second?”

Leah doesn’t wait for the answer to your interlocutor and takes your arm to drag you somewhere else. You let her though, secretly happy to have to finish this uninterested discussion with that weird man. You note mentally to be sure not to invite him to the next gala.

“Where’s the dead body?” you ask your sister who rolls her eyes.

“Don’t joke about it, we’ll get catch by Covid otherwise.”

You roll your eyes yourself, but don’t say anything. You just wait to your sister to stop at some time, for what she almost kidnapped you. You end up right in front of Caitlin Foord, the new signing for Arsenal. You already saw her to the games, you smirked when you caught her looking at you two time before realizing that you weren’t Leah, the first time she saw you. To her point, you were wearing Leah’s jersey.

“Cait, my sister. Sis, this is Caitlin.” Leah introduces you, before leaving you both to catch someone else.

“Uh, hello?” Caitlin mumbles with surprise, apparently not advertise that Leah were going to introduce you both.

“Hi” you giggle. “Nice to be properly introduced to you. Please excuse my sister, she isn’t the one who studied human relations.”

Your giggles and your joke help Caitlin to relax and you’re happy to see her smiling too.

“I can see that” Caitlin answers with her Australian accent.

You had a small talk with her about Australia, a country where you never been for now. You really looked to it though, and not only to have the opportunity to make your company bigger. Jacob and you always talked about going there for holidays. And after talking to Caitlin, you will definitively go to the east part of the country.

You were joined by Katie McCabe and the three of you started talking for a long time after that. Caitlin asked you several questions about your company and seems surprised to learn the amount of work you are putting in it.

“She’s a natural” Katie smirks “Everyone comes eat in her hand, she can make people do whatever she wants.”

You smirk back, raising an eyebrow while crossing your arms on your chest at the same time.

“Not everything with everyone.”

Katie doesn’t have the time to answer anyway, because Leah is back with her Williamson’s frown.

“No flirting with my teammates Y/N!”

“I wasn’t! I wouldn’t have any problem with Irish mafia.” you answer, thinking about Katie’s girlfriend.

You raise both of your hands to prove your innocence. Katie and you aren’t really flirting, it was more for fun and for joking with each other. Katie laughs while Leah hums for any answer and changed the subject just after that, training you, Katie and Caitlin in the discussion.

The night went great, and you are happy to be able to have some time with Leah’s teammates who are also your friends, especially the ones who are in the team since a long time. You get along pretty well with Caitlin too, who would accept really quickly to at least make a photoshoot and a sponsoring for your company. Unfortunately there is suddenly the lockdown and you weren’t able to do it before that.

October 2020 – The shooting

“Hi Y/N!”

You smile to the employee who greats you when you enter the building where the photoshoot for Caitlin was attending. Being at every single one is something you do every time, so your employees aren’t surprised to see you coming. You great them back, asking around if everything is fine with everyone. It seems to be, so you go to find Caitlin.

The Australian girl is just coming out of the room where she changed her clothes and find herself right in front of you.

“Oh hi! I didn’t know you will come.”

“I like to be here for this kind of things” you answer with a smile. “How are you?”

“I’m fine thank you” she smiles back.

“Y/N are you ok if we start?” the photographer asks.

“Of course. I’m going to sit here.”

You look at your phone on the way, answering a message from one of your managers before sitting on a chair some meters away from the different cameras. Caitlin doesn’t seem to be at ease at first, but soon she finds her way. You have a perfect and entirely trust in your team, but you have already red too much time how people can make other bad with their comportment, and you clearly don’t want that in your company. That’s why you don’t have a lot of employees too. That and the fact that you love have the control on everything.

After several shots, the photographer decides to make a break and you come over to see what the pictures look like. They are great to be honest.

“I really love this one” you smile, pointing one of the pictures.

Caitlin’s blue eyes are really showing in it. You haven’t realized how blue they are since now to be honest. You then raise your gaze on the girl, just to cross the same blue.

“I think this is my favorite too.”

You hum, before congratulating the photographer for her job. It’s the first time she does it for you, but you will certainly ask her to work for you again. She’s young, like you, and you like the idea to help young people to start in their life. Provided they deserve it, of course.

They take other pictures after that, and you choose five of them to post on the social media.

“Do you want to go to eat something?” you ask Caitlin when everything is finished.

You don’t always have the time to do it with everyone, but when you can, you do it. Like you said before, almost every girl in Arsenal is your friend. You know some of them more, like Jen Beattie, Katie McCabe, or Lia Wälti who are the closest to Leah to be honest. But you like all of them. You didn’t have the time to meet Steph Catley for now though. It probably will be coming soon.

Caitlin accepted your offer, and you take her to one of your favorite restaurants.

“I didn’t expect to eat at Nando’s to be honest” Caitlin smiles after you sat at your table.

“Oh” you answer, looking up from the menu you know by heart. “We can go somewhere else if you want, I thought – “

“No, it’s perfect here. I like it. I used to go there with my Mum and my sister a lot back in Australia.”

You smile softly, relaxing a little bit. People seems to forget sometimes that you are still a young woman who can enjoy eating burger or fries with her fingers.

“How are you settling in London?” you ask after the waiter came to take your command.

“Good, actually. The rain is something else, but the girls are great.”

“I heard you especially like the Swiss part” you smirk.

You laugh when Caitlin blushes. Leah told you about Lia and Caitlin relationship several weeks ago, when they start to date officially. You don’t have to tell Caitlin how you know it though; the girl understands it really quickly.

“Leah talks too much” she smiles nevertheless. “What about you? Are you seeing someone?”

“Not for now” you shake your head, adding when you see Caitlin’s questioning look. “I mean I had some dates slash fling with someone but it’s hard to be in a relationship while working so much. Girls seems to have a hard time understanding I will pass my family and my job before something else. I can understand though, so it’s better for me to be single for now.”

“I didn’t know you were into girls too. You really are Leah’s copy.”

“Maybe” you smile.

Your sister is your favorite person ever. You will never be upset to be compared to her. In your eyes, she’s the most amazing person in the world.

“I am lucky to be able to see her so much. I won’t be able to deal with it as good as you do.”

“It’s very hard sometimes. Because of the lockdown and all I wasn’t able to go back to Australia. I haven’t seen them for almost a year now…”

You wince at the sadness suddenly present in Caitlin’s eyes, regretting to have point this. You are interrupted by the waiter and your meal coming for you, but you excuse yourself anyway.

“I’m sorry to bring it up. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I know, don’t worry” Caitlin smiles softly. “I will see them soon now.”

You look into Caitlin’s eyes for some more seconds to be sure that she’s saying the truth, before nodding slowly. She seems to be honest, and you are really relieved. Starting a friendship like this would have been the worst way. You finally smile back and report your attention on your plate just after Caitlin did.

The following of the conversation is a little easier, talking about Arsenal helps a lot. You talk to Caitlin about all the little things she maybe didn’t know for now and learn a lot of things about her and her past. She talked to you about her childhood and the financial difficulties her mother had, raising two children as a single mom. That makes you realize one more time how lucky you are to be where you are now. This kind of stories remember you about it and it’s never enough in your opinion.

October 2021 – The surprise

Unlike Caitlin was hopping, she wasn’t able to see her family as much as she wanted. She went in Switzerland with Lia though and told you that it was a very great time. You thought about her sometimes, remembering the trouble her eyes did to you, but you erased this kind of thoughts very quickly. Caitlin was in a happy relationship and there is no way you even look at a no-single lady.

You managed to build a friendship with her though and you sometimes went out with her, Lia, and Leah. You had a great time every time and you decided that it was perfect for you like this.

Caitlin opened herself to you about missing her family, but the tickets to come in London from Australia were expensive and you know that she doesn’t mean it like that, but you don’t think twice before contacting Caitlin’s sister and offering to them the tickets. They refuse at first, but you managed to find the good words. And, not for the situation being strange, you included Lia in the surprise.

After all, Caitlin was your friend and Lia was her girlfriend.

The Swiss woman went to the airport to take Jamie and her mother back to Caitlin home. Leah asked the team to put some interview or media things for Caitlin at the right time, to let you and her decorate Caitlin’s house with the most too much decoration ever. There is a banner writing “Surprise” on it, yellow and green balloons, an Australian flag, and you even managed to find a kangaroo balloon who is floating around the living room.

“That’s so kitsch. I love it” Leah smirks.

You giggle while looking around. You have to admit that you made a great job together. Two seconds after, Lia and the two Foord were coming inside the house. After some greetings and hugs, they looked at the decoration and approve it too.

“So, I guess this is our time to leave.” Leah says while looking at you.

You nod and prepare yourself to take your things to leave. It was without counting on Caitlin’s mother opinion.

“What do you mean you’re leaving?” Simone asks with her Australian accent. “You helped to do that; you’re definitively staying.”

“But – “ you start.

“No but.”

You see Jamie, Caitlin’s sister, rolling her eyes at her mother antics, but you don’t have time to say something else because Lia comes, running from the entrance where she was looking outside.

“She’s here! Hide!”

After a moment of panic, Jamie and Simone hide behind the couch while Leah and you went to the kitchen. Two seconds later, the door is open.

“Lia? You’re home?” Caitlin asks.

“In the living room, Love.”

You hear the characteristic sound of keys dropping on a wood furniture and Caitlin walking to the living room. You can’t help but peek in the room, Leah doing exactly the same thing a second after, her head above yours.

“Surprise!”

Caitlin probably had a heart attack, but you can’t help but smile seeing her face. Lia is doing the same thing while Jamie and Simone went to hug the shocked girl. You smirk seeing Leah getting emotional, what’s coast you a slap on the head. You send her the Williamson’s glare, but she doesn’t seem to be impress by at for a single second. Which probably make sense.

After some tears and explications, Leah proposed to serve the Champagne she choose to celebrate the reunion. Your sister and you try to escape one more time to let the Foord in family, but Simone doesn’t let you one more time.

It’s a little bit later that you find yourself alone with Caitlin, while you were looking for something alcohol free to drink.

“Lia told me what you did. I don’t have the words to thank you enough.”

Of course, Lia isn’t the kind of girl to take credits for something she hasn’t done. You smile and shrug at Caitlin.

“You don’t have to. I was happy to do that for you.”

Caitlin bites her lip and looks in your eyes.

“You know, when I mention that the tickets were expensive…”

“I know you weren’t saying it for me to do that, Cait. I wouldn’t have done it otherwise.”

“Ok.”

You smile again and were ready to go back to the living room, but Caitlin surprises you by giving you a hug. You weren’t expecting it to be honest, but it’s still pleasant. You hug her back, tightening her briefly against you.

“Thank you” she mumbles.

“You’re welcome.”

Spring 2022 – The Breakup

“Caitlin and Lia broke up”

“What?”

You stop your movement, your chopsticks between your mouth and your plate. You were having dinner with Leah in her house, like every Monday when you are in London. Leah snorts when the noodles fall back in your plate, making some sauce splash your shirt, but that’s not what you are concentrating on.

“What do you mean they broke up?”

Leah shrug et finish her chicken before answering you.

“It happened this weekend, Lia called me Sunday evening.”

“What happened?”

You were shocked. Lia and Caitlin seem to get along very well the last time you saw them.

“Nothing much. Lia said they just went apart and that her relationship was more comfortable than passionate now.”

“So, they’re ok?”

“I don’t really know for Caitlin. But Lia was still very upset about it. They are still friends and care for each other obviously, but they aren’t a couple anymore.”

You frown only, not really sure what to do about this information. Lia was a good friend of yours and you kind of have avoided Caitlin since you make her family come to England. You realized that day that you were too impacted with her happiness to be only a friend. In your mind, she was with Lia and this relationship would be like forever. It was to protect yourself too, falling for someone who isn’t single isn’t really your thing.

“Did you have news from Caitlin?”

“No” you answer, eating again. “I mean I saw her at the last games but that’s all.”

“Mh.”

“What?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Nothing.”

“‘k.”

Several hours later, you were on your bed, your phone in your hand and the conversation with Caitlin opened. It wasn’t used since your birthday, Caitlin sent you a message to wish you happy birthday, but nothing since that.

Writing to her isn’t a good idea, even if she’s single now, she still in a middle of a breakup. But you still can be a good friend to her, right? You just have to put your feelings away.

From You Hi Caitlin, I heard about your breakup by Leah. I just wanted to tell that if you need someone to talk or something, don’t hesitate to call or write me, ok? I hope you’re ok. Take care of you.

You feel stupid to send her something like that after reading it again. It’s kind of cliché and you hate it. But surprisingly, Caitlin answers you relatively quickly.

From Caitlin Hello, thanks for your message. I will do and I hope you are ok too.

You bite your lips, not really happy about the answer. But in another way, what could you have expected? You didn’t really talk since last year and you were avoiding her like the plague. It’s only your fault.

After that day, you keep checking more frequently with Caitlin, asking her if she needs anything and how she is feeling. From what she answers, she was around a lot with Jordan and Katie. Your sister broke up some weeks ago with Jordan after longs years together, so that’s maybe the explanation of why Leah stays a little away of Caitlin.

You start to talk a lot and when Caitlin starts to be the first to write you can’t help but feel a strange something in your stomach. You also went to eat or drink something, your friendship slowly beginning to start again. You have to admit that you missed her. But she never said or show you anything to make you think that she missed you the way you do.

You think it’s better to have her in your life as a friend than not to have her, though.

Autumn 2022 – The New Season

You never missed a single match from Leah’s team since she plays for Arsenal, so there was no way that you will miss this one too. It’s the first game of the new season and you just came back from your holidays. You went some days with Leah in Ibiza before flying to Dubai with a friend.

You just have time to go home, take a shower and put your Arsenal jersey before coming to the stadium.

“Here she is!” Leah says happily when she sees you.

She hugs you like you haven’t seen each other in months and not ten days. But you hug her back, kissing her cheek before she releases you.

“Someone got a tan” she smirks, taking a step back to have a better look at you.

Unlike Leah, you have the ability to tan. Leah just gets red when she exposed herself without protection. You roll your eyes but don’t respond anything, your attention being catch by a certain Australian striker coming in your direction, five steps away from Leah now.

“And you’re not with your girlfriend?” Leah asks, a teasing smirk always on her face.

“Girlfriend?”

By now Caitlin is just next to Leah and was able to hear your sister. You roll your eyes at her antics before answering.

“She’s not my girlfriend, she’s a friend.”

You frown when Leah snorts and left saying something like “yeah sure”. You watch her leave several seconds before turning to Caitlin.

“She’s not my girlfriend” you say again.

You don’t know why you feel the need to assure that to Caitlin, she probably doesn’t give a single shit about it. In fact, she smiles at you and pass an arm around you to salute you. You didn’t talk a lot a lot during those ten days, the different timetables were insane.

“It’s good to see you” she says before letting you go.

“Good to see you too. How is the comeback from Australia?”

“Still a little jet lag, but I’m fine.”

You smile at her and take the time to really look at her. You don’t do it a lot, scared to fall for her again. I mean, harder. Because now that you have thought about it a little more, you remembered that Leah always told you not to even flirt with one of her teammate. Falling in love with one of them would be worse than everything. You know that she will react very badly to you in a relationship with one of them. You are scared to lose her; Leah will probably never forgive you if she learns that you are in love with Caitlin.

“You look good” you smile sincerely at her.

“Thanks”

You both hear someone calling her on the back, the drills are going to begin, and she has to go.

“Hey, are you still in London tomorrow?” she asks suddenly.

“Yes, why?”

“There is a new place near mine, and they are making brunch who look stunning. Do you want to come?”

“Sure” you smile. “Text me the address and the time.”

After a nod and a smile, she’s gone where she’s needed. The game went great, they got an easy win. And you try to stay impartial when Caitlin got carded.

Christmas 2022 – The New Delivery service

You were at your parent’s house with all your family, without counting Jacob who stayed in Australia this year. Your mother was sad but thanks to a long video call during the moment when you all opened your presents, she seems a little less sad about it. You eat way too much, drink maybe a little too much too. That’s why your mother more or less forbade you to take your car to go home.

Leah stayed too and you are both chilling in one of your parents’ couch with a hot tea. Some Christmas movie is on TV, but you are in a food coma and can’t really focus on it to be honest. You are cuddling against Leah who is playing with your hair.

“Have you heard from Caitlin those days?” your sister asks suddenly.

“We said Merry Christmas to each other this morning, but I guess she’s sleeping now given the time. Why you ask?”

The friendly relationship you have with Caitlin is known by a lot of your friends and family now. And despite all your efforts, you are now deeply in love with her. Seeing her at least both a week don’t help, but you can’t help yourself. When you’re not asking, Caitlin proposes you something and you can’t say no to her.

She told you during autumn that she doesn’t feel very well in her life sometimes, so you made the statement to keep an eye on her.

“She asks to have a mental break. I’m not sure when or if she will come back from Australia. She will miss the first trainings for sure.”

“She didn’t say anything to me” you frown.

She doesn’t have to, to be fair. You are just friends, you’re not her best friend or her sister. She doesn’t owe you anything. But you are still worried.

Later, in your room, you are thinking about a way to send her a message. You don’t want to accuse her of anything or make her feel more pressure. You don’t want to take a place you don’t have too, you sometimes wonder if she’s not having something with Jordan, which would be a little strange maybe. But once again, she doesn’t owe you anything.

From You Hey, I’m sorry if you feel that it’s not my place to ask. But Leah told me that you needed a mental break, so I was wondering if you were ok?

You wait some minutes before thinking again and realizing the stupidity of your message.

From You Forget my question, it was stupid. You asked for a mental break, of course you’re not ok Can you forget those messages please?

You stop there not to look even more strange. You cringe when you throw your phone somewhere on your bed before deciding to go take a long and hot shower. You roll your eyes when your father menace you to make you pay their hot water bill but don’t say anything other than a “Sorry Dad”.

You smile when you hear Leah laughing from her room, before going back to your childhood bedroom. You have a double bed since you are eighteen so you can lay down crosswise it in your towel and look at the ceiling how you want. You soon start to think about how weird your messages to Caitlin were, so you take your phone again.

Just to see that you have two missed calls from Caitlin.

You call her back without waiting a single second, putting your headphone while you wait for her to answer. You realize that it was a FaceTime call only when she answers you with a black screen.

“Hello” she says in a sad voice.

You may be only imagining that because you learned about her need of a mental break only two hours ago.

“Hi. Sorry I missed your calls.”

“Don’t worry. Were you in the shower?”

“How do you know?” you frown.

“You literally are in a towel?”

You lower your eyes on your body and facepalm mentally. If you had one pound every time you humiliate yourself in front of her, you would have been way richer by now.

“Oh shit. Can you wait for a second?”

She hums and you put your phone on the bed to put a shirt and some panties, mentally insulting yourself. You take the time to take a big breath before going back in your bed and taking your phone in your hand.

“Are you still in bed?” you ask, curious about the black screen.

“No, I’m still in my room though. I just… I don’t know. It was stupid to me to call you in FaceTime.”

“Don’t worry. How are you feeling?”

“I’m tired. Like mentally tired. Being at home made me realize that I don’t have a lot keeping me at London right now.”

That hurt. But you don’t say anything, planting your nails deep into the skin of your palms.

“What are you talking about? You have friends here; the girls of the team love you. And the fans too.”

“The fans aren’t really happy of me right now, I’m not able to score a lot and making my job right. I keep disappointing everyone.”

“You have the right to feel a little uneasy, that doesn’t take away from you what you achieved those last months, you know.”

Caitlin doesn’t answer, but you hear her sight a little bit. You don’t know if it’s something to hide some tears and you feel your heart break a little imagining that. You let several seconds pass before talking again.

“What can make you feel better right now?��

“For real? One of the brunches we eat.”

You smile hearing that. The place next to her house became one of your favorite spots to eat together. You really love it too, maybe because you share a lot of secrets and laughs here.

“Really?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Nothing.”

You are lying. An idea had already pop in your head and you feel your brain running while you’re planning something in your head. Caitlin knows you enough to realize that you are up to something. You hear some shuffling, and you imagine that Caitlin just sits on her bed.

“What are you thinking?”

“Nothing” you answer, smiling.

“Y/N. Don’t you dare do something stupid.”

You did. The morning after the call, you went to the restaurant, took Caitlin usual command, and jump in the jet who belongs to your company. You don’t usually use it for long trip like this, but you wanted to be in Australia as soon as possible.

You feel a little bit stupid with your suitcase and the bag where Caitlin’s food is. You ask for it to be wrap carefully and explain that you want to take it on a trip, without mentioning it was a very long trip. Thanks to the fridge, you are sure that you won’t poison Caitlin.

You told to Leah that you have an urgent meeting somewhere in Australia with a possible investor that you can’t ignore. She’s a little bit gutted not to be able to pass New Year with you, but you promised to bring her some Lamington to eat with her tea. In fact, you’re not really lying, you do have someone who is interested by your company in Australia. You just aren’t really obliged to travel here to talk to him.

You swallow with difficulty when you are in front of Caitlin’s porch, hopping that you won’t have to face her mother or her sister. You didn’t mention to Caitlin that you were coming, so if she wants you to go away, you just will. You still have some things to do in Australia, you weren’t totally lying to Leah. You just hide the fact that your priority was to see Caitlin.

You take a big breath before knocking on the door. This is a bad idea. Maybe the worst idea you never had. Why are you so good in your job and so stupid when it concerns the girl you are in love with?

But you don’t have the possibility to stress even more, because soon the door is opening. Caitlin looks at you like you are a hallucination or something.

“Um. I have a delivery for miss Foord?”

You let your suitcase in the car you rent, so you just have the bag with the food in your hand. You lift it to show it to her and it doesn’t take her more than a second to recognize the logo.

“Y/N, what the hell?” she mumbles, taking it in her hand.

“I… Uh. Well, I have stuff to do in Australia for the company and I thought that because I’m on this part of the globe, it could be great to please you.”

You’re lying. And very bad. Caitlin is looking at you like you are crazy, and you can’t blame her, you made a 24 hours journey to take her some breakfast and see her. She’s not supposed to know the truth, but you feel like she has some suspicions. You feel yourself blush and offer her a small smile.

“I better go. Enjoy your food and see you later.”

Maybe you’ll go let yourself die in the middle of the Australian’s desert. With a little luck, some snake or scorpions are going to come to bite you and you will die in atrocious suffering.

“No, wait!”

She grabs your arm with her hand, and you turn in her direction. She’s looking at you with a strange gaze, that you don’t know from her.

“Do you want to drink something? We don’t have Earl Grey, but I still can make you a tea if you want to.”

“Ok” you smile softly.

Caitlin doesn’t let your arm go and took you inside. It’s very quiet and after several seconds you ask her if her mother or sister are here. She answers no, her sister is now leaving with her fiancé and her mother is working today. You nod, secretly relieved to know that you won’t have to face Simone for now. You’re pretty sure that she understood when you saw her the last time the real feelings you have for her daughter.

“Where are you staying?” Caitlin asks while you look at her making you a cup of tea.

“At Park Hyatt”

“In Sydney?”

You hum and she frowns while giving you the cup of tea. It’s fuming and because you are drinking a lot of tea, she knows that you like it with sugar and milk.

“And you wanted to go back in Sydney just after giving me the brunch?”

“Brunch that you aren’t eating, by the way.”

Realizing it, Caitlin takes the bag one more time before taking out the different packages. She still looking at you discreetly, but you busy yourself by drinking your tea.

New Year 2022-2023 – The New Beginning

Caitlin proposes to you to stay at her home and not to go to your hotel, but you refused. You don’t want to bother Caitlin or her mother. That doesn’t mean you don’t see Caitlin; in fact, you see her every day for several hours.

She even invited you to come to the party her friends are making for the New Year. You accepted, after asking her several times if she’s sure that you won’t be a burden. The third time you ask, she threatened to knock you out with her vegemite pot, so you stopped.

And when you’re not with Caitlin, you work. You don’t have the possibility to see your brother who is on the other side of Australia. You almost lost consciousness when you learned that it takes 41 hours by car to get to Perth. So, you promise Jacob that you will see him before going back to England. Still with your jet.

You call Leah and your mother every day, but you are still focused on your goal to make Caitlin comes back to London with you. She seems a little down to be honest, but she seems to be better day after day. It gives you hope.

“Would you like to stay her to sleep tonight?” Caitlin asks on the 31th December while you were sitting next to her on the couch.

“Oh… I don’t know, I still have my hotel room.”

“Come on, it’s like 2 hours from here. And if you drink, I would rather that you stay here. My Mother will sleep in one of her friend’s houses anyway.”

“Yeah, ok” you mumble. “Wouldn’t let you all alone I case you’ll be scared.”

You can see Caitlin’s smile from the corner of your eyes. You hate the pleasant feeling with the fact that she seems to care about you. One thing is sure, this trip doesn’t help you about how in love you are with this girl.

You never talked so much with Caitlin before now, and you never were so close of her. Like right now, you are watching TV and Caitlin’s legs are on yours. You put your hand on the knees of the Australian like it’s nothing, mechanically drawing shapes on it. Sometimes she put her head on your shoulder, and you have to concentrate yourself to stay cool about it.

You grab something to eat before going to take a shower and prepare for the party. You know that they would have been pictures of the night so you tell Leah that Caitlin invites you to pass the night with her and her friends, you know your sister would have been worried to learn that you are alone tonight. Or sad. And you don’t want any of it.

To be honest, you haven’t taken an outfit for the party, you thought that you would be alone in your hotel room. So, you have to shop in Sydney to find the right one. You were getting ready in Jamie’s old bedroom and were looking at yourself with skepticism when Caitlin comes to knock on the door.

“Can I come in?”

“Yep” you simply answer.

She enters the room, and you want to cry. You always had something for her with her hair down and with the outfit she chooses, she’s just breathtaking.

“You look stunning” you say, without thinking about the consequences.

You are surprised to see her blush and hide your smirk by finishing to style your hair.

“Can we take a picture for my sister?” you ask to the Australian woman.

She nods and you briefly hesitate between a selfie or a mirror picture. You choose the second one, posing with a smile and the V-form with your fingers while Caitlin is sticking out her tongue.

You send the picture to Leah with Caitlin looking above your shoulder. The proximity makes your heartbeat faster, but you try to keep it cool one again.

“Are you ready to go?”

You follow Caitlin outside and in the Uber you command to go to her friend’s house. Knowing you both will be drinking, it’s safer this way. You already met some of Caitlin’s friends during your stay and they all are very friendly. But tonight, they will be more of them. The house is pretty crowded already when you arrived, and you are relieved to feel Caitlin grabs your arm.

“Stay next to me, yeah?”

You thank the World for Caitlin being a little shy at first and making her able to understand that you might not feeling ok surrounded by a lot of stranger people. You take the excuse to cross the house to slip your hand in hers. Her hand is soft and warm, and you miss the feeling when you have to let her go.

Caitlin introduces you to some of her friend’s you haven’t met for now. And if you notice the interested and non-subtle look of one of them, you act like you don’t realize it at first. But then, she starts to talk to you so much that you almost don’t have the possibility to pass time with Caitlin.

At some point, you even lose sight of her. And you don’t like the idea, what if someone get close to her? In the way you dream of it? You don’t know if you would support it to be honest, not after being so close of her.

“Come on, let’s dance!” Julia tells you, taking you away of your thoughts.

She takes you on the part of the house being dedicated for the dancefloor and you follow her without saying anything. You look around to see if you can see Caitlin, but it seems like she’s not here. You distract yourself by dancing with Julia who is a pretty good dancer to be honest.

At some point, she comes closer to you to be able to be heard through the loud music. Her hand is on your hips and her mouth right next to your ear.

“It’s a shame that you live so far away. I really would like to know you better.”

You sigh internally, wondering how someone can flirt with you with such facilities when you can’t even make a hint for Caitlin to understand how much you care for her. You don’t have time to answer anything, because there is suddenly someone taking your arm and you recognize the softness of those hand before turning around.

“Mind if I take her back?” Caitlin asks.

Julia raises both of her hand in sign of surrender with a smile. She says something like “Talk to you later” but you don’t really listen to her, your eyes being plunged in Caitlin’s one.

She looks upset, but her voice is calm when she speaks to you.

“I’m going outside. Would you come with me?”

“Sure” you smile softly.

She hadn’t let go of your arm, but you pass your other around it to be sure not being separated from her during your journey to the door. You feel pathetic but you’ll do anything to be able to be close from her. Everyone seems to be here by now and the house is very crowded. With the music, the laughs, and the discussions, going outside is finally a good idea.

There is no one in the garden and the fresh air makes you shiver. But you prefer to be concentrated on Caitlin who has a wrinkle between her eyebrows from frowning. She sits on a low wall, and you follow her to stand next to her, looking at the moon to forget how much you want to touch her.

“Are you ok?” you ask after several minutes of silence.

“I am” she only answer, looking at the horizon.

It seems to you that she is not, but you don’t say anything else. You thought that she asked you to come with her to talk or something, but it seems like you were wrong. Caitlin doesn’t stay silence for long though, turning suddenly in your direction.

“No, in fact I’m not.”

“What’s up?”

“I’m trying to figure out things, and I can’t. And I really need to do it now because otherwise I think I’m really going to become crazy.”

She seems angry and desperate at the same time. She’s talking with her arms, a thing that she usually doesn’t. Hopping to help her to relax a little, you come near her, putting your hand on her knee.

“You can tell me everything, you know that right?”

She sighs, passing a hand on her face. You have the feeling to understand what she think, and that it’s the fact that she doesn’t know where to begin.

“I just… You came here from your appointment but you brought me food just because I mentioned the day before.”

“Yes” you confirm quietly.

It’s maybe better for you not to precise that you went to your appointment because you came here. This feels maybe a little creepy.

“And you told me that you start writing me and talking to me more because you heard by Leah that I was struggling after my breakup with Lia.”

“Yes” you say again.

“Why did we stop talking by the way? It looks like suddenly we grow apart?”

You shrug only, not knowing what to answer to her. You obviously take care not to cross her eyes when you answer.

“Why did you come back anyway? After my breakup?”

“Because I care for you” you answer, looking at her carefully.

“I think I need to know how much you care about me” she says slowly, and you are happy to be in the dark because your cheeks are bright red. “Please, Y/N. Because sometimes I feel like you like me as a friend and sometimes, I feel like there is more than that. But when I tell myself that, you kind of back off and everything is strange and blur again. Just like tonight, I thought that we would pass the night together, but you kept dancing with Julia and I understand because she’s fun and beautiful. But I hated to see you with her, and everything is… blur. And I really need to understand.”

It's your turn to stay silence, because where the hell could you start. You are not closed to answer to her questions, but you are scared because what you have seems so fragile to you.

“Are you interested in me more than a friend?” she finally asks.

Well, maybe you should have talk before because this question is very difficult to answer. Not because you don’t know the answer but because it can change anything. You swallow your saliva with difficulty before answering. You can’t lie to her.

“Yes. I am.” you mumble.

You hear Caitlin taking a big breath before expiring and you just can’t look at her. You hear the people inside getting excited and you wonder if it’s because it will soon be midnight.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Caitlin asks quietly.

“Because I care about you! At first you were in a relationship, and you seemed so happy in it and why in the world would I be between someone and their happiness? Then you broke up with Lia and you seemed so sad and so lost, and I didn’t want to take advantage of you in any way.”

You were talking fast, and loud, the feelings of all of it taking over the rest. You were struggling too, so much, but it was easier anyway to keep all of those feelings inside.

“And now? Why didn’t you say anything?”

You sigh and shrug. You just admitted that you were basically in love with her since day one, what can be worse than that anyway?

“Because I prefer to have you in my life as a friend than to take the risk to lose you.”

There is a moment of silence and just before Caitlin start to talk again, you hear the other people starting to count the seconds before midnight and the New Year.

“You are an idiot.”

10… 9… 8…

You hear Caitlin talk and even if the words could have been harsh, you have the feeling that she is smiling. You just have to look at her to see that she actually is, not her big toothy smile, but the small one. Her smirk.

“What?” you ask.

“You’re an idiot, Y/N Williamson.”

7…6…5…

Caitlin jumps from the small wall she was sitting on to come closer to you. You are frozen, you just watch her move to be right in front of you. You can smell her perfume, see how much her eyes are blue. She looks at your eyes too, before that her eyes drop on your lips.

4…3…2…

She cups your jaw with her hand, so tenderly that you just want to melt only with that gesture. Your heart almost went out of your body when you realize that she’s leaning to you, still letting you the possibility to back off if you want to.

You don’t want to.

1…0

Just when your lips met, the firework of the city irrupts in the sky, being a pretty good metaphor of what you’re feeling inside right at this moment. You are finally kissing the girl you are in love with and she’s kissing you back. She even put her hand in your back to press you against her while her other hand left your jaw to be on your neck.

When the air became an issue, you press your forehead against hers, without being able to suppress the big smile on your face. When you open your eyes, you see that she’s looking at you, offering a shy smile.

“Do you want to go home? To talk about all of this?”

“Talking?” you smile softly.

“Well, maybe kissing too, a little bit.”

16 August 2023 – The World Cup

You shouldn’t feel that way. It’s the semi-finale of the Women World Cup in Australia and your national team, England just won it place for the finale against Spain. You distractedly prevent your sister from jumping from excitement, so as not to make her knee injury worse. You would probably have been happier about the results if Leah were on the pitch, to be honest.

You are looking at your girlfriend’s silhouette, sitting on the floor. You can’t express how much you would like to go on the pitch and hug her tightly. You know how much this game meant for Caitlin and the rest of her team. Seeing her away from you from only several meters when you weren’t able to see her from almost two months is hard too.

You chose to hide your relationship with Caitlin to anyone around you, except Caitlin’s mother who definitively can read way to easily into people. So, you weren’t able to explain to your sister why you felt so moody those past days, the distance between you and Caitlin being hard to deal with. You can’t explain how much you missed her. Even if you call each other every day, it wasn’t the same.

You were busy helping Leah with her injury though, taking her to every single of her appointment, letting Lia Wälti doing it when you weren’t able to. Since Caitlin left, you went to live to Leah’s. And when your big sister told you that she was coming to Australia to the match, you came too. You even were able to see your brother this time.

After the game, Leah took you to the locker room to meet her teammates and you hug the ones playing to Arsenal. And Alessia Russo, who is coming for the new season too. You were talking to Mary Earps when you feel your phone buzz in your pocket. Excusing yourself, you get out the locker room to answer when you see Caitlin’s ID on the screen.

“Hello?”

“Hi. Are you still in the stadium?”

“Yes. Where are you?”

“I just went back to my hotel room. Everyone is so sad, I can’t look at them right now.”

You pout, hearing that said sadness in Caitlin’s voice too. You can easily imagine her on her bed, still her Matilda’s jogging.

“I’m so sorry Babe” you whisper in your phone, looking around you to be sure that no one is around. “You played great and I’m so proud of you.”

“Thanks” she mumbles before adding “I miss you.”

“I miss you too, so so much. When are you going back to London?”

“Two days after the game against Sweden. They still want to make a celebration about all of it in Sydney. Are you still staying to watch the finale?”

“Yes, Leah got us tickets. I’m going back the day after though; would you like to go back with me instead?”

She hums only and you’re not sure that she really understands what you ask her. You are not angry or hurt anyway, you know that she has to deal with the lost and the sadness of it. You just want to make her feel better.

One hour later, you were waiting for her to answer to you in front of her door. You managed to sneak inside the hotel and left Leah with Keira and Georgia. You are not sure that she realized you were missing, so happy to be able to pass time with some of her closest friends.

You knock again when you realized that no one is answering, not too hard. You don’t want to attract anybody’s attention. You were tense, scared to be seen by someone. Thanks God, Caitlin finally opens her door and looks at you like she’s seeing a ghost.

“Are you alone?” you whisper.

“Yes, but…”

Just like her mother would say, no but. You entered the room and immediately pass your arms around her neck to kiss her. Caitlin needs several seconds to realize what is happening before kissing you back.

“What are you doing here?” she asks gently when you release each other.

“I missed you. And you are sad and being just dozens of meters away from you without being able to talk to you killed me.”

Caitlin smile sadly, taking your hand to make you sit on her bed. Unlike you were thinking, she changed her clothes and is wearing a short with a hoodie. It feels very soft when you take her against you to hug her. You close your eyes, letting yourself invade by her sent.

“I was looking at you every time I was able to. You are hot in a jersey, but yellow would have suits you better than white.”

She pulls gently on the white t-shirt you’re wearing, a number eight with Williamson on the back, of course. You smile softly, kissing her temple. She snuggles closer to you, passing on of her leg on your own.

“Have you eaten something?” you ask.

“Nah. I’m not really hungry for now.”

“What about a bath?”

“I already took a shower.”

“Ok, I’m asking the question again. What about a bath with me?” you ask after a sigh.

You feel her smirk against you, and she sit on the bed to be able to look at you.

“You mean I’ll have the possibility to get you away from this horrible jersey and having you naked against me by the same move? I’ll be crazy to say no.”

You roll your eyes and throw a cushion at her before getting up from the bed. You then go to the bathroom to start running the water, waiting patiently to find the right temperature. You check your phone just to be sure that Leah isn’t looking for you when the tube is getting filled, and then you go back to Caitlin in the room.

“It’s ready when you are Babe.”

You give her both hands to help her to get up from the bed, which she doesn’t hesitate to take. But, as she gets up from the bed, she’s not following you to the bathroom like you thought she would. She passes her arms around your shoulder, holding you tight against her.

Understanding what she needs, you hold her back, even firmer against you. You are higher from several centimeters from her, not so much though. But you like the way she can easily hide her face in your neck without taking strange position. You rock her softly, kissing her cheeks and her hair several times, only to release her when she’s ready.

“Thanks for coming here for me” she whispers against your skin.

“Every time” you smile sincerely, looking tenderly at her.

She smiles back and cup your chin with her hand, before following you to the bathroom this time. You try to make her go alone in the tub; you really just want her to relax. But you finish with her in it, massaging slowly her back.

You know her team has special masseurs and that they are definitively way more skillful that you are. But seeing how your girlfriend has her eyes closed and let you do whatever you want, it must not be unpleasant. Except that the moan and whispers she’s making are making you think about something else, and please everyone forgive you, but you don’t had sex for two months and your girlfriend is naked in front of you.

“Why d’you stop?” Caitlin mumble with a pout.

You are glad that she’s sitting in front of you and that she can’t see your face, because you are bright red once again. You don’t want to take advantage of her, she’s upset and tired. You kiss her shoulder though, getting her hair out of the way. You love her with her hair down. Have you already mentioned it?

“Isn’t it time for great footballer to go to bed?”

She groans and turn around to face you. You are trying hard to just look at her face and not being distracted by everything else. But then she sits on your lap, and you have to get out of the water right now.

“Why are you so tense?” she frowns. “You may be the one needing a massage.”

You laugh softly and decide to be honest with her since not talking about your feelings made you lost time before. And you are a very bad liar. You bite your bottom lip before answering.

“I haven’t seen you in like two whole months, which mean that I haven’t touch you from two months, Caitlin. And you are naked on me and I’m really trying to be a good and caring girlfriend without sinful ideas because I know how much disappointed you are, but you make it very hard. Plus, the water is getting cold.”

The realization appears on her face, before being erased by mischievous smile.

“We still can put hot water in it.”

In the end, you add hot water on the tub several times. When you emerge from the bath, you are as tired as Caitlin, and she doesn’t need many pleas to make you stay with her. You were planning to go back to your hotel room that night to be honest. But you don’t. You answer to Leah who wrote you to tell you that she’s sleeping with the team and asked you if you want to go with her before going under the cover next to your Aussie’s girlfriend.

You lie face to face with her and smile when she starts to stroke your face.

“You are so beautiful.”

You roll your eyes and smile.

“You need to sleep Foord; you are starting to get delirious.”

She frowns and hit your forehead before leaning to kiss you. You smile against her lips and when she turns around to let you cuddle her from behind, you don’t need more than several seconds to fall asleep.

Hours later, you are waking up of your peaceful sleep by a deep voice with an Australian accent.

“Caitlin Foord what the hell?!”

Caitlin jumps next to you and you groan, hiding under the cover. Before you understand what is really happening, your girlfriend took Mackenzie Arnold by the arm to take her with her in the bathroom.

“Why the hell is there Leah Williamson half naked in your bed?” Mackenzie whisper-shout from the bathroom.

You roll your eyes, rolling on your back to grab your phone. It’s more than 9 in the morning, you really should have put an alarm on your phone. Thanks god, there isn’t message from Leah for now.

“It’s not Leah” you hear Caitlin answer.

“I have bloody eyes you know?”

Now that you realize what is happening, your heart is pounding. Mackenzie isn’t a close friend of Leah, but you know that her girlfriend is a good friend of Alessia who is a good friend to Leah. And you. But more to Leah. And you obviously can’t let anyone near Leah know about your relationship.

“It’s not Leah! … It’s her sister.”

There is a moment of silence and then

“You are in so much trouble. Leah is going to kill you.”

“I know! That’s why you have to shut your mouth Macca, even with Kristy.”

Mackenzie snorts and even you can’t see it, you easily can imagine Caitlin’s imploring look. There is a sigh, and you sit on the bed.

“Alright, I’m not saying anything. But you really should have chosen someone else to get over the lost.”

“It’s not just… We are together, actually. Like in couple.”

“Oooh that’s why you are always glued to your phone?”

“It’s not really the time to talk about that right now” Caitlin points.

She’s right, but you can’t help but smile at this. You are happy to have a good abonnement though, otherwise you will probably be poor because of your phone’s bill. There is some more noise, and the door handle goes down before the gesture suddenly stops.

“Not a word to Alanna too, please.”

“Promise.”

After that they are both out of the bathroom and you smile awkwardly to Mackenzie before she waves at you and get out of the room.

“I’m so sorry.”

Caitlin looks so tense that you almost feel sorry for her, but you are really stressed too. You shouldn’t have stayed the night here. Sighing, you get up from the bed to look for your clothes.

“It’s not your fault.”

Caitlin hums and while you are getting ready, a question pops suddenly in your head. You look up at your girlfriend who is sitting on the windowsill, looking outward. She’s still in her pj’s with her bed hair.

“Cait?” you call her softly.

She just turns her head in your direction. To distract yourself a little bit, you braid your hair while asking the question bothering you.

“I shouldn’t be concerned about Mackenzie coming in your room at random hours of the day or night, right?”

Her face goes soft, and she breaks the few meters between you to stop right in front of you.

“You don’t have anything to be worried about” she answers, slipping a rebellious lock of hair behind your ear. “No one is in my mind apart from you. Plus Macca has her own girlfriend.”

“Ok.” you smile before hugging her.

You stay in her arms longer than usual. Saying her goodbye is hard even if you know you will see her again in several days now.

April 2024 – The Fight

It was several months after the World Cup that Caitlin mentions for the first time to talk to Leah about your relationship. You were still hiding at that time, just like you are still doing now. You refuse to do it, saying that it was too early and explaining to her again why you can’t do that for now.

She understood your place but then she talked about it again in January, when you had to wait for several days to have a date to celebrate your first anniversary. The date being the First of January, you were obviously passing the day with Leah and your family. You gave her the same answer, it’s too soon and you don’t want to fight with your sister when she’s about to come back on the pitches from her injury.

But now, Caitlin is talking about it again and you can feel how much she’s frustrated about it. You try to make everything to distract her from that idea. You took her on trip just the two of you, using once again your jet to gain time. You are sleeping at her house every time you can. In reality you would love to be open about your relationship, in front of your friends and family at least. But you can’t take the risk to lose or disappoint your sister.

“It’s been a year and three months, Y/N.” Caitlin is saying, frowning like never before. “Leah is back on the pitch; we won the finale against Chelsea and your last deal went well and there is nothing holding us now. Well, except you.”

You sigh, pitching the base of your nose. You don’t want to fight with her. It happens almost never to be fair, only when you are talking about this.

“I can’t do it now, Babe. I just… I don’t know how Leah would react and I can’t take any risks.”

“You can’t or you won’t?”

“I can’t, Caitlin.”

She snorts and cross her arms on her chest. She’s hurt, you can see it. You try to take a step to touch her, but she backs up from two steps where you took one. Your arm falls stupidly against your hip.

“Come on, you can’t ask me to choose between you and my sister. I told you since the beginning why we can’t talk about it to people.”

“Why are we even together then?” she asks coldly.

The question hurts but you decided to ignore the feeling to stay honest to your girlfriend and make her understand your statement.

“Well I don’t know, because I love you?” you answer, raising an eyebrow.

“I don’t feel like it’s really the case right now.”

“Don’t say that” you frown too. “You know that I love you.”

But Caitlin is shaking her head and starts collecting her things around your living room. She’s shaking and you try once again to make her stop. Your arguments have never been deeper.

“Baby, please…” you start but she cuts you.

“No. I can’t do that anymore. I can’t stay with you if that means we’ll never evolve in any way. I just can’t.”

You feel numb when you look at her putting her shoes and taking her vest. You follow her like a lost puppy in the entrance, trying once again to grab her arm. You are successful this time and she stops her movements.

“Where are you going?”

“Home. Let go of me now, please.”

You just obey, slowly releasing her arm. There is a lump in your throat when you talk again.

“Are you breaking up with me?”

Your voice is hardly even a whisper, but Caitlin doesn’t miss it. Her blue eyes cross yours when she looks up over her shoulder.

“Talk to you soon.”

And then, she’s gone. You try to call her of course, texted her too, but she never answered. It’s with puffy red eyes and tears on her face that Leah finds you under your covers in your bed several hours later. She got scared when she doesn’t receive any answer to her text and just come to your home.

She hugs you at first, helping you to calm down to be able to talk and explain what is happening. You hesitated at first, before telling her everything. Well, almost everything because you never mentioned Caitlin’s name or the fact that she knows Leah.

“Tell me her name and I will go on her to make you cry like this.”

Your big sister managed to take you out from your bed to go to the living room and made you drink water and eat something. There are still tears running on your face from time to time, but Leah takes the time to wipe them gently each time.

“She just broke up with me. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

Leah makes a grimace before taking you back against her for a new hug.

“If she can’t wait for you, it means that she didn’t deserve you, Love.”

“Can we stop talking about her? Please.”

“Yeah, sorry.”

Leah puts the TV on, starting a random show and you try to concentrate on it. You can’t really, but you are still so thankful for your sister. The way she listened to you talking, holding you while you cry like a crazy woman without pushing you to know anything else makes you think that maybe she wouldn’t have scream if you talked to your love for Caitlin. But it’s too late anyway. Caitlin doesn’t want you anymore.

********

Two days after, on Saturday, Leah took you to the game. She almost hasn’t left your side, only to go to training. You are still working though, losing yourself in work. Like you always did before Catilin.

“What’s happening to your sister?” Lia asks Leah during the training.

Your sister turns in your direction, watching you several seconds before sighing. She’s aware that Caitlin isn’t far away from them, but she doesn’t know where your problem comes from, so she answers anyway. Caitlin is supposed to be your friend after all.

“She’s navigating through her first breakup” Leah answers, still looking at you.

Your mother is sitting next to you, she has her hand on your shoulder. Leah explained to your parents what was happening to you and of course your mother is looking for you like you are dying. You are looking at the pitch, but Leah can tell that you aren’t really looking. Unless you’ve discovered in yourself a passion for corner posts.

“Oh? I didn’t know she had someone.”

“Me neither” your sister sighs. “She’s like this since Wednesday but she doesn’t want to tell me who she is.”

Next to your sister, Caitlin gulps nervously when she crosses Steph’s gaze. Caitlin is a mess since Wednesday too. She took the decision to leave, but that doesn’t mean that it’s easy for her. She almost called you a thousand times. She missed you and wasn’t able to hide her sadness with the people who know her the best. Steph Catley is one of them.

“What?” Caitlin snaps at her teammate.

“Nothing” Steph answers, still looking at her suspiciously.

Caitlin went back to the bench nervously to grab something to drink, looking discreetly in your direction. Now your mother is talking to you, and you are looking at her, but Caitlin knows you very well and realizes how destroyed you look. Of course, it made her sadder than ever, but she still has her point. She wants to move in with you, be able to talk about her girlfriend to everyone one, she wants to take you on date in London and not only seeing you in one of your apartments. She wants to be able to walk holding your hand where you both live, not in the other side of the world. She wants to be able to take a plane without needing to hide in the airport.

You were hopping that Caitlin will be benched today, but she’s starting just like Leah. Which means that you will have to look at her for 90 minutes, knowing that you lost her.

It’s a great game to be honest, and while your mother feed you with fries and chicken nuggets (it’s a family thing) you are able to distract yourself enough not to cry while watching your ex-girlfriend.

Leah is sub at the 78th minute and Caitlin is still playing. You would have preferred for her to go on the bench too, particularly when she got hurt five minutes after that. The tackle wasn’t clean at all and you know right away that Caitlin is hurt. Like really hurt. You don’t need to see the stretchers coming for her, you don’t need the concerned looks of her teammate or Katie shouting at the girl taking Caitlin down.

You are up of your seat instantly, trying to have a better look of what is happening. They take longs agonizing minutes to get Caitlin out of the pitch and you run in the locker room in hope to be able to see her. But you just run into Leah.

“I’m going to the hospital to be with her” your sister explains to you. “I’m not allowed to go with her to the ambulance so I’ll take my car.”

“Can I come with you?”

“Sure.”

You are relieved that she doesn’t question you, but once again Caitlin and you are supposed to be friends. Even close friends. You follow Leah to the parking, and she’s ignoring the fan calling her name for the first time. You are so nervous that you want to throw up and you are glad that your sister isn’t talking, otherwise you are not sure that you will be able to contain yourself.

One of the Arsenal’s medics is waiting for you when you arrive, and he takes you into a private waiting room. From now, you just have to wait. Sitting next to Leah, you put your head on her shoulder and are glad that her cuddle instinct is so high when she passes her arm around your waist to hug you. You really don’t deserve her love; you were lying to her from months now.

Leah was scrolling on her phone for what feels like hours when someone comes in the waiting room.

“Are you here for miss Foord?” the medic asks.

“We are” Leah answers while getting up. “How is she?”

“Right. So, her leg has a doble fracture, but those are sharps break so she normally doesn’t need any surgery. She’s in a lot of pain though, so we give her something to help her. She also has a big bruise on the knee, but it will resolve itself. Would you like to see her?”

“If it’s possible, yes” Leah nods.

“Only one person for now.”

Your sister turns to you and you shrug, trying your best to smile at her. You would kill to be able to see Caitlin right now, but she doesn’t know that you are here. And you’re not sure that she wants to see you. Probably not.

“Go. I’ll text or ring her mother.”

Leah nods once again and follow the male nurse to Caitlin’s room. There are strange machines in the room, but Caitlin is up.

“She’s under drugs. She might be a little out of it” the medic whispers to Leah before leaving the room.

The noise of the door makes Caitlin turns her head in Leah’s direction. The blonde gives her a smile and take a chair to sit next to her.

“Oh. Wrong Williamson.”

“What?” Leah laughs softly while sitting up.

Caitlin is speaking like she’s half-asleep but when she looks at Leah, your sister feels like she knows very well what she’s saying. At least that the words are real.

“I would rather see your sister.”

She shrugs and wince, the drugs making her head feels fuzzy.

“Well she’s here, I still can ask her to come if you want” Leah proposes kindly.

“She’s here?”

The surprise on Caitlin’s tone is astonishing to Leah, who frowns a little while looking at her friend. She knows how much time you pass together, well for the brunch or this kind of things. Not really that you passed almost every night together when you are in London. Unless it’s a Monday and you are at Leah’s.

“Yeah?”

Caitlin stays quiet for several seconds, before sighing and looking at the window. The view isn’t amazing to be honest, just the parking lot of the hospital.

“She wouldn’t want to see me anyway. I fucking broke her heart.”

“What are you talking about?” Leah frowns deepens.

She doesn’t mean to take advantage of Caitlin under drugs, but it’s about you and you are the person who is the most important in her life. It’s not a one-side thing, you are Leah’s person as much as she’s yours.

“We had a fight Wednesday because I wanted to tell you about our relationship or at least that she really thinks about telling you. But like usual she had excuses, and I just couldn’t take it anymore. I love her so much it’s hurt. I just want to be able to hold my girl in public and tell the world how wonderful she is. Who travel the world to bring someone fucking pancake? We were amazing and now we are nothing and a fucking prick just broke my fucking leg and I just want to her to hug me. But she can’t because I fucking wasn’t patient enough with her.“

Leah is stunned. And not only because of Caitlin’s unusual use of swear words. She never though a single second that Caitlin and you were more than just friends. Or that the Australian was the reason of your tears for the last days.

“I know that she loved me, but she loves you even more Leah. She was so scared to lose you. But now I lost her. And I’m really tired.”

“You should sleep a little maybe” Leah mumbles.

Caitlin sighs and close her eyes.

“I’m going to see my sister, will you be ok alone a little bit?”

“Yeah” Caitlin breath before opening her eyes. “Will you tell her? That I love her?”

Leah hesitates some seconds before nodding and smiling softly.

“Yeah. I will.”

She watches the Australian woman closes her eyes and falling asleep as soon as her eyes are closed. Her mind is running, trying to understand what she just learned. She feels like she isn’t really here when she finds you still sitting on the waiting room. You immediately spot her concern look and get up from your chair.

“Is everything ok? I just wrote to Caitlin’s mother that she will be fine?”

“Yeah, she just fell asleep.”

You let a shaky breath pass your lips, really relieved. Your sister still looks pale, but maybe it’s because of those white walls?

“She has a message for you though, that she asked me to tell you.”

“What is it?”

You are curious to know and look at your sister who cross her arms on her chest while looking at you.

“She asks me to tell you that she loves you.”

Well now you might be whiter than Leah. Your big sister watches you become paler than ever, she watches your eyes widen too and how you open your mouth several times to talk without anything coming out.

“What were you thinking Y/N, really?”

You could cry right now. You passed months perfectly hiding your relationship to Leah, giving you probably the onset of an ulcer due to anxiety, and some drugs from a public hospital is going to break all the efforts you made?

“Leah, I’m so sorry” you began, begging while looking at her. “Please, I never wanted to hide something to you, I swear.”

You were panicking. You just lost your girlfriend and now you are about to lose your sister too. The two most important people in your world, sorry to your mom.

“I just don’t understand” Leah says, shaking her head.

You probably are going to have a panic attack.

“I…”

“I don’t understand” Leah cuts you “How you might have thought that I will be mad at you for being with someone who made you happy?”

You don’t understand and you probably don’t look very intelligent with the way you are looking at Leah. She’s still frowning, but you realize that she isn’t mad at you, she just seems lost.

“You said several times that I wasn’t allowed to flirt with one of your teammates, Le” you point, whispering.

“I said flirt because I didn’t want some of hormonal footballer taking advantage of you! Being in love is something else.”

“You are not mad at me?” you ask shyly.

“Of course not, you idiot. I love you more than anything, your happiness is what comes first.”

Leah rolls her eyes and reach out to you. You don’t hesitate to go in her arms, relieved by the unexpected turn of events. The nose in her hair, you whisper :

“I’m sorry for keeping things away from you.”

“It’s ok” Leah says softly, squeezing you a little harder. “I’m sorry you were in so much pain.”

She kisses your cheek and let you go, not without taking you by the shoulders to have a better look at you.

“We are going to make things better between you and Caitlin now, if it’s really what you want. Ok?”

“I’m not sure she’s still interested. She really is mad at me.” you shrug.

“Please. She told me I’m the wrong Williamson, if she doesn’t take you back, I’ll send her back to Sydney.”

********

When Caitlin wakes up almost three hours later, the sun was gone and the room is almost in the dark. There is a small light on the nightstand, and she needs some seconds to remember where she is and why her leg is hurting like hell. She groans and try to roll on her side, her back sore to have been in the same position for hours now. But her leg hurts more, and she opens her eyes, grimacing slightly.

Then she sees you and froze several seconds.

You were already looking at her, like you were doing since you entered the room. She doesn’t seem really peaceful while sleeping and your heart hurt to see her in pain.

“Hi” you whisper, in case her head is hurtful.

“Did I really told your sister than I’m in love with you or was I dreaming?”

You look at her several seconds, trying to see in her eyes if she’s stressed or anxious before answering.

“You ask her to tell me that you love me, but I guess it’s the same thing.”

“Shit. I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok” you say, coming closer to the bed. “It’s not what bother me now. How are you feeling?”

“Ok, I guess. Thanks god we are at the end of the season. The doctor said I will be ok to play for the Olympics.”

“That’s a good new”

Caitlin hums and you look at your hands, lost in your thoughts. It’s maybe a good think that she hasn’t ask you for now to get out of her room, but you chose not to push your luck too much.

“I uh, I’ll let you in peace now. I wrote to your mother and your sister to reassure them, but Beth came with your phone and other stuff like one hour ago” you explain while getting up. “You can write to them if you want to.”

“Oh… No wait, please. Can you stay? Just a little bit?”

You hesitate for several seconds, looking at Caitlin before answering anything. You want to stay, of course. You finally slowly sit down again on the chair.

“Thanks” she mumbles. “Look, about what I said to Leah…”

“It’s ok” you say again, shrugging. “She isn’t mad.”

“No?”

You shake your head, playing with your nails and fingers without looking at her. Caitlin knows how much Leah means for you so you’re pretty sure that she would have feel guilty if Leah was mad at you.

“Is she not mad because she knows that we are no longer together, or would she have been even if we were still together?”

“I think she would have been ok. If that was the case.”

You hear Caitlin takes a deep and big breath, making you look at her. You can’t read the feeling on her face, so you are happy to see her talking again. You don’t know what behavior you can have with her now, are you still able to ask her all the questions you want?

“I don’t know how to say that” Caitlin sighs. “But is there a chance that we maybe try to make things better between us?”

“Better like in being friends again?”

You see Caitlin rolling her eyes and you understand quickly that you haven’t guess right. You are surprised to see a small smile on her face despite the situation you are in.

“How can you be so clever when it’s about your company and so obvious when it concerns relationships?”

You roll your eyes too, used to being criticized about your lack of ease in human relations when they do not concern your job.

“Yes, because you are the most sociable and none-shy person in the world yourself.”

“Touché.”

There is a silence, during which you are looking at each other.

“Can you forgive me for running away the other day?” Caitlin asks softly.

“Only if you forgive me for believing during all this time that my sister wouldn’t accept our relationship and how I was wrong.”

She smiles again and you smile back at her. You get up when she asks you to sit next to her by patting the bed next to her. That place being the other side of her injured leg, you oblige.

“I don’t know how explain how sorry I am. I shouldn’t have left like this.”

“I get it. It wasn’t a pleasant situation. But it doesn’t mean that I don’t love you or anything.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“I am too” you whisper.

After one second of hesitation, you put your head on her shoulder, and you close your eyes when she put her chin on your head.

“So, what now that Leah knows?” Caitlin asks.

To be honest, you don’t really know. Today was a lot of feelings to deal with and you don’t even know where to start. Your girlfriend (?) seems to understand what is happening in your head, because she kisses tenderly your temple before talking.

“What about I get out from here first?”

“That sounds good” you smile softly. “And from here, you come right to mine so I can take care of you.”

“Perfect.”

You watch the Aussie laying down on the bed and you turn on your side to be able to look at her better. With your finger, you are tracing random patterns on her arm. You know that she’s falling asleep but you need to ask the question.

“Cait?”

“Mh?” she answers, without opening her eyes.

“Are we back together? Like, are you my girlfriend again?”

She snorts and snuggle closer from you, already half-asleep.

“Yes we are. Weirdo.”

[cheenapri]

Transactional [Yandere Illumi Zoldyck x Reader]

Day two + three

Summary: It is now day two (and three) of the trip and you are very adamant on ruining the experience; Illumi doesn’t take too kindly to that.

Word count: 14k

Notes: yandere, kidnapping, gender neutral reader, unhealthy relationships, unbalanced power dynamics, mentions of past abuse, Illumi tweaks tf out, lots of arguing, reader is a huge brat and gets put in their place

Day one Day four + five

Taglist: @lilyalone @yamekocatt

Something feels off.

You’re reluctant to leave your workplace once again, staring out the window and into the shadowy abyss before you. There were a few parked cars and the road was lit up with flickering street lights, making it look like something out of a horror movie. Those lights have been broken for some time now; they should really consider fixing those. 

You worked overtime again, wanting the extra funds so you could join your friends at an upcoming concert. You originally had no intentions of going, figuring it wasn’t worth it since you didn’t care for the artist too much. They kept hyping it up, however, eventually making you give in and start working extra hours in order to pay for the expensive tickets. 

You didn’t know the consequence of doing so would be encounters with crackheads after work. 

You bit your tongue. You shouldn’t have declined that ride from your coworker earlier, but you wanted to take a quick trip to the grocery store and didn’t wish to inconvenience them further. You did have your own car, but it was at the shop at the moment as something mysteriously damaged the engine and rendered it unable to start. This forced you to walk to and from work for the last week. You sigh, your hand hesitating for a moment before you pull on the door handle and step out into the crisp night. 

It’s rather quiet.

You cautiously look around before you begin speed walking; taking a brand new route despite how unconventional it was. Unfortunately, they always seem to find you no matter what.

Not even five minutes have passed before a taxi beeps and pulls up next to you, the driver’s movements stiff and puppet-like, his eyes vacant as he smiles creepily at you. 

“It’s d-dark out… n-n-need a ride?” his speech was somewhat slurred.

This was the fourth time this week a taxi had summoned itself, the driver attempting to coerce you to hop in. You glare at him, pace quickening even further as you look for a way out, your hand slowly gripping the switchblade hidden within your coat pocket. 

“It’s f-f-free of charge… just w-wanted to m-m-make sure you go-got h-home safe… You have s-s-someone waiting for you?” he says, still slurring. 

It was always the exact same stuttered lines: state that it’s dark, ask if you need a ride, state that it’s free of charge, pretend to be concerned about you, then ask if there’s someone waiting for you.

You felt as though you were in some sort of simulation; to say it freaked you out was an understatement. 

“I’m calling the police.” you say as you bring your phone out and dial the emergency service. If he were following the same script as the others, calling the police would cause him to drive off.

He doesn’t though, he must be going off script today. 

He lingers far longer than the others have, driving as slow as your quick walking speed, jittering and jerking the steering wheel to avoid running into parked cars, expression in an almost trance-like state as he keeps his smile. He doesn’t react to you telling the dispatcher about your current situation, slowing the taxi even further when you try to linger behind it in order to give them the license plate. 

“Do you h-have any… romantic interests?” he asks, the sheer audacity of this question caused your jaw to drop slightly. When you fail to answer in a timely manner, he keeps going. “W-What about exes? Do you… have any of those?”

You sneer at him once you finish giving his description and your current location to the operator. The person on the phone sounds a bit indifferent as they inform you that a police car is on the way and that you should try to move to a more populated area. 

“You live alone… d-don’t you?” 

You hadn’t even realized he was still talking. 

“Fuck off!” you shout at him, tightening your grip on the switchblade. You were beyond tired of dealing with these creeps. What did they want with you? You glare at him, eyes catching the gold piercing on the left side of his head — a strange place for a piercing.

Right as you were getting ready to bolt, a cop car suddenly pulled up; it’s red and blue lights causing the taxi to speed off into the night. It came unnaturally quick, but you didn’t think about that fact. You were already frantically recounting what had just happened before the male officer could even get out of the car, clearly distressed and completely forgetting about the dispatcher still on the phone. They soon hang up when the officer informs them through his radio that he’s arrived.  

He took your statement after calming you down and offered to give you a ride to the grocery store as you were still insistent on going. Your heart rate slowed once you reached the safety of the store, the presence of other, hopefully normal, people gave you a sense of relief. Rubbing your temples as you enter the store, you take your time gathering your items, picking up a few extra snacks to help relieve your stress. 

You call an Uber to pick you up as you don't want to walk home anymore, the driver was a kind older woman who advised you against being out so late despite its hypocrisy. You rushed inside once you reached home, your dog greeting you with a wiggly dance and tappy paws.

Something still felt off. 

You won’t be working overtime anymore, you’d have to cancel those concert plans. You sigh as you kick off your shoes and place your purchases on the counter. 

Your dog whines.

You walk over to the back door and open it, watching as they cautiously step out and quickly relieve themself before practically running back in, their fur standing on edge.

“What’s wrong?” you ask as you crouch down to pet them, trying to soothe them of their worries as well as your own. Your paranoia made you think the taxi driver was out there.

They only whined again, large eyes staring at you before darting to the living room window, their tail no longer wagging. You stand up and go to wash your hands, hoping they’re just hearing the neighbor or some critter of the night passing by.

You make dinner, giving yourself and your pup something gracious to comfort the both of you before starting your nightly routine. 

Your dog is growling at something. 

You step out of the bathroom and head downstairs, confusion on your face as you watch them pace back and forth from the living room window to the kitchen window.

You head to the back door, hoping letting them out to investigate would calm their nerves. Opening the door only seemed to make it worse, however, as they began barking, tail tucked between their legs as they backed away from you. 

Concerned, you decide to call the police again. You’d been calling them since your second encounter with the taxi drivers, your fears never being dealt with, the officers doing nothing but telling you that they’ll “take your statement and check for the taxi around the neighborhood” and to “call back if something happens.”

You’ll be found dead if this keeps up.

A female officer and her male partner arrive and you immediately explain your earlier encounter, telling them about the weird questions you’d been asked, the driver trailing you for a whole block, and the other police officer taking your statement. 

“Could you check around my house? My dog has been on edge since I got home and I’m afraid he followed me here.” you plead, not sure you’d be able to sleep tonight if they didn’t give you a peace of mind. 

They agree to check, leaving you anxiously waiting by the front door with your pup by your side. After a few minutes, you faintly hear a slight commotion, causing your heart to drop and your dog to bark. 

You continue to stand there, unsure of what to do. After a few more moments, the doorbell rings. You’re slow to open it, only sighing in relief when you see it’s the officers once again. They appear to be fine, though they look sluggish all of a sudden. The female officer informs you that it was just a raccoon hiding within the old grill out back, her words slurring and her eyes droopy.

“Oh?” you nervously chuckle, eyebrows wrinkled with worry. “Was that all?”

“Yeah… it was j-just a biggg raccoon… We’ll take your s-statement and ch-check for taxis around the n-n-neighborhood… C-Call back… if something… happens.”

There goes that exact same line again. As they slowly turn around and begin to leave, something within the female police officer’s hair reflects the porch light for the briefest of moments. You’re confused and shut the door immediately. Your hands are on your hips as you look down at your dog, worry still on your face. You let out a huff, choosing to return to your nightly routine as there wasn’t much else you could really do right now. 

Your dog has quieted down as the night progressed, much to your relief. They haven’t barked for a few hours now and slept peacefully at your feet in the living room. You’ve been talking with your friends, getting their advice about the whole situation and agreeing that you needed to find a better place to live. You hang up the call after a while and look down at the fuzzy creature by your feet. You give them one final pat before heading off to your bedroom upstairs, turning off the lights as you make your way up. 

You leave your bedroom door slightly cracked in case your dog chooses to come up and sleep on your rug. You glance over at the window — the moonlight seeps into the room, perfectly illuminating your face. 

It’s rather quiet.

You don’t know how long you’ve spent laying in bed, scaring yourself as you think about today’s   events, but you eventually fall asleep. Maybe tomorrow you could start looking for a new place to live. 

…

Something feels off.

You’re awoken, a bit groggy as you wipe your eyes. It’s still dark outside. How long were you asleep for? You give your eyes a few moments to adjust to the darkness, turning over on your right side.

…

Your heart jumps into your throat, all traces of tiredness instantly leave your body as you stare up in horror at the featureless, black figure standing next to your bed. 

“Don’t scream and I won’t kill you.” it warns.

Your breath hitches, you couldn’t scream even if you wanted to. What the hell is that? You scoot away from it, nearly falling off the bed in the process. 

You swallow hard, “What are yo-“

“Be quiet.” its voice was low and smooth, a complete contradiction from its appearance. “You really love making my job harder, don’t you? Why couldn’t you just get in the car the first time, hm?”

You don’t answer. Your heart was beating rapidly. You can’t read its expression, all you see is it’s big, black eyes looking down at you. You couldn’t make out any attributes of the figure, it was like one big, black blur in an almost humanoid shape. 

A few moments of silence pass as it simply stares at you, as if thinking about something, the room slowly filling with a black mist. Your eyes quickly dart to your bedroom window then back at the monstrous entity. Maybe if you’re fast enough, you could jump out the window-

“Don’t even think about it.” it takes a single step toward you. “Things will go much smoother for you if you come with me willingly. If you so choose to be obnoxious, however, I will knock you out. You have five seconds to decide what you’ll do.”

“Y-you better leave this house right now, or else I’ll call the police!” your stuttering foiled your already awful bluff. It was close enough to do whatever it wanted to you before you could even reach for your phone. What the hell was the police supposed to do about this thing anyway?

It only tilts its head, large eyes staring eerily at you. After a few moments of silence, it finally spoke, “Very well.”

You scream as it charges at you, blacking out instantly as the black mist completely engulfs the room.

.

.

.

You scream and flail your arms as if you were being attacked, eyes shooting wide open in the process. Your breathing is heavy like you’d just ran a marathon; sweat beads form on your forehead. It takes a couple seconds for you to calm down, coming to the realization that it was only a nightmare. 

A nightmare regarding a memory rather.

Your breath is shaky as you sit up on your elbow, leaning over the side of the bed. You felt nauseous, anxiety bubbling within you as you tried to control it. You look up towards the bathroom door, then towards the TV in front of the bed, then finally towards the man sitting upright behind you.

Looks like you’re still in a nightmare.

You let out a frustrated groan, throwing yourself back onto the bed and covering your face with your hands. In your daze, you had forgotten where you were, only to be harshly reminded upon locking eyes with Illumi. 

“Good morning.” Illumi starts with his typical flat tone, observant of your quick shift from disorientation to exasperation. “Are you comfortable?”

“In a way.” you mumble, closing your eyes as you try to fall back asleep. You didn’t feel like having to deal with him first thing in the morning. 

He continues regardless, “You sound uncertain.”

“The bed is comfortable, yes.” you mumble yet again.

“But there is something you’re uncomfortable with, right?”

It’s him.

You let out another groan as you knew he’d keep questioning you, wanting you to explain all of your answers in explicit detail while not understanding your point behind them. You take a second to stretch before propping yourself up on your elbow once again and looking back at him.

You were skeptical about this unusual attitude of his, thinking it was a new manipulation tactic he’d randomly thought of trying. You’re curious as to how long he’d let you push him over, though.

“Were you watching me sleep all night?” you ask. Your tone hinted at a bit of annoyance which caused Illumi to tilt his head slightly.

He admits casually, “Yeah.” 

If there’s one thing you appreciated about Illumi, it was his honesty. His ability to nonchalantly admit to anything he was willing to answer both amazed and frightened you. 

“No wonder I had a nightmare.” you say, looking away from him. It took everything in you to say something so blunt, so confidently. 

Illumi doesn’t respond, confused by your sudden shift in attitude. You’d just woken up and you were already trying his patience. He keeps his attention on you, watching as you throw the blankets off and slide out of bed. You stretch yet again, back turned to him as you do so. 

“I’m hungry.” you state in an almost entitled tone.

“I’ll tell them to begin preparing breakfast now. You should freshen up in the meantime.” 

You take a deep breath. “Are you dictating what outfit I’m wearing today as well?”

Again, Illumi doesn’t respond — you turn to look when you hear the bed creak, a tad bit worried he was on his way to rip your head off. You knew you wouldn’t even have time to react if he was, though. 

He slowly walks to the wardrobe, shuffling through it for a moment before retrieving an outfit. You notice that he’s already dressed, he must’ve gotten ready while you were sleeping then hopped back into bed so he could continue staring at you.

What a creep.

The outfit was catered to your taste, but it clearly had a touch of his inspiration written on it from how… tight fitting… it appeared to be. You look at the outfit with disdain, allowing your facial features to tell him just how you felt about it. 

He’s indifferent to your scornful look, however, only staring back as he waits for you to take the outfit. He wasn’t changing his mind about this. You’re reluctant but you snatch the clothes from him, nearly stomping into the bathroom. 

The outfit turned out to be more tight fitting than you had anticipated. You hate him. 

You eventually come out of the bathroom, ignoring the way Illumi’s head immediately turned in your direction, and move to sit on the lounge chair.

He was on the phone, presumably calling the butlers to prepare today’s events — eyes still lingering on you as he spoke with them. He hangs up after a minute, fully turning to look at you. 

“That outfit looks great on you.”

You look away from him, eyebrows furrowed. “It doesn’t need to be so snug.”

“It suits you.”

“Of course YOU like it.” you roll your eyes at him, quickly getting tired of his ogling.

He takes a moment to eye you further before speaking, “Let’s go.”

You follow him out of the room and down the hall, that surreal feeling from last night returning once again. As you walk into the main section of the hotel, you instantly notice a huge lack of butlers. 

“Where did everyone go?” you ask, still looking around for other souls. 

“I told them to stay out of view since you have a tendency to stare.” he simply states, staring forward as he leads you down the halls.

You scoff at him. If anyone had a tendency to stare, it was him since his unblinking eyes never seemed to leave you. It was perspicuous that he didn’t want last night’s dinner experience to take place again, only wanting your attention on him and him only. 

“You know,” you suddenly speak up, voice a bit louder than usual, “If you truly want my opinion on things, l'd say you’re failing in terms of atmosphere. It's not normal for a place as busy as a hotel or a restaurant to be so devoid of other people, it makes it feel as though you and I are having a standoff.”

Illumi doesn’t acknowledge your comment right away, only continuing to stare forward as he attempts to process your audacious attitude. You already knew why he was doing it like this: he wanted to keep you away from what he deemed as “distractions.” you were smart enough to recognize and deflect his manipulative tactics to the best of your ability, which is how you’ve managed to retain your sanity for this long. 

You know he loves you — obsessed rather — although incapable of expressing it in a healthy manner. He arrogantly assumed you'd reciprocate the feeling with time and some gentle conditioning, but you never did out of spite, preventing yourself from falling for him as a way of fighting back. Not that you could fall for him anyway. He was far too rough with you, especially when he first brought you to the estate. He didn’t know how to handle someone so fragile, breaking your wrist when you swung on him and crushing your throat when you cursed at him. 

It took a while before you found out why he’d taken you, connecting the dots when he casually mentioned one day that he felt drawn to you before summarizing the five months he spent stalking you. He referred to you as his spouse once, but you were more of an experiment to him in the beginning, his feelings towards you cementing as time went on, confirming to him that he was indeed in love with you. You took advantage of that to the best of your ability, enticing him occasionally, giving him a false sense of your affections when you really wanted to avoid punishment, even if it didn’t always work out in your favor. 

“You’ve woken up in a bad mood, you’re just being grumpy.” Illumi finally responds.

“I’m not being grumpy. You may be used to being alone, but I’m not. For me, the lack of people takes away from the experience, it makes it hard to focus.”

Illumi swiftly glanced down at you before looking forward again, expression remaining neutral. You were dancing around the subject, hiding your true intentions under the guise of helping him improve the atmosphere. 

“I see, but I don’t think exposing you to the public would be ideal.”

“Ideal for yo-”

“Ideal for us.” he corrected, putting emphasis on the word “us.” 

Your attempts at persuading him into taking you somewhere more public wasn’t working, in fact, you were only succeeding in annoying him. Perhaps you were being too ambitious right now. 

“Surely not.” you mumble mainly to yourself, folding your arms as the two of you continue to make your way through the hotel. 

You reach the restaurant and sit at the same table, last night’s rose petals and candles still present. The butlers were nowhere in sight and there was a partition put up to block your view of the chefs. The glass wall was also covered with a thin drape, allowing light in but not see-through enough to give you a clear view of the people below.

Pay attention to him. 

“So uh,” you begin, feeling awkward as you try to get used to his direct staring once again, “what are we doing today?”

“We’re doing what I’ve planned.” Illumi states, not elaborating.

You attempt to pry for more details. “Could you be more specific?” 

“No.”

What a jerk. 

Despite the day just starting, the two of you were already getting on each other’s nerves. Since you can’t look out the window to distract yourself, you ultimately decided you would interrogate him in an attempt to fully understand the situation you were in. 

You take a long, deep breath before speaking. “You know,” you start, looking directly into his eyes, “I’m curious to know what made you decide to do all of this, did you watch some cheesy romance movie or did someone give you the idea?”

…

After a few moments of silence, Illumi slowly blinks at you. This was the first time you’ve seen him blink, mainly because you tend to avoid eye contact with him. He was caught off guard by how you directly questioned him, your bold confidence as interesting as it was concerning. 

“I was not inspired by anything. This is a simple product of my own ideas.” he stated, eyebrows slightly raised.

That’s doubtful, though you knew he wasn’t lying. 

“I see… men in romance movies typically don’t kidnap their partner, it was foolish of me to think you’d be inspired by that. Perhaps you were inspired by a horror movie?” it was becoming increasingly difficult to maintain eye contact as you spoke, trying your best not to react to his silent indicators screaming at you to shut your mouth. You’d already dug yourself a hole, however, may as well keep digging. “Tell me, what inspired you?”

He’s glaring at you now, slight but noticeable. 

“Like I said, there’s no outside inspiration. I chose to do things this way on my own volition.”

“And that’s exactly why I described it as the ‘typical Illumi experience.’ it’s empty, devoid of life, and unnerving.” you say boldly.

His glare disappears, his neutral expression returning as he slowly tilts his head to the side. 

“‘Empty, devoid of life, and unnerving,’” he repeats slowly, “quite a descriptive set of words. Is it truly that way for you?”

“Yeah, I thought I made that clear by now.”

He straightened himself, blinking slowly once again. “It’s unfortunate to hear you see it that way.” 

His voice feigned politeness, turning his attention to the food now being brought to the table. The presence of the butlers doesn’t stop you from retorting, however.

“I gave you a clear solution to help you improve but since you’re so focused on isolating me, you won’t hear it.” you narrow your eyes at him. He doesn’t respond until the butlers have left the room entirely. 

“Is your solution to see other people?” he finally responds in an almost sarcastic tone.

You hated the way he worded that. 

“Yes, the place is empty.”

“It’s not empty, we’re here.”

“We are two people.”

“The butlers and hotel staff are here.”

“Paying guests,” you were becoming annoyed with his intentional stupidity. “people from all walks of life who just want to enjoy some time at the hotel with us. You know what I meant.”

“You should eat before it gets cold.” he looks down, picking up a fork and beginning his unnatural eating habits. You don’t heed his indirect warning to drop the subject, however. 

You continue, “Tell me why you won’t.” 

He doesn’t even look up at you, pretending you hadn’t even said a word.

You speak again, determined to keep going until he gives you an answer. “Give me a reason.” 

“Drop it.” he replies after finishing his plate.

“I won’t until you give me a reason!”

“The reason I chose not to have people here should be evident.”

“And it should be evident as to why your little date with me is a waste of time! You refuse to listen to me at all!”

Illumi is silent. He didn’t like your tone. Your words got to him more than it should and he couldn’t understand why. He was doing everything he could to make this date go smoothly and you were doing everything you could to make sure it wouldn’t.

He didn’t like how aware you were — how aware of him you were. You should have given into Stockholm syndrome months ago, yet here you were forcing him to actually try to earn your affections. Him. A professional assassin who was raised for the sole purpose of killing, whose soul was filled with nothing but darkness. You had made it clear that he could rip you away from your past life, torment you, and force you to go out with him, but he couldn’t force you to love him. Genuinely at least.

Illumi wondered if he should even continue trying…

No. He’d put too much effort into this to call it off. You were just looking for a reaction, that’s it. 

The thought that you wouldn’t be resentful had he taken a healthier approach to your relationship does not cross his mind. In fact, his mind is clear as he gazes upon you, no emotion present on his features. 

You slowly began to eat once it was apparent the topic wasn’t up for discussion anymore. At least the food was good, even if it failed to distract you from the near deadly tension in the air. His presence felt more suffocating than normal, though he wasn’t releasing aura, causing you to quickly eat just so you could get out of here sooner.

He makes no move to stand nor does he speak once you finish, making you awkwardly sit before him a little longer. This was your fault. You should’ve just shut your mouth. The effects of his staring was taking its toll on you the longer you sat there. 

“What’s the plan? Are we going back to Kukuroo Mountain now?” you ask. As much as you hate being in that room, you’d prefer your solidarity over this.

Illumi doesn’t reply, only turning his head slightly before standing and beginning to walk out of the restaurant. He didn’t feel the need to explain anything to you, leaving you to figure it out through his actions. You considered staying seated, but ultimately got up to follow him, knowing that’s what he expected of you. 

You trail slightly behind him as he leads you out of the hotel and into the parking lot, a black Mercedes truck parked just outside the entrance. He opens the passenger side door and just looks at you, not even bothering to give you a verbal command or even a gesture. You stare at him for a moment, wanting to irritate him, before climbing inside and buckling yourself up. 

You stare at the hotel as he walks around and hops into the driver’s seat. He soon begins driving. He appears to have a destination in mind, not Kukuroo Mountain as he’s driving opposite of when you were first taken to the hotel. 

He’s not a quitter, unfortunately. 

He was taking you to a grand mall, one he, of course, cleared out. He still wanted to please you despite your earlier ungratefulness, or so he convinced himself.

The ride was soundless. He chose not to turn on the radio. His eyes unmoving as he stared straight ahead, left hand on the wheel while his right hand sat dangerously close to you on the armrest. 

There were a few more Mercedes trucks within the mall’s parking lot; you could see there were butlers inside as Illumi drove past them, the pink haired butler from yesterday making direct eye contact with you through the windshield of her car. He parked, glancing at you for a brief moment before moving to open the driver’s door. 

He climbed out of the car while you stayed put, you watched as he circled around the front to come open your door. You wished the car had magically started itself and ran him over. You take your time unbuckling yourself, sighing before taking his hand as he “assisted” you out of the truck. 

He led you inside the mall, stopping once you reached the middle of the food court. It was completely empty, just as you’d guessed. You look around as he stands there, staring down at you. Your uncomfortableness is evident as you awkwardly shift your weight and fiddle with the hem of your shirt. 

“You’re free to begin shopping.” Illumi finally stated, giving you the go ahead. 

You gave a quiet “oh” before looking ahead, hesitant to take a step. You genuinely didn’t even feel like moving, not wanting to participate in his plan to keep the date going. Eventually you begin walking, figuring since you were here, you’d get some stuff to entertain yourself with back at the estate. You felt no interest in visiting clothing or jewelry stores considering Illumi would police when you wore whatever you got.

“This is so ominous.” you mumble, hands in your pockets as you walk through the food court and into the main shopping section of the mall. You were curious to know how Illumi did it, how he was able to almost completely clear out all of these places. Did he strike a deal with the owner? Did he kill them and take over the place? You turn towards Illumi, “How come all these big places are so empty? What did you do?”

“Does it matter?” his response was quicker than you’d anticipated. He didn’t appear to be upset though, maybe you could pry some details out of him.

“Did you kill the owner or something?” you look back at him as you’re trailing ahead slightly, his eyes meet yours for a moment before looking forward again.

“That would’ve been the cheapest route, but no.” Illumi admits. “I didn’t kill them.”

“So what did you do?”

Illumi is silent for a moment, as if contemplating something. He then says, “I rented the place for a period of time.”

“You rented this entire mall?!”

“I did. For two hours to be exact, so make the most of it.”

He chose to humor your questions. Good.

Your pace is slow as you walk, taking note of how certain stores were closed down. The accessible stores contained a couple butlers and a store clerk, the butlers standing directly in front of the checkout as if trying to block your view of the clerk. You continue to peer inside but make no effort to actually enter any of the stores. 

You tried to the best of your ability to ignore Illumi’s looming presence behind you, finally entering a store that caught your eye. It was a store that sold adult craft projects ranging from diamond art, to crochet, to even DIY houses similar to the greenhouse you had. 

You quickly look around. You felt invisible, but under a microscope at the same time. The clerk looking down from what you could see of them, the butlers occasionally glancing at you with their stoic expressions but ignored your presence for the most part, and, of course, Illumi gazing directly into your soul. Examining a diamond art kit, you check the price tag out of habit.

“You shouldn’t worry about the tags.” Illumi’s voice scared you a bit despite how gentle it was. 

He’s right. You shouldn’t worry about the price tags. 

You grab as much as you can hold, almost considering buying out the entire store, but not wanting to be questioned as to why you wanted ten of the exact same craft. 

As you approach the checkout with the items in hand, the two butlers gently take them from you and proceed to purchase on your behalf.

You stand and stare at them while they do their job, Illumi placing a hand on your shoulder and nudging you back, “You don’t have to wait for them to finish.” Illumi spoke as he watched the butlers. “We can go to the next store now.” 

You don’t respond to him, side stepping out of his hold and walking out of the store. As you enter a video game store, you purchase, or rather the butlers purchased, several games, most of which you’ll probably never even play but interests you enough to grab. You’ve kept your back turned towards Illumi the whole time, a privilege only a select few could enjoy, wanting to keep him out of your line of sight as much as possible. 

“You’re acting strange.” he stated as he followed you out of the store, “Is something wrong?”

“I’m just trying to enjoy myself.” you said, head lowered as you walked.

“You’re deliberately avoiding me.”

You stare down at your feet for a few moments before responding, “You're like an entity that only I can see whose sole purpose is to haunt me.” your tone was indifferent as you continued to stare down, an echo accompanying your footsteps while silence accompanied his own. “I feel like you're not even real and I’m just hallucinating.”

Illumi didn’t understand what it was you were talking about, and neither did you really, his eyebrows slightly raised as he fully turned his head to face you. 

“I’m very much real.”

“That’s the issue.” you close your eyes for a moment, swallowing hard. Which was truly better? A real person tormenting you or a hallucination tormenting you? Illumi had no words for your comment — he turned to face forward again, eyes leaving you for much longer than they ever had since you entered the mall. “I don’t even know why you’re dragging this out, it was doomed from the start.”

He’s quick to respond, “Was it? Or are you just intent on being difficult?”

You can sense a ping of his aura, causing you not to respond further. You stop walking, you’re now at the far end of the mall standing next to the escalators. You watch the moving stairs for a bit before looking up into the skylight. 

The slight humming of the escalator was strangely comforting — the sun shone perfectly down upon you, bathing you in a warm light. You looked down at your feet once more; you felt like crying. The nostalgic feelings you were trying desperately to repress were becoming too much to bear. 

Illumi watches, studying your strange behavior as you stand there with your eyes closed.

“What are you doing?” Illumi asked after watching you for almost a full minute. 

You consider ignoring him, but you can still sense him releasing the tiniest amount of aura.

“A skylight in my room would be nice.” 

“Your room is underground.” Illumi stated matter-of-factly. His response was quick, almost as if he’d predicted you’d say something like that.

“You’re more than capable of giving me a room above ground then installing a skylight.”

“I am.” he gave you a subtle side eye. He indeed had more than enough funds to make your new room, he just didn’t like the thought of giving you one. He assumed it would give you ideas, ideas he didn’t want to have to severely punish you for. 

“So do it.” you open your eyes and look at him, meeting his black, empty ones. 

“Your current room is sufficient enough.” he retorts.

“I like natural light, Illumi.” 

His aura is no longer present, his shoulders dropped slightly. He continued nonetheless, “You can survive without sunlight.”

He won't budge on your request. He saw nothing wrong with keeping you in a windowless room and having you take vitamin D supplements. This was normal to him after all. 

“Anytime I request something that would genuinely make me happy, you dismiss it immediately.”

“Your requests tend to be quite ridiculous.”

“But renting a mall isn’t?!” your voice was getting loud, you were frustrated with him. “You’d rather spend all that extra money on bullshit than something that would actually make me happy?!” 

“This date was supposed to make you happy. In fact, everything I do is for your well-being.” Illumi spoke slowly, making sure to look you dead in the eyes as he said this.

Despite your outburst, Illumi remained stoic. Not a trace of annoyance or even irritation within him, he was completely neutral.

Deep breath in, hold it, breathe out slowly.

You turn on your heel, walking past him and back towards the food court. You stop near the exit doors, peering out the glass and into the parking lot. 

“I’m done shopping.” you were beyond finished with this. 

You wish he never came up with this pathetic little date idea and just left you back at the estate. You hated the constant mind battles between the two of you; you were mentally exhausted and just wanted time away from him to reset, preferably the rest of your life. 

“We’ve been here for thirty-five minutes. We have about another hour and twenty-five minutes to shop.” he says casually. You don’t respond, only glaring at him before looking out into the parking lot once again. His eyes continue to linger on you. “You should shop some more.”

It was clear it wasn’t a suggestion, it was an order. 

“Save your money-” you attempt to argue, but he cuts you off.

“Don’t worry about my money. I’m telling you to continue shopping.” he spoke, signaling he was slowly becoming a bit irritated despite his very, very calm expression. 

“I already got what I wanted.” you glare at him again.

You knew exactly what you were doing. You were intentionally rushing so you could leave sooner and waste the money he’d used to rent the mall.

He was aware of this. 

“Do you not know how to enjoy yourself at a mall? I’m giving you a great privilege here.”

“It’s hard to enjoy a mall under these circumstances.”

“You’re just being difficult.” Illumi retorted, trying to make it seem as if your unhappiness was your own cause. 

“That’s NOT-”

“Watch your tone.” his voice sounded menacing, causing you to shut your mouth immediately.

His aura returned, his patience was running thin. You’re quiet for a moment, glancing out into the parking lot and daringly taking another step towards the doors.

“Can…” your voice is low as you speak, “can we just go back to Kukuroo-“

“Let’s continue shopping.” Illumi cuts you off once again.

You’re not daring enough to take another step, let alone actually make your way through those doors, as much as you want to. You continue to stand there despite Illumi’s request. Would you even be able to open the door before he grabbed you?

Your question was unfortunately answered when he moved swiftly and stood directly in front of you, basically teleporting before you. He cupped your face just as fast in a firm, almost tight hold, forcing you to look up at him. His hands were surprisingly warm.

“(Name).” he’d drawn out your name in a sickeningly soft tone, his eyes failing to match the gentleness of his voice. It was a sight you didn’t want to behold. You step back, to which he lets go, and turn to proceed back into the main shopping section. His eyes linger on you before he clapped his hands together once, all traces of aura instantly vanishing. “I’m glad you’ve decided to enjoy this experience further, (Name).” his voice was still soft, almost cheerful as he followed close behind you. 

Your heart is still beating rapidly as you walk through the mall, slowly taking your time exploring each of the stores. You don’t buy anything though, you were simply staring at the merchandise as if they were artifacts in a museum. Illumi starts pointing out things you’d like, or rather things he’d like on you, when you fail to make a purchase after the third store. 

Only an hour remaining.

You began staring at items for far too long, attempting to shave off as much time as possible, ignoring Illumi when he asked if it was something you wanted. He bought them anyway so it didn’t matter. He began purchasing anything you stared at, annoyed but not commenting on your stubborn attitude.

Only thirty minutes remaining.

As you walk the halls, you choose to stop and examine a statue you’ve passed at least three times. Illumi stands awfully close to you.

“You’re testing my patience, (Name).” he says. You don’t feel his aura, thankfully, but you knew you were pushing him too far.

“I don’t know what you want-”

“You know exactly what I want.” he slowly brought his hand to rest on your shoulder. You don’t sense any hints of mischief behind it, but you knew better than to trust it. “I thought this would’ve been a nice way for us to bond, but, of course, you’re obstinate.”

“Bond?” you ask, voice somewhat soft from the threat of his hand on you.

“Yes.”

“How?” you asked. Despite being held captive for months, you still fail to fully understand how Illumi thinks. You can feel his grip on you tighten slightly before resting once again.

“We bond whenever we are with each other, that’s how it works.”

You’re too tired to correct him, not that he’d understand anyway. “Tell me,” you start, “what is the purpose of this, Illumi?”

“This is the second time you’ve asked me this.”

“You never answered why you’re doing this, you only stated you weren’t inspired by anything and chose to do this on your own free will. I’m asking you why you’re doing this.”

Illumi is quiet for a few seconds before responding, “I wanted to spend time with you, that’s all.”

“Really?” you questioned.

“Yes.”

“Hmm.” you brought your hand up to your chin, trying to think of a possible ulterior motive. There was definitely more to this, but you couldn’t think of what it was. 

Only twenty-seven minutes remaining. 

“We don’t have much time left here. I believe it would be wise for you to do what I expect of you.” Illumi states as he removes his hand from your shoulder.

You go along with it, just wanting to get it over without being overwhelmed by Illumi. 

One minute remaining.

You half assed the last twenty-six minutes of shopping, but it was good enough for Illumi. He didn’t complain, or speak at all really, as he watched you hand the butlers random items you’ve picked up.

Once that was done, he led you outside and back into the truck, a weight being lifted off your shoulders when you felt the wind blow against your skin.

You didn’t bother asking him about the next location, knowing he wouldn’t tell you. He put on some music this time; he must be feeling better. 

Your tiredness instantly evaporated once you realized he was driving into the city, other Zoldyck trucks joining and forming a motorcade around the two of you. 

The car comes to a stop on an empty street, your eyes scan the butlers standing guard, locking on the pink haired one for a split second, before moving to the blockades blocking off side streets. Illumi does his chivalry deed before walking you towards the bus stop. 

Your head doesn’t stop swiveling, turning towards the buildings, to the lake, to the butlers, to the birds pecking at the ground, to the approaching bus. 

“Is this a tour bus?” you ask, instantly recognizing it as you’d been on one with your friends before. 

“Yes.” he responds flatly. 

As the bus pulls up, you get a good look at it. It was a big, red double decker bus, the windows a little too tinted to be legally owned by any company. You’re a little quick to climb inside once the doors open, it was empty aside from two butlers seated at the very back.

“Can we sit on the roof?” you ask, wanting to feel the breeze on your face but also wanting a vantage point to scout for other signs of life. 

“No. Sit here.” 

Illumi doesn’t offer any reasoning, only pointing to a row of seats on the right side of the bus. You take the window seat and Illumi sits next to you, caging you in.

Perhaps you should’ve let him take the window seat instead.

There’s a screen in front of you playing a pre recorded audio commentary as the ride begins, it was the only voice heard within the bus. Your heart sinks a little when you see people walking about and civilian cars waiting at intersections. It was a normal day for them. 

You look forward, then behind you, ignoring Illumi and the butlers’ curious eyes, as you confirm that the bus indeed was part of another motorcade. You slump slightly, looking out the window and at the curious faces of pedestrians completely unaware of what was going on. 

You had barely caught anything the audio commentary had explained about the various landmarks you’d passed, too busy reminiscing on past times to even care. The bus had done a full loop around the city, soon coming to a halt at the bus stop it picked you up from. 

Instead of walking you back to the truck, Illumi holds your hand, correctly this time as he didn’t give you time to freak out, and walks you to a nearby grassy area along the lakefront. His hold was a little tight.

There was a large blanket set out underneath a lone cherry blossom tree, Shiori setting down a singular basket, bowing to the both of you, then leaving. 

You both settled onto the blanket, Illumi sitting unreasonably close despite the vast amounts of space. You allowed yourself to relax a bit regardless, taking in the view of the lake mixed with the falling cherry blossom petals. You paid no mind to Illumi as he fumbled through the basket, using hand sanitizer but not offering you any.

He carefully unpacked the contents, laying out a meal too small to be enjoyed by two people. You silently glance over at it before looking forward again. The view was nice, various skyscrapers and buildings lined the horizon, and a few clouds decorated the big, blue sky. 

It was silent, you and Illumi haven’t spoken to each other since you got on the bus — it was better that way. Illumi savored your docile demeanor, content that you were finally relaxing around him for once. He wasn’t fixated on you surprisingly, only gazing upon the city view before him.

You’d sat there for about ten minutes, relaxing enough to shut your eyes as you envisioned yourself in another place, before Illumi finally spoke up, “Aren’t you going to eat something?”

You slowly opened your eyes, looking at the mini meal sprawled out on the blanket, then at the fork Illumi held tightly before closing them again. 

“No.” you said simply. This was a trap.

Illumi tilted his head as he looked at you. “Why not?” 

“Why aren’t you eating?” you question him instead. “You’ve been holding that fork for a while now, and yet you haven’t reached for anything.”

You were suspicious. This was a one person meal and Illumi was holding the only fork you could see yet made no move to use it. This could only mean one thing.

“This is for you. I’m not hungry.”

You sit upright. “Where are all the forks?”

“In my hand.” he stated nonchalantly. “What would you like to eat first?”

You were becoming nervous. “Just give me the fork.” you state, holding your hand out to him. 

“What would you like to eat first?” he repeats, looking down at the options before him and ignoring your hand.

“Please don’t do this to me.”

“You will eat the chicken Alfredo first.”

You retract your hand as he reaches for the chicken Alfredo, opening the container and allowing its savory scent to escape. You watch in horror as he collects a few noodles onto the fork and holds it up to you. 

His intentions were clear; he was going to feed you.

“I can feed myself.” 

“I know. Open your mouth.”

“Illumi-“

The fork was shoved into your mouth, the prongs hitting the back of your throat and causing you to choke. You cover your mouth when he pulls the fork out, coughing through your nose as you collect yourself from the sudden assault. At least the chicken Alfredo was good. 

“Hopefully you’ll listen this time. Come.” 

He scooped more noodles and chicken onto the fork, holding it out to you again. You glare at him before complying, allowing him to feed you gently this time. The cycle continues until the entire meal is gone, leaving only empty containers. 

He didn't say anything else once he was finished, but you noticed a slight smile on his otherwise expressionless face. He was happy. Very, very happy. 

Both of you sit in silence for a while, Illumi enjoying your presence and you ignoring his. Eventually he stands up, motioning for you to follow. He leads you back to the truck, performing an unneeded act of chivalry as he helps you inside, before pulling onto the road, the same Mercedes trucks driven by Zoldyck butlers surrounding the vehicle once more.

Illumi had one more activity planned for the day, one he was sure you’d love: a botanical garden. He had a slight smile on his face as he drove, eyes never leaving the road but he was definitely paying close attention to you. 

It took a short while, but he eventually reached his destination, quickly helping you out of the car before guiding you through the gates and into the garden. He seemed quite eager. The garden was huge, so he expected the both of you to be there for at least two hours, walking and analyzing all the different plants.

You were partially in higher spirits as you took in the different sights and smells, your facial features softening slightly. You were docile as you followed Illumi throughout the garden, engaging in conversation with him about all the different plants. He educated you on the purposes of different plants, ones that healed, ones that calmed, and ones that were extremely toxic but had a sweet, almost candy-like flavor. You don’t question him about that. 

He felt like he was truly bonding with you for once as you engaged with him. There wasn’t an ounce of negativity within you as you walked beside him, though you weren’t exactly beaming and doing heel clicks. You were calm; that was enough for him.

The sun had set and the moonlight bathed the garden in a white glow, fireflies fluttering about in the near darkness. You two had already begun the long walk back to the entrance a few minutes ago, silent as you listened to the chirping of numerous crickets and other critters. 

“It’s nice being able to enjoy nature like this.” Illumi stated as he stared ahead. 

“Yeah.” your tone was indifferent. “I used to go on walks like this all the time, but then something really unfortunate happened.”

“Hmm.”

Illumi only gave a simple hum in response, not wanting the mood to turn unpleasant so suddenly. Thankfully you didn’t say anything else to force an argument, quiet as he led you back to the entrance and into the car. 

The drive back was smooth, the only sounds being heard was the humming of the engine and the soft music coming from the radio. He takes you to the restaurant upon entering the hotel and dinner was just as quiet. You must be too tired to challenge him as you simply stare down at your plate. Good. He was finally able to enjoy a meal with you without getting a headache.

After dinner, he took you back to your shared suite, both of you showering before hopping into bed. You immediately roll onto your side, facing away from him as you try to escape into a deep sleep. He’s sat up in bed though, silently staring at you. 

The curtain covering the balcony door was partially opened, allowing the moonlight to flood the room and perfectly illuminate your figure. The sight causes him to reminisce for a moment.

“You were happier today —” Illumi spoke, voice a bit soft, “in the later half at least.” he’s silent for a moment as he thinks to himself. “I want to discuss something before you nod off.”

“Mhm.” you lazily hum.

You’d contemplated ignoring him in hopes he’d think you were sleeping, but you could count zero times that actually worked for you before. 

“Despite the rocky start… did you enjoy yourself today?”

He was seeking reassurance. He was being vulnerable. 

You’re in no rush to respond, allowing the silence to linger longer than he’d like. You think of all the different types of responses you could give him, ones that would please him enough to get him to shut up, ones that would severely upset him, and ones that would probably lead to him laying hands on you. 

“Would you enjoy doing your favorite things with someone who torments you?” you ask, ultimately deciding your answer would be up to Illumi. 

“So you enjoyed it? That’s good to hear.”

You don’t bother to correct him, knowing it would lead to a back and forth that would never conclude. 

Illumi, on the other hand, is completely satisfied, despite misinterpreting the true meaning behind your indirect answer. He was convinced that, ignoring your earlier defiance, today had been a total success and a step forward in the right direction. 

He’d only hoped he could make even more progress with you tomorrow.

.

Day three

.

Illumi rises very early, as he usually does, and gets himself ready for the day. His movements are silent as he walks about the suite, putting his clothes on, combing his hair, and more. He stands next to your side of the bed for a moment, gazing down upon your sleeping face and admiring your relaxed features.

He stares for way longer than he intended to before quietly making his way out the suite and to a secluded area. He makes a long phone call before returning to the suite and sliding back into bed, sitting upright as he stares at the blank TV.

You stir three hours later, yawning and stretching before sitting up. You wipe your eyes then look back at Illumi.

“Morning.” he greets.

“Hi.” your voice was softer than you meant it to be.

“Sleep well?”

“Mhm.”

You slide off the bed and head to the bathroom before he could ask you more pointless questions about how you slept. You complete your morning routine, taking a moment to stare at yourself in the mirror, before opening the bathroom door and standing in the doorway. Illumi slowly looks over at you. 

“When are we leaving?” you ask, wanting to limit the amount of time spent locked in an enclosed space with Illumi. 

“Whenever you’d like.” he responded simply.

You silently maintain eye contact with him for three seconds before making a request, “I want to pick my own outfit today, Illumi.”

Illumi taps his chin as if contemplating before sliding off the bed and heading toward the wardrobe. You watch him from your spot in the doorway as he lays multiple outfits out onto the bed, all featuring short sleeved tops and shorts coupled with some form of sandals for shoes.

“Take your pick.”

Sometimes you wonder if he’s intentionally misinterpreting you just to play mind games or if he’s really that unaware. You know it’s the latter, though. 

“This isn’t what I meant.” you state as he stares at you.

“You said you wanted to pick your outfit. I am giving you options to pick from.”

You decide not to fight it as this was the most control you’ve had over your own outfit in several weeks. You pick one that seemed to have the least of his inspiration and head to the bathroom with it. 

Illumi watched as the door shut behind you, clueless as to why you still had a problem with him even when he let you do what you wanted. He doesn’t dwell on it, packing the leftover clothes back into the wardrobe and calling the butlers to prepare breakfast. 

Once you were done and ready, he escorts you to the restaurant as usual. You feel a ping of unexplainable dread bubbling within you, but don’t think too much about it, chalking it up to the thought of having to deal with Illumi for yet another day for who knows how long. 

As you sit across from Illumi, you notice the rose petals have been replaced with fresh ones, some white and pink ones thrown into the mix. You fiddle with them as Illumi blankly stares at you. 

“We will be spending a lot of time outdoors today.” Illumi said. He figured he’d be the conversation starter during breakfast today as yesterday’s breakfast conversation led by you turned out to be very unsavory. “It’ll be good for the mind.”

“Yeah, I bet.” you continue fiddling with and even slowly tearing apart the rose petals. 

“Aren’t you going to ask what we’re doing?” Illumi inquired.

You don’t even look up at him. “What’s the point?”

“Do you not want to know what we’re doing today?”

“It’s not like you’d tell me anyway.”

“How do you know?”

You finally look up at him. “Why are you interrogating me?”

“I’m not. I’m just trying to have a conversation.”

You’d prefer if Illumi just kept his mouth shut as you weren’t in the mood for his pathetic attempt at a conversation. 

“For what? You’re not the talkative type.”

“I just wanted to talk.” he simply states. His voice had been slightly softer as he spoke with you.

“Is this another bonding experience of yours?” you mock, mentally rolling your eyes. 

“Yes.”

Of course he doesn’t sense your sarcasm.

“You know,” you start, noticing how Illumi stiffened slightly. “You know” was always your way of starting an argument. “communication in a healthy… relationship… is key. If you truly wish to bond with me, you’ll tell me everything you refused to tell me before.”

“I’ve already been doing that.” he states, referring to all the tiny bits of information he’s given you the last couple of days. 

“There is something bigger I want to know, something you’ve been refusing to talk to me about since you took me.”

Illumi looks down at the pile of mangled rose petals in front of you before looking back up into your eyes. He could already predict where you were headed with this and knew it would most likely lead to something that would put the progress he believed he made with you in jeopardy. You were simply seeking some sort of approval from him to talk, though.

“I’m not interested in this discussion.” Illumi boldly replies, the softness in his voice long gone. 

“It’s the least you could do, Illumi.”

“No.” he didn’t budge.

“You’re only going to end up sabotaging yourself.”

Illumi’s eyes narrowed at your subtle threat. You were basically telling him that if he didn’t have this conversation with you, you’d make the date hell for the both of you. 

“There is nothing positive that could come from this discussion; therefore, I see no reason to have it.”

“And whose fault is that?”

“Yours.” Illumi says boldly. You were slightly taken aback by how quickly and effortlessly Illumi pinned the blame onto you, completely believing he’d done nothing wrong. “I see no point in giving you the chance to start unneeded drama.”

“You don’t need to give me the chance, it will happen regardless. I’m throwing you a bone by trying to settle things in a civil manner.” you say, watching as his eyes narrow even more.

“There is nothing to settle. Nothing will change whether you know or don’t.”

“You’re obligated to talk to me at this point.”

“I’ve been talking to you this entire time, I’ve fulfilled that obligation. You’re only going to throw a fit and ruin what we have going on currently.”

“You think we have something going on between us simply because we didn’t argue for a few hours?” You mock, your balled up fists resting on the table.

“Yes.”

Your words are caught in your throat as you realize just how out of it he truly is. Two butlers come and deliver breakfast, gently setting the plates of food in front of you and Illumi. They quickly leave, probably sensing the tension in the air, and Illumi immediately begins eating. He’s eating much, much slower than usual, though. 

He’s staring down at his plate as he does so, avoiding eye contact with you and hoping you’d just drop it for his sake.

You don’t.

“What was… the aftermath of my disappearance?” you ask, carefully choosing your words due to past experiences with Illumi’s negative reactions. Usually bringing up this topic was punishable by strangulation. Illumi had only warned you once before not to ask him about it, not explaining why or what he’d do if you did, only leaving you to find out through trial and error. “I deserve to know that much after so long.”

The dread coupled with asking the forbidden question is building in your stomach. You instinctively hold your hands under your chin, preparing yourself in case your plan to hold this date over his head doesn’t work. 

He doesn’t look up at you, but he’s not eating anymore either. Illumi had his reasons for not wanting to talk to you about this. It wasn’t because he felt guilt or shame for what he’d done, no not at all, it was because he didn’t want to deal with your reaction to it. You were a screaming, crying mess back then and even though you’ve calmed down to some degree, you’re still quick to return to your old roots. 

He found you as fascinating as he found you irritating, no longer questioning why he couldn’t bring himself to just kill you and move on with his life. You were a breath of fresh air, someone who kept him interested, someone who kept him wondering, and someone who always managed to surprise him with how bitchy you continued to be.

The realization that you’d rather be stifled until you’re unconscious than favor his simple demand sinks into him. You truly are an unruly brat. He finally looks up at you, which causes you to stiffen.

“What do you want to know?”

Illumi was made aware that you’d never shut up about it, and he wasn’t fond of the thought of cutting your vocal cords. He caved into your threat, to some degree, thinking that if he chose his words carefully, he could make it out of this discussion with minimal damage. He’d just have to walk on eggshells for a few minutes, eggshells he put down. 

Your eyes widened slightly. Was he actually agreeing to talk with you about it?

“You’ll… you’ll tell me?” you ask, hands slowly coming down to rest on the table.

“If we can move forward quickly afterwards and you never bring it up again, yes.” Illumi responded, making sure to place clear conditions.

“I will, only if you answer all of my questions truthfully.”

“Understandable.”

Your heart was beating rapidly as you looked into his eyes, all questions you had about the subject nearly leaving you before you quickly collected yourself. You take a deep breath and close your eyes, mentally preparing yourself for what’s to come. You open them again after a moment, staring straight into his black ones.

“Have you harmed any of my friends or family since you’ve taken me?”

“No.” his answer was quick and concise. You were relieved. 

“Was I reported as a missing person?”

“Yes.”

“Did you… influence my case at all?”

“Yes.”

Your eyebrows furrow slightly. Yes he was answering your questions, but he wasn’t elaborating. “What did you do?” you ask.

“I made sure your case wasn’t thoroughly investigated.”

“Could you be more specific? I want to know the details.” you say with a hint of irritation in your voice. 

“I paid detectives to ignore all the statements the police took from you and to limit how long search parties spent looking for you. You were concluded as a runaway.”

Your eyebrows furrow even more as you think how distraught your family must’ve been when you vanished, what they must’ve been thinking when greedy detectives fed them lies in order to make a quick buck. You hate him.

“Why me?!” you yell at him.

You were beyond fed up with this, beyond fed up with him. He tilts his head at you, expression neutral as he brought a hand up to his chin as if he was thinking. 

“Indeed. Why you?” he doesn’t say anything else as he continues to stare at you in that pose.

“Why me?! Tell me, why are you doing this to me?!”

He takes a moment to respond, “That is indeed a good question.”

“You don’t even know why, do you?”

“No. I don't.” Illumi admits casually. “But even without knowing, the need is still there.” He straightens himself again, hands moving to rest on his lap. "I originally intended to kill you. I thought you were using some kind of power to control me. Imagine my surprise when I found out you weren't a nen user."

“A nen user? What the hell is that?”

He doesn’t answer your question, only silently looking at you. When you fail to say anything further, he looks down at his plate and continues eating in his usual quick fashion. It’s over with. He’s relieved.

You ponder momentarily, looking down at the food before you as you contemplate what you’re about to say. It was a long shot, but did you really have much to lose?

“I want to talk to my family. I want them to know I’m still alive and well.” you say confidently, not a trace of fear in your voice. 

If Illumi wasn’t obsessed with you, he would’ve killed you right then and there for making such a stupid, ignorant request. His frustration is calmly taken out on the fork he’s holding, his tight grip bending the metal into all sorts of shapes as his neutral expression remains fixated on the plate before him. It was a terrifying sight.

“Absolutely not.” his voice is terrifyingly nonchalant. “This discussion ends here.”

His aura warns you. You don’t care, though.

“I want to talk to them.” you repeat.

“We are not discussing this any further. Eat your food. Now.”

“Why can’t I talk to my own family?”

Illumi looks up at you, you see something flash in his eyes. “If you talk to your family, they’ll come looking for you. And if they come looking for you, I’ll kill them. By keeping them unaware, their safety is guaranteed. I’m doing you a favor.”

Your hands balled into fists once more. “How?! How are you doing me a favor?!”

Illumi replies quickly, “By not killing them from the start.”

“How can you say that and expect me to be happy with you?!”

“Because they’re still alive.”

“And so that’s it?!” your voice is starting to get loud. “Because you didn’t kill my family, I’m supposed to love and accept you?!”

“Correct.” he states boldly.

His aura was becoming more suffocating despite his completely neutral demeanor. You grit your teeth in anger.

“You’re fucking insane!” you shout at him, slamming your fist on the table and causing your untouched drink to spill. Illumi watches as the reddish pink fruit punch soaks into the table cloth. “Why would I want to live the rest of my life with someone like you?! I’d rather you just kill me at this point, it would be mercy!”

This is why he didn’t want to have this discussion, you were forgetting your place. 

“Watch yourself, (Name).” he says as he looks up at you. “This is your only warning.”

“Fuck you.”

Illumi abruptly stood up, the force knocking his chair back a few feet. Your anger immediately vanishes, fear taking its place. He grabs your wrist tightly, yanking you out of your seat and dragging you out of the restaurant. He had enough, your audaciousness had gone unpunished for far too long. 

Your weak attempts to pull away were only met with him tightening his grip more, causing you to cry out. It felt like he’d crush your wrist if he tightened any more. The tears had already begun streaming down your face, but you refused to beg for forgiveness. 

He’d taken you back to the suite, practically throwing you on the floor as he slammed the door shut behind him. He stood there, staring down at you with a look that would normally kill. 

“I’ve been very patient with you, I’ve been very lenient with you, and I’ve been very considerate of you, and this is what I get in return?” he asks.

You remain on the floor, wiping your tear stained eyes before looking up at him. “I don’t owe you shit. You ruined my life.”

“Ruined your life? You don’t know what ruining a life even means.” he takes a step towards you. He was convinced he saved your life, saved you from what would’ve been a violent death. You don’t seem to understand the type of person he is. “If I really wanted to, I could make your life a living hell. You understand that, don’t you?”

You glare up at him, your intense hatred for him evident on your face. “I hate you.”

Such a childish response should not have any sort of effect on him, but it did when it came from you. His aura quickly became overwhelming, striking you with complete and utter terror as you lay frozen on the ground. His eyes wide, his pupils shrunken to dots, and his hair floating in the air. You’d activated his bloodlust. 

His aura reached far and wide, paralyzing the hotel employees and causing the butlers to think he’d finally killed you. 

“No, you don’t. You love me.” he spoke his words as if they were fact, something you could not argue with. He takes another step toward you, eyes boring into you. “Isn’t it funny how you beg for death yet freeze in terror when the possibility of death becomes a reality?”

His voice was unnaturally soft for the state he was in. He was happy, happy that your talk of wanting to die was nothing more than a bluff, a tactic to control him. You didn’t actually want to die, you were just overreacting.

After a few seconds, he calmed down. His face returned to his neutral expression, his long hair falling back down into place. It’s as if nothing had even happened.

“Hm…” he hums, looking down at your paralyzed figure on the floor. He ponders for a few seconds before suddenly crouching down, scooping you into his arms, and gently placing you onto the bed. 

Without thinking twice about it, he lays beside you, one arm awkwardly outstretched on top of you as his head sits atop of yours. He was comforting you, though he didn’t know it. He had gotten an uncontrollable urge to do so, one he’d never gotten before, and was in no state of mind to resist. 

He stares out the balcony door as you lay unconscious in his arms. This feeling was foreign to him, just as everything relating to you was. He couldn’t comprehend how he felt right now, but knew he was at ease as he absorbed your warmth and slight twitches.

Illumi doesn’t move at all as he waits for you to wake up, awkwardly sprawled out partially on top of you as he continues to blankly stare ahead. His mind was empty, he felt no desire to dwell on what had happened, only allowing time to pass as he accepted this bizarre feeling. 

You eventually begin to stir, but he still doesn’t move, only shifting his eyes to look down at you. You slowly sit up, groaning as you do so, and wiping your eyes in the process. His arm falls lower than you’d like, causing you to grab and remove it off of you entirely. Neither of you say a word, but the tension doesn’t feel as heavy as you’d expect it to be after something so traumatic. 

Illumi remains in his awkward position, watching as you slide off the bed and head to the bathroom. You stay in the bathroom for quite some time, your quiet sniffling and sobbing reaching Illumi’s ears. He doesn’t move to check on you, or rather put a stop to your crying, choosing to sit by and let you cry it out for once. 

He finally gets up after a while, thinking he’d given you more than enough time to recover and move on. He pulls out his phone, quickly texting Shiori, before moving to knock on the bathroom door. He casually states that the two of you will be leaving soon and encourages you to come out. 

You don’t respond but you do comply after a few minutes, eyes reddened and slightly puffy. He doesn’t comment on it, only silently walking you out the suite, outside the hotel, and into the truck once more. 

Despite almost brutally murdering you twice within a five minute time span and bruising your wrist, Illumi was nonchalant. He has the radio playing so he must be in a good, or at least neutral, mood. 

He parks near his next destination — the beach — and assists you out the car as usual, his hold much, much gentler than it ever had been. He continues to stand there after shutting the door behind you though, holding your uninjured hand and watching Shiori as she appears out of nowhere. Shiori doesn’t say a word as she gently takes your injured wrist. You don’t know what she does, but the pain and bruising is suddenly gone. She swiftly bows before leaving.

You’ve never verbally questioned her magical abilities but you mentally thank her as Illumi proceeds to escort you towards the beach. You think to yourself how strange this whole ordeal is but don’t feel the need to comment on that obvious fact, only remaining silent as he takes you over to two lounge chairs set up under a beach umbrella. 

You sit down, propping your head up on your hand as you stare out into the ocean. This was relaxing. Shiori appears once again, placing a pineapple smoothie inside of a hollow pineapple on the little table beside you before leaving just as quickly, a red umbrella and a swirly straw placed inside for maximum corniness. You ignore it. 

There was a surprising sense of tranquility within you as you sat in the lounge chair; the breeze felt nice, the sound of the waves was like a massage for your ears, and the occasional seagull noises gave you a sense of nostalgia. 

Your mind was calm, yet racing all at once, a feeling you were all too familiar with. You fully relax onto the chair, kicking your sandals off and turning onto your side — away from Illumi. You rest your head on your hands, shutting your eyes as the warm sun cleansed you of your stress. 

An hour passes, then two, then three.

“The view is nice.” Illumi finally speaks, continuing to stare ahead of him as he had been doing since he sat down. 

You don’t acknowledge him, not that he minded — for once — as he retained his calm demeanor. 

Illumi continued after a few minutes, ”We’re going to have dinner with my family back at Kukuroo Mountain tomorrow.”

Your heart sunk into your stomach. You immediately sit up, looking over at him for the first time since you came here. 

“What?!” you ask, clearly distraught over this unfortunate information.

Illumi turns his head slightly, shifting his eyes toward you as he repeats himself, “We are going to have dinner with my family back at Kukuroo Mountain tomorrow.” he turns forward again. “It’ll only be for a few hours, we’ll come back to the hotel once it’s over.”

“But-but why?”

“Because we have more to do here.” Illumi states. God, you can’t stand him.

You fully sit up in the chair, “I’m asking why are we suddenly having dinner with them when you’ve never introduced them to me before?” 

“They’ve been wanting to meet you since they found out about you, especially my mother.” Illumi taps his chin with his pointer finger. “I reached a compromise last night: you said the lack of people took away from your ability to enjoy time with me, and my family won’t stop pestering me about you, so by taking you to have dinner with them, I’m killing two birds with one stone.” 

Unbeknownst to you, the rest of the Zoldycks, at least his mother and father, had been extremely curious about you. Illumi had only mentioned you to his father when he was asking for permission to construct your living quarters near the Butler’s Quarters as well as when asking for his advice on courtship. The idea of Illumi being in love with someone completely caught the man off guard, but he gave Illumi what he wanted nonetheless. 

His mother found out when she questioned her husband about the construction workers, her jaw dropping dramatically before immediately bolting to find Illumi. She spread the news and hounded Illumi since then, never missing an opportunity to ask a question about you, which were all left unanswered, and even going as far as to harass Shiori and any other butlers who saw you in person. She never got the answers she wanted from them, courtesy of Illumi. 

His father, on the other hand, was patient and allowed Illumi to do his thing, thinking he was finally transitioning into the next stage in life. That doesn’t mean he didn’t order his loyal, pink haired butler to keep tabs on you, having her use her monocle to record her very rare interactions with you. He even had her join the large group of butlers Illumi took with him on his trip, giving him intel on what went on as everything unfolded.

Illumi was aware and assigned her with jobs that would keep her the furthest from you.

“What?! Why would they want to meet me?! Did you lie about me to make me seem cool?!” your voice raises slightly.

Illumi doesn’t react to it. “I only told my father that you were my partner, that’s it. I’m guessing he told my mother who then told everyone else.” 

Illumi didn’t want to introduce you too soon for one simple reason: you weren’t ready. He wanted you to be his happy, willing partner in everyone’s eyes, even those who knew better, and was concerned your lack of respect and unpredictable behavior would ruin that image. 

It made sense for them to be so curious, none of them had ever imagined Illumi of all people finding a lover and being so committed to them. They were intrigued and wanted to know who it was that Illumi thought worthy enough for his time, effort, and affections.

You’re clearly terrified at the thought. 

You sink back onto the chair, pulling your knees close to you as you think of all the different ways you’ll be humiliated and brutally tortured, how high their expectations of you must be, and how they’ll laugh when they find out you’re just a normal, average person. They probably thought you were also some kind of murderer, taking jobs and lives left and right. It was nerve-wracking.

“I don’t…” you start, “I don’t want to…”

Illumi looks over at you. “I did what you wanted, you can’t back out of it now.”

“Why'd you even bother telling me this? You never told me your plans before!”

“You said communication was key in a healthy relationship.” he answered.

You don’t say anything else to him. Whenever you thought you’d gotten the upper hand, Illumi found a way to counter it. You wondered if you would still have to meet his family tomorrow if you had kept your mouth shut the other day or if Illumi would’ve even told you about it if you hadn’t started that argument during breakfast.

He was taking you into consideration, just in all the wrong ways. 

The two of you sit in silence once again, your mind dreading tomorrow’s dinner and his mind as relaxed as can be. You continue to sit there for a couple more hours before Illumi announces it was time to head back.

Your mind never stopped racing, replaying thoughts of them attacking you over and over again. You don’t say anything during the car ride, you don’t say anything during dinner, which was much appreciated, and you don’t say anything as you ponder in the shower, only coming out after Illumi rushes you for taking too long. He slides onto his side of the bed after coming out of the bathroom, reaching for the remote and turning on the TV. You were already tucked under the blankets, trying and failing to fall into a deep slumber as your mind continued to torment you with endless possibilities.

Illumi browses through channels until he ultimately settles on a random cooking show. He didn’t particularly care for it, only wanting something to fill the silence while he waited for something. You shift constantly before laying on your back, allowing yourself to watch as the contestants on TV failed to execute a successful dinner service, a British man pointing out all their faults and demanding they fix it. 

Watching the show eased some of your anxiety so you stay up for another couple of hours before you feel yourself beginning to drift off. You turn onto your side once more, getting comfortable as you try to fall asleep again. 

Illumi sees this and swiftly powers the TV off, completely turning the room pitch black as the curtain covering the balcony door was shut. He continues to sit up, however, eyes lingering on you in the darkness. 

He suddenly moves, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you towards the middle of the bed, wrapping his arms around you and causing all traces of sleepiness to leave you immediately. You shift once, slightly pushing against his arm. He only pulls you closer to him. You shift again, pushing harder this time. He only tightens his grip. He was getting way too comfortable.

“What are you doing?” you ask, your heart rate beginning to quicken.

“Holding you.” Illumi stated simply. 

It was clear by your body language that you were uncomfortable, body tense and stiff as you tried not to rub against him even more than you already had. He didn’t mind, though.

You internally curse him for spooning you as you now find yourself unable to sleep. You lay wide awake in his arms, too nervous to move due to how close and personal he was, but too uncomfortable to stay still either. You couldn’t help but shift a bit more, eventually finding a position comfortable enough to grant you the escape of a deep sleep. Illumi, however, remains wide awake, a slight smile on his face as he absorbs your warmth once again.

Tomorrow will be one hell of a day.

[bluehoodiewoozi]

Neverending

Lee Jihoon x fem!Reader

Genre: fluff with little to no plot

Words: 14k

Warnings: crying with references to an argument. a single reference to porn. hatred of philosophy. simp woozi who suffers from anxious perfectionism and self-deprecating thoughts.

[College/University AU] With the help of his friends' advice, Jihoon goes on a quest to become the best boyfriend he can be.

Note: I wrote this, had a mental break-down, then finished this, and now I'm sharing it with you in the hopes that it'll save you from a mental break-down of your own or perhaps it'll comfort you in some way. Hang in there, y'all!

It was no secret that Jihoon had little to no experience with romance. His friends often joked that his experience was limited to exactly seven rom-coms and a steamy romance novel from his mother’s bookshelf that he once read in a state of absolute boredom when he was grounded. 

And Jihoon was fine with that. He didn’t complain when he made it through middle school without as much as a peck from a girl (or anyone other than Soonyoung, really – he wasn’t picky). He didn’t as much as blink when it was high school graduation day and he was still as single as that one famous whale in the ocean. He merely shrugged when his friends pitied his forever-single state while he was doing his undergraduate degree. 

It wasn’t until he started working on his master’s degree that he began to feel left out. Maybe a little over 20 years of being single was just his limit, or maybe it was the constant pitying stares of his friends, or perhaps it was his mother’s not-so-subtle hints of wanting grandkids while she could still run with them – either way, Jihoon finally realised that he was lonely even with over ten friends around him.

And maybe it was this realisation that made him view the people around him differently. All of a sudden, couples seemed to surround him wherever he went. The pair of girls he always saw chatting at the café he worked at? Suddenly he was a witness to the kisses they shared in the corner seat. The guy living across the hall from him in the dormitory? Giggling and kicking his feet after his girlfriend fixed his hair as they left for their 8 am class. 

Heck, even Vernon was in a relationship, buying two to-go cups of chai tea from the café every Wednesday, a love-sick smile on his face, before heading to the park to share them with a woman the rest of their friend group could only theorise the identity of. 

If Vernon out of all people could find someone, why couldn’t he?

Then, as if the universe had heard the silent cries of Jihoon’s heart, he met you. 

Assigned to the same semester-long group project, he quickly realised that you were the only person other than him to actually do the work. It started with looks of exasperation shared across the library table the six of you gathered at, and then the two of you had no choice but to start talking. 

Talking – right, that was the first real step. At first about schoolwork – about the research questions of your project, about other courses, about complaints about your professors. Then, barely a week into knowing him, you broke the thin ice.

He could still vividly remember the way you tugged on the sleeve of his jacket just as he was about to walk away after a meeting. You smiled at him – a real smile rather than the tired polite one he had grown so accustomed to – and asked, “So, what kind of movies do you like?”

As soon as he managed to utter the words “I guess… superhero movies?” out of his mouth, you were once again tugging at his sleeve, this time dragging him in the direction of a nearby cinema. You ended up only allowing him to pay for the popcorn (and he had to beg for even that much) because it seemed you were dead-set on treating him like a prince.

That was your first date: after classes, in the darkness of the cinema, with Spiderman swinging by on the giant screen. He barely had any time to pay attention to the plot, too busy relishing in your presence and the sound of your laughter at the corny jokes. And then, as MJ and Peter Parker shared a kiss on the screen, he felt something warm on his hand – your fingers curled around his own and he couldn’t help but give them a squeeze back, his ears as red as Spiderman’s suit. 

The impromptu date was followed by another, then another, and another, until you finally had enough and pulled him to the side after class.

“Do you like me?” you asked him, a little frustrated with how slow things were going and with how awkward he still seemed.

His ears flushed red again. “Of… of course I do.” (He preferred to imagine his voice hadn’t cracked in the middle of the sentence.)

Your scowl remained. “Then be my boyfriend.”

When he nodded, you smiled and took his hand again – he told himself he’d never let yours go. 

But unfortunately, his lack of romantic experience made it difficult to gracefully slip into the role of your boyfriend. He was almost jealous of the way the role of the girlfriend came so easily to you, taking his hand so easily every day, when he spent hours at night contemplating whether he should kiss your forehead or not when you’d part ways on campus the next day. 

On one of those nights, he decided you deserved better. You deserved a better him. 

So, he grabbed his phone and texted the one friend he trusted with his life. 

[i need advice.]

[how can i be a better boyfriend?]

[YJH: that’s easy! carry her bag for her! girls love that!]

When Jihoon met you on your way to a 12 pm class, he hesitated to follow Jeonghan’s advice. Countless what-ifs floated in his head: what if you thought that it was rude, what if you wanted to carry your own things, what if you tried to carry his bag instead… Did boyfriends outside of fanfiction and romantic movies even carry their girlfriends’ things for them?

Doubts hurried out of his mind soon enough, making way for worry when he saw you adjust the tote bag on your shoulder with a grimace. He inwardly panicked at the sight of your discomfort. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, why?” you wondered as if completely oblivious. 

“Is your bag heavy?” His brows furrowed. Before you could take another step, he slipped the bag off your shoulder and onto his own. Your grimace made sense all of a sudden. His frown deepened, but not because of your confused stare. “What do you have in here? An entire drum set?”

You laughed. “No, just my laptop and some snacks.”

Even as he bounced on his spot to test the weight, his frown remained. He glared at the bag. “Your laptop’s not that heavy.”

Your face scrunched up. “My laptop kind of broke yesterday, so I had to revive the old, heavy one.”

Jihoon’s frown disappeared. He stared up at you in surprise, and then, unable to stop himself, he offered, “Do you want me to take a look at it? Maybe I can fix it.”

“Nah,” you shrugged, “I’ll just take it to get it fixed tomorrow. My friend recommended this shop–”

“Don’t be silly,” he scolded you and continued the journey to class. “You know that the shop will take three weeks to even look at your laptop and then another three to order the necessary parts and then another five to actually fix it. You might graduate before they get it fixed.”

“Yeah?” you laughed, following after him, your hand naturally coming to rest around his own. “And you’re faster?”

“Faster, more reliable, cheaper,” he counted on his fingers before offering you a cheeky grin. When you didn’t seem too convinced, he sighed and added, “You can ask any of my friends and they’ll tell you I can do this. I’ve done this before. I fixed Junhui’s laptop just a few weeks ago; got a 5-star review.”

At that, you sighed. In the few weeks of being his girlfriend, you had learnt that he was as stubborn as he was kind. In fact, he was even more stubborn when he was being kind: you had been a first-hand witness to Jihoon physically pinning Kim Mingyu to the ground to put a bandage on a fresh cut on his cheek, all the while cursing the friend under his breath for not being more careful. You shuddered at what Jihoon might do if you continued to refuse his laptop-fixing offer.

You finally sighed again and nodded. “Should I bring it over to your place?”

“Yeah,” he agreed easily, his lips curling into a victorious smile, “I’m free this weekend so I can probably get it done before finals.”

You grinned at the thought. “If you manage to do that, I will literally marry you. You’re the best.”

He could only pray you wouldn’t mention the way his ears undoubtedly turned red again as he adjusted your bag on his shoulder and led you to your lecture room.

[YJH: help her do research for her essay] 

Jihoon let out a soft huff as he placed your bag on a seat at the library before gently pulling you to sit in the seat next to it. He let himself fall into the chair across from yours. 

“Thank you!” your chipper voice was almost enough to rid him of the muscle pain your pain caused. 

He offered a smile and a blink so slow you began to wonder if he took you for a cat. “You’re welcome.”

Then, just like a cat himself, he just sat and watched you set up on the desk. His eyes sharply followed every movement you made, sometimes lingering here or there if something particular caught his eye (your oddly fluffy pink pen was one of those particular things). “So, what are you going to be working on?”

You groaned audibly. “Research for this mythology class I’m taking. We’re supposed to make a big wiki as a class effort. Each of us got a different topic to write about. But, like, it’s more of an actual small research paper: citations, references, quotes…” You pouted. “If you weren’t here, I’d be crying by now.”

He didn’t like the sound of that at all – the crying part, because he actually quite enjoyed mythology. Though he hesitated just a little before saying it, he offered, “If you need a hug, just tell me.”

“You’re so cute.” You reached over the table to give him an affectionate pat on his head, effectively both praising him and fixing his windswept mess of hair. “Have you gotten around to fixing my laptop yet?”

Relaxing in his chair, he began, “I’m waiting for a part, but it’s almost fixed otherwise.”

You blinked. “What part?”

“A battery.”

“I don’t think it was a battery issue, though,” you mumbled while avoiding his eyes, not wanting to insult his competence. After all, you were pretty sure the issue was with the graphics – why else would your laptop screen flicker like a rogue disco ball?

As if reading your mind, he chuckled and pulled out his phone to check the package tracking website. “I almost fixed the main issue already, but I noticed that the battery was acting weird, so I figured I might as well fix that too.”

When he looked up from his phone again, you were staring at him with stars in his eyes. His heart thumped a little louder at the sight. “... What?”

You shrugged and turned back to your work. “Nothing.”

He pursed his lips at that and put his phone away again. In his head, he went over all the assignments he had to finish for the following week. Deciding there weren’t any that took priority (a bold lie to himself), he cleared his throat. “So, what do you have to research?”

“Greek mythology.”

“But…” He tilted his head to the side in thought – maybe you wouldn’t want his help? There he went again, he realised: hesitating. He frowned and shook his head clear before smiling at you again. “What exactly?”

“Some mythological creatures. I thought that would be more fun than the usual famous characters.”

“Creatures like… harpies and sirens?”

“Yep.” 

Realising you were already deep in the world of research, he decided to not bother you with any further questions. Instead, he slowly and as quietly as he could (but still louder than he would’ve liked) slid his chair back and headed further into the library. 

“Mythological creatures,” he mumbled to himself as he wandered between the seemingly endless shelves. Before long, he found what he was looking for. He returned to your table barely ten minutes later, placing a heap of books on it before slumping back into his chair with a deep sigh. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him open the first book and flip through the pages like a man on a quest. You smiled at the sight before focusing back on your work. Even so, you heard the scribble of his pencil and the familiar sound of a sticky note getting ripped out of its block. 

Just as you stopped paying attention to him, you felt a book being pushed towards you. When you looked away from your laptop, you found the book you had just seen him read, now laid open on your side of the table, turned to face you. 

Light pink sticky notes between the closed pages and a few on the open ones: the book invited you to read. The notes carried Jihoon’s neat handwriting, retelling the contents of the page. Better yet: these were notes about mythological creatures described in the book: 

‘Chimera. pg 6: Daughter of Typhon and Echidna. pg 18: lion's body and head, snake for a tail, breathes fire?’

When you glanced back at him, smiling brightly, he was already nose-deep in a different book, paying you no attention.

[Y.JH.: watch a porno together 😉]

Jihoon stared at his friend’s message for a total of five minutes. He then decided that he should stop taking advice from Jeonghan. 

He turned to the group chat for help instead.

“You’re going to drive yourself insane before finals even start,” he warned you with a fond smile as you flipped through your worksheets, thoroughly checking each and every one to make sure you hadn’t missed anything.

You offered him a tired glare and turned back to your task. “I’m already halfway there, might as well commit.”

[X.MH.: take her on a walk. enjoy the weather.]

Minghao’s suggestion rang in his head as he watched you. After all, he himself often went on ridiculously long walks in the park when he ran into a metaphorical wall with his work and studies, as did many of his friends. Perhaps it would help you too: romance and relaxation in one – a win on two fronts.

“Do you—” He hesitated. Why did he always hesitate? Even he himself was starting to get annoyed by it. He shook his head to clear his mind and fix his hair before trying again, “Do you want to go on a walk?”

You froze. “A walk?”

He hummed. “To clear your mind. Some fresh air might be good for you. Resets your brain and what-not.”

You mulled it over in your head: assignments versus your adorable boyfriend?

“Fine,” you finally huffed, feigning annoyance, “but I’m going to pet every dog I see and you can’t stop me.”

He laughed at the idea, already imagining it in his head, and got up from the floor before extending a hand to help you up as well. “You’d have to try to stop me first. I’m known for attracting random dogs.”

You took his hand and stretched. “I wonder why.”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged and handed you your jacket before shrugging on his own. He tried not to think about how your jackets matched – almost like a couple’s item.

Soon, the two of you were walking side by side in the park, laughing at everything and nothing and Seokmin’s attempt to fit in a kids’ swing that you saw in the passing. 

As always, your hand found Jihoon’s before he could find the courage to seek your affection. Fingers squeezing together, his skin blissfully on fire against yours – he wondered why he never dared to make the first move and reach for your hand. But if he wasn’t the one to initiate, he at least had an excuse to not let you go.

“How come I’m your first girlfriend?” you wondered, searching his face for answers.

He shrugged. “You just are.”

“You really never had anyone else before?” He shook his head. “Not even a fling?” Another shake of his head. “A hook-up?” He blushed and shook his head harder. You frowned in confusion. “How? You’re, like, perfect. Other girls must have swarmed around you like bees around honey.”

“Don’t be silly,” he denied in a hushed voice, avoiding your eyes so he could act like his ears weren’t redder than the late autumn leaves. 

“I know I wanted you to be mine the moment I saw you,” you mumbled with a pout, offended on his behalf. “So, why were you single all this time then?”

Jihoon shrugged once again, his lips in a tight line of awkwardness. “I just wasn’t interested, I guess. Too busy studying.”

“Then,” you hummed in thought before turning to him again, this time eyes shining with mischief, “have you ever kissed anyone before?”

He paled. “I– Uh– Technically…”

“Technically?” you pressed eagerly.

He cleared his throat. “Technically I’ve been kissed by one person.”

“Technically?!” You were scandalised, baffled, puzzled, curious beyond belief. He could only laugh hopelessly as you stopped him and grabbed him by the shoulders to stare at him, your mouth agape. “Who was it? Was she pretty?”

“Pretty?” He grimaced. It was too late to lie now – might as well commit to his honesty streak. “In his own way, I suppose–”

“HIS?!” Your jaw dropped even more as he avoided your eyes. 

“Let’s just pretend I didn’t say anything–”

“No, I need the truth,” you laughed, almost maniacal with both joy and curiosity. You gripped his shoulders, promising to not let him go until you got the answers. “Who was it? Jihoon, you have to tell me.”

He sighed deeply. His head tilted back so he could stare towards the sky, calling for an extraterrestrial life-form to abduct him. He had been doing so great so far… Why did he have to be damn honest with you?

After thirty seconds, he accepted that the aliens hadn’t found his calls appealing enough. He sighed and slumped before you, head lolling forward as he confessed, “Do you know Kwon Soonyoung?”

You burst into laughter, jumping away from him to bounce in joy (Jihoon wondered if maybe the impending sense of finals’ season doom was too much for you) as you repeated, “Kwon Soonyoung? The tiger guy?”

“Of course that’s what you know him for,” he mumbled under his breath, hand reaching up to rub at his eyes so he could avoid eye contact a little longer. “Just so you know, it was nothing serious: he just decided to kiss me on the playground in, like, 6th grade one day.” He sighed deeply at the memory, still unsure how he felt about it after all these years.

But you were too busy giggling to acknowledge his dismay. “On the lips?”

He grimaced. “On the lips.”

“Full on?”

“Full on,” he sighed.

Before he could scold you to not tell anyone else (not that it mattered anyway: Soonyoung had taken it upon himself to share the tale with every person he met anyway), you were in front of him again, still smiling brightly. His scowl melted into a gentle smile at the sight – he sucked at being mad at you.

“Like this?” You leaned forward, placed your hands on his cheeks, and pulled him in for a kiss of your own. 

All of a sudden, Jihoon swore he was floating. He wrapped his arms around your waist to anchor himself as he leaned further into you, unwilling to part from your lips. Even as you attempted to pull away, he chased after your lips, unsatisfied until you melted back into the kiss. 

When he finally ran out of air, you began giggling, a shy glow on your cheeks as you looked at his still-closed eyes. “So?”

“What?” he wondered, slow to open his eyes, and even when he finally did, his eyelids drooped like he was still waking up from the sweetest of dreams. 

“Was the kiss historically accurate?” you joked, leaning closer to brush your nose against his.

He was unable to even laugh. Only a dopey smile appeared on his face as he whispered, “No, it was so much better.”

[H.JS.: surprise her with flowers]

[i dont know what kind of flowers she likes tho??]

[W.JH.: unless she’s allergic, i dont think it matters]

Despite still being unsure whether the group chat was helpful or just plain useless, Jihoon followed their advice like it was the law. 

Flowers? He could find flowers. Easy. They’re sold almost everywhere. Surely, he could figure out something as simple and universal as flowers. 

Wrong.

The moment he stepped into the flower store, he felt like a five-year-old left unattended in a new city. He hadn’t even realised there were so many options. He gulped. 

“Can I help you?” an oddly familiar voice called out to him and he whipped his head around in search of the speaker. He found Wonwoo staring back at him, his eyes shining with mischief upon recognising his new customer.

Jihoon grimaced. “I– Nevermind.” 

But when he tried to leave, Wonwoo grabbed him by the hood of his white sweatshirt and dragged him further into the store. “Are you going to buy your girlfriend flowers? Like Joshua suggested?”

“I– No– Why would I–” Jihoon’s resolve broke under Wonwoo’s knowing glare. He lowered his gaze to the floor and sheepishly nodded. 

Wonwoo let out a small sound of victory before asking, “So, what kind of flowers do you want to get her?”

“That’s the thing,” Jihoon sighed deeply, “I have no clue what to get.”

His florist friend hummed in understanding. “Is she more of a daisy or a rose girl?”

Jihoon offered him a confused look. “How am I supposed to know? I’ve only dated her for a month.”

“Roses may be a bit much then,” Wonwoo concluded with a squint of his eyes before heading somewhere in the store, once again grabbing Jihoon by the hood and dragging him along. 

Jihoon could only whine quietly in protest. “Can you stop doing that?”

“No.” The answer was plain, clear, and left no room for argument. “I think tulips are the way to go.”

Jihoon had no further complaints as Wonwoo began piling flowers into his arms. Once he was satisfied, he led Jihoon to the counter – by the hood, once again, as if he was a cat mom carrying her kitten – and began arranging them into a bouquet. 

“Do you want me to tie a bow for them?” he asked but Jihoon gave him no answer.  When he looked up again, his love-sick friend was staring at the newly-complete bouquet in awe.  Wonwoo smiled and handed him the flowers. “There. Do you think she’ll like them?”

“I– How did you know… ?”

Wonwoo’s lips curled into a knowing smirk. “Was I right?”

Jihoon could only nod before fishing his wallet out. “I seriously owe you one. You’re good at this.”

On the way to your dorm, he couldn’t stop staring at the bouquet. The tulips were exactly the colours he associated with you, as if Wonwoo had read his mind and translated it into flowers. Now he could only adjust them a little and pray you’d like them as much as he did.

A deep breath. A soft knock on your door. 

Your roommate opened the door, her eyes lighting up with excitement upon recognising him and noticing the flowers in his arms. She practically dragged him inside while calling out to you, “(Y/n), your Prince Charming arrived!”

Before he could say anything, she patted his shoulder and leaned over to whisper “She’ll love them” before all but bouncing out the front door, offering him one last cheeky wink before she left. 

“Jihoon?” he then heard you call out from a distance. “Is that you?”

He called back a confirmation before following your voice to your room. Just as he often did, he found you seated on your bed, your (newly fixed) laptop in front of you, surrounded by endless pages of homework and research. He smiled at the familiar sight.

“Are you busy studying again?” he wondered, his voice impossibly soft just like his heart was for you. “Should I come back later?”

Without looking up, you shook your head. “No, no, please stay. I just have to finish this table and then–” Your gaze lifted to meet his by habit, at which point your jaw dropped. Soon, a smile forced itself onto your face. “Jihoon!”

He feigned ignorance, his lips quirking. “Why?”

“Did you–” You couldn’t even finish your sentence, unable to find the words as tears of joy gathered in the corners of your eyes. Pursing your lips to will yourself to not cry, you got up from the bed and walked over to hug him. You held him tight while he just laughed fondly. 

“Why?” he asked again, his free hand reaching up to caress your cheek. 

You pouted. “You got me flowers?”

When you stepped back, he lifted up the bouquet and asked, “What? This?” You nodded and he laughed again, so completely endeared by your reaction. “Do you like them that much?”

“I love them,” you said and took the flowers from his hands, already rushing to the kitchen to fill a vase with flowers. Despite not leaving your room, he could hear you mumbling, “Oh my god, you’re really going to make me cry at this rate.”

Upon returning with a vase full of water and beautiful flowers, you placed it on your desk by the window. The afternoon light hit them just right and it made you want to cry even more. 

You turned to him again. “No one’s ever gotten me flowers like this before. They’re so pretty.”

“Not as pretty as you,” he spoke before his mental filter could catch it. He bit down on his tongue the moment he closed his mouth, unable to believe he let the words slip without even thinking about them. 

To his relief, you didn’t seem to mind. If anything, the carelessly spoken compliment made you glow even more. You laughed in joy and pulled him to sit with you on the bed. He could barely find his balance on the soft mattress before your lips were on his. 

He decided he’d gift you flowers more often if this was the thanks he earned.

On a sleepless night, Jihoon came to an embarrassing realisation: he had never once initiated a kiss with you. In fact, when it came to physical affection, he hadn’t initiated anything. 

The realisation was greatly aided by Boo Seungkwan’s 2 am reply to another one of Jihoon’s cries for help. 

[B.SK.: kiss her, you idiot!]

“Kiss her?” Jihoon re-read the message the next day before grimacing in anxiety. He couldn’t even hold your hand without blushing – how was he supposed to initiate a whole kiss? Knowing him, he’d probably accidentally end up kissing your nose or, even worse, ear. The thought made him want to cry so he curled up on a random beanbag on campus, hugging his backpack to his chest, and glared at the message Seungkwan had sent him. 

“Who made my Jihoon upset?” your voice carried through the hallway. He looked up to find you walking towards him, a bright smile on your face. Catching his gaze, you smiled brighter before adding to your joke, “Should I go beat someone up? Who was it? Mingyu? Soonyoung?”

“Seungkwan,” he mumbled against the fabric of his bag as you approached him and pressed a kiss to his temple. He could practically feel his ears betraying him and squeezed his eyes shut to will the blush to leave. 

Your hand found his hair, stroking it gently. “Seungkwan? The guy who hosts almost every campus event?” He nodded solemnly and you scoffed. “I can take Seungkwan. He should be afraid of me.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought, opening his eyes to glance up at you. He didn’t dare to move with the way you were still stroking his dark hair, looking at him so fondly. What if you were startled by his movement and never played with his hair again? No, he couldn’t risk it. He closed his eyes again, enjoying the feeling. 

Without even realising it, he leaned into your embrace like a pet looking for warmth. Soon, his head rested against your chest, your fingers still in his hair while his own curled into the fabric of your blouse. He wished this moment lasted forever and then some more. 

“So, what did Seungkwan do that you’re like this?” you wondered and he felt the rumble of your voice. He suddenly found he liked it even better this way. 

With a small smile on his face, he whispered, “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” you wondered. “He must’ve done something.”

“He’s just annoying.” If it hadn’t been for your questions, Jihoon would’ve fallen asleep right there, pressed against you like a tired child. But instead, he came to an annoying realisation. “Do you not have a jacket today?”

“Nope,” he heard you reply.

He hissed at that, gently slapping your side as punishment for crimes against yourself. “It’s cold outside.”

“I run hot,” you made an excuse.

He scoffed. “You whined you were cold the last time you came to my dorm, even though it’s only, like, two degrees colder there than yours.”

You stayed silent at that. He basked in your warmth for a little longer before sitting back up straight and glaring at you. He then fidgeted with the sleeves of your blouse for a moment before scoffing and standing up to pull off his black hoodie. Unceremoniously, he shoved it to you, paying no mind to the puzzled look on your face.

“Put it on,” he finally told you when you made no move to read his mind. “I won’t baby you if you get sick.”

“I won’t get sick–” you began to protest only for him to roll his eyes, grab the hoodie, and pull it over your head himself. 

His hands gently guided your own through the sleeves before reaching down to pull the rest of the hoodie down as much as he could. (He made a mental note to invest in a longer hoodie for next time.) As a final touch, he reached up to pull the hood over your head, tying the strings into a neat bow below your chin once he had pulled the fabric around your head – tight enough to make you look just a little bit goofy. 

Surprised by his actions, you were frozen in place in front of him. With your cheeks squished by the fabric, you looked just so damn adorable. Jihoon didn’t even think before leaning closer and pressing his lips against your slightly pouted ones. 

He pulled away, nodded and smiled – satisfied with his handiwork. The realisation of his actions wouldn’t hit him for another hour.

[W.JH.: i heard her class is having a big seminar this wednesday. maybe you should cheer for her?]

[how would i do that…?]

Jihoon never received a reply to his question. Odd, and incredibly annoying. But he guessed it was only fair: his friends couldn’t give him all the answers. Some things he’d have to figure out himself. 

Just as he was contemplating on what to do, his phone buzzed. Hoping for a late reply from his friends, he immediately reached for his phone. To his surprise, it was a message from you instead:

[Y/N: if u never hear from me again, assume i had a heart attack in front of the classroom]

[Y/N: god, i hate seminars so much]

Jihoon paused. Is this what Junhui had meant? He took a deep breath and typed a reply.

[where are you? i’ll come to you.]

He was halfway out of the building by the time you answered.

[Y/N: linguistics building, seminar 321]

Despite never having been to the linguistics’ building before and having close to zero clue where he would even find this room, he ran to where you said you’d be. His lungs were burning from lack of air by the time he got to you and yet his heart ached even more than they did: all it took was one look at your shaky hands as you paced back and forth outside of the seminar room. 

“Are you… Are you okay?” he asked through his laboured breaths once he reached you, his hand immediately reaching for yours to ease the shaking. 

You sighed in relief at the sight of him. “Jihoon…”

“I’m here,” he whispered with an encouraging smile before letting you burrow into his embrace. On most days, he would have much rather dug a hole and crawled in there than let anyone show him this kind of affection in public. But he was willing to make an exception for you.

Then he spotted the familiar baffled face of Soonyoung from the corner of his eyes and cringed: he would never live this down.

“I’m so nervous about my presentation,” you whispered into his jacket and all of his attention was back on you as if by magic. 

He scoffed out a laugh, unable to believe your words. “Are you kidding? You’ll be great.”

“How do you know?”

“I’ve seen you give presentations before,” he reminded you with a gentle pat on your head. “You did great the last time, I doubt this time will be different.”

You wanted to cry at the memory, completely unable to see it the way he did. “I stuttered the entire time and mixed up the slides.”

“Yeah, but it was still fine.”

“It was so embarrassing.”

“It was endearing,” he argued immediately. “Besides, you laughed it off and you still got the maximum grade. Sometimes mistakes happen, but that doesn’t mean they’ll be the end of the world.”

You leaned out of his embrace to chuckle hopelessly. “I can’t decide if you’re really good or really bad at giving motivational speeches.”

“But do you feel better?” You nodded and he grinned brightly. “Then that’s all you need. Now go on in and show them what they’re missing in— What class is this?”

“Environmental Anthropology,” you answered with a sigh and he grimaced: it sounded far from appealing and he didn’t even dare ask if it was an elective or a mandatory subject.

Deciding to just go with it, he forced on a smile (his eyebrows still high on his forehead as half of his brain tried to figure out what that course even dealt with) and gave you a pat on the shoulder, “Go get them, tiger.”

You laughed at his expression and nodded, feeling a little better already. You turned to head into class, but turned on your heel at the last moment, catching his eyes. He raised a single brow in question and you asked, “Can we go out to eat after this?”

He frowned, eyes saddening. “I wish I could. I have work in an hour. I’m sorry.”

“Oh.”

However, he could never stand the look of disappointment that grazed your face every once in a while. And when it made an appearance once again, he wanted nothing more than to comfort you. “But,” he started and you seemed to lighten up already, “you could come to the café and hang out with me there. My treat,” he promised before pointing an accusatory finger at you, “but only if you ace that presentation.”

“I… I can do that,” you nodded, more to convince yourself than him. “Yeah. I can definitely do that.”

Jihoon spent the next two hours panicking on your behalf. 

Even as he took orders and made cup after cup after cup of coffee, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. He couldn’t help but feel like he could’ve done more to boost your confidence. Hell, who wants to hear they were ‘endearing’ during a presentation they felt like they messed up on? 

When the third hour of waiting began, he was half-sure you wouldn’t come to the café. Perhaps you had failed miserably or maybe you really did have a heart attack in front of the classroom. Jihoon was on the verge of spiralling.

“Okay, you’re going to burn your hand at this rate,” Seokmin scolded before ushering him away from the espresso machine. “Just man the register. I’ll deal with the coffee. God, what’s up with you today?”

Jihoon let out a soft whine of protest but followed the orders, waddling over to the register. It was a slow day and he was still messing up – what were you doing to him?

“So?” Seokmin asked again after delivering a customer’s flat white. 

“What?” Jihoon was barely even paying attention to the fact that he was being spoken to. His eyes were constantly stuck on the door. 

Any moment now. Any moment you’d walk in, a smile on your face, telling him you passed. Any moment.

Seokmin raised a brow. “What’s bothering you? Seriously, you’re not usually this aloof. Why are you staring at the door?”

“(Y/n)” was all Jihoon managed to mumble.

But it was enough for his friend. Seokmin laughed. “I’m sure she’ll be here soon.”

“What if she isn’t?” Jihoon whispered, still stuck in a dazed mix of anxiety and hope. “What if I messed up?”

Before Seokmin could even begin to comfort him, Jihoon felt like he could breathe again. There you were, practically running towards the café in your rush to get to him. He didn’t even realise he was leaning further and further towards the door, leaning against the countertop under Seokmin’s amused eyes. 

“Jihoon!” you called out once you made it to the café, dashing up the counter to pull his face to yours and press your lips against his. After pulling away again, you smiled brightly. “Guess what?”

He forgot all the vocabulary he had acquired over his life. Your name was the closest thing to a word in there. He was just glad to see you again.

You rolled your eyes at his silence but still laughed. “Jihoon, I told you to guess.”

He cleared his throat and prayed his ears weren’t too red before he found his voice. “You passed?”

“I passed,” you confirmed with an excited fist pump in the air, “and the professor said I had the best presentation in the whole course.”

“Whoa, go, girl!” Seokmin cheered, bumping his fist against yours in celebration.

Jihoon matched your bright smiles and told you, “I knew you could do it. Come on, pick what you want to eat. My treat.”

As you excitedly went to check out the cake options, Seokmin stared at him in awe. Jihoon shrugged. “What?”

“How come you never treat me?” his friend sounded almost offended.

“You never asked.”

Seokmin frowned and turned to you. “Did you ask him to treat you?”

“Nope.”

He turned to glare at Jihoon again. “Favouritism. Clear favouritism. I’ll remember this.”

“She’s my girlfriend,” Jihoon argued with a puzzled frown of his own.

[W.JH.: tie her shoelaces]

Walks in the park or even just around the campus became a routine for the two of you very quickly. More often than not, your shared study sessions in the library would lead to a shared knowing look, standing up in silence, and heading out the door for a break. Always hand-in-hand, like puzzle pieces.

The weather was windier than usual that day, blowing dead leaves and hats around the park grounds. Who knows how long it would be before snow would join the items flying in the wind – the temperature of the air certainly suggested it would happen soon. 

Jihoon barely managed to catch your scarf before it fell victim to the wind. 

“Maybe not the best day for a walk,” he concluded with a sheepish laugh while wrapping the scarf around your neck a little tighter than before, making sure it wouldn’t fly again. 

You laughed along. “Yeah, maybe we should’ve gone to the café instead.”

He sighed deeply – as a joke – before narrowing his eyes at you. “Just say you’re dating me for café discounts. Admit it.”

“Well,” you hummed, “your staff discounts are definitely a bonus.”

He chuckled and nudged your side. “Do you want to go to the café then? Maybe some cocoa could warm you up.”

“But some fresh air might be good for you. Resets your brain and what-not,” you repeated his own words back to him with a mischievous smile.

“Is that–?” His jaw dropped. “How do you even remember that?”

“It was a very memorable quote by my favourite author,” you joked and pinched his cheek before grabbing his hand to lead him to the café.

You barely made it two steps before he was tugging you to a stop, his gaze lowered. You blinked. “Did something happen?” 

He didn’t reply. A message from Junhui flashed in his mind. Was he allowed to follow his advice like that? And if so, what was the best way to go about it? Crouching down? Leading you to a bench and making you lift your foot? Fully kneeling in front of you like the simp he was? 

Ears burning under your questioning stare, he finally leaned down onto one knee, his fingers reaching for your shoelaces. 

Your heart skipped a beat as realisation hit. 

With what you could only assume was practised grace (because who knows how many times he had repeated this exact gesture for his friends – Soonyoung alone must have accounted for at least twenty), he gently pulled your foot closer to himself and gently double-knotted the laces. He decided to re-do the other shoe as well if he was already on task. 

Once both shoes were undoubtedly tied and unable to come undone without permission again, he hummed in approval and stood back up, brushing the dirt off his knee before his gaze lifted to meet yours. He offered a sheepish smile at the dazed look on your face. 

“Why?” he laughed.

“You’re seriously–” you began but never finished, reaching for his hand instead. 

[K.MG.: give her a nickname]

Jihoon wasn’t very fond of nicknames. He wasn’t like Jeonghan who could come up with a new dumb nickname for every person he met or like Soonyoung who could react to any nickname thrown his way. Jihoon was just Jihoon and his friends were just his friends – no nicknames needed.

So, when he read Mingyu’s message, he froze. A nickname for his girlfriend? It felt like such an enormous task.

Stuck in an endless loop of processing even weeks after, Jihoon still couldn’t come up with a nickname that felt like you. Nothing sounded quite as pretty or as melodious as your name. Nothing came even close in his mind. When he thought of you, it was always just (Y/n). 

And it wasn’t like you had given him a nickname either. He would’ve noticed if you had – he noticed everything you did. 

If anyone saw into his brain, they would’ve seen a suspicious number of facts and quirks of yours. They would’ve thought he was a spy trying to steal your identity. But he was nothing of the sort. The only thing he aimed to steal was your heart (and maybe a kiss, or two, or two hundred).

Frankly, Vernon was sick of the sound of Jihoon’s pen rolling back and forth, struggling between gravity and Jihoon’s strength, on the slanted desk of their shared room. If having to contemplate cheesy pet names with a distraught Jihoon was the answer, Vernon was willing to sacrifice a bit of his sanity for a different background audio. 

“Maybe see if a pet name would work,” he suggested upon seeing his misery. 

Jihoon blinked. “Pet name? Like Fluffy?”

“No, like–” Vernon’s brows furrowed. “Dude, are you okay? Should I call a doctor?”

Jihoon only groaned and slumped over his desk, fully resting his cheek against it now. 

“I meant nicknames like babe and sweetheart and the sort,” his roommate explained, brows still set in a concerned frown. “Why would you call her Fluffy?”

“At this rate, I might as well.”

Vernon was scandalised. “Call her Fluffy?!”

Jihoon sat up straight to frown at Vernon. “No, see if I find a pet name I like for her. What is wrong with you?”

“You started it!”

He rolled his eyes. “Whatever. So, what do you have to offer?”

“Let’s start with the basics,” Vernon suggested, leaning back on his bed happily now that the pen was no longer obnoxiously rolling. “Babe?”

“Gross.”

“Baby?” 

“Even worse.”

“Sweetheart.”

Jihoon hesitated. “I– Maybe? Let’s put that under maybe.”

“Great! That’s progress,” Vernon cheered with a smile before resuming his position. “Then, what about dear?”

“Sounds so old-fashioned. I don’t want to sound like an English grandma whenever I call for my girlfriend.”

Vernon froze before nodding in agreement. “Yeah, you definitely have a point there.”

They were both tired of the guessing game by the time fifteen minutes passed. They bid each other farewell and headed their separate ways. It was only noon.

The solution? Non-existent. Jihoon still didn’t know what to call you.

And to add to his problems, he soon realised he hadn’t heard from you all day. Your chat was no more full than the previous evening, his call history was even worse off. He hadn’t even seen you on campus. 

Worry got the worst of him and now he was taking the first step instead of you. His worry won over his hesitation and he called you, lifting his phone to his ear all the while glancing around campus anxiously.

You didn’t pick up the first call. Nor the second. Before pressing on the screen to call a third time, he silently swore he’d run through all of your usual spots if you left him hanging like this. Heck, he might even call the police.

“Jihoon?” he then heard your voice through the phone and a stone fell off his heart.

He sighed in relief. “(Y/n), are you okay? I was worried.”

“Dorm,” you whispered meekly into the mic, elaborating no further no matter how much he prompted you. 

His frown only grew with every passing moment of silence on your part. “Do you want me to come over?”

“Please,” you whispered once again and then he heard the most heart-breaking sound: a soft sob. You were crying. 

He cursed under his breath. You were crying and he wasn’t there. “Hold on a little longer, I’ll be there.”

He wasted not a second more and sprinted to your dormitory. With his hands shaking from both worry and exhaustion, it took him two tries to get the door code right, but once the door clicked open, he dashed up the stairs and to your room. 

The door of your room was unlocked and ajar when he arrived and he just about fell through it in an attempt to lean against it for a quick breath. He stumbled into your room and his heart dropped some more, so close to shattering.

“(Y/n), darling,” he whispered before practically throwing himself into the spot next to you, already pulling you into his embrace, “what happened?”

You didn’t say anything, quietly crying into his sweater instead. Jihoon almost wanted to cry with you. “Talk to me. What happened? What can I do to make it better?”

“I fought with my roommate,” you whispered eventually. “I might have to move out.”

“Move out?” he wondered. “Was it that bad?” You didn’t answer, only letting out another soft sob as you further burrowed into his arms. He sighed. “Oh, darling.”

You remained in his arms for a while, stuck between crying over a lost friendship and relishing in his comfort. “I thought she was my friend. God, I’m so stupid.”

“You’re not stupid,” he protested immediately, perhaps even a little too forcefully for your fragile emotional state. He sighed once again, deeper, before pressing a kiss to your temple. “Do you want me to help you find a new place to stay?”

“I could just ask to be assigned to a different dorm,” you mumbled. “It’s no big deal.”

“Didn’t you say you wanted to get your own apartment though?”

“I mean… It would be nice.”

“I can help you pay the deposit,” he offered. He wasn’t sure if he was always this kind or if seeing you so broken made him overcompensate more than usual – come to think of it: there was clearly a pattern forming.

Either way – he mentally ran over the numbers in his bank account –, he could afford to help. 

You sighed. “You don’t have to, Jihoon, it’s fine–”

“Don’t argue with me,” he warned half-jokingly. “Do you want to get your own place or not?”

Still leaning into his chest, you looked up at him. “You’d– You’d do that?”

“Of course,” he shrugged as if he had only offered you a candy bar. “Besides, if you get your own place, I benefit too.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Vernon not letting you sleep in again?”

“I’ve never wanted to strangle someone so bad,” he whispered while squeezing his eyes shut. “And he’s so messy. I need a break every once in a while.”

“So, your only condition is that I let you sleep over?” you chuckled and kissed his cheek which promptly turned red. “Why not just move in with me then?”

He blushed harder. “I think it’s too early for that. Maybe in a few months.”

You pouted at that. “You’re so mean. I was so ready to celebrate moving in with my boyfriend. Tsk.”

“Give me a few months,” he whispered – promised. “I’ll be with you in just a few months, darling.”

[J. WW.: take her on a picnic in the park during your free period. i hear the cherry trees are blossoming.]

Sandwiches, cake from the café, a thermos full of your favourite tea, a blanket – was anything missing? Well, other than his courage, because he had been staring at the basket for at least half an hour now as if his feet were nailed to the kitchen floor. 

Even Vernon, as patient as he was, had begun to contemplate how to unglue Jihoon so he could freely access the fridge again. 

“Dude,” he finally sighed, “can you move? I’m hungry.”

“There’s food on the stove,” Jihoon mumbled off-handedly, still in a panicked daze. Vernon glanced towards the stove and found nothing on it. 

Why was he so panicked anyway? It was one thing to hesitate before kissing you, but this? This was worse. He was paralysed by fear and he didn’t even understand why.

It’s not like this was your first date.

“Have you never taken a girl out on a date before?” Vernon wondered, brows furrowing as he attempted to make sure his roommate hadn’t been replaced by a faulty android or a hologram.

And just as the words left Vernon’s mouth, Jihoon seemed to wake up. His eyes widened. “I’ve never taken a girl out on a date before.”

Vernon blinked. “You’ve been dating her since, like, fall.”

“Yeah, but she initiated everything,” Jihoon whined, suddenly hyper aware of the way his knees felt like jelly and his hands trembled. 

“Everything?”

“Everything.”

“First date?”

“She took me to the movies.”

“First kiss?” 

“She went in first.”

“Who asked the other one out?”

“She asked me.” Jihoon let out another whine. “God, I’m so bad at this whole boyfriend thing. Isn’t there, like, a manual or something?”

“If there is, you’d probably be better off,” Vernon pointed out with a chuckle. “Dude, if she’s stuck with you this long, then she’s not going to break up with you over you taking her on a picnic.”

“But what if she’s actually busy or it rains or–”

“What’s with you and all those what-ifs? Just get out there, take her hand and have a picnic.”

“You make it sound so easy,” Jihoon whispered and hung his head in shame.

“Because it is that easy.”

It was not, in fact, that easy. Jihoon tripped almost three times just on the way to meet you at the park – that’s how nervous he was. And it’s not like he was afraid of you or your reaction. 

He just wanted everything to be perfect. Because you were perfect. And if he couldn’t be perfect with or for you, what was even the point?

Still, even as his nerves threatened to make him throw up in a nearby garbage can, he braved through the anxiety and made his way over to you. He forced on a smile as he approached you, but it soon melted into a genuine one upon seeing your excited grin.

“Hi, darling,” he whispered before leaning over to kiss your cheek. “Did you have a good day?”

“It’s barely afternoon,” you joked. Jihoon grimaced: first strike. Two more and he’d pay someone to throw him off a bridge. (He noted that Seungcheol or Joshua seemed like a good choice for that.)

“So,” you rubbed your palms together after helping him set the blanket on the ground, “what are we eating?”

He breathed out shakily before opening the basket. “So… there’s sandwiches – I didn’t know which ones you’d like more so I made a bunch of everything, but if you don’t like any, I’ll run to the store and–”

“Jihoon,” you stopped him with a stern smile and a pat on his cheek – strike two –, “baby, stop acting like it’s the first time we’ve interacted. There’s no need to be shy with me. I love you regardless.”

“I’m sorry, I just–”

“Stop apologising.” Strike three – might as well decide on a bridge now.

“I just want everything to be perfect for you,” he admitted with a sad smile, “but I guess I get too in my own head about it and then–”

You leaned forward and kissed him before he could go any further. When you leaned back, his eyes were wide in disbelief. 

“You– Why did you do that?”

“You were rambling too much.” You smiled at him again, sweeter this time, before kissing him once more. “Everything is perfect already. This picnic is perfect. The weather is perfect. This moment is perfect. You’re perfect. Don’t worry so much. Just breathe and enjoy.”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours once again: a gift because you always knew exactly what to say.

“So,” your smile never seemed to fade, “can you stop worrying about everything now?”

He breathed out a defeated sigh and nodded, earning a cheer from you. 

As the two of you began eating, he made conversation, “So, how’s your apartment search going?”

You shrugged. “I’ve found two places. I’m going to see the second one tomorrow, but the first one is very nice. Like, way too nice for that price.”

“And that’s bad somehow?” He laughed.

“It’s way below market rate. It’s too good to be true,” you told him with a soft sigh, closing your eyes as he mindlessly reached to play with your fingers. “I wonder what the quirk is. Like, why is it so cheap? The landlord seemed like a sweet woman and all, but there’s bound to be something weird about that place, right?”

“Maybe it’s haunted,” he joked, making a ‘scary’ face as he stared at you, only to prompt a laugh. 

“Will you come and save me if it is?”

He grimaced. “Hell no. Ghosts are scary business. You’d have to find a different boyfriend.”

“Fine, fine,” you laughed and patted his cheek, “leave all the saving to me instead, then. I’ll protect you.”

“My hero,” he swooned, a hand over his heart. 

You stared at the ceiling of your new bedroom, practically vibrating with anxiety about the day to come as well as the added responsibilities of adulting outside of a dorm. 

Jihoon, having agreed to stay a few nights for mental support (and a Marvel movie marathon), gave you a weird look.

“Sorry,” you apologised and willed your body to stay still, sure you had annoyed your boyfriend into leaving, “I guess I’m just more nervous about tomorrow than I thought.”

“I think you’re overthinking this,” he chuckled and leaned over to brush a stray hair off your forehead. “It’s just a seminar. You’ve been to those before.”

“Yeah, but this one’s in a foreign language,” you whined and rolled over to hide your face in his chest. “You know my French sucks.”

He scoffed but was thoroughly amused. “I’ve never even heard you speak French.”

“Exactly. Point proven. Now let me suffer in peace.”

Jihoon sighed and wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer and pressing his lips to your head. “Is there any way I can help you feel better?”

You shook your head ‘no’ and burrowed further into the comforting darkness his sweater provided. You had no interest in being comforted – what you needed was to go to sleep before 3 am and not wake up with nightmares. Unfortunately, Jihoon couldn’t do that for you, as amazing as he was.

He was just as stumped, but less in the mood to give up. In fact, he was rarely in the mood to give up. 

Still feeling you shaking in his arms, he reached his free hand to get his phone and text the group chat once again, begging for help as he had done so many times before. The help came faster than ever before, as if his friends had a shared 7th sense for Jihoon’s girlfriend troubles.

[C.VN.: bro, arent u good at singing? have u sung to her?]

[but… what do i sing?]

[K.SY.: a song.]

[whaT SONG?]

[X.MH.: you’re literally a music major, i’m sure you can think of a song or two??]

[i’m a uni student, not a jukebox??]

With sleep still unwilling to claim you, you sighed deeply. There was no room to further burrow into your boyfriend’s comforting embrace. An idea hit: maybe a cup of nice peppermint tea could calm you down. 

“Ji, can we go make–” you quietly began but were interrupted by a soft rumbling of his chest. And then you heard it: he was humming. You lifted your head to watch him, unable to tear your eyes from the way his lips oh-so-gracefully parted to sing to you, even as he was still searching for the lyrics on his phone.

Suddenly realising you had said something, he paused, eyes widening as he looked at you. “Sorry, did you say something?”

You shook your head no and continued staring at him. 

Awkward under you gaze, his ears flushed red. He avoided your eyes and turned back to his phone, scrolling through it as a distraction: ads had never looked so interesting before.

“Keep singing,” you whispered to him, hoping he’d hear your plea and fulfil your wish.

He took a deep breath, his hand freezing on the tiny screen. And just as you had hoped, his lips parted again. This time, he really sang, lyrics and all. His voice carried through your room, echoing back from the yet-to-be-decorated walls and filling the space in a comforting manner.

As you listened to him, you realised he had never sung to you before. He had hidden this part of himself for so long. And yet you were already enamoured with it. 

When he finished one song, his lips pursed back together and he hummed a mysterious melody that you could only suspect he had come up with on the spot to fill the silence. Then he began a second song, then a third.

By the fifth song, you were blissfully unaware of your daily troubles and the seminar waiting for you at 10 am. You were deep asleep in his arms, feeling the safest you ever had.

Upon realising you had finally succumbed to the call of dreamland, Jihoon chuckled and locked his phone. His newly free hand reached to stroke your cheek. 

“Little Miss Can’t Fall Asleep falls asleep a lot easier than she claims,” he joked to noone in particular and craned his neck to press another kiss to your temple before settling back down and closing his own eyes. 

[S.SC.: go shopping with her. i’m sure she needs some things for her new place. she might appreciate the company.]

“I still don’t understand how you don’t have a car,” you started up the topic for the third time this hour. 

Jihoon had never considered you annoying before – not even to the mildest extent – but he was slowly starting to get annoyed. He sighed. “Getting a licence seems like such a hassle.”

“It’s freeing,” you argued, amused by your new-found ability to annoy him even the tiniest bit. “You don’t depend on public transportation or your friends anymore. It’s great.”

“I can get everywhere on foot just fine.” He rolled his eyes and lifted a hand to cover your mouth as you began to speak again. “Didn’t you say you needed new towels? I’m pretty sure we walked straight past those.”

Unable to form proper words under the weight of his hand, you just hummed and let him lead you back to the towel aisle. It was only once you were there that he removed his hand again, wiping it against his hoodie. “Why do you need new towels anyway? It’s not like the ones you’ve used so far are contaminated.”

“It’s the principle, Jihoon,” you told him while scanning through the options. “New place, new me – that type of deal.”

“Sounds like a trick of capitalism,” he joked and leaned his torso forward against the shopping cart you had already half-filled with baskets, blankets, cushions and pillows of all shapes and sizes. 

You turned to glare at him. “Are you my boyfriend or my financial advisor?”

“Both, if you pay me well enough.”

“Whatever. What colour towels should I get?”

He shrugged. “I’m a big fan of the colour black.”

You sighed. “That’s so boring. How about blue?”

He pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes in thought. “I could be persuaded.”

“I’m taking that as a yes,” you sang and picked up two of the larger fluffy blue towels – one lighter and the other darker in shade. You barely managed to fit them in the cart before your eyes lit up with a new quest in sight. “Oh, we need slippers too.”

He only hummed and swiftly (or as swiftly as one can move a shopping cart that clearly has never been maintained in the 10 years it's been in use) manoeuvred the cart to follow after you. Once he finally found you in the footwear aisle, he was confronted by two pairs of slippers – one black, the other baby pink – in his face. He tilted his head to offer you a confused look.

Without any malice behind it, you sighed and rolled your eyes. “Pick a colour.”

“Black.”

“You’re impossible.”

“I know you’re waiting for me to tell you ‘pink’ and I’m not giving you nor Mingyu that satisfaction,” he countered before nodding towards his colour of choice again. “Black.”

“Fine,” you sighed in defeat and placed the pink ones back, only to pick up a different size of the same colour and place it in the cart. 

His eyebrows rose. “What are you–?”

“What size slippers do you wear?” 

“Me?” He frowned. “Why would my opinion on any of this matter? It’s your apartment. Why are you making me choose the colour of the towels and the shower curtain and the–” 

He fell silent, his mouth still ajar in wordless awe as the realisation hit. You tried your hardest to act cool under his disbelieving stare.

“I– I’m not moving in with you,” he whispered, his eyes softening as he reached for your arm as if to comfort you. “We talked about this. I still need some time.”

“I’m not asking you to move in yet,” you laughed sheepishly, avoiding his gaze. “I just thought it would be nice if you could visit without worrying about bringing your things. You’re my boyfriend. I just want you to be comfortable when you come over to stay the night or when you don’t feel like going back to your and Vernon’s place after a long day and–”

Your words faded to the background as he continued staring at you. He was so used to being the one full of hesitation, overthinking his actions, trying to act nonchalant when he finally committed. Seeing you do the same? His heart grew two sizes larger and suddenly he couldn’t contain himself. 

Without thinking about it, he pulled you into a hug, effectively silencing your doubts and rambled justifications just like you had done for him so many times before. 

“You should’ve just said so, silly,” he laughed and held you even tighter.

[C.VN.: u know, i heard study dates are popular with the girls]

[you’re just trying to get me out of the dorm, aren't you?]

[C.VN.: u cant prove anything]

Sitting across from him in the living room, you watched in silence as Jihoon tapped away at his keyboard. His fingers seemed to fly across the keys at the speed of light, typing out a word and then deleting it. He did so a thousand times before huffing out a sigh and leaning his head back to glare at the ceiling.

“Have you tried taking a break?” you asked him softly, wanting not to scare or irritate him.

His head lolled back to a normal position and he offered an unamused raise of his brows. “Have you seen me take any breaks?”

You grimaced. “Then maybe it’s time to take a break now.”

“Sorry, darling,” he sighed and shook his head, “I need this essay finished by midnight. I’ve been putting this off for too long as it is.”

 You glanced at the clock. “Midnight’s still 10 hours away though. You have time to take a break.”

He rolled his eyes and glared at his laptop screen. A blank page with only the title ‘Western Philosophy 101 Final Essay’ mocked him. “A break from what? I haven’t even done anything.”

“You’ve been thinking hard.”

“Darling, I don’t think you understand how essay-writing works. There’s no use in thinking if no writing comes out of it.”

You reached over to take his hands off the keyboard. His fingers instinctively wrapped around yours, squeezing them just enough to comfort the both of you. “Writing will come out of it if you just relax and just take a break, I promise.”

Jihoon wanted to argue, he really did. But then he looked up from the screen and into your eyes, tempting him to just agree. And while he wasn’t one to give up easily, he was definitely someone who wanted fulfil every wish his loved-ones ever made.

And so, he gave up this time. Defeated, he slumped his shoulders and sighed. “Alright, what do you have in mind?”

“How long do you have?” you asked, feeling mischievous all of a sudden. 

He glanced at his watch before shrugging. “An hour, maybe.”

That was all you needed to pull him towards yourself by the hands. He stumbled a little, just about falling into your lap with a whine of protest before settling exactly where he landed, too tired to care further. His eyes fell closed the moment he felt your warmth against himself.

Without even thinking about it, you reached down to play with his hair. The silky strands ran through your fingers with ease and Jihoon could only hum in appreciation at the gesture. While this wasn’t the cuddle position you had had in mind, you couldn’t say no to the rare chance to dote on your otherwise independent boyfriend.

“This is nice,” he sighed softly and nuzzled his face against your belly, happy to hide from his horrible philosophy final. He lazily opened one eye to look at you, admiring you with the same love as you did him. “We should do this more often.”

“I would love to,” you told him with a sweet laugh and he was glad that he was lying down because his knees felt a little weak all of a sudden. “See, I told you you needed a break.”

He hummed in agreement, closing his eye again. “I feel like I might fall asleep though. And then who will finish my essay? You?”

“How about I just wake you up in, like, 40 minutes instead?” you offered.

With a cheerful giggle, he hid his face further into the fabric of your shirt. His voice sounded muffled as he spoke, “You don’t like philosophy either?”

“Cried my way all the way through the midterms and swore to never take anything philosophy-related again.”

“That’s good. I should do that,” he slurred his words and before long, all you heard were his soft snores. 

Jihoon liked to think he wasn’t particularly clingy. He didn’t need constant assurance from his friends that he was still loved and wanted – he knew they liked and wanted him around. He knew that you liked and wanted him around.

But when your near-hourly updates about the randomest things you had seen and done were replaced by radio silence, Jihoon grew more and more anxious. Though he knew it was silly to think so, he couldn’t help but worry he had annoyed you into leaving him.

Throughout the day, he kept glancing at his phone. Even just a single message – heck, even an emoji – would make his day infinitely better. When he wasn’t staring at his phone, begging for any notification with your name on it, he was looking at the people around him in the hopes of seeing your familiar face among them.

The day went by without as much as a sign from you.

He felt silly. He felt dumb. He felt like he was going to cry very real tears if you didn’t respond to his text before midnight. 

He let out a loud sigh of relief when your nickname finally popped up on his screen. The tears gathered in his eyes dissipated slowly as he shakily unlocked the phone and tapped on your newest message.

[darling ♡: oh my god. i’m sorry for not answergi !! so sorry!!!]

Jihoon blinked away the remnants of his anxious tears and smiled at the sight of your words. You hadn’t left him just yet. He still had a girlfriend who cared for him.

[it’s okay. did something happen?]

[darling ♡: yeah hahah funny story actually…]

[darling ♡: i think i caught something and i’ve been trying to sleep it off haha]

And just like that, his anxiety was back. Jihoon straightened in his seat, one hand still typing while the other blindly searched for his jacket. 

[youre sick?,??m???]

[darling ♡: a little bit…]

[i’m coming over-]

Before you could send a message of protest, he shrugged his jacket on and headed out the door. Even though he realistically knew that he wouldn’t be much help and would just end up sick himself, he couldn’t just let you suffer all alone.

As he practically galloped down the stairs from his 3rd floor dorm, he texted the group chat for help and assurance.

[L.SM.: she’s sick?! make her dinner! what’s her favourite soup??]

Jihoon paused mid-step. What was your favourite soup?

He arrived at your apartment just ten minutes later, a bag in hand. You greeted him at the door, bags under your eyes, skin dull and lips dry. Jihoon couldn’t help but pout at the sight. 

“What happened to you?” he asked, reaching up to brush his thumb across the cracked skin of your lips. “Have you been drinking water at all?”

“The fridge is too far from the bed,” you told him with a defeated sigh before practically melting into his embrace. “I told you not to come.”

He scoffed out a laugh and began rolling up the sleeves of his white hoodie. “Well, I’m here anyway. And I’m making you food. How does tomato soup sound?”

“Like you don’t know how to make chicken soup,” you answered with a suspicious squint of your eyes. 

He laughed at that, ears turning red at the way you had caught onto his scheme. “Alright, I think you should go back to resting.”

“You should go to sleep too,” you argued. “It’s past midnight already and you have classes tomorrow.”

“I can skip a day.” He said it with such ease and carelessness that you couldn’t help but wonder who this man was because your boyfriend hadn’t skipped any classes in the entire time you had been together. 

Still, you were too tired to care. Soup sounded better than sleeping on an empty stomach for another 12 hours. 

“Can I at least help you cook?” you practically begged, hanging onto his arm as he began preparing in the kitchen. 

A little taken aback by your affection, he laughed nervously. “Aren’t you tired?”

“I think I’m starting to feel better actually,” you half-joked, watching with starry eyes as he expertly washed and then chopped the tomatoes. “Seeing you has recharged me with energy.”

“Yeah?” He hummed in thought before offering you a mischievous smile. “Then do you have enough energy to go and rest a little?”

Your face dropped. “Why can’t you just accept my love?”

“Because I’m pretty sure you’re feverish and standing up for long won’t do you any good, darling,” he whispered before pressing a swift kiss to your cheek and returning to his task. “So, go rest on the sofa. I can go get your laptop so you can watch something, if you want.”

“But what if I want to cuddle?”

“Cuddle a pillow.”

“You’re cruel.”

He rolled his eyes at your dramatic antics. Clearly the fever was affecting you worse than he had feared. “When I literally ran across the district to come here and make you soup at midnight?”

“Yes.”

He sighed. “Fine, you can stay,” he paused and gave a warning glare, even if it looked far less threatening with the smile playing on his lips, “for now.”

You let out a soft cheer and cuddled back into his side, resting your cheek on his shoulder as he made you soup. You marvelled at the graceful movements of his hands. You couldn’t help but wonder how many of his friends he had made food for. For now you were just glad to be one of them.

“I hope I recover fast,” you whispered. “Or maybe I should just stay sick forever.”

“Why?”

“I have a stupid presentation next week. I haven’t even started reading to prepare for it.” You buried your face into the fabric of his hoodie. He took a moment to press his cheek against your head in an act of assurance. You sighed and mumbled a final, “Stupid finals.”

He laughed at that. “I’ll get you some medicine tomorrow so you can recover fast.”

With a groan, you straightened up a little again to side-eye him. “Can’t you just leave me here to suffer? Or help me fake my death? What kind of a boyfriend are you?”

“The kind that wants his girlfriend to be healthy for our end-of-the-semester date night,” he answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

His confidence really made you wonder if you had forgotten about this clearly existing tradition between the two of you. But no, you were pretty sure he had just made this up. Or perhaps you were too loopy from paracetamol to remember. 

Either way, you let yourself get carried away into a fantasy of sharing a date night with only your boyfriend and no university stress. You couldn’t help but smile at the thought.

The end of the semester came faster than Jihoon or any of his friends would have liked. It snuck up on them between the despair and sleepless nights of the exam session. And he could not have been happier about it.

Once he had submitted the final essay of the semester – the very last graded project he’d have to submit before a well-deserved break –, he slammed his laptop shut and looked at you, still hunched over your laptop on the bed, re-reading the last paragraphs of your own essay.

“Hold on,” you told him upon feeling his eyes on yourself, “I’m almost done.”

“No rush,” he replied with a sweet smile before letting out a soft giggle of relief and falling back onto your mattress, his arms spread out as if to soak in the freedom.

As if the sight of your boyfriend basking in the glow of no more exams had motivated you to finish sooner than you planned, you hurriedly rushed to upload your final assignment. A green check mark appeared on the screen to indicate that you could finally join your boyfriend. 

With a loud cheer, you closed your own laptop and crawled over to where your boyfriend was lying. Immediately you burrowed into his side and sighed happily. “This semester sucked.”

“You can say that again,” he agreed and wrapped an arm around your shoulders like he had done so many times before. “But at least it’s over now.”

You hated to be the wet blanket but… “Unless one of us fails.”

He groaned and used the same arm to roll you away from him. “I hate you. Go away.”

You laughed at the way he scrunched up his face in distaste as if he had swallowed bitter medicine. “I’m just saying. We’re not safe yet.”

“We’re safe enough,” he declared and waved your negative thoughts away. “God, I hate you, now you’re making me anxious.”

“You don’t actually hate me,” you sang and rolled back over to him, settling right on top of him, your nose against his own. “In fact, you like me.”

He grimaced. “Unfortunately.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you gasped and sat up, resting your hand on his chest as you leaned upright to glared at him. “Unfortunately?!”

He laughed at your theatrics, giggling with his whole body, shaking so hard in the process that you lost your balance and fell back right on top of him. His arm came to rest around your shoulders again. Once he was out of giggles, he continued smiling and caressed your cheek. “You’re so freaking cute. It’s unfair.”

“Take back that ‘unfortunately’ and I might get even cuter,” you told him, a suspicious glare set on him. 

His smile never faded as he leaned up just a little, resting his entire body weight on one arm just to press his lips to yours. “I take the word back.”

“Good,” you decided and joined in his laughter before kissing him again, “because I kind of love you, actually.”

He froze. His eyes widened just a fraction, his lips parted in a silent gasp of surprise.

He stayed like that for long enough to make you worry you had made your move too fast. He liked to take it slow – you knew that. He had been taking it slow all this time. And now you’ve confessed and he probably thought you were ridiculous and dumb and–

“Darling…” His lips curled into a smile, his eyes turning into joyful crescents, and then he leaned in again. 

His hands came to rest on your cheeks, squishing them just a little as he pulled you to his lips. He kissed you again and again and again. 

He kissed you until you were dumb. He didn’t stop kissing you until you were sure you couldn’t form a single word that wasn’t his name. 

Then, eventually, with both of your lips swollen and eyes dazed, he leaned back and nuzzled his nose against your own. “I love you so, darling, I really do.”

It took you a moment to understand what he was saying. He had kissed you so dumb that you could’ve sworn he was speaking in another language. But finally, your brain caught up with the situation and a smile appeared on your face, bright and proud and full of adoration for your boyfriend. 

“You should kiss me like that more often,” you told him, teasing, trying to see what he’d do. 

He replied with a playful roll of his eyes and another kiss, a single one but much longer than the last twenty. 

“I love you,” you whispered again against his lips.

His smile only seemed to brighten even more at that. “I love you too.”

But as he was about to go in for another kiss, a loud vibration sounded from somewhere in the sheets. The two of you glanced around as the vibrations continued, breaking you from the romantic daze.

“Is someone calling you?” he wondered. 

“My phone’s been on silent since the dawn of time, babe,” you told him easily and helped him look for his phone. “It must be yours.”

Just when you said those words, the vibrations abruptly stopped. And then another vibration came, short and gentle this time. 

You found his phone under the pillows, Soonyoung’s contact name appearing alongside the missed call symbol and a minimised text message on the screen.

“It’s your tiger friend,” you told Jihoon and turned to hand the phone to him when the phone vibrated again with a new message coming in. 

It wasn’t your fault that the whole screen flashed to life with the message – what were you supposed to do? Not read it? 

[K.SY.: oh, nonie said u’re with y/n?]

And then another message arrived before he could take the phone from your hands. 

[K.SY.: have u told her u love her yet ??!?!!]

[K.SY.: the chat is rootin for u!!!! u’ve been good at following our advice this far. u’ve got this!!]

A mischievous smile appeared on your face as you read the message. Jihoon didn’t realise what made you react this way until he took his phone and read the message minimised on his lockscreen. He groaned as the realisation hit.

“Don’t start–”

“You told your friends that you loved me,” you beat him to it, reaching over to squish his cheeks and kiss his nose. “And you asked them for advice? You’re so goddamn cute.”

His ears got progressively more red with every word. He quickly swiped the messages off his screen and threw his phone as far away as he could without potentially breaking it. “It wasn’t like that–”

“I’m just teasing, baby,” you laughed and pulled him into a comforting hug. Poor man was mortified. “I do have to ask though: what kind of advice did you get from them?”

“Well,” he hesitated as you looked at him expectantly, “I wanted to be a good boyfriend, so… I asked them how to be a better boyfriend…”

You pressed your lips to his. “You’re a good boyfriend, Jihoon, I promise. You’re the best, actually.” 

“I had to ask my friends for help just to get the courage to initiate a kiss,” he confessed, squeezing his eyes shut as the urge to cringe and hide away under the bed overcame him. “I’m a mediocre boyfriend, at most.”

“I strongly disagree,” you told him and pulled him in for another kiss, “but we’ll work on your confidence, my love.”

♡ THE END! ♡

[weirdkpopgirl]

Crushed | Jeno Fic #1 (feat. Jisung)

Title: Crushed

Genre: College AU

Warnings: a love triangle is heavily implied, kissing is involved. reader is little insecure

Word Count: ~14k

Author's Note: Like my other lengthier works, this story took ages to complete. I actually started writing it last year and the motivation to keep going was very slow. But I was determined to finish this story and now it's finally done! I know love triangles are cliché, but I've always wanted to use it in a story. I feel like not many people will be interested in reading this story, but I do hope that those who do will enjoy it. Thank you for reading and please leave comments ^ ^

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~ cats and coffee

“Hyung, Hyung—that’s her!” The younger one exclaimed in a hushed tone, shaking the elder’s shoulder.

Jeno’s eyes shifted upward to you standing behind the counter, donning a barista uniform. Your dark hair was neatly tied in a half ponytail and the round, silver-rimmed glasses added a scholarly charm, partially concealing your features. While your appearance might not be the most striking, there was a soft warmth about you that made others feel at ease.

“Who? (Y/n)?” He repeated, turning back to his friend.

Jisung nodded with a dreamy look in his eyes. “Isn’t she pretty?”

“Yeah I guess so,” Jeno shrugged. “Is she the reason you’ve been coming here so often?”

The younger boy’s cheeks tinged red as he bashfully rubbed the back of his neck. “Maybe…”

Jeno never thought he’d see the day when Park Jisung—who used to run away from any girl who looked his way— had a crush. It felt…weird.

“How do you know her?” Jisung then asked, brows furrowing in curiosity.

Leaning back in his seat, Jeno replied, “She joined Jaemin’s club this year. I volunteer with her at the pet shelter.”

To be honest, Jeno hadn’t paid a great deal of attention to you before. The first time he saw you was during the first week of the semester when you joined the animal volunteer club, which he was a board member for. Aside from first-day introductions, you appeared rather reserved during meetings and often kept to yourself. 

Given Jeno’s own introverted nature, it took some time for him to actually talk to you. Even though he was in his third year of college, he still got shy when it came to meeting new people. In fact, it wasn’t until the two of you were assigned together to work with the cats that you were compelled to become more acquainted. Your shared love for the felines definitely eased the initial awkwardness. Despite this newly formed connection, his interactions with you stayed within the club’s activities.

Jisung gaped at this newfound information. “Seriously? You never told me that before!”

“Well I didn’t know you were interested in her,” Jeno teased, taking a sip of his iced americano. 

Just as they were talking about you, you caught Jeno's eyes and sent a kind smile in his direction. He observed as you exchanged a few words with your coworker and then walked over to their table. 

“Hi Sunbae, sorry for not noticing you earlier,” you apologized sheepishly, briefly adjusting the frames of your glasses.

“No worries. You looked busy over there,” Jeno assured you, before gesturing towards his friend across the table. “This is my friend, Park Jisung, by the way.”

Feeling a bit awkward now that he was in the presence of his crush, Jisung managed a small wave. “Hi,” he mumbled.

The warm smile you kindly offered gradually put him at ease. “Hey, you’re a dance major right?”

“Yeah, how did you know?” The boy’s eyes widened, raising a hand over his mouth in surprise that you recognized him.

You chuckled a hint of bashfulness in your demeanor. “I saw you dance at the freshman retreat. You were so cool, I could never do something like that.”

Observing the blush on Jisung's cheeks intensify, Jeno couldn't help but smirk involuntarily. “Oh—thanks. I’m glad you liked it,” Jisung said shyly, scratching his head. 

You glanced at the clock on the wall, realizing you couldn’t keep talking forever. A part of you felt guilty for having to cut the conversation short. But you also didn’t want to leave your coworker by herself for too long.

“Well, I better get back to work,” you sighed, briefly shifting your focus back at the two boys with a small smile. “I'll see you at tomorrow's club meeting, Sunbae. And it was nice meeting you, Jisung-ssi.”

As you excused yourself, Jeno and Jisung exchanged glances, both wearing smiles that lingered even after she left.

“She’s exactly how I imagined her to be. Kind and sweet,” Jisung said, the dreamy expression returning to his face. “Do you think I have a chance with her?”

Jeno shrugged, lifting his drink again. “Yeah, why not? You should try getting to know her more though.”

“How am I supposed to do that when I get so nervous when she’s around?” Jisung groaned, holding his head in his hands. 

Jeno watched his friend sympathetically, unsure of what to say. It wasn’t like he had much experience with girls either—not because he had some irrational fear of them like Jisung did. In fact, several girls eyed him on campus. But he just wasn’t interested in any of them.

Suddenly, a light bulb went off in Jisung’s head. “Wait, can you help me get with her, Hyung?”

The male across from him raised an eyebrow. “Why me?”

“You said you're in the same club as her. Maybe you could invite her to hang out with us sometime,” Jisung suggested.

“We’re not really that close,” Jeno mumbled, contemplating his friend’s request. He’s never been asked to play the matchmaker role before, so he wasn’t sure if he could do a good job. However, he couldn’t resist the hopeful look in the younger one’s eyes.

“Please do this for me, Hyung. I'll do anything you want!”

The desperation in the boy’s plea caused Jeno to sigh in defeat. “Okay, I guess I can help,” he relented, crossing his arms. “But you have to buy me snacks for the rest of this month.”

Jisung pumped his fist in the air. “No problem! You’re the best, Jeno Hyung.”

Back behind the counter, your eyes flitted in the boy’s direction again. A smile crept on your lips, noticing the animated expressions on Jisung’s face in contrast to Jeno’s calm demeanor. They seemed like really good friends as if nothing could tear them apart. 

Little did they know that their friendship would be tested.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

~ an accidental start of something

The following Saturday, Jeno spent the afternoon at the pet shelter, where they gladly welcomed their club. He was paired up with you to clean the litter boxes, and you were able to finish the task sooner than expected. With some extra time on their hands, you decided to hang out in the nursery where the playful kittens were waiting.

Jeno observed you affectionately cradling a fluffy black kitten. He couldn’t help but smile at how your eyes lit up joyfully. It always fascinated him to see your reserved demeanor fade away in the presence of something you had great fondness for.

He chuckled when a kitten playfully pawed at the shoelaces on his sneakers. Jeno gently scooped up the little one in his arms.

“That one seems to like you,” you remarked, breaking the silence.

Jeno smiled, softly stroking the cat’s head with his finger. “Yours seems to like you too.”

“I wish I could just take him home with me,” you sighed, leaning over to gently nuzzle your nose against the kitten’s tiny black one. Unfortunately, the dorms didn’t allow pets.

He nodded understandingly, “I know what you mean.”

As the conversation flowed between the two, Jeno decided this was a good time to bring up his friend. “So, what do you think of Jisung?” He asked casually.

A thoughtful expression formed on your face as you placed the kitten in your lap. “He seemed nice. Why do you ask?”

“Well, we’re planning to see a movie tomorrow,” Jeno mentioned, a hopeful glint in his eyes. “And I was wondering if you want to join us?”

You hesitated, your eyes momentarily drifting away from the adorable cat to meet his gaze. “Oh... I wouldn't want to intrude…”

“You wouldn't be intruding,” Jeno reassured a warm smile on his face. “I'm just trying to get Jisung to make more friends his age. That’s all.”

After a moment of pondering, you smiled back. "Sure, I’d love to then.”

For some reason, Jeno didn’t expect you to agree so easily. But this certainly made his job a lot easier. He could already visualize the male’s surprised but excited expression when he learned that you said yes.

════════

Jeno observed Jisung fidgeting nervously, as they stood in the lobby of the movie theater. The younger male kept stealing glances at the door, his excitement mingling with anxiety as they waited for your arrival.

Jisung clutched the popcorn bucket tightly in his hands. “I just can’t believe I'll finally get to hang out with her. What if I end up saying something stupid? Or if I—”

“All you have to do is be yourself and you’ll be fine,” Jeno interjected, putting an end to his friend’s anxious rambling.

Though Jisung nodded in response, he didn’t appear any calmer. Chuckling, Jeno gave him a reassuring pat on the back.

“Relax, Jisung-ah,” he said, “She’ll be here soon.”

As if on cue, you rushed through the front entrance, your hair slightly disheveled and cheeks flushed with haste.  

“I’m sorry for being late,” you exclaimed, trying to catch your breath. “A whole wave of people came in when my shift ended, and I couldn’t leave my coworker by herself.”

Jeno waved off your apology with a smile, “Don’t worry, you’re fine. We were just about to head in.”

He glanced over to Jisung who timidly extended the red bucket of popcorn towards her. 

“Here, um…I got this for you,” he mumbled, his words barely audible. The boy’s nerves eased when your eyes lit up with gratitude as you accepted the snack from him.

“Oh thank you. You didn’t have to do that,” you said softly, a faint blush dusting her cheeks. 

Jeno couldn’t discern whether you were touched by Jisung’s gesture or if it was simply your shy tendencies at play. Either way, the three of you headed into the theater room together and found your seats among the dimly lit rows. Throughout the movie, Jeno is mostly occupied with the plot unfolding on the large screen. However, he occasionally caught Jisung stealing nervous glances at Eunji from the corner of his eyes. Huh, he must really like her,  he thought to himself.

Two and a half hours later, the theater lights switched back on and people began to file out of the room accordingly. However, just as the three of them made their way outside the theater, Jisung suddenly realized his phone was missing.

“It must’ve slipped out of my pocket in the theater,” Jisung muttered, before turning to you and Jeno with a sheepish smile. “I’ll go back to find it. Are you okay with waiting here?”

You gave him a reassuring nod. “Of course, we won’t go anywhere.”

He smiled appreciatively before darting back into the building. Jisung’s absence left a subtle awkwardness in the air, a natural occurrence when two introverts were standing next to each other. In an attempt to move past that awkwardness, Jeno cleared his throat.

“So…what did you think of the movie?” 

His question ignited a spark of excitement in your eyes as if you had been waiting to discuss the movie with someone.

Though still appearing composed, you adjusted the strap of your purse. “I thought it was pretty good. I’m a big fan of action films.”

“Really?” Jeno cocked an eyebrow in amusement. “You don’t strike me as the type to enjoy the action genre.”

Your head tilted slightly with a smirk. “Why? Did you think I was more into cheesy rom-coms?”

“Kind of, to be honest,” Jeno said, rubbing the back of his neck. He couldn’t hold back a chuckle, having never witnessed this playful side of you before.

You placed a hand over your chest, pretending to be offended. “Well for your information, Sunbae. I happen to—”

Before you could finish your sentence, Jeno’s head shifted in the direction of the vibrating engine sound that filled his ears. Just as you also turned to see a red delivery motorbike charging straight towards you, Jeno’s body reacted faster than his mind.

The motorbike almost hit you when his hand wrapped around your wrist and swiftly pulled you back. As you stumbled forward, his other arm encircled your waist, holding you steady.

Once the vehicle had driven a safe distance away, Jeno met your eyes, which mirrored the shock on his own. His hand remained tightly wrapped around your wrist, his heart pounding in his chest. He couldn’t tell if it was from the near-collision or from how close you were to him at that moment, your faces mere inches apart.

Time seemed to stand still, as the two of you stared at each other with shaky breaths. The proximity with you sent a surge of warmth coursing through Jeno’s veins, as he realized how mesmerizing your face was up close. And as he gazed into your eyes, it was practically obvious that an instant flutter of attraction had stirred within the both of you.

However, that flutter was immediately overtaken by guilt. Quickly composing himself, Jeno released his grip on your hand and helped fix your position.

“You’re not hurt anywhere?” he asked, his voice slightly hoarse.

You also seemed to snap out of it, giving him a light nod in response. “Y-yeah, thank you,” you stammered, pressing your index fingers instinctively adjusting the alignment of your glasses.

His shoulders sank a little, feeling reassured by your answer. “It was nothing, really,” he replied kindly. 

Shortly after that exchange, Jisung came dashing out of the theater once more with his phone in hand. He returned to them with a flushed smile on his face

“Found it!” he said, “Do you guys want to go eat now?”

Jeno unintentionally met your eyes with a hint of hesitation before you turned to Jisung with a sweet nod. “Yeah, Jisung-ah. Let’s go.”

The dark-haired male trailed behind, listening as Jisung blabbered to you about his thoughts on the movie. His mind was racing with conflicted thoughts, and his heart still hadn’t stopped beating rapidly. Jeno cursed to himself, sincerely hoping this feeling would quickly fade away. 

Because if he wasn’t overthinking it, he might have just fallen for his best friend’s crush.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

~ getting too close

The university cafeteria hummed with the usual midday energy as Jeno spotted Jisung already seated at a table on the far right. Holding the metal tray of heaping food steadily in his hands, Jeno began making his way over. However, his footsteps slowed when he noticed you sitting across from Jisung. The three of you had never eaten lunch together before.

For a moment, Jeno contemplated just leaving and finding somewhere else to eat. No matter how hard he tried, his mind kept drifting to you since the incident that occurred a few days ago. The worst part was that he knew it was wrong to think about the first girl with whom Jisung avidly expressed his infatuation. Jeno repeatedly told himself that whatever he was feeling was temporary and would eventually go away if he ignored them.

“Jeno Hyung!” The sound of Jisung’s deep voice snapped him out of his thoughts. Jeno’s eyes flitted to the younger male, who waved his hand for him to come join them.

Knowing it would be hard to escape, Jeno’s feet reluctantly started moving again. He tried to appear as casual as possible as he took a seat next to Jisung.

“Glad I found you,” he mumbled, before briefly turning to greet you. “Hey, (Y/n)-ssi.”

You bowed your head politely. “It’s nice to see you, Jeno Sunbae.”

Jeno couldn’t help but detect an inexplicable layer beneath the typically reserved smile you were giving him. Maybe he hadn’t been the only one who couldn’t shake off the thoughts of what happened not too long ago. He tried not to dwell on that fantasy too much.

“(Y/n) and I were talking about the spring festival at the end of the month,” Jisung said, quickly filling him in on what he missed before he arrived. 

He nodded, picking up his chopsticks. “You’ll be performing with the dance team, right?”

“Yep, we’ve been preparing since the semester break,” Jisung said proudly, turning to you. “You’ll come to see it, right?”

Jeno noticed the genuine warmth in your smile toward the boy. “Of course, I will. I couldn’t miss something like that,” you replied affirmatively.

Your response made Jisung blush, causing him to lower his gaze slightly. Somehow, watching this exchange between the two of you left this gnawing feeling inside him. He wasn’t entirely sure why though.

His eyes followed when your attention momentarily shifted to your phone, which brightened with a text notification. Your brow furrowed as you read the message before looking up at him and Jisung.

“My friend Misun just texted, saying she signed up for a cooking class this Saturday. But apparently, all her friends ended up canceling due to schedule conflicts,” you explained, your eyes flickering between them. “She asked if I wanted to take their spots. I don’t know, would you guys be interested?”

Jeno’s mind clouded with uncertainty, as he turned to meet Jisung’s eyes. However, the boy’s eyes were already lighting up.

Jisung shrugged, “Well I’m not that great at cooking. But it sounds fun, right Jeno Hyung?”

“Huh—oh sure, why not?” Jeno fumbled over his words, agreeing without a second thought. 

You beamed, “Great, I’ll let her know.”

To be honest, Jeno wasn’t sure if this was a great idea. But Jisung already seemed so excited about a new opportunity to spend time with you and he felt obligated to be there as moral support. Although, he was no longer confident in how effective he could be as moral support.

════════

From the moment the cooking class started, Jeno didn’t feel too good. The class was divided into pairs. Of course, he encouraged Jisung to be your partner so the male could spend more time with you. He was left to work with Misun, who had invited them to today’s occasion. She was in the same grade as you were and Jeno vaguely recognized her from the university’s cheerleading team. Although he didn’t hate this arrangement, he honestly wished they weren’t stationed across from you.

Jeno was barely making any progress cutting ingredients for the soup everyone was supposed to make. His attention was drawn to Jisung nervously flipping through the recipe. He knew that Jisung was pretty much clueless when it came to cooking. However, Jeno observed you calmly instructing him to wash the vegetables, as you began heating water in a medium-sized pot. 

Your friend’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. “Don’t you think they look cute together?” 

“Huh? Oh yeah, I’m glad (Y/n) is there to make sure Jisung won’t burn the kitchen down,” he replied, quickly regaining his composure.

Misun chuckled, her hand hovering near her mouth. “Honestly I was kinda surprised (Y/n) agreed to come today, she doesn’t usually attend these types of events.”

“Oh, really?” he asked.

“Yeah, but I think she's been trying to step out of her comfort zone lately,” Misun nodded, swiftly adding the chopped potatoes he had cut into the boiling pot. “And her inviting you guys to come makes more sense to me now.”

Jeno didn’t need to question further to understand what she was implying. Their gazes returned to you, who was guiding Jisung on how to mince garlic. A soft sigh escaped him, unintentionally. You truly did seem to enjoy Jisung’s company.

Shaking his head, Jeno attempted to concentrate more on the task at hand. For the next twenty minutes, he managed to be more productive. Just as everyone in the class was almost done making their soups, Misun asked him to cut some green onions for garnish.

However as he was doing so, the sound of your laugh mixed with Jisung’s reached his ears. Without thinking, he looked up to watch the two of you. He wondered what you guys were laughing about. From across the room, Jeno noticed that Jisung seemed noticeably more at ease in your presence now.

As Jeno’s eyes lingered on the scene before him, his hand slipped and the sharp edge of the knife pierced the tip of his thumb. A curse flew out of his mouth, and he barely registered Misun’s gasp that followed seconds after. When he opened his eyes, he found you rushing towards him with a folded paper towel in hand. Concern etched across your features as you placed it under his finger to catch the blood that was already dripping.

“Hyung, are you okay?” Jisung’s panicked voice came from behind you as he approached. 

Trying not to grimace as the sting of the cut started to kick in, Jeno forced a smile. “Yeah, it’s not that bad.”

“Not that bad, my foot,” you muttered, turning to the teacher who had come over with a first-aid kit. “Chef-nim, is it okay if I step out with Jeno to take care of his injury?”

“Of course, go right ahead.” The chef handed you the plastic blue box. With the paper towel still pressed against his finger, Jeno watched as you briefly glanced back at Jisung and Misun.

“Jisung, you’ll be okay right?” you asked, wanting to make sure he’d be alright without you there to finish things.

The male hesitated for a second before nodding eagerly, “Yeah—I can handle things, (Y/n).”

“I can help Jisung too if he needs it,” Misun chimed in, “You two go ahead.”

With their assurances confirmed, Jeno soon found himself seated on a bench in the hallway beside you. His thumb pulsed with a relentless drumbeat, throbbing with pain. Nonetheless, he couldn’t help but be drawn to the way you were delicately tending to his wound, even as worry furrowed your brow. Perhaps, you were one of the few people who looked at him like that.

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” he said quietly, glancing down as you finally managed to stop the bleeding. 

As you set the red-soaked paper towel aside, you reached for some gauze to clean the cut with an antiseptic solution. Jeno bit down on his lip, suppressing a wince from the sting of it, even though you were being careful.

Focused on treating his wound meticulously, you spoke without meeting his eyes. “You’re right, but it’s the least I can do. Especially after you literally saved my life last time.”

Though he wanted to, Jeno couldn’t find an argument against that. Once you finished cleaning the cut, you wrapped his finger with some white bandage. He noticed you pause after as you held his hand momentarily, before returning it to his lap. His eyes met yours in a brief, yet charged five seconds that made his heart pound—rather against his will. This situation felt too much like déjà vu to him. Was he the only one?

You then cleared your throat, shifting your gaze to look straight ahead. Subconsciously, you pushed up your glasses that had fallen slightly off the bridge of your nose.

“Try to be careful when using your left hand. Your thumb should heal in a few weeks.”

“Thank you,” he breathed, also having trouble making eye contact with you.

A small exhale was let out by you, before glancing in his direction again. Jeno could tell you wanted to say something, but you seemed to hold back this time.

“No problem, Sunbae,” you smiled at him, rising from the bench. “We should go back to our friends. I’ve never seen Jisung look so frightened before. He seemed really worried about you.”

The mention of Jisung’s name stung worse than the knife had. Jeno hadn’t even thought about him since they left, and he hated himself for it. This day was supposed to be for his friend to get closer to you. Not him.

One thing for sure was that Jeno didn’t know what he was doing anymore.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

~ the moment of realization

As the month flew by, Jeno tried but failed to limit his interactions with you. Hangouts with you and Jisung became more frequent, and the younger male often pleaded for his presence as moral support. Jeno tried to ignore his growing feelings for you. But it was hard when his spare time was now consistently consumed by being a part of this trio.

Then during the next club meeting, fate landed him and you paired to volunteer at the pet shelter again. He tried to convince Jaemin to trade shifts with him, but couldn’t find a plausible excuse without risking his secret being exposed or accidentally casting you in a negative light.

So he unfortunately found himself in the back room, folding freshly cleaned laundry alongside you. As the piles of white towels and soft cat beds grew around them, Jeno couldn’t help but steal occasional glances at you, observing how you folded the towels so meticulously. If you sensed his gaze on you, Jeno couldn’t tell.

“I’m looking forward to seeing Jisung perform at the spring festival next week. Are you?” you asked, once again breaking the awkward silence between you. Jeno mentally chastised himself for not initiating the conversation himself.

He nodded, mustering a tentative smile. “Yeah, I am. Jisung shines the most when he’s dancing.”

Before Jeno could hear your agreement, a staff member positioned near the doorway caught both of your attention. “Can you guys bring some kittens back to their condos from the private room?” she asked politely, her eyes darting between the both of you. “The customer decided to come back another time.”

“Of course, we’ll take care of it.” He heard you reply in the sweet, natural tone you often used around people in general.

The staff member sent the both of you a grateful smile, and stepped aside, allowing him and you to make your way to the private room. However, once you got there, there were no tiny felines in sight. As you mumbled words of concern, Jeno crouched down near the big blue chair to search for any hint of movement.

“Um, I think they’re under here,” Jeno said, his suspicions confirmed as he spotted two black furballs discernible only by their light green eyes.

You bent down to his level, your expression softening as you took a closer look. “Poor things, they must be scared.”

“Yeah I guess whoever came by must’ve unintentionally frightened them,” he agreed, extending his arm in an attempt to bring the kittens out from under the chair. However, his actions only served to make them shrink further against the wall.

Jeno let out a sigh of frustration, sitting up to see if you had any ideas on how to get the kittens out. He noticed the frown on your lips deepen, as you briefly scanned the room. Then, he saw your eyes light up with determination as you picked up a discarded cat wand from the floor.

With curiosity, Jeno watched as you crouched down and shook the wand, causing the feather tip to swish against the ground. “Come on, little ones,” you cooed gently, your voice sounding like a soothing melody in the quiet room.

It didn’t take long for the tantalizing movements to attract the kittens, inevitably coaxing them out of their hiding place. Jeno felt relief wash over him, as he finally scooped up one of the kittens, while you did the same with its sibling.

“Wow, you’re a genius,” he complimented absentmindedly, genuinely impressed by your quick thinking. 

You lightly chuckled, a hint of bashfulness coloring your cheeks. “You don’t have to exaggerate, Sunbae.”

As Jeno followed behind your lead back to the main room, he was unable to tear his gaze away from you. Something about witnessing you hug the tiny cat against your chest, placing little kisses on the top of its head, and whispering sweet words of assurance, triggered the feeling he had been trying to bury down throughout the entire month. 

Jeno held his kitten a little closer to his chest, feeling its warm black fur between his fingers. He knew then that he was officially doomed. No matter how hard he tried to remind himself of his loyalty to Jisung and resist the way you continued to make his heart race, he couldn’t stop himself from falling for you.

At that moment, Jeno realized that he was fighting a battle he was destined to lose.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

~ how one kiss leads to catastrophe

Ever since you met up with Misun for the spring festival, the strange look she kept giving you was making you want to hide. After enduring ten minutes of her burning stature, you couldn’t take it anymore. When you finally sat down at one of the food stalls, waiting for the guys to arrive, you decided to speak up.

“Why do you keep looking at me like that?” you asked, wondering if you had done something to upset her.

Misun continued to eye you suspiciously. “Do you have a crush on Lee Jeno?” she answered with a question that immediately caught you off guard.

“W-what?” you laughed as if she just made a ridiculous statement. “No, I don’t…I mean… is it that obvious?” 

A smirk of satisfaction stretched across Misun’s lips as she saw your cheeks heating up as you anxiously awaited her response.

Casually leaning back in her seat, she crossed her arms. “Not necessarily. At first, I thought you liked Jisung. But then I started to wonder if it was Jeno after seeing you rush over to help him when he cut his finger.”

“So it is obvious,” you groaned in embarrassment, hiding your face in your hands. It was a good thing the guys hadn’t arrived yet, or else you’d be such an awkward mess.

Amusement danced in Misun’s eyes as she leaned forward on the table. “I can’t believe (L/n) (Y/n) has a crush on someone. When did you start liking him?” she asked.

You pondered for a bit, tracing back to the events that occurred this past month. Your social life certainly has taken a turn ever since you became friends with Jeno and Jisung. Although you instinctively wanted to decline Jeno’s first invitation to hang out, Misun’s constantly chastising you for antisocial tendencies. In fact, she was the one who pushed you to join the animal volunteer club because she knew how much you liked cats.

“Well, I didn’t really pay much attention to him before, even though we saw each other at his club. I think it started after we watched a movie at the theater when he saved me from getting hit by a motorcycle,” you began to explain, recalling the details from that night.

Misun clasped a hand over her mouth and gasped, “No way, you had a k-drama moment!”

“I guess you could call it that,” you chuckled softly, lowering your gaze. “But the way he held me—so gently yet securely—and looking into his eyes, I don’t know…I just felt this spark?”

You weren’t exactly sure how to describe it. Honestly, you had been too focused on your academics and personal stuff to go anywhere near men. Yet that one heart-flutter moment with Jeno was enough to make you want to reconsider staying away from dating. It was sort of the catalyst that made you start to see Jeno in a different light.

“The more I spent time around Jeno, I just started to notice him more. Like how he can be quite funny when you get closer to him,” you continued, your voice softening with admiration. “He’s so good with the cats too, they always snuggle up to him when we visit the shelter. And he really is cute, like I don’t know how such a manly-looking guy can be so…endearing.”

Misun’s eyes widened in slight surprise. “Wow, you really do like him.”

“Gosh, I’m hopeless, aren’t I?” you mumbled, rather pitifully. You hadn’t even realized how fond you’ve become of the boy until Misun pointed it out.

 “Hopelessly in love,” Misun teased in a sing-song voice. “So, do you plan on confessing your feelings to him?”

Her question made your heart sink a little. “I don’t think so. He probably doesn’t feel the same as me, and I’d probably just make things awkward between us.”

You would be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about what would happen if Jeno was aware of your crush on him. But for now, you were content with admiring him from afar, hesitant to pursue anything more. Misun, on the other hand, did not seem satisfied with that idea.

“Okay, I get what you’re saying, but I honestly think you have a pretty good chance, (Y/n),” Misun said, her tone brimming with conviction. “He literally couldn’t stop looking at you during the cooking class. Well, you know—until he cut his finger.”

While that did intrigue you a little, you didn’t want to entertain any false hope. You sighed, shaking your head in disbelief. “Misun, I really don’t think—”

“Trust me on this. I can even prove it to you,” she interrupted, her eyes gleaming with persistence. “We’ll do a little test. When Jeno and Jisung get here, I’ll ‘accidentally” spill something on your shirt. If Jeno likes you, he’ll offer his jacket.”

Your brow furrowed in perplexion. “I don’t see how that’s supposed to prove anything.”

“Because it’s a classic romantic gesture,” Misun insisted, tapping the table for emphasis. “It’ll work, I just know it.”

Although you were skeptical about Misun’s idea, you worried that any further disagreement would be futile. Maybe you could find a way to back out at the last minute. Besides, this so-called “test” couldn’t even happen if Jeno wasn’t wearing a jacket.

To your dismay, Jeno arrived wearing a denim jacket over a plain white t-shirt. Your stomach started doing somersaults when Misun waved him and Jisung over to your table.

“Great, you guys are finally here,” she said, flashing them both a smile as she gestured for them to sit. “We already ordered food, so it should be coming out soon.”

Jeno returned her smile with a nod and settled into the seat across from you. “Thanks. Sorry we’re a little late…we got sidetracked.”

“Wah, you guys should’ve seen Jeno Hyung arm wrestling!” Jisung exclaimed, his cheeks flushed with excitement. “It was so cool watching him beat all the guys that challenged him. Even Mark Hyung lost, and he’s really strong.”

For a moment, your nerves faded as you listened to Jisung ramble enthusiastically. It was cute to see him raving about his friend, especially with Jeno looking embarrassed. But you weren’t too surprised to hear about Jeno’s strength. You’ve noticed the prominent veins snaking along his muscular arms before—not that you were staring.

“It’s not a big deal, really,” Jeno said, brushing off Jisung’s praise. Strange, you didn’t think you'd seen him blush before.

But you found it interesting how they alternated between being shy and confident. Their dynamic was certainly something you continued to admire since getting to know them. 

Misun chimed in, giving you a nudge with her elbow. “I’d say that’s pretty impressive. Don’t you think, (Y/n)-ah?”

“Yeah, definitely,” you agreed, appearing calm on the outside, though the somersaults in your stomach resumed. You shot your friend a discreet glare before changing the subject.

“Anyway,” you said with a smile, hoping the anticipation in your voice was evident. “I can’t wait to see you dance later, Jisung!”

You guessed it was Jisung’s turn to be shy, as a light shade of pink tinged his cheeks. “Oh, thanks. I spent all last night practicing, but I’m still nervous,” he mumbled bashfully.

“I always tell him he has nothing to be nervous about,” Jeno quipped, rolling his eyes playfully. His remark only intensified the blush on Jisung’s cheeks as he glanced down at the table in embarrassment.

You and Misun shared a small laugh at the exchange. “Well, it’s only natural. But I know you’ll do great, Jisung-ah!”

Jisung exhaled deeply, his hand resting on his chest as he met your eyes with a sincere expression.

“Thanks, (Y/n)-ah. I definitely feel better having you—uh, I mean, all of you to support me,” he said, his voice laced with gratitude.

The four of you enjoyed the convivial atmosphere and loosened up when food and drinks were eventually delivered to your table. You almost forgot about Misun’s subtle scheme unfolding.

True to her earlier proposal, she passed you a preemptive look before “accidentally” knocking her elbow against the half-empty soju bottle in front of you. You gasped involuntarily as the cold liquid splashed onto your blouse. And now, you regret your decision to also wear white today.

Misun pushed her chair back, feigning a look of guilt. But you caught the mischievous glint in her eyes. “Oh no, I’m so clumsy! Sorry about that.”

Though her tone was apologetic, you didn’t miss the mischievous glint in her eyes before she shifted her gaze to the guys. Almost afraid to witness their reactions, you glanced down at the unflattering stain on your blouse. This was a lot more embarrassing than you thought it would be.

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it, Misun,” you attempted to laugh it off, though your grip on the hem of your shirt betrayed your discomfort.

You were too flustered to notice as Jeno started to remove his jacket. However, when you glanced up, Jisung was already shrugging off his light blue hoodie and handing it to you.

“Here, wear this for now,” he offered, his eyes filled with concern.

You looked at him with slight surprise. “Oh, are you sure?”

“Yeah, I have to change later anyway,” he said earnestly. “It’ll keep you warm when it gets cold later tonight too!”

“Well—thanks, Jisung-ah,” you said kindly, hesitantly accepting the hoodie and slipping it on. 

The grin on Jisung’s face stretched so wide, but you were too overwhelmed with a different emotion to pick up on it. Although you did appreciate his gesture, a pang of disappointment gnawed at you, and you hated it. 

Meanwhile, Misun was watching Jeno closely. She saw how he paused mid-motion, his jacket still halfway off his shoulders, and caught the brief flicker of jealousy in his eyes as Jisung’s hoodie practically swallowed your petite frame. However, Jeno quickly regained his composure and smoothly slid his jacket back on as if nothing had happened.

Jisung glanced at his phone and took a deep breath. "Well, I better go get ready for the show tonight. I'll see you guys later?"

His eyes lingered on you, noticing your distant expression as you pondered how things hadn’t turned out the way you’d foolishly hoped.

"Yep, we'll be right in the crowd to cheer you on, Jisung-ah!" Misun replied enthusiastically for the both of you.

With that, Jisung waved one last time to you guys before heading off. Jeno cleared his throat and offered to throw out the trash from the table. As he excused himself, Misun grabbed your wrist before you could escape as well.

“Okay, I know things didn’t go exactly as planned. But—” she started to say.

This time, you shut her down by raising your hand. “No, I don’t want to hear it,” you shook your head, voice filled with irritation. “This was stupid. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Misun tugged on your wrist with urgency. “You have to listen to me, (Y/n). I saw Jeno was going to give you his jacket. Jisung just beat him to it!”

While you didn’t want to dismiss your friend’s words, you found them hard to believe. Standing with your arms crossed in uncertainty, the festival continued as your mind was preoccupied with the thoughts of Lee Jeno. You spotted him engaging in small talk with one of the seniors who was running the food stall where you had eaten.

Oh, how you wished seeing the way his eyes crinkled into half-crescents didn’t make your heart skip a beat. As the festival continued around you, your thoughts remained fixated on him. 

Misun was right about one thing, you were hopelessly in love.

════════

Honestly, Jeno didn’t know what he was thinking when he had nearly offered you his jacket back there, acting almost out of instinct. Jisung was the one he was supposed to be encouraging to do those sorts of things. He hated how fast his heart continued to race with you sitting next to him in the auditorium.

Jeno could see the boy’s eyes practically bursting with joy when he saw you wearing his hoodie earlier. He should’ve been happy to see his friend make a move on the girl he liked. Compared to when he first met you, Jisung was coming out of his shell more, and Jeno wasn’t sure he entirely needed him to be his wingman anymore. However, Jisung had no idea how conflicted and inadequate Jeno felt in that role.

“Are you okay, Sunbae?” you asked, your voice bringing him back to reality. 

“Huh—oh yeah, I’m fine,” Jeno replied, scratching his head sheepishly. “Guess I just zoned out for a bit.”

Your eyes still carried a hint of concern, as if you weren’t fully convinced by his dismissive response. But before Jeno could offer further reassurance, Misun tapped your shoulder excitedly. “Look, the performance is starting!”

Both of you turned your attention to the stage as the lights came on. Jeno immediately spotted Jisung in the center position among the group. As the first song began to play, Jisung's body moved effortlessly with the beat. The group launched into a medley of legendary boy group hits from older groups like H.O.T and Shinhwa to contemporary acts like EXO and BTS.

Jisung led the charge, his movements precise and powerful, each step perfectly in sync with the music. The crowd’s energy surged as they recognized the familiar tunes and the dance team fed off that excitement, their performance growing more dynamic with each song. Jeno was always to see his friend who was usually so shy, transform into a powerhouse of energy and confidence once he got on stage.

Yet Jeno was focusing more on you, watching the way your face lit up in mesmerization as you were captivated by this side of Jisung you hadn’t seen much of before. Seeing you in Jisung’s hoodie only intensified the pit of jealousy gnawing at Jeno’s stomach. He couldn’t shake the feeling and realized he selfishly wanted to be the one to bring that light into your eyes.

He almost didn’t realize the performance had ended, except for the loud sound of applause as the stage went dark again. 

“Wow, Jisungie was amazing!” you exclaimed, gushing to him and Misun. “I’m so proud of him.”

Misun chuckled at your enthusiasm before glancing at her phone. “Well, this was nice. But I better get going now, my team leader wants to squeeze in one last practice before our performance on the second day of the festival.”

As Misun gathered her things to leave for practice, she bid you both a quick goodbye, promising to catch up later. Left standing in the bustling auditorium, Jeno turned to you with a smile.

"Want to wait outside? It's less crowded and quieter," he suggested, gesturing towards the exit. 

You agreed and soon found yourselves standing on a serene stone bridge just outside the festival grounds. He could tell you were still captivated by Jisung’s performance, not that he could blame you. The air was cooler outside, and Jeno was glad you had Jisung’s hoodie to keep you warm. Tall trees lined the path, their leaves rustling gently in the evening breeze. Though the sky was dark, the dim lights from the festival cast a soft, warm glow that created a peaceful atmosphere. 

As they walked along the bridge, Jeno heard you exhale. “You were right. Jisung truly does shine when he dances.”

“Yeah, he’s been dancing long before I even met him in high school,” he said with a hint of nostalgia in his voice. 

As you both talked about Jisung’s performance and reminisced about the recent memories you’ve shared as friends, Jeno felt his nerves die down a little. It was strange how the sight of you made him incredibly nervous, yet his body would automatically relax when you two talked. Despite not having much to say, he noticed your eyes focused intently on him whenever he spoke, and he could tell you were fully listening. 

A short silence settled you two, a familiar pause in his interactions with you, Jeno didn’t trust himself to speak, fearing he might ruin everything if he gave away his feelings. And just as the other times, you were the one to break the awkwardness. 

“You know, I don’t let many people in,” you confessed. “But I’m really glad I got closer to you and Jisung this semester.”

Jeno was slightly taken aback by the vulnerability he caught in your voice. Now that he thought about it, you had been somewhat withdrawn before he helped Jisung get closer to you. It wasn’t that you were cold, but he noticed you liked to be alone and only engaged with those you knew well, showing no interest in reaching out to others. He had never judged you for it, figuring you had your reasons.

He nodded thoughtfully, looking at you with an understanding smile. “Well, I’m glad you let us in. It’s been nice getting to know the mysterious barista girl who likes action movies and has a hidden talent for charming cats.”

“You’re so funny, Sunbae,” you giggled, shaking your head. Hearing your laugh was like music to his ears, as cliché as that sounded. 

The evening breeze rustled the leaves around you as Jeno saw you contemplate for a moment. “Honestly, I’ve really enjoyed our time together,” you began, your gentle voice sounding nervous but earnest. “And seeing you today made me realize that I don’t just see you my senior.”

Alerts went off in Jeno’s mind as he recognized the direction this conversation was taking.  No, this isn’t supposed to happen, he tried to tell himself, knowing how much Jisung liked you.

After exhaling softly, you spoke up. “I like you, Jeno Sunbae.”

For a moment, silence hung heavy between you, and Jeno knew you saw the conflicting emotions flicker across his face. He didn't know what to say, more so because he felt he shouldn’t say anything at all. Seeing your smile falter only made him feel worse.

“But it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way! I just wanted to get it off my chest,” you hurriedly added out of slight panic.

His eyes gaze into yours with the same intensity from that day he saved you from the motorcycle. So many emotions swirled within him, pushing Jeno to his limits. He couldn’t look at you without wanting something more. Before you could say anything else, Jeno impulsively cupped your face with his hands and leaned in, sharing the most passionate kiss either of you had ever experienced. 

Your lips were softer than he imagined them, carrying a faint taste of the soju you both had earlier. As he deepened the kiss, he could feel the slight pressure of your glasses against his cheek. But in that moment he didn’t care, his desire to be close to you overwhelmed any minor distraction.

Almost immediately, you melted into the kiss, as if you both had secretly longed for this moment. One of Jeno’s hands slid down to the back of your neck, his fingers threading through your hair and pulling you even closer. The other hand drifted to your waist, his touch firm yet tender. Your fingers curled into the fabric of his jacket, grasping tightly as you responded eagerly to his touch. 

Kissing you now made Jeno realize how much he had wanted to do it all those times. When he caught you in his arms after the movies that day, when you took care of the cut on his finger when he saw the affection in your eyes as you cared for the kittens at the shelter. Each moment he wanted to press his lips against yours and convey just how much you made his head spin.

The kiss only ended when the both of you started to feel lightheaded. The soft sound of your mingling breaths filled the air around you, and Jeno let out a soft sigh of contentment. A smile was about to form on his lips, until he noticed your eyes widening, looking past his shoulder.

That was when he turned around, only to find Jisung standing at the other end of the bridge, his expression a mix of shock and hurt.

The younger male shook his head in disbelief. “No way…”

“Jisung, I…” he called out, his voice already full of regret.

But Jisung didn’t wait for him to finish. With a glare of betrayal, his best friend turned and stormed off into the night. Jeno cursed quietly under his breath.

You glanced at him in confusion, searching his eyes for answers as to why Jisung just left so angrily. But Jeno couldn’t explain everything to you right now. He had to go find Jisung.

“I’m sorry, (Y/n). I—I have to go,” he said, reluctantly pulling himself away from you. 

Then he left you standing there, completely bewildered, the guilt already beginning to pile up inside him.

════════

“Jisung-ah, wait!” Jeno called out, his heart sinking as he caught up to his friend, now a far distance from the bridge. “Please, just let me explain.”

Jisung finally stopped in his tracks and turned sharply, his eyes ablaze with fury and hurt. Jeno has never seen him look so angry before. 

“I just saw you kissing the girl I’ve been crushing on for ages. So tell me, what is there to explain, Hyung?” Jisung demanded, his voice trembling with betrayal. 

His mind raced with regret, struggling to find the right words. “I…I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

The younger male scoffed, the memory of him kissing you still vivid in his mind. “How long were you going to deceive me?”

“I swear, I didn’t even look at her that way when you first told me about her,” Jeno insisted, his voice laced with guilt. “It sort of just happened…and I know how much you like her. But no matter how much I try, I just can’t get rid of these feelings.”

Jisung shook his head in disbelief, his fists clenched at his sides. “All this time, I actually thought I had a chance with (Y/n), but my own best friend goes behind my back. I feel like a complete idiot.”

Jeno’s heart twisted painfully at the sting that came with his friend’s words. He knew he screwed up badly and Jisung had every right to be upset with him. He wasn’t even sure if this was something that could be fixed so easily. 

“I’m sorry, Jisung-ah. I just didn’t want to hurt you,” he lamented.

But his apology wasn’t what Jisung wanted to hear. “Well you did hurt me,” he snapped, his voice cracking with emotions. “I trusted you, Hyung. You were supposed to have my back.”

Jeno cursed under his breath and reached out to touch his friend’s shoulder. “I still do, Jisung-ah.”

But the boy flinched away and took a step back. “I can’t be around you right now. And don’t follow me this time,” Jisung said, his voice stern and final.

With that, Jisung turned and walked away, leaving Jeno standing there with a heavy heart full of guilt and regret. He wanted to call out and explain further, but he knew there was nothing more he could say to undo the pain he had caused his best friend. Things weren’t supposed to happen this way and it was all his fault.

The weight of his actions left him feeling crushed.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

~ the end of first loves

The days since their fallout with Jisung weighed heavily on Jeno. Any texts he sent were left on read and whenever they crossed paths, Jisung walked straight past him without a second glance. Jeno swore he was on the verge of losing it. 

He was angry. Angry at Jisung for not hearing him out, angry at you for confessing to him at the festival of all times. But mostly, he was angry at himself for letting this all happen in the first place. He should’ve known that nothing good would come out of falling for his best friend’s crush.

Wallowing in his despair, Jeno isolated himself in the club room where Jaemin eventually found him. The other dark-haired male sighed when he saw the troubled expression on his friend’s face.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding out lately?” Jaemin remarked lightheartedly, pulling out a chair from the table to sit across from him. 

Jeno sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “It’s not like I have anywhere else to go. Jisung keeps ignoring me and I can’t even look at (Y/n) right now. They both probably hate me.”

“Yeah, I tried talking to Jisung and he still seems pretty mad. This was the first time he’s really liked someone,” Jaemin pointed out. His tone was sympathetic but it only made Jeno feel worse.

He slammed his fist against the table, not even caring about the sting it left on his knuckles. “I know! Everything is messed up because of me and I have no idea how to fix it.”

There was a tense silence that hung in the air, Jaemin not having expected his friend’s sudden outrage. But he couldn’t necessarily blame him. 

Jaemin sighed empathetically, leaning forward with a serious expression. “Look, I get that you’re in a tough spot, man. But you can’t blame yourself for everything. Sometimes things just happen, and people get hurt.”

Jeno slumped in his chair, the anger in him slowly simmering as Jaemin placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “What matters now is how you handle it,” he continued. “Jisung just needs some space right now, he’ll come around eventually. As for (Y/n), maybe it’s time to talk to her and sort things out.”

Despite the guilt that still lingered in him, he knew Jaemin was right. As painful as it was to think about it, he understood what he needed to do.

════════

Nearly a week had slipped by since the festival, and Jeno finally encountered you again at the pet shelter. The awkwardness between you was palpable, and few words were exchanged throughout the volunteer shift.  It wasn’t until after you changed out your volunteer clothes and prepared to leave that Jeno gathered the courage to say something.

Exiting the building together, Jeno hesitated before breaking the silence. “Hey, can we talk for a moment?”

He could see the apprehension in your eyes when you glanced at him. But then you gave him a light nod of agreement. 

That was how you ended up seated at a nearby café. Jeno fidgeted with the sleeve of his jacket, unable to meet your eyes at first. He noticed your nervousness as you lightly tapped the cold glass of your iced latte. 

You seemed to sense his unease and responded with a gentle smile. “It’s okay, Sunbae. Just tell me.”

Jeno could already feel his heart sinking as he heard you speak so kindly to him. He hated that what he was about to say would hurt you, but it was what had to be done. He had to end things.

“I…we…” he started, finding it hard to articulate. “I don’t think this is going to work out between us.”

He could see your smile waver slightly, but you encouraged him to continue with a nod. Glancing down, he stared into his own cup of coffee which had probably gone cold now. 

Sighing softly, he leaned forward to explain. “The truth is, Jisung was the one who liked you from the beginning. I was supposed to help him get closer to you…but then I started to feel something for you and now I brought you into this mess.”

You stayed silent, processing what he just told you. He could tell you were surprised by his confession. Perhaps you had been too focused on someone else to notice.

“Oh, I had no idea…,” your voice trailed off, unsure of what to say to this.

Jeno swallowed hard, forcing himself to continue. “Now I understand why Jisung liked you so much,” he tried to smile but failed. “And I really do like you, (Y/n). But… Jisung is my best friend, and I betrayed him. So I don’t think it would be right for us to be together.”

Your reaction was a lot calmer than he thought it would be, almost as if you had anticipated things going in this direction after the way things ended the other night.

“It’s okay Sunbae, I understand. Thank you for being honest with me,” you replied softly. Your voice remained steady, but Jeno could hear the underlying melancholy in it.

The silence that followed was so agonizing that one could practically hear the sounds of hearts breaking. Jeno could see you were struggling to hold a smile, and a hundred apologies wouldn’t be enough to express how sorry he felt about all this.

When you finally parted ways, Jeno shoved his hands in his pockets, watching as you walked farther and farther away from him. But no matter how awful he felt, he kept telling himself that things were better this way.

Later that day, Misun was starting to panic when you didn’t respond to any of her texts. All you had told her was that Jeno and you met up to talk today, and she hadn’t heard anything from you since then. 

Figuring you had to be back on campus by now, Misun ventured outside to search for you. Just as she was about to pass the space between the engineering building and the liberal arts building, the sound of someone crying stopped and made her pause. 

That was when she found you nearly crumpled to the ground with your hands pressed against your eyes, shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

“(Y/n)?” she called out cautiously, crouching down beside you.

You didn’t look up, but your voice trembled as you replied. “I feel so stupid for crying. It's not like we were even together.”

This heavy feeling of sadness was unfamiliar, a weight you hadn’t carried before. Confusion mingled with sorry, leaving you uncertain about its source. Was it disappointment? Betrayal? Or simply the abrupt end of something that never fully began?

“How can you not be upset?” Misun affirmed gently. “He’s your first love.”

Hearing her words caused more tears to well up in your eyes, and you buried your head in your knees. It suddenly dawned on you that Jeno had been your first love. You had heard too many stories of first loves ending bitterly, but you never expected it to hurt this much. As much as you wanted to harbor resentment for what happened, you couldn’t find it in you to be angry. Instead, you were left to pick up the shattered pieces of your heart.

Meanwhile, Jeno sat in a dimly lit bar, three empty bottles of soju strewn across the table. Jaemin watched sympathetically as his distraught friend poured more into his glass. It was unusual for the both of them to drink, a clear indicator to Jaemin of just how deeply Jeno was affected by the situation. 

“So you ended things with her?” Jaemin asked, eyeing Jeno as he downed the shot.

“It’s what I had to do,” he murmured in response, his voice hoarse.

His gaze fixed on his reflection through the shot glass, and he saw the misery etched on his face. Gosh, he was a complete mess. How had everything gone so wrong?

Jeno heard Jaemin sigh as he patted him on the shoulder, offering a small measure of comfort. “You did the right thing, Jeno-yah,” he assured him. “Maybe it’s for the best, you know?”

Maybe the alcohol had finally set into his system as Jeno placed his glass firmly on the table. Memories of all his stolen moments with you flooded his mind, and he felt the sting of tears springing to his eyes. Cursing under his breath, he harshly swiped at them with his hand, feeling pathetic.

Jaemin pretended not to notice he was crying and silently stayed by his side. What else could he say? He knew how much Jeno liked you, and it was unfortunate that things unfolded this way. If Jeno was feeling this devastated, Jaemin could only imagine the turmoil you must be going through.

Perhaps, this was simply one of those instances where nobody found their happy ending.

════════

Eventually, the sharp sting you initially felt was gradually replaced by a dull ache in your heart. Misun made an effort to lift your spirits was appreciated. Some of your other friends noticed your despondency lately. But you brushed off their concerns with the excuse that you were just tired, feeling guilty for damping the mood.

All the crying and emotional turmoil had drained you of energy. The smiles you offered customers at the café felt strained, and focusing on assignments required every ounce of motivation you could muster.

Having to see Jeno from time to time at club meetings only made things more difficult. You tried not to make eye contact, yet sometimes you couldn't escape the weight of his sorrowful gaze, which tugged at your heart. Even sitting in the playroom surrounded by cats no longer brought you the joy it once did, not even when a kitten nestled snugly in your lap.

Nervously, you exhaled as you stood outside of the dance team’s practice room. You had finally gathered the courage to return Jisung’s hoodie, which had been neatly washed weeks ago. It had been neatly washed a while ago, but you had been hesitant to see Jisung after everything, fearing the awkwardness. Thus, the light blue clothing had been sitting untouched on the top of your dresser for some time.

“(Y/n)? What are you doing here?” Jisung’s surprised voice snapped you out of your thoughts. The other students exiting through the door briefly glanced at the two of you as they passed by.

Straightening your posture, your mind raced to find the words you had prepared. “I–uh, I wanted to give this back to you,” you said, holding out the hoodie. “Sorry it took me so long to return it.”

Jisung slowly accepted the hoodie with a grateful smile. “It’s okay, thanks for giving it back.”

You returned his smile, feeling some of the tension in your shoulders ease. As you exhaled softly, a sense of relief washed over you. This was the moment where you could simply excuse yourself and make your exit. Yet, looking at Jisung stirred a mix of emotions within you.

“Do…do you have time to talk?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

The tall male standing in front of you remained silent, hesitating for a moment. Eventually, he gave you a small nod and you spared him a grateful look, heading outside the building to find a bench to sit on.

Taking a deep breath, you tried to steady your nerves. Despite all the mental preparation you did the previous night, you didn’t feel as ready as you’d hoped. Jisung’s tense posture made it clear he wasn’t exactly calm either.

“I…I just wanted to say I’m really sorry, Jisung,” you finally spoke, glancing down at your shoes. “I didn’t realize you felt that way about me, and I never meant to come between you and Jeno.”

Jisung’s expression softened, and he laughed awkwardly. “It’s not your fault, (Y/n). You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Though his voice was reassuring, you still felt incredibly guilty for causing conflict between him and Jeno. As a moment of silence passed, a pang of sadness lingered within you. Jisung had always been so genuine with you, yet you couldn’t give him the answer he wanted.

“I think you’re an amazing person, Jisung-ah,” you said, hoping he could hear the sincerity in your voice. “You’ve been nothing but kind to me, and I’m always at ease when I’m with you.”

Jisung inhaled deeply, a wistful smile playing on his lips. “Thank you, (Y/n). It makes me happy to hear that.”

Smiling back, you folded your hands in your lap. “I’m sorry I can’t return your feelings…”

“You don’t need to apologize,” Jisung sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Feelings aren’t something we can control, so there’s no need to be sorry.”

You looked up, surprised by the maturity in his response. Honestly, you hadn’t considered it from that perspective until he brought it up. But you still knew that this couldn’t be easy for him. Nobody liked rejection.

“I guess you have a point. But I know that the girl who ends up with you will be very lucky,” you said, gently.

He glanced at you appreciatively. “It means a lot to hear you say that, thank you.”

The two of you sat in silence for a moment, the heaviness of the conversation hanging in the air. Sensing that it might be a good time to part ways, you stood up from the bench.

“I guess I should get going,” you cleared your throat quietly. “I’ve probably taken up enough of your time already.”

Jisung shook his head and assured, “No, you’re all good. I’m glad we talked.”

“Me too,” you hummed in response, definitely feeling like a weight had been lifted from your shoulders. Following you, he rose from the bench and paused briefly before extending his hand. 

“Thank you, (Y/n),” he said, his voice catching slightly. “For being my first love.”

You could see the tears glossing over his eyes, tugging at your heartstrings. Trying to hold back your own tears, you accepted his handshake with a sad smile.

Nodding gently, a lump formed in your throat. “Thank you too, for being such a great friend,” you whispered softly, afraid that tears might escape if you spoke any louder.

With heavy hearts, you both shook hands firmly before parting ways. Jisung sighed as you departed first. Things hadn’t turned out the way he had wanted them, but he couldn’t just stay hung up on what could’ve been.

Despite the bittersweet swirl of emotions inside him, he couldn’t help but smile as he watched you walk farther away. For his first love, he could at least say it ended with no regrets.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

~ reconciling

Jeno had been navigating through days that felt like weeks, his usual routine disrupted by the absence of you and his strained relationship with Jisung. Even though he had done everything he could to make up for his actions, he couldn’t rid himself of the gloominess that clouded his every thought. His mind constantly replayed the events that led to this rift between him and Jisung.

So when his phone screen lit up with a message from Jisung, asking to meet after class, Jeno’s heart raced with a mixture of apprehension and hope. They agreed to meet at the PC bang they went to all the time during their high school days. Jeno remembered all the trouble they got into when their parents found out he and Jisung were skipping their after-school programs to go there.

Jisung was already there by the time he arrived, sitting in their usual spot near the middle of the back row. Peering at his screen, Jeno noticed he was already warming up with an old game they used to play. 

“Hey,” Jeno greeted cautiously, trying to keep the awkwardness out of his voice as he settled into the gaming chair next to him.

Other than the nod of acknowledgement he received, Jisung’s expression remained unreadable. The younger male briefly glanced up at him, his fingers pausing on the rainbow keyboard.

“Want to start with PUBG?” Jisung asked, his voice lacking the cold tone from their last interaction.

Jeno’s shoulders relaxed slightly, and he nodded with a smile. Soon enough, the familiar click of keyboards and the hum of the PC field the air as they dove into the game. Within ten minutes of playing, they were high school students again, shouting at each other as they fought through the virtual battlegrounds together.

“Ugh I died again,” Jisung groaned in frustration, leaning back in his seat.

Jeno shook his head with a chuckle. “I told you to go the other way!”

In the last seconds of the game, Jeno let his character die and pushed back from the computer slightly. The laughter died down as the flashbacks of recent events seemed to cross both of their minds. Feeling more response as the older one in this friendship, Jeno was the first to speak up.

“I’m really sorry, Jisung-ah,” he began earnestly. “You have every right to be upset with me. I should’ve just talked to you when things started to change. But I wasn’t being honest with myself either, and you got hurt because of me.”

Jisung remained silent, his gaze distant as he processed Jeno’s apology. After a tense moment, he finally responded, his voice calm but tinged with lingering hurt.

“I know you’re sorry, Hyung. You betrayed my trust, and seeing you kiss (Y/n) that night...it felt like you pulled the rug out from under me,” he replied softly, leaning his head against the chair. 

A familiar pang of guilt surged within Jeno. He knew his actions were inexcusable and he didn’t expect Jisung to forgive him immediately, or perhaps ever. Regardless, he was grateful for the opportunity to offer a sincere apology.

“But…” Jisung’s voice then trailed off, his grip on the mouse loosening. “I understand that you can’t really control who you have feelings for. And after thinking about it a lot, I realize I wouldn’t have known how to bring it up if I were in your shoes.”

Jeno felt a sudden wave of relief crash onto him, filled with gratitude for his Jisung’s understanding. He couldn’t help but be impressed with his friend’s maturity. When had scaredy-cat Park Jisung grown up so much?

“Thank you for saying that…and I really am sorry,” he said, his voice carrying genuine conviction.

Jisung waved him off, his nose scrunching in slight disgust. “Hyung, stop apologizing. It’s getting weird,” he said with a chuckle, reminding Jeno that not everything about Jisung had changed.

The two of them shared a laugh, and Jeno finally started to feel like things were returning to normal. Well, almost everything. There was still one lingering regret that stuck in the back of Jeno’s mind. Although he didn’t say anything, Jisung sensed it too.

As they prepared for the next game to start, Jisung tapped on his keyboard in contemplation before deciding to say something.

“You know, (Y/n) came to talk to me a few days ago,” he said, “I kinda had a feeling before the festival happened, but it’s obvious you both care about each other a lot.”

Jeno found himself blinking in surprise, unsure if he was hearing correctly. Slumping back in his seat, he shook his head in denial. “No…it doesn’t matter. I’ve already decided to step back.”

Especially not after everything that happened. Although his heartbeat still sped up at the thought of you and catching a glimpse of you around campus pulled at his emotions, he didn’t want to reopen wounds that had nearly cost him his best friend.

“It’s okay hyung,” Jisung said, leaning forward with a reassuring smile. “I can tell you really like her. You should be together.”

Jeno leaned back in his seat, his mouse hovering over the computer screen for a moment.

“Are you sure you'd be okay with it?” he asked tentatively.

Jisung nodded firmly, his expression turning serious. “Yeah. But if you hurt her, I won’t forgive you Hyung.”

“I won’t, don’t worry,” Jeno promised sincerely. “Thanks Jisung-ah”

The two exchanged understanding smiles before refocusing on the game. Jeno finally felt like he could breathe again. Now, without having to hold back his feelings anymore, maybe he could have a second chance with you.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

~ baby steps

Before immediately running to you, Jeno made a conscious effort to wait a bit. Despite Jisung’s assurances— practically fifty times now— that he was cool with it, Jeno still wanted to be cautious. He also wasn’t entirely sure if you still had feelings for him. Honestly, he couldn’t blame you if that turned out to be your response.

It wasn’t until the end of the week, during a club meeting about organizing a fundraiser event for the animal shelter later in the month, that he finally saw you again. The room was abuzz with chatter and plans, but Jeno’s focus was on you. You were seated across the table from him, intently listening to the discussion.

After knowing you for a while, Jeno noticed that you tended to stay quiet in group settings, listening attentively to whoever was speaking. You seemed more comfortable when talking one-on-one or with just a few people. Even then, you spoke softly and blushed easily when you felt the focus shift to you. But he found that side of you to be kind of cute. Actually, he thought your entire personality was quite endearing.

As the meeting finally wrapped up and people began to disperse, Jaemin caught Jeno’s eye. Without saying a word, Jaemin made a not-so-subtle gesture toward you as you packed away your laptop. Jeno’s cheeks burned with embarrassment, but he knew what his friend was encouraging him to do.

After exhaling deeply, Jeno pushed himself to approach you as more people left the room. Determined to take this step, he ignored the way his heart raced with a mix of anticipation and nervousness. 

“Wait, (Y/n)!” He called out before he could chicken out.

Catching your attention, you turned around looking a bit surprised. But you quickly recovered, your eyebrows raising with careful curiosity. 

“Oh Sunbae, did you need something?”

For a second, Jeno’s brain momentarily forgot how to form words. “No, I—uh…I wanted to ask if you have a minute?”

He noticed a flicker of uncertainty pass through your eyes as you nervously gripped the strap of your bag. Nevertheless, you managed a small nod and pulled out your chair to sit down.

Thankful for the lack of a negative response, Jeno took a seat across from you. His fingers drummed nervously against the table as he scrambled to recall the speech he had half-prepared. However, your patient gaze helped him relax a little.

“So, um I met up with Jisung the other day,” Jeno started to explain, rubbing the back of his neck. “We had to talk through some things, and I apologized. He forgave me and now we’re all good.”

Your eyes brightened at this news, and you placed a hand over your chest in relief. “Oh, thank goodness. I was really worried I ruined things for you two.”

He shook his head with a reassuring smile, “No, you didn’t ruin anything. I was the one who made a mess of things. But Jisung was pretty understanding about it all, which I’m grateful for.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” you breathed.

Jeno could hear the sincerity in your voice, which he appreciated. Pausing for a moment, he glanced down at his hands before speaking again.

"He also said that it’s okay for us to be together," Jeno said, hastily adding, "But I completely understand if you don’t want to give me a second chance. Especially after everything that happened.”

It took you a minute or two to digest his words, trying to process this sudden information. Then a small smile began to form on your lips, and he watched as your gaze lowered shyly.

“Well if Jisung is truly alright with it, then I guess I’m open to that,” you replied softly, your smile growing warmer. 

Jeno’s face lit up with relief and a glimmer of joy. “That’s great to hear because…I really like you, (Y/n).”

His confession made you blush, a giddy feeling welling up inside. Though he had technically kissed you first that one time, he hadn’t given a clear response when you first confessed. So you were elated by the confirmation that your feelings were not unrequited.

Being the socially awkward individuals you were, neither of you were sure what to do next. But Jeno stood up first, swinging his school bag around his shoulder.

“If you don’t have anything else planned today,” he asked with a hopeful expression. “Do you want to go grab a meal or something?”

Your smile remained, and you got up from your chair. “If food is involved, I’m in.”

Jeno chuckled warmly at your response, his heart beating rapidly with excitement as he held the door open for the two of you to exit the room together. As you both made your way outside, a moment of hesitation flickered between you. 

With the dynamics between you two having shifted significantly in just a few minutes, you were uncertain about navigating the new boundaries. As both of you internally pondered this, you exchanged subtle glances and shared a nervous laugh.

“Maybe we should take things slow,” you quietly suggested. “Like baby steps, you know?”

Although you couldn’t help but think of that passionate kiss you first shared. Back then, you and Jeno certainly jumped a few levels and things didn’t end that great.

Jeno was quick to nod in agreement, “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.”

The two of you stood there for a moment, unsure of where to start with taking “baby steps.” Deciding to be brave, Jeno gently took your hand in his, your fingers intertwining perfectly.

“Is holding hands okay for now?” He asked with a smile so adorable it made your heart flutter.

Trying to suppress your shyness, you nodded tentatively in response. The warmth of his hand contrasting with your own slightly cool one felt both comforting and reassuring. It was like that day he saved you from the motorcycle, his touch was gentle yet protective. Now that you thought about it, you got that feeling from kissing him too. But that type of thing could wait a little bit. Baby steps, you reminded yourself.

After holding back feelings for so long and dealing with some obstacles, both of you found joy in simply holding hands. Jeno hadn’t felt this laid back in a long time.

No more hiding or fighting his feelings. Finally, he could breathe freely and follow his heart.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

~ epilogue

Time flew by a lot quicker than Jeno expected. It felt like he blinked and suddenly three months had flown by with you. Since that day, his feelings for you only grew stronger and it felt so great not having to hide them anymore. Jeno couldn’t help but also notice how your smiles seemed brighter when you were together. Once the initial shyness wore off, your conversations flowed effortlessly, deepening your understanding of each other with each passing day.

The weather was getting warmer, and Jeno had fallen into this routine of walking you home after you got off your shifts at the café. The street lamps cast a soft glow, illuminating the path as you stroll hand in hand.

“You know, you don’t have to walk me to my dorm every night,” you said, gently bumping your shoulder against his. “Especially when you have an eight a.m. class the next morning.”

Jeno smiled to himself, squeezing your hand lightly. “Yeah, but I want to. Besides, what kind of boyfriend would I be if I let you walk back alone when it’s dark out?”

You sighed in defeat, realizing it was hard to argue with his logic. And if you were being honest with yourself, you did appreciate getting to spend some extra time with him. Jeno's lips curled into a satisfied smile, pleased that you didn't protest further. A comfortable silence enveloped you both as you walked, savoring the simple pleasure of each other’s company.

“Hey, don’t you think Jisung and Misun are getting closer lately?” you asked, the thought suddenly popped into your mind.

His eyes met yours with a hint of surprise. “You noticed too? I thought I was the only one.”

“Well, Misun hasn’t said anything to me outright,” you mused, “But I catch them exchanging glances with each other all the time.”

Jeno chuckled, knowing how you picked up on these things so quickly. Ironically enough, you seemed completely oblivious to how he used to stare at you all the time before dating.

Nodding in agreement, he added, “Yeah, and apparently Jisung saw Misun’s performance for cheer at the festival. I guess he’s been kind of impressed by her ever since.”

You felt a surge of excitement at the prospect of your friends getting together. Misun had mentioned to you that Jisung was helping her come up with a new routine for her upcoming cheer competition. Those two have definitely been spending more time together, and you were all for it.

“They’d look so cute together,” you sighed dreamily, picturing them in your mind.

Jeno glanced down at his shoes, frowning a little. “But not cuter than us, right?”

Your head turned to see the subtle pout of jealousy on his lips, making you giggle. After being with him for a while, you learned that your boyfriend tended to get sulky quite often. Before your shyness could kick in, you reached up on the tip of your toes to give him a small peck.

Gently stroking his cheek with your thumb, you paused to reassure him. “Of course not. I think Jaemin Sunbae said we’re the type of cute that single people envy.”

Any trace of sulkiness slowly faded from his handsome face, replaced by his adorable eye smile. His strong arms instinctively encircled around your waist, drawing you closer to him. Gazing lovingly into your eyes, he brushed back a lock of hair behind your ear. The familiar unspoken attraction crackled in the air and the two of you leaned in naturally for a sweet kiss.

Unlike your first kiss, this one unfolded slowly, with the passion simmering gently between you. Jeno easily forgot everything around him, one of his hands getting lost in your hair while the other held you securely against him. Meanwhile, your hands rested comfortably on his broad shoulders, delighting in the sensation of his lips guiding yours in a series of tender, warm kisses.

However, you were the first to pull away, knowing that this moment sadly couldn’t last forever. The night was already growing late, and a nagging voice in the back of your mind warned you to be more careful. 

“As much as I’d love to keep going, we’re going to get penalized for missing curfew again,” you mumbled, lightly squeezing his hand.

Jeno frowned, clearly displeased about the abrupt end to the kiss. But he knew you were right. For some reason, your RA was super strict about everyone being in their dorm rooms by 10 p.m.

With a sigh of resignation, he nodded reluctantly and allowed you to start walking again. But Jeno couldn’t be upset for long, knowing he’d have plenty more opportunities to feel your soft, pillowy lips against his. He was a little clingy when it came to you, and thankfully you didn’t seem to mind.

Though Jeno felt pretty miserable earlier in the semester, now he couldn’t be happier to be alive. With Jisung still as his best friend and now having you by his side, he felt like he could accomplish anything.

Being in love had that sort of effect on people, Jeno supposed. And he had a feeling you would agree with him on that too.

●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○

previous masterlist -> current masterlist

[builtbybrokenbells]

CAPITAL VICES | GREED

Greed: an intense and selfish desire for something

Masterlist

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!reader

Word Count: 14k

Warnings: SMUT 18+, unprotected sex, semi public sex, pretty public sex briefly 😭, quickies, fingering (f!receiving), sir kink, lots of dirty talk, touch of degradation, touch of praise, lots of flirting, teasing, cum play I suppose?, name calling, mentions of toxic relationships, brief mentions of abuse/abusive relationships, mentions of cheating, drinking, swearing, fluff, sorry if i miss any!

hi!! i got internet today and finally finished this up. so happy to get back into the swing of things. my second roommate finally moved in and life seems pretty okay for once. as always, enjoy, be kind, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes 🫶🏻 also this chapter is a wholeee lot, some fluff, lots of filth, and for once, not really much angst!! (Lightly edited too, my apologies)

😈: Call me?

The text tone rang through the air, immediately breaking your focus from the screen of your laptop. You read over the message a few times, hating that it immediately prompted a rush of emotion straight through you. It was despicable that he had so much power over you by simply existing, and the fact that he barely said a word made it all the worse. Perhaps the most incriminating notion of it all was that you were ready to drop everything you were doing in exchange for a moment of conversation with him. Instead of feeding into the temptation, you typed back a simple response.

You: Busy.

The read receipt immediately sold him out, letting you know that he was sitting in the chat awaiting your response. Somehow, he knew you wouldn’t comply. It was a tell tale story, him giving you an order and you doing whatever you could to ignore it. Eventually, he got his way, but you did always seem to put in a good effort. Within seconds, his name lit up your screen with an incoming call. You rolled your eyes, debating on whether to answer or decline. After a few moments of awkward staring, you hit the green button. Before you could even utter a greeting, he was already speaking.

“What’s got you so tied up that you can’t talk, angel?” He asked, the sultry tone immediately sending a wave of butterflies through your stomach.

“I don’t think that’s any of your business, Jacob.” You snipped, setting your phone down beside you on the table. After a moment of silence, the vibrations began again, showcasing his request for a video call. This time, he really did begin to get on your nerves. Reluctantly, you accepted. “You’re needy today.” You rattled off the astute observation in an attempt to get under his skin, but it did not seem to bother him. He remained silent instead of spewing out a counter argument, looking a bit tense as he studied the screen. “Christ, what is your problem?” You asked, propping your phone up against your laptop screen.

“What are you doing, sweetheart?” He asked again, relaxing once he’d recognized the familiar paintings hanging on the wall of your bedroom.

“Working.” You said, biting down on the inside of your lip as you zoomed in on the photograph you were editing. Your eyes flickered back to your phone, the sight of his face nearly knocking the breath from your lungs. “I, uh, I’m just working on some wedding pictures.” You found it difficult to keep your rigid exterior when your eyes connected with his, the soft brown immediately warming your cold expression. “Why the video call? Worried there’s another guy in my bed?” He let out a chuckle, but did not deny the accusation. You knew that’s exactly why he called, but he refused to admit to his jealous tendencies. Although there was no relationship between you two, it was quite apparent that the two of you were only concerned with seeing each other.

“It’s nearly six; why are you still working?”

“Just want to finish these up. I’ve had them for a couple weeks now, and I usually don’t like to keep them this long.” You explained, touching up the lighting in the background of the photo. “Someone has been distracting me.”

“I wonder who that is?” He smirked, happy for the recognition.

“Yeah, I wonder.” You rolled your eyes. “Is that why you called? Looking for some late night entertainment?”

“You always think the worst of me, darling.” He smiled, rustling with something off camera. “You look beautiful, by the way.”

“You know you don’t have to compliment your way into my bed.” You glanced at your phone, noticing his eyes lingering over you as you spoke.

“Maybe I just wanted to be nice.” He offered, knowing that his compliment had nothing to do with his desire for sex. You were both aware that all he had to do was show up and he would get exactly what he wanted, but it was more than that to him. He liked to call things as they were, and if that meant flattery in any sense, he was more than happy to dish it out.

“You? Being nice?” You raised an eyebrow, unbelieving that the compliment was without any deeper significance. Even after days full of sweet words, you still had difficulty trusting that he was sincere rather than doing all he could to keep you on his hook.

“Oh, shut up.” He dismissed you. “What are you doing in an hour?” Your eyes flickered to the clock in response to his question.

“Well, that depends if you mean exactly an hour from now. At 6:47, I’ll probably still be sitting here working, but at 7, I’ll be cozying up with a bottle of wine, wondering when you’ll come knocking on my door.” He laughed at your need for theatrics, finding your wit incredibly alluring.

“How about at 6:30, you have your hair done and put on a pretty little dress, and at 6:45, you answer the door and let me take you to the bar for a few drinks?” He offered, unwilling to take no for an answer.

“Why would I come with you to the bar when I can get drunk at home?” You questioned, already knowing that you would obey his wish and be waiting for him well before he arrived. It still proved plenty of fun to push his buttons, and you couldn’t resist. “It would be much more peaceful; I wouldn’t have to listen to you all night.”

“You’d love to listen to me all night, don’t fool yourself.” He brushed you off. “I know I’d love to listen to you all night.” His tone dropped as he added the second part, letting you know that conversation was not something he was expecting to come from your mouth by the end of the evening.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” You rolled your eyes. “Why waste your money on drinks when you can come fuck me right now?” You posed the idea, hoping that he might comply with the request so you didn’t have to waste time dressing up. It was a fruitless endeavor anyway, knowing that when he got his hands on you, the dress would be long forgotten and your makeup would be ruined.

“Because I’m going to the bar with my brothers, angel, and I’d really like it if you came, too.”

“That seems awfully domestic.” You muttered. “Meeting the family definitely isn’t my definition of casual.”

“It’s my definition of friends.” He argued. “Besides, you’ve already met Josh. I know you’ll have a great time.” You heaved a long sigh, saving your work and facing the phone fully. He gave you a smile when he noticed your attention was focused on him.

God, how he loved to be the center of attention.

“Then I’ll take you home,” he explained, making sure you were listening carefully “and I’ll fuck that attitude out of you, all night long.” Your cheeks dusted pink at his vulgarity. Although you had effectively said the same thing, it always seemed dirtier coming from his lips. “Sound like a deal?”

“6:45, Jacob. Don’t be late.” You warned.

“For you? Never.” He smirked, ending the call with no formal goodbye. You sat for a moment, shaking your head at the strength in which he affected you. Without any further debate, you closed your laptop and stood from your chair, making your way to the bathroom to hop in the shower.

It had been about three weeks since the fateful night at the bar left you tangled in Jake Kiszka’s web. Three weeks of constant certainty that the two of you would remain solely connected through intimacy but neglect any romantic feelings. It was working out well, but your excessive indulgence had been pushing boundaries of greed since the first night you met. Now, it was uncommon for you to spend a night without being immersed in him, whether than be at your own home or at his. Your bed smelled like him and his memory was embedded in the fabric of your pillowcases. And in your shower, and your kitchen counter, and even your living room furniture. There was no part of your home that was free from the mark of his memory, and even if you tried to convince yourself to hate it, you knew it was there to stay.

There was not a surface in your household that was free of his touch, and not a fiber of your being that was free of his deadly charm. He had a hold on you stronger than anything you had felt before, and it was welcomed, even if you refused to admit it to him. Jake’s company was fantastic, and the fact that you could indulge in it without worry of further commitment or heartbreak was comforting. He was not in love, and neither were you, and you were both content with the knowledge that you did not have the intent to be with each other in such a way.

He had become your friend despite your reluctance to accept it. On top of that, he’d become the very thing that haunted every thought and dream that crossed your mind. You were a woman gone mad, desperate for a hint of attention and begging for the grace of his hands. The concupiscent nature between you was near embarrassing to choke down, and the strength in which you felt for him was incomprehensible. You needed Jake in the same way a starving man needs food, and the pleasure that he gave you had long surpassed a need for survival; sometimes, it felt as though it was the very thing that your being was put on earth to receive. Pleasing him went hand in hand for all he gave to you, and you were fine knowing that the two coincided with perfect unity.

He was placed in your life for many reasons, and sometimes you believed none of them were good, but you knew that you would go to the ends of the earth to reward him for the service he provided you. It was a relationship built from sin, yet even the barren depths of hell could not scare you away from him, because an eternity filled with suffering would be worth the moment of euphoria you felt at his hands. He was the devil, and you were the worshipper that in turn, gave him all of his power. He would be nothing if you were not feeding in to him, but the chains that bound you to him were so tight that they had fused to your skin. It was a vicious cycle that both of you were aware of, yet cared little about freeing yourself from it.

Love, although not something that you wanted to admit to, seemed to be creeping up on you with the utmost of silence, trying it’s best to kill you before you ever noticed it’s company. You were not in love with him, and even when he was wrapped around you in the most intimate display, you still did not feel the emotion. But, just because you did not feel it, did not mean it did not exist. Love was everywhere, surrounding you at all times and existing within you even while asleep. It was not love in the traditional sense, and nowhere near close to the kind that made you want to get married and settle down with children. It was the love of his company, and the love of his sharp tongue and sweet words. It was present in the shared jokes and coffee in the morning after spending the night together (Coffee and lunch had become routine, because you did well to adhere to your no breakfast rule).

It was different than any love you had experienced before, because it was not the type that made you willing to sacrifice yourself on his behalf nor go insane trying to love someone who did not love you. It was enjoyment in his company, and the laughter that hung in the air. You loved him as a friend, and you were in lust with him as a person. You were not dependent on his help to survive, but you did not want to picture a life without him in it. He was a great companion, and a fantastic friend, but you could not seem to view him as anything more. You did not want to blame it on his character, because it was simply not true. Jake was fantastic, but it was your own personal issues and morals that stood in the way of anything further than casual sex. So far, despite your limited time apart, he hadn’t seemed to overstep any boundaries or push your limits. As far as you could tell, he was content with the same things you were, and he had no interest in anything more.

For now, it was a comfort to know the both of you wanted the same outcome, but perhaps it was the most dangerous thing of all. The only thing that was worse than one person falling unwillingly, was both of you falling unknowingly.

You climbed out of the shower, drying off as you checked the time on your phone. Once your body was free of any water droplets, you wrapped your hair in a towel and moved on to your closet. Your eyes scanned your wardrobe, landing on a cute little black dress. You slipped it on, settling your arms in the long sleeves and straightening the front. It had a plunging neckline, the bottom of it reaching just under your chest on your sternum. You searched your room for tape to hold the soft fabric in place. When you were certain it would not move, you fixed the bottom, settling it mid-thigh. You took a quick look in the mirror, content with your choice and ready to move on to makeup.

In the bathroom, you had a constant eye on your phone to ensure Jake wasn’t texting or calling. He hated to be kept waiting, and you liked him enough to not want to push that button. You ran a comb through your hair as you blowdried it, adding a few loose curls to the ends for some volume. With little time to spare, you dusted some eyeshadow over your eyelids and put some mascara on your lashes after dabbing on a touch of foundation. You picked through your lipglosses and rushed through the application after hearing a knock sound on your door. With a small smile on your face, you rushed to greet your company for the night.

When you opened the door, you nearly fell to your knees at the sight. Jake was dressed in all black, with similar clothes to the night you met him, but somehow he seemed even more beautiful than he did then. There was a chain dangling from his neck and a few rings on his finger, and of course, the familiar cocky smirk adorned on his lips. You began to realize that Jake would not be himself without it. “6:45 on the dot.” You noted, your brain finally catching up with the moment.

“Told you I’d never be late for you, angel.” He recalled, taking a long look over you. “Seems like we match.” He tried to hide the lustful staring, but his eyes were permanently fixated on the exposed skin on your chest.

“I guess so.” You said, your eyes just as focused on the unbuttoned portion of his shirt. The need you both displayed for each other was shameless, and it was the loudest thing in any room you entered.

“You look fantastic.” He said, taking a step forward and letting the door close behind him. When he did, you caught a strong scent of cologne that was unfamiliar to you. It was new, it seemed expensive, and it was so heavenly that it was difficult not to tear his clothes off right then and there.

“Is this what you had in mind for a pretty little dress?” You teased, giving him a smile.

“Even better than what I had in mind.” He corrected, snaking his hand to your hip and pulling you into him. He brought his free hand to your chest, gently running the knuckle of his index finger down between your breasts and stopping at the same spot that the fabric resumed. A shiver went down your spine at the light tickle of his touch, and your skin ignited with a fire that could not be contained. “All of this just for me, sweetheart?” His tone was low and gravely, overtaken by desire for you.

“Don’t be so full of yourself, honey.” You brushed off his claim, yet both of you knew the defence was weak. You dressed to impress him, and his eyes and hands were the only thing you wanted on you. “Maybe I just wanted to make a good first impression.” He raised an eyebrow at your statement, challenging you without saying a single word. You nearly faltered under the weight of his stare, but you remained strong despite your tendencies to submit to him.

“Your idea of a good first impression is dressing like a whore?” He questioned, but the harsh words did not match his stature nor his tone. It was incredibly playful, almost as if he was trying to initiate foreplay already. Your cheeks burned red at the statement, but you continued holding his unwavering stare.

“Worked on you, did it not?” You asked, a small smirk playing on the corner of your mouth.

“So you’re trying to get them into bed, too?” He did not lighten up on his intense gaze, but somehow you were just content that you seemed to catch his undivided attention.

“If I remember correctly, you were doing all of the trying that night. I wasn’t interested in taking you home.” You reminded him of his relentless efforts and your continuous rejection as if it hadn’t been playing on repeat in his head since it happened. His hand slipped to your ass, bringing you closer to him with a force that made your head spin.

“Are you trying to get yourself in trouble again?” He asked while his fingers pressed into the skin that was already bruised from the night before. The pain held little importance compared to the mess that was beginning to form between your legs. “Why is it so hard for you to admit that you want to look good for me?”

“Because I’d hate to fuel your ego any further.” You snipped, but your hand was in search of him, landing on his side as you attempted to pull him closer. “And I’m not a liar.” You were, but neither of you needed to point out the obvious.

“That’s okay, angel. You don’t have to say it. Your body does all the talking for you.” He loosened his grip, giving you a small pat on the ass. You couldn’t help the frown that took over your face as he began to pull away. He caught sight of your expression, pausing for a moment as a glimmer of joy filled his eyes. “So that’s what it is,” he muttered, his gaze flickering to your lips. “You were hoping to piss me off enough so I would fuck you before we left.”

“No,” you shook your head, rejecting the idea even if he hit the nail straight on the head. He gave a low chuckle, leaning down and pressing his lips to your own. Your eyes fluttered closed, finding your prior arguments ceasing to exist within seconds of his touch. When he pulled away, the smile had returned to your face as if it never left at all.

“I missed you, sweetheart.” As domestic as the statement was, you couldn’t argue with it, for you had missed him just as much.

“I know.” You hummed. You did not have to say it back because he knew you did, too.

“Get your stuff so we can get going.” He ordered.

“Pushy,” you muttered, but turned to do as he asked.

“The faster we get there, the faster we can come back here.” He explained, watching you intently as you walked away from him. He was already itching to get that dress off of you, and it was no secret. You could see it in his eyes.

“Could just stay here.” You offered, calling out from your bedroom. You weren’t opposed to meeting his brothers; far from it, really. You quite enjoyed Josh’s company when he showed up unannounced at Jake’s apartment, and you could only assume you’d get along just as well with the others. What you did like more than drinking was the sex Jake had to offer, and you knew sitting tipsy in a bar booth was nowhere near as enticing as having him alone in your bed.

“You don’t sound very excited.” He noted, holding his hand out for you to grab as you walked out of your room. With little hesitation, you slipped your own into his and flicked the lights off.

“I am excited to meet them, but more excited about what comes after.” You corrected, pulling your keys out to lock the door behind you.

“Trust me, angel, if you’re good for me tonight, I’ll be good to you.” You nodded, knowing that he wouldn’t lie to you about that. As for being good, you weren’t sure if you could uphold the standard, especially to his expectations. Holding your tongue had never been a strong suit for you, but you could definitely give it a shot.

“So what do they think we are?” You asked, letting him guide you to the passenger side of the car. He opened the door for you, allowing you inside. Once you were settled, he closed it and got in the drivers seat. “Do I have to pretend that we’re in love, or do they know what we’re doing?”

“Sam and Danny think that we’re friends.” He chuckled, starting the car before looking over to you. “Josh only knows better because he saw you in my apartment.”

“Ah, so I’m a dirty little secret?” You raised an eyebrow. He smirked, giving a shake of his head as he slipped his hand to your thigh. You rested yours on top of his, hoping that he would keep it there for the whole drive.

“No, sweetheart.” He said, backing out of your driveway and into the road. “I just wanted to avoid them having any impression of you in their heads before they met you.”

“What does that mean?” You questioned, looking out the window as he drove.

“That means,” he paused, turning up the radio only slightly “you’re more than just someone I have sex with. I didn’t want them to know you as that, because you have way more to offer.” You couldn’t deny the tugging of your heartstrings as he spoke, finding his response genuine and sweet. “I don’t want them to like you because they feel like they have to. I want them to like you because they got the chance to know you like I do.”

“No pre-existing conditions,” you whispered “thank you, Jake.” Instead of a verbal response, he gave your leg a light squeeze. “You must bring home some interesting women if you’re scared they’re going to feel required to like me.”

“Why do you think I don’t date?” He quipped. His tone was light, but it didn’t seem like he was joking. For a moment, you felt like you could see straight through him. For another, you felt like you could relate to him. You did not know how to respond, so you didn’t. You were not in the game for comfort or therapeutic measures, and neither was he.

As you looked out the window, a strange feeling washed over you. You did not know Jake nearly well enough to be so entranced by him. You had pegged him as a whore without really knowing who he was, and you had built your walls up so high that you could not see over them for long enough to understand Jake for what he truly was. He did not seem to want a relationship with you, but he did want to be involved with you, and so much so that he hadn’t let you forget it since the minute he walked into your life. It did not appear that he was entertaining anyone else, and in truth, you did not fear he was simply because you knew he did not have the time. Between working, texting or calling you, or being with you, he seemed pretty preoccupied. More than that, he seemed content. In some strange way, you were, too, and one of the biggest problems you had with dating had already been conquered without you even realizing it.

Jake was integrated in to your daily routine so well that it almost seemed empty without him, and it was not in the negative way you perceived it to be in the beginning. He was a positive addition to your routine rather than a distraction, and he did not interfere with the things you believed he might. When you found clothes he forgot, you washed them and folded them alongside your own to return to him at a later date. He watched whatever you put on the television without a complaint, and offered you new music rather than forcing it upon you. He took up space in your bed, but did not impede on your own. He did not keep you up at night by snoring or stealing blankets, and often times, you slept better with his lazy arm slung over you. You did not want to wed him, but he had certainly proven that he was not a waste of your time.

Denial is a stage of grief, after all, and grieving your former self was all you had been doing as of late.

“What’s your favourite color, Jake?” You asked, looking back over at him. He glanced at you from the drivers seat, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he processed your question.

“What?” He laughed, still unsure of your words.

“Your favourite color.” You repeated as if it was a completely normal inquiry.

“Uh… red, if I had to pick.” Fitting for the devil, you thought.

“Okay.” You nodded, looking back out the windshield.

“Why do you ask, sweetheart?”

“I guess I just feel like I don’t know enough about you sometimes.” You explained, feeling a small spark of embarrassment ignite in your chest. “We spend so much time together and I don’t even know your favourite color or which brother is your favourite, or anything like that.” He let out another hearty laugh at your words, finding your desire to know more about him intriguing.

“So you want to know me, now?” He asked, surprised that you were asking questions first.

“We’re friends, are we not?” You snipped, your tone sharp and defensive.

“I’d like to think so, but you seem to disagree.” He chuckled. “Ask me whatever you want angel, and I’ll answer.”

“Whatever I want?” You raised an eyebrow, wondering if he realized the extent of his promise. He did not try to take back the claim. Instead, he nodded his head to show you he was being truthful. “Okay, I guess I will, too.” Although begrudgingly, you thought it was only fair to be open and honest with him if he was willing to do so with you.

“What’s your favourite colour?” He asked, curious himself.

“You’re pushing it.” You warned, a smile on your lips to show you were joking. “Green. Dark forest green, like the way the trees look when the sun has just set.”

“Good to know.” He said, making sure to store the information in his mind.

“Do you do this often? Or am I just one of a kind?” You finally spewed out the most pressing question in your head.

“No, you’re one of a kind.” There was no room for doubt in his answer, because his tone was laced with utmost certainty. “I’ve never done this before, actually.”

“So why am I so special?” He looked back over at you, studying your face as he formulated a proper response.

“You’re different than anyone I’ve ever met.” He started slow, trying his best to word it properly. “I don’t like dating, and I don’t like commitment all that much, but I liked you from the minute I saw you. I wanted you, but for some reason, I wanted to know you even more than I wanted sex. I didn’t want to leave in the morning and never see you again.” He said, focusing on the road as he spoke. “I figured I’d shoot my shot and if you turned me down, no harm no foul. Then I started talking to you, and I knew there was no way I was walking away without you. Your snarky little comments and your sarcasm was impossible to ignore, and your lack of interest was just making me more interested. You had a comeback for everything I said, and I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who I clicked with like that.” He shrugged. “The sex was mind blowing, and you get along with Josh really well. Was kind of a no brainer for me.”

“Oh,” you nodded, feeling your cheeks warm with another blush. You hated that you always seemed to be blushing when he was around. “I, uh, I don’t like that stuff either, and I really don’t like one night stands, but I liked you too. I’m pretty stubborn, and I think I just assumed you were lying to get what you wanted.”

“S’okay.” He gave your thigh another squeeze. “I get it. People suck.”

“Yeah, they do.” You agreed. “I told myself a long time ago I would never date anyone again, and I still feel that way, but I do like you and I like what we’re doing.”

“You don’t have to tell me about it if you don’t want to, but I’ll always listen.” He promised, pulling into the parking lot of the bar.

“It’s not a very long story, but I wouldn’t want to bore you with it.” You shrugged.

“I’ve got all the time in the world.” He assured you, putting the car in park and turning his attention towards you. When you caught his eye, it was astounding how much care was held in his gaze.

“I’ve gotten my fair share of strange looks and whispers around town for the last few years.” You explained. “Usually when you’re divorced before 25, people talk. At 22, it was even worse.” He did not change his expression, nor did he make a move to speak. He was listening, and he knew he would listen to you until long after the sun came up with no judgement and no interruption. In the three weeks he’d known you so intimately, never had you mentioned a word about your past so bluntly. He was desperate to know you, and he felt lucky that he was even getting the chance.

“I was stupid, and I married my high school sweetheart. At eighteen, he bought a cheap ring at the nearest pawn shop, and I wore it proudly, just like it was the most expensive diamond in the world. By nineteen, we were moved in to a shitty house in the poor part of town and I had his last name. Life wasn’t glamorous, and it certainly wasn’t easy, but I was happy. I worked part time as a server ay diner off the highway and made the rest of my money taking shitty pictures off my dad’s old camera from the 90’s.” You said, looking down at his hand burning into the skin of your thigh. It looked prettier on you than your ex’s ever did, and even in the short time you knew him, you knew that for certain. “When you’re that young, you don’t listen to anyone. No matter how many times I was told I was making a mistake, I didn’t listen. Kids never do.”

“What happened, angel?” He asked, noticing the disdain growing in your eyes.

“People change.” You finally looked up to meet his eyes. “Sometimes for the better, but most of the time, it’s for the worst.” You weren’t sure why you felt so comfortable telling him everything, but you didn’t feel the need to hide anything from him, and you knew that no matter what, the story would be safe with him. “By twenty, he’d already slept with half of the women in the neighborhood; it didn’t seem to matter if they were married too. If anything, I think he liked the thrill more than he liked getting off. Before I turned 21, he stopped saying I love you and turned to fists and raised voices. I was lucky that my sister opened up her spare room to me when I finally found a way out, and I was even luckier that he had a good job and lots in his savings account when I took him to court. I got a restraining order and changed my name, and bought a house on the other side of town with the money I got in the settlement.

“I had no idea, y/n.” He said, a spark of sadness showing in his eyes.

“Of course you didn’t. I’m not that person anymore, and I never will be. I don’t talk about it because it’s not who I am, and it’s not something that holds any value anymore. I changed, and I got over it; it was five years ago, but I don’t date anymore because I don’t think I could ever give anyone any power over me again.” You were lying through your teeth, because you knew he held a power over you, even if it was not romantic. Your strength astounded him, and as much as he wanted to voice his willingness to protect you for the rest of his life, he knew you did not need it. You seemed like you had more strength at 27 than he could ever comprehend in his lifetime. “It doesn’t change the person sitting next to you; I’m the same as I was the minute before I opened my mouth, and I don’t want you to think differently.” You took in a long breath. “Friends know each other, Jacob, so don’t ever doubt our friendship again. You know more about me than most of the world.”

“Understood.” He smiled. “Friends it is then, angel.” He was estatic to finally hear the words come out of your mouth without hesitation.

“What about you, then? Dating isn’t your game either, so I hope your story isn’t as tragic.” You joked, trying your best to lighten the mood. The tension was heavy in the air, and unlike usual, it was not sexual in any way. The weight of your confession was crushing the both of you, and you desperately wanted to change the subject.

“No, not quite.” He chuckled, understanding that you wanted to joke your way through the hurt. “Cheating takes a toll after a while, and I guess lots of people find it a fascinating hobby.” He explained. “After it happens so often, you get sick of pouring your heart into someone who doesn’t really give a shit in the end. I dated a girl for a very long time. We met not long after I graduated and we stayed together until about a year before I moved here. Loyalty wasn’t her thing, and I think I was too blind to see her for what she was. The guys hated her, but love makes you stupid.”

“That it does, Jacob. That’s why I don’t do it.” You said. “I value my sanity far more than I care about being alone.”

“Right,” he nodded “I spent a few months heartbroken, and then I just stopped caring. I had a few one night stands, but I didn’t really like it. Sex is fun, but when you told me there was no point in getting to know someone only to try and forget them in the morning, I couldn’t have agreed more. When I met you, and you felt the same ways I did, and you understood that sex is different than a relationship, it was like a breath of fresh air.”

“It was.” You agreed. “I like being friends with you, Jake, and I really like having sex with you, but that’s why I was so stern about not falling in love. I’m not ready for it, and I probably never will be.”

“I get it, and I feel the same way.” He sighed, happy to know the truth about the situation.

The only unfortunate part of the truth was that it did nothing but open the next door that was in the way of falling for each other.

“I’d like to know you, Jake.” You admitted. “Really know you, like more than what we’re doing now.”

“I’d like that, too.” He smiled.

“Still no breakfast, of course.” You informed.

“Of course not. Wouldn’t dream of it.” He laughed, genuine happiness radiating from his features. You felt a flutter of warmth in your stomach, finding yourself almost too excited to see him happy. “Would you like to go inside?”

“Yeah, sure.” You nodded, unbuckling your seatbelt. He got out of the car to open the door for you, holding your hand as you steadied yourself on your feet. When he was certain you had your balance, he slipped a loose hand to your lower back. “I’m excited to meet them.” You assured him, knowing that he had fear of you going because it felt obligatory.

“Good, I know they’re excited, too.” A small smile crossed your lips as he opened the bar door for you, allowing you inside first. When he stepped in beside you, his eyes drifted across the filled booths. Ray caught sight of you from the bar, sending you a wave as he studied the sight before him. Not once in the last five years had he seen you walk in the bar with someone by your side, but he was happy to see the smile on your face. Usually it was hard to get one out of you until you were a few drinks deep.

Jakes eyes landed on a familiar face and he began guiding you towards your company for the night. You drew in a deep breath, settling your nerves as you tried your best to convince yourself the night would be good. “Hey!” An excited voice called out. The familiarity was nice, and you looked to meet Josh’s eyes as Jake pulled up a chair at the end of the booth. “I was beginning to think you’d never show up.”

“Sorry, that was my fault.” You chuckled. “I was caught up with work.”

“No need for apologies, you’re here now.” He assured you. You looked to the other side of the booth, catching the curious eyes of two more boys. You gave a warm smile, extending your hand out to shake theirs.

“Hi, I’m y/n.” You said, shaking the first boys hand.

“I’m Danny.” He smiled, his eyes lingering over your face. He seemed sweet, and you didn’t even need to talk to him to sense his kindness. It was radiating from him. You did the same with the next boy, already knowing who he was without him saying his name. If you ran into him on the street, you were certain you’d recognize him. He looked so similar to Jake that it was nearly alarming.

“And you’re Sam?”

“So he’s told you about me?” You had to laugh at the similarity between his statement and the one Josh gave you when you first met.

“Only good things.” You promised.

“I can say the same.” He grinned. “I hear you play piano?” He raised an eyebrow, curious about the fact.

“You heard correctly.” You nodded. “My mom thought it would be a good way to keep me busy, and she was right.”

“I’d love to hear you play sometime.” He said, genuinely curious.

“I’m sure we can arrange something. I hear you’re quite talented, too.”

“You should come to our next show.” Josh offered, cutting in with his grandiose idea.

“I’m sure she has better things to do.” Jake chuckled, rolling his eyes at his brother.

“No, I’d love to, actually.” You shut his notion down. “I haven’t even heard him play yet, so maybe we could kill two birds with one stone.” Sam nearly choked on his drink at your words, looking over at his brother with wide eyes.

“He hasn’t played for you yet?” He asked, looking back to you. “I have a hard time believing that.”

“Guess we just never got around to it.” Jake said, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck while he hoped they would drop the subject.

“Are you nervous?” Sam asked, even more baffled than he was before.

“No,” he snapped, shutting him down. “Quit it.” You chuckled at the altercation, finding their banter funny. Seeing them so close and comfortable with each other made you miss your own sister. She had moved a few towns over the year prior, and you hadn’t seen her much since. Sam seemed to back down at his sharp tone, settling back in his seat while he sipped on his drink. “Do you want a drink?” Jake asked you, prompting you to sit down beside Josh in the booth.

“Yes, please.” You smiled, following his order. Jake nodded, already knowing what you wanted. He hadn’t managed to forget a single thing about you since you first met. Sometimes, it felt like the knowledge plagued him and he would die from the sickness of needing more.

“So, y/n.” Sam said, watching as Jake disappeared from sight. “What do you do for work?”

“People pay me to take their picture.” You explained. “Weddings, maternity, cheesy family portraits, all that fun stuff.”

“Ever do photography for a band?” He asked.

“No, but your brother has been trying to convince me to do your promo shoot for the new album.” You admitted. “It seems like it would be fun, but I don’t know if I’m what you’re looking for.”

“Don’t say that.” He scoffed. “I’m sure if Jake is okay with it, you’re more than fantastic. He’s pretty picky when it comes to band stuff.”

“Oh yeah?” You asked, intrigued by his words.

“Yeah,” all three agreed, the response heavy. “The whole music thing was his dream, so he’s pretty specific. He must like you a lot.”

“Oh.” You cheeks tinged red again, almost flattered that he thought highly enough of you to want to work with you. “Who knows, maybe he can talk me into it.” You shrugged. “So you’re the bassist and he’s the drummer?” You asked, pointing to Sam and Danny for their respective roles. They nodded, confirming your words. “That’s cool that you all get along so well.”

“It’s tough by times.” Josh admitted, not willing to pretend it was always sunshine and rainbows. “Do you have any siblings?”

“Yeah, one. She’s only a year older than I am.”

“So you get it.” Sam chuckled.

“I do. She’s my best friend, but we do hate each other. Just part of the sibling relationship, I think.”

“Exactly.” He nodded. With that, a drink was sat in front of you and Jake took a seat in the chair at the end of the table. He gave you a small smile as you thanked him, but moved on quickly. “Water for you? That’s new.”

“Driving tonight.” Was all Jake replied, uncaring about having to stay sober. Getting you home safe was his only priority.

The group descended into small talk, starting first by trying to get to know you, then slowly moving on to joking and laughter. It was nice feeling like you fit in straight away, and during the entire night, you never felt out of place. Jakes brothers were arguably easier to get along with than him, and you were happy you hadn’t shied away from the invitation. For once, company seemed to make your night all the more memorable rather than put a damper on it. You found the boys fun to be around, and you could not remember the last time you laughed as much. Somewhere between drink three and four, Jakes hand slipped to your knee underneath the table. You barely paid any mind to it, and if anything, it was welcomed. You could never seem to convince yourself to disregard his touch, and often times found yourself searching for it.

The group joined together and purchased some shots for the table, which only began a gruelling game of quarters. The tension was high and the competition was fierce. Josh and Danny started, then you and Sam went head to head. Even though Jake wasn’t drinking, he stepped in for a few rounds, which eventually landed Josh in the chair at the end of the table and Jake taking post in the booth next to you. The innocent hand on your knee steadily grew more comfortable, which then provoked him to move his fingers further up your thigh. His touch was searing, and quickly turned into the only thing you could focus on. You were stuck on the inside of the booth, knowing that you would not be able to step away to calm yourself down unless he allowed it.

In essence, you were trapped, but it was not striking a fear within you; instead, there was an excitement to see how far he would take things before he backed away.

When Sam and Danny found themselves in an argument with Josh over something so small and trivial that you had missed it entirely, you felt Jake’s hand sneak even further up your leg. He settled his hand under the hem of your dress as his fingers were nearly brushing against the fabric of your underwear. Your breath caught in your throat, but you could not deny your desire for him to keep going despite the very real possibility of being caught. It was always the same with him; no risk was too high, because the reward would outweigh the risk any day.

“Jake,” you whispered, glancing over at him through the corner of your eye.

“What’s wrong, beautiful?” He asked, his expression nearly fooling you into believeing he was doing nothing at all.

“Behave.” You warned, but you were hoping he wouldn’t listen. He never did, and you weren’t truly expecting him to, anyway.

“What ever do you mean?” He smirked, turning his head down towards you ever so slightly. With a little help from your own neediness shining in your eyes, he managed to push your legs apart just enough to run his finger over your clothed cunt. You let your eyes flutter closed, trying your best to keep a straight face while he continued on his torment. He took in a long breath, nearly feral at the feeling of the arousal pooling between your legs. Your departure was long overdue, and he had been waiting to get you out of the dress as soon as he showed up at your door.

“You guys want to play a round of pool?” Sam asked, his attention suddenly on the two of you. You opened your eyes, trying extra hard to make sure your expression wasn’t giving away the incriminating act Jake was doing under the table and out of sight.

“What do you think?” Jake asked you, clearly trying his best to push you to the limit. As he asked, his touch grew stronger and more pronounced, focused intently on the thin lace that was covering your clit.

“Sure, why not?” You breathed, hoping that a quick answer would divert the attention away from your flustered expression. “I suck though, I’ll warn you now.” You gave a nervous laugh through clenched teeth, trying your best to ignore Jake’s antics.

“You okay? You seem a little… distant.” Jake pressed, hoping you might crack under the pressure.

“Yeah, think I just drank too much too fast.” You brushed him off, now determined to prove him wrong. “Might take a little break for a while.”

“Wouldn’t want you getting sick.” He sympathized, although clearly fake and only offering the statement to keep you in the position for as long as possible.

“Of course not, I’ll be alright.” You said, holding his gaze. There was a fire in his eyes, dangerous and mischievous, and yours were pleading with him to surrender. You were caught in a stalemate, neither of you willing to back down, yet neither of you able to win.

“Shall we play?” Josh asked, also seemingly invested in yours and Jake’s staring contest.

“Sure, just give us a minute. We’ll meet you over there.” He assured them, not looking away from you as he spoke.

“Okay.” They agreed, sliding out of the booth and making their way towards the pool table. Once they were out of earshot, you opened your mouth to speak.

“You trying to get us in trouble, Jacob?” You scolded, noticing that he still failed to withdraw his hand.

“No idea what your talking about.” The smirk on his lips was infuriating, but what even worse was how badly you wanted to lean over and kiss him. The devil made his presence known in the inviting warmth of his brown eyes, falsely claiming peace and serenity despite the invitation being nothing but filthy underneath the surface. “What’s wrong, angel?”

“Don’t play dumb with me,” you scolded, but could only care about his finger that had dipped underneath the fabric he had been teasing you through.

“Jake,” you hissed, but it was not with discontent.

“If you give me a kiss, I promise I’ll behave for the rest of the night.” He informed you, watching your lust clouded eyes with a type of longing you could not begin to comprehend.

“A kiss? That’s it?” You questioned, squirming underneath his stare.

“Yeah, haven’t gotten once since we got here.”

“Because your brothers think we’re friends!” You argued.

“Think that jig was up a long time ago.” He laughed, finding his power over you near comedic.

“Christ, kiss me then.” You rushed out, nervously watching to make sure nobody had picked up on your obscene display. He leaned down, pressing his lips to yours in a sweet exchange. It was nowhere near the same intensity of what he was doing beneath the table. As he pulled away, so did his hand. His promise was kept, and you finally felt like you could take a full breath of air. “You are needy today.”

“Get over it.” He gave your thigh a squeeze, humour laced in his tone. “Let’s go kick their ass in a game of pool.” You nearly had whiplash at the sudden change in direction, but you couldn’t seem to find it within yourself to be upset with him. He extended his hand out for you to grab, helping you to your feet as you straightened out your dress.

“I told you I suck at pool.” You warned, praying that he didn’t get his hopes up.

“Even if we lose, I still consider it a win if I have you as my partner.” You thought your face was going to ignite in flames from the intensity of the blush on your cheeks. He led you towards the rest of the group, keeping a steady hand on your back so you didn’t stray too far from his side. When you rejoined the rest of the crowd, you realized they barely noticed the length of your absence, too busy hitting balls aimlessly across the green velvet of the pool table. As you watched Sam line up a shot, you realized that you might actually have a chance at winning. He seemed worse at the game than you, if it were possible.

“Good thing they don’t pay you to play, Sam, cause you’d go broke.” Jake said, watching a striped ball bounce of the side and crash into the 8 ball, sending it straight into the corner pocket. You giggled at the sight, watching Sam shoot his brother a glare as he straightened up.

“I’d like to see you do better, then.” He held his arm out, prompting Jake to grab the cue. He obliged, taking a long look over the table before settling on a solid ball. He lined up his shot, and with one swift moment of his arm, the white ball knocked the blue one into a side pocket. With a cocky smirk, he handed the cue back to Sam, rejoining you without saying a word. “Show-off.” He muttered, fishing the balls from the pockets and racking them in the middle of the table.

“Just admit you suck.” Jake laughed, pulling you into his side even further without even realizing it.

“You just want to impress her,” Sam snipped. “Let’s play, then we’ll see who sucks.” Jake opted not to respond, but he went to the rack on the wall and grabbed a cue for himself. He motioned for you to pick one for yourself, which you did with great hesitation. If Jake thought Sam was bad, he certainly wouldn’t be pleased with your performance.

“You’re up first, sweetheart.” He said, gently nudging you towards the table. You let out a long exhale, taking a step towards the table and bending over to line up the cue with the ball. From behind you, you heard Jake take in a sharp breath, unsure of what his issue was. As you broke the rack of balls and straightened up, you turned to look at him. The far away look in his eye was familiar, and your eyes widened at the realization of why he reacted so strongly to the innocent moment.

He had worked himself up teasing you at the booth, and was almost brought to his knees from the sight of you bent over the table.

‘So much for the boys thinking we’re friends.’ You thought, but you could not seem to be upset at him. The knowledge that you drove him crazy was nothing short of an ego boost, and you understood that you had a chance to get revenge for his merciless actions just moments earlier. You took a few steps towards him, turning to watch Sam take his shot. As you did, you made sure you were close enough for your ass to brush against him gently. His hand shot to your hip, holding you firmly in hopes that you wouldn’t move any further. You bit back the smile begging to break on to your lips, knowing that it would not take much to get him in the same state he had you in before starting the game.

“Easy, angel.” He whispered, his voice low but the warning clear. “Wouldn’t want to get us in trouble, would you?”

“No, sir.” You replied, just quiet enough for him to hear. But, trouble was the only thing you wanted to get into, and you weren’t sure how much longer you were willing to wait. He gave your hip a gentle squeeze, happy you were in clear understanding. With that, he stepped towards the table and started his turn. Josh was sat on the table opposite of your own, watching carefully in hopes of calling someone on an infraction of the rules. When he returned to you, he seemed a little more relaxed and forgiving of your actions.

“Another drink?” He asked, noticing that yours was nearing the end.

“Sure,” you nodded, looking up at him with a smile. “Thank you.” He nodded, leaning down and pressing a small kiss to your lips. You knew it was to satiate his own need for you, and the small contact would give him enough satisfaction to make it through the rest of the night. You watched as he walked towards the bar, a small smile stuck on your face as your head swam with intoxication.

“Not a girlfriend, eh?” Josh said, raising an eyebrow. Your head snapped towards him, almost embarrassed at his confrontation.

“Not a girlfriend.” You confirmed, firm on your stance.

“Can you be?” Sam asked, laughing at your response. “We like you.” Your heated with a blush (or the alcohol, you couldn’t really tell), happy that they seemed to take to your company well. You would be lying if you said you weren’t afraid of rejection.

“You can like me without me being a girlfriend, you know.” You said, watching as Danny finished up his turn.

“Obviously,” Sam rolled his eyes “but I think we can all agree we would like for you to be one. Don’t want him to fuck it up.”

“He can fuck it up just the same with a label.” Your counter arguments barely seemed to phase the three.

“I never thought he’d find someone nice. Everyone else was… well, horrible.” Sam chuckled, turning his attention to you fully. “He seems to like you a lot. He talks about you all the time.”

“He does?” You questioned, shocked at the statement. He nodded in response, looking to make sure Jake wasn’t already on his way back to the table. “Didn’t think we were that serious.” You said, making a note to discuss it with him when you were alone.

“I don’t think he does, either.” Josh laughed. “We just think it’s a shame you’re not. He has a pretty bad track record, and he kind of swore off the whole dating thing. He was insufferable for a little while, and then he met you. Seemed like it cleared his head a little bit. It’s nice.”

“Oh,” you said, feeling dread settle in your stomach. The cold feet you got from his simple statement was astounding, and you felt like running out the door and never looking back. You were not ready for feelings, and he promised to abide by the rule. If he was acting differently when you weren’t around, you weren’t sure you would be able to keep up at the same intensity without setting some boundaries.

“He’s on the same page as you, friend who is a girl.” Josh assured you, wanting you to know that you didn’t have to worry. “I think we all just like you, and we hope that you stick around for a while, at least.”

“Okay,” you calmed slightly, happy that Josh recalled your statement from the first time you met. “Because friends is all I do, Joshua.”

“Right,” he agreed, but it did not seem like he believed you. “You’re the friend that so happens to be a girl, and he’s a boy that is indeed just a friend.”

“Perfect, you got it.” You laughed, nodding in agreement. Just as you settled back into silence, Jake made his return from the bar with your drink in hand. Somehow, when he was back in sight, the fear disappeared and was replaced with a sense of calm. His eyes caught yours, and that little smile on his lips told you that everything would be alright and you need not worry about a thing. When he was a few feet away from you, the gravitational pull that constantly surrounded him seemed to pull you in, muting the rest of the world and allocating your energy solely on him.

“My turn?” He asked, handing you the whiskey glass.

“No, it’s mine. Too busy talking.” You admitted, your eyes never leaving the entrancing features of his face.

“Or were you just waiting for me?” He teased, his eyes watching you with the same intensity. “Am I your good luck charm, angel?”

“You wish.” You brushed him off, but your smile told him his comment was welcomed.

“And?” He raised an eyebrow, appalled that you ever thought differently and wondering what your issue with it was. He loved being needed by you, and that had never been a secret. You smiled, giving him a slight smack on the arm before turning towards the table. You looked over your options, but not in hopes of winning the game. Instead, you pondered the best spot to lean over the table to drive him just as crazy as the last. You were like two sex-crazed demons, doing whatever you could to instigate the inevitable and making each other suffer in the process. Greed had become you long before the night of drinking ensued, but your infatuation with each other seemed to hit an all time high, for not even a public setting could keep your hands away from each other.

You walked to the other side of the table, making sure you picked a ball that was in front of him. You leaned down, low to the velvet and lined your stick with the cue ball. Your dress left little to the imagination as is, but with the help of gravity, anything left to wonder was quickly answered. Jake had a tight fist around his cue, knuckles white as his eyes fixated on the fabric ever so slightly pulling away from your skin. You drew your arm back, putting a little more force than needed into your strike, making sure that you looked up at him to see his reaction as the top of your dress struggled to remain secured to your chest. He caught your eye, his jaw clenched tightly as he tried to remember where you were and who you were with. When you returned to your upright position, you gave him a subtle wink so he knew your intent was personal.

Sam moved to take his turn, completely unaware of the silent battle between you and his brother. You brought your drink to your lips, so invested in your own game that you let a dribble of whiskey fall from the cup and trail down your chin. You swallowed down the burning liquid, knowing that his stare hadn’t once broken from the obscene display you were putting yourself in. The cold droplets fell from your chin down your neck, eventually reaching the valley between your breasts. Slowly, it melted into your skin and disappeared into the fabric resting on your sternum. When you withdrew the drink from your lips, you thought you might have pushed him too far. As he watched, it almost seemed like his brain was short circuiting as he tried to keep up with the vile thoughts he was having about you. The interaction was so small that nobody noticed it other than him, but he was so invested in you that not a single motion would ever be missed.

Your skin was ablaze with desire from the thought of his hands alone, and neither of you were interested in the game of pool anymore. Reluctantly, Jake took his turn, glancing at you intermittently between his shots. By the time Danny took his, there was only the eight ball left.

“Can you help me?” You asked Jake, giving him a small, innocent smile.

“Nuh-uh,” Sam shook his head, shutting it down. “That’s cheating.”

“How so?” Jake asked, uncaring for any rules and itching to get his hands on you.

“We can’t do that!”

“Actually, you can.” You corrected, walking over to meet Jake by the cue ball. “You just don’t want to. Or, you didn’t think to ask first.” Sam gave you a glare, clearly not liking the two against one outlook.

“Grand chancellor will allow it.” Josh interjected, finding Sam’s discontent hilarious. Even more than that, he was hoping Sam would actually ask for Danny’s help if you missed.

“Who made you the grand chancellor?” Sam argued, clearly fighting a losing battle.

“I did,” Josh said, giving him a smile. While Sam argued his point with Josh, you and Jake had taken it upon yourselves to lean down over the table to line up your shot.

“You’re being a brat, sweetheart.” Jake whispered in your ear as he settled himself behind you. “That’s not very nice. Thought I told you to be good for me tonight?” His hand came up to your arm, fixating them in the correct position as his other one held your hip.

“I think you’re just horny.” You shot him down, completely ignoring his accusation. “I’m just trying to play pool.”

“No, you’re just trying to be a cocktease.” He corrected, his tone quiet but his delivery harsh. “You want me to take you into the bathroom and fuck you?” You could not deny the dull ache between your legs that stemmed from his question. “Is that what you want, sweet girl?” He hummed, his mouth settled just over your ear. A shiver ran down your spine, completely unfocused on the shot he was supposedly helping you take. “Answer me.” He hissed, guiding your arm back to fake the shot, getting you used to the motion.

“No, sir.” You lied through your teeth, knowing that it was exactly what you wanted. You did not think you could survive the drive home without a taste of what he was offering. As you spoke, you made sure to push your hips back into him only slightly; it was not enough for anyone else to pick up on, but the erection growing against your ass told you he’d noticed it as clear as day.

“What do you do to me?” He muttered, flickering his eyes between the white and black ball. “This is how it’s going to work, okay?” He said, taking a deep breath. “After we win this game, you’re going to go to the bathroom. Stay there for a while, I’ll pretend you aren’t feeling well. Then, I’ll come and check on you, and I’ll fuck you so good that you won’t even remember where we are.” A light gasp left your lips as your cunt clenched around nothing. “Do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir.” You muttered.

“Good, now hit the fucking ball and get this over with.” Instead of responding, you drew your arm back and hit the cue ball with just enough force to send the eight ball into the corner pocket. As you did, he made quick work at adjusting himself before anyone else noticed. Sam was so busy fighting with Josh that he didn’t even notice your stellar victory.

You straightened up with a smile on your face, knowing that Jake was the reason behind your success, yet still feeling proud that your hands made the winning play. Danny, who couldn’t have cared less about competition, applauded you and offered a high five. You responded with the same energy, jittering with excitement. When Sam turned to face the table, his expression was filled with disappointment at losing. You did not have the desire to console him over the loss, instead muttering a quick word about a good game before excusing yourself to the bathroom. You bustled to the other side of the bar in the direction of the bathroom, estatic when you found it vacant and awaiting your arrival.

You closed the door and clicked the lock, taking a quick look at yourself in the mirror. You straightened your hair and wiped away any specs of mascara that had fallen. Your foot was tapping against the ground as you waited for the knock, feeling like the seconds were more similar to eternities. Eventually, there was a soft knock on the door. With a breath of courage, you unlocked the door and opened it. You barely had a spare second to greet Jake, because he was already pushing his way inside and slamming the door behind him. He was in such a rush that one hand was already reaching for you as he fumbled with the lock.

You did not have the chance to say a word before his lips were on yours, desperate and angry at your relentless efforts to get under his skin. His hands shot to your hips, pulling you into him as the kiss dissolved into a messy and sloppy display of emotion. You let out a moan into his mouth, already descending into euphoria from the feeling of his body so close to yours. His fingers snaked under the skirt of your dress, forgoing any formalities as he bunched it up over your hips. Once your lower half was uncovered, he gave a hard tug on the elastic of your underwear by your hip, destroying yet another pair in wake of desire. In truth, you did not care; the only thing you cared about was him being inside of you, and you feared you would go insane if you had to wait a minute longer.

He gripped at your hips again, picking you up and roughly settling you on the counter while never breaking the kiss. You locked your legs around him, drawing him closer while hoping he never had to leave. If you could stay tangled amidst the web of his sinful touch forever, you would never have to search for anything more. “Did you think you were being smart pulling a stunt like that?” He asked, finally parting from you in a mess of heavy breathing. “Did you think being a tease would get you want you wanted?” He pressed even further, stopping his tornado of inquiry to bring his hand to his mouth and spit onto his fingers. “That you would get away with it without any punishment?” He lowered his hand to your cunt, the feral energy finally bubbling to the surface and ravishing his expression.

“I’m sorry, sir.” You pleaded, painfully aware of his touch that was so close yet just out of reach. “Didn’t mean to upset you.” You rushed out, looking down at his fingers just inches away from your heat.

“No?” He asked, his jaw hard set and his eyes dangerous. “Then what did you want, angel?” He was withholding any reward until he got a suitable answer from you. “Tell me exactly what you wanted, and I might be nice enough to give it to you.”

“I wanted you, sir.” You said, looking up to meet his eyes. “I wanted you to touch me. I need you to touch me. I can’t wait any longer.” You whined. You could not find it within yourself to be embarrassed about your own desperation, because your need for him far outweighed your own ego.

“Yeah? You want me to touch you, sweet girl?” He questioned, moving his hand just a little closer to you. “You just wanted me to take care of you? Make you cum all over my fingers right here in the bar?” Your face flushed at his vulgarity, but it only turned you on further. You could listen to him say nothing but filth all day and you would hang on to every word.

“God, yes.” You nodded, leaning forward and resting your forehead against his. “Please, Jake. I promise I’ll be good for you.”

“So fucking needy.” He growled, but his hand connected with your aching core as he spoke. You gasped at the sudden change, not expecting him to give in so easily. He spread your arousal to your clit, slipping his thumb over the sensitive bundle of nerves as he dropped his middle and index finger to your entrance. You bit back a moan as he began pumping his fingers into you, moving his thumb in time with his fingers. “I love it.” He confessed, nearly breaking down from your sounds of pleasure. “You know I’ll always give you what you want, baby. Just have to say the words.”

“Feels so good, Jake.” You whimpered, closing your eyes in bliss as he remained on a steady pace.

“As much as I’d like to stay here and fuck you all night, we have to make it quick. Don’t want people wondering where we are, do we?”

“No sir,” you agreed, using his body as support to keep you upright. You had an iron grip on his bicep, your skin electrified when his nose brushed against yours. You were only concerned with the pleasure steadily rising in your belly and the boy who was standing before you. When he was with you, with his skin on yours, nothing else in the world mattered, and nothing to come in the future would ever matter half as much. He was everything, and you were slowly coming to terms with the notion. Jake was the only man that held any importance in the entirety of the world, and the only one you ever wanted to touch you like such. He was an addiction, a disease that ravaged your whole body and left nothing behind. He was more evil than you could begin to comprehend, but you felt blessed to have him around.

The devil was the master at the game, convincing you that his company was a virtue when in reality, it was only the beginning of an eternity of suffering.

“This is what you needed, angel?” He crooned, watching his own work unfold in real time. His eyes were locked on his hand, his breathing laboured and his mind lost within the fantasy of fucking you again. “This is what you wanted so bad?”

“Yes, sir.” You groaned, feeling your heart thud against your chest. Your entire body was no longer under your command, now completely subject to whatever he felt inclined to do to you. You did not care, and you didn’t think you ever would. Even if he decided to bestow suffering, it would still be better than any kindness from another.

“You gonna cum for me, sweetheart?” You nodded against him, your legs trembling with the threat of your climax. “Don’t be shy, baby. Let the whole bar know how good I make you feel. I want to hear all of those pretty noises.” You were trembling under his touch, and his words struck the nail into the coffin. Without ever loosening your grip, you descended into an orgasm stronger than any you had ever felt before. You tried to cry out his name, to thank him for the grace he had given you, but you could not speak anything coherent. Even in the mess of jumbled thoughts where his name was most prominent, you could not seem to find the strength to speak it. As you rode out the high, he used his free hand to undo his belt buckle while continuing to pump his fingers into you. Before you had time to calm down from the excitement, he had freed himself from his jeans.

He withdrew his fingers, but you didn’t have time to grieve the loss of contact before he was pushing himself into you. Once he bottomed out inside of you, he brought you closer to the edge of the counter, allowing for easier access. “Fuck.” You cursed, letting your head fall back as you focused on the feeling of him. Sometimes, when you thought about it for too long, you convinced yourself that he was perfectly crafted and put on earth just to please you. The way your bodies moved in sync, moulding together in perfect harmony and pleasing each other just how you needed without even having to try. It was so hard to deny that it made your head spin, and the intensity in which you felt it to be true was nearly overwhelming.

“Tell me how good it feels, angel.” He purred, burying his head in your neck as he sucked at the sensitive skin.

“So fucking good, baby.” You sighed, tangling your hands in the hair at the base of his neck. You tightened your legs around him, hoping to bring him even closer than he already was. “You fill me up so good.”

“Such a dirty little whore.” He groaned, losing himself to the pleasure. You were both pent up, ready for a release before you ever made it to the bathroom. “Do you like being a whore for me, baby?”

“I love it,” you confessed, feeling the knot tightening in your belly, ready to let go at one slight movement. You were holding back, wanting to experience the height of the pleasure at the same time as him. You did not care that the entire bar likely knew what the two of you were doing, and you didn’t care about the awkward stares that would ensue when you emerged to join the crowd. You only cared about the boy you were wrapped around, and the fact that you got to spend the rest of the night with him after you went home. “I’m gonna cum, Jake.” You warned, a sharp gasp sounding as he pulled you towards him as he thrusted into you. The tip of his cock slammed into your cervix, sending a jolt of pain through you that was satiated by intense pleasure afterwards.

“Yeah? You want to cum with me?” He hummed, straightening up to catch sight of your face as you descended into your second orgasm. You nodded, your fingernails clawing at the fabric of his shirt to hold you in place as if you were scared of floating away. “Let go, angel. Cum for me.” You bit down on your lip, suffocating the moan that was trying to break free as he continued on his relentless pace.

“Oh, god.” You muttered, your eyes squeezed shut in bliss as your limbs began to tremble. He leaned down, capturing you in a kiss in hopes to silence your cries. He was only willing to share so much of you before the greed began to take over. He wanted you all to himself, and he wasn’t shy of that fact. Your moans fell directly into his mouth, feeding into his already wicked ego. The fire that burned in his heart was directly acreddited to you and your pleasure, and he survived solely of the way his name rolled so beautifully off of your tongue. As much as you were addicted to him, he knew that he was just as much, if not more of a victim to you.

The orgasm washed over you at the same time as his, both of you reaching your peak in a mess of curses. You sung his name like a hymn, and he uttered yours like a repentance. Neither of you could withstand the weight of the sin, but you were happy to die in each others arms. As you came down, he slowed his pace, careful not to make a mess of both of you. You let out a collective sigh of relief, the ghost of your orgasms still tingling over your skin as he pulled away. You couldn’t help but let out a whine of discontent as he pulled out, already missing the feeling of him inside you. He chuckled at your expression as he watched your face.

“Don’t be greedy, sweetheart.” He said, heaving a long sigh. “You’ve got a long night ahead of you, yet. Don’t think you’re going to get away with all of that teasing.” Your cheeks burned red at the thought, knowing that once he got you out the door, you wouldn’t be able to escape the repercussions of your actions. Even so, you knew that the punishment would be pleasurable, and you were already itching to take him home. He helped you off the counter, but stopped you as you made a move to clean yourself off. You looked up at him, confused at his intent. Before speaking, he grabbed the fabric of your dress and pulled it back down over your hips.

“What are you doing?” You breathed, looking up at him.

“That’s my way of making sure you say a quick goodbye.” He smirked.

“I don’t think so,” you shook your head, making a move to get past him again. He held you a little tighter, giving a disapproving tsk.

“Get out there,” he ordered, clearly showcasing his seriousness. “Finish your drink and say goodbye without making a mess, and then I’ll take you home and finish what you started.” You held his stare, both of you intense and unwilling to back down. “Clocks ticking, angel.” He reminded.

“Fine,” you huffed “but you better not pull any tricks once we’re out there.”

“Me? Never.” He grinned, a sparkle of adoration in his eye as he tried to gauge your comfortability with his request.

“Wipe the lipgloss off your face. Don’t think pink is your color.” You snipped, straightening your hair and your dress before stepping out of the bathroom without another word. He laughed at the fire in your eyes, doing as you asked and straightening himself up, too. When he left the bathroom, he watched you walk back towards his brothers with nothing short of love for you in his heart.

Although he’d never admit it, he was falling just as hard as you were. Greed had finally played its fatal part in the impending outcome of your situation, and sealed your fate of being infinitely intertwined with Jake Kiszka in a way you had been desperate to avoid.

TAGLIST:

@sacredjake @profitofthedune @thewritingbeforesunrise @sacredthethreadgvf @klarxtr @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @freefallthoughts @jaketlove @clairesjointshurt @ageofbajabule @dannys-dream @earthgrlsreasy @starshine-gvf @brujamagik @gvfmarge @ignite-my-fire @twistedmelodies @gretavangroupie @alwaysonthemend @edgingthedarkness @gvfpal @sinarainbows @writingcold @starcatcher-jake @literal-dead-leaf @takenbythemadness @gretasfallingsky @hsfallingsky @freyjalw @itsafullmoon @lyndz2names @blacksoul-27 @i-love-gvf @vikingsisthenewsexy @mp0801 @mindastreamofcolours @indigogvf @sparrowofthedawnsworld

[writerpeach]

Never Safe For Work

Dreamcatcher Gahyeon x m!reader

word count: 14k

The long-awaited return to the Dreamcatcher Office series

---

Read on AFF

Read on AO3

Universally, it went without saying that nobody in their right mind liked Mondays, for obvious reasons. But Tuesdays? Those were the real fucker. 

The beginning of the work week always started the same way. Monday mornings were nothing but meetings, meetings, and more meetings. So that meant Tuesdays were not just four days left to endure, but time spent dealing with the aftermath from those endless hours of time spent discussing problems, budgets, and other mundane matters—time that could have easily been spent working on more crucial responsibilities.

Each hour passed felt longer than the previous one. Every minute dragged on as if it would never end. 

Early morning hours were the most troublesome part of the day to get through, weighed down by never-ending tasks daunting for an entire team, let alone one person. Not that the rest of the week’s schedule wouldn’t be any better, always filled, with the following day more hectic than the last one.

While the weekend seemed so out of reach, somehow you mustered up the energy to tackle your responsibilities, but even the simplest task felt difficult to do before your regularly scheduled trip to the vending machine and a refill of coffee. Equipped with a hot mug, alongside your second headache of the day, you sorted through dozens of emails about new projects from your bosses, other clients, and business partners. And just when you finished one task, another would be assigned to you, another plate to spin, another fire to put out.

Despite how early it was, you needed a break—caffeine wasn’t doing its job properly, so maybe you needed an extra dose, a shot of espresso from the fancy machine in the break room that you never touched for fear of breaking it. But before you could even get out of your chair, before you could stretch your arms, a loud knock at the door interrupted your countless thoughts. 

Great. 

Almost nothing good came from a knock at the door before noon. Usually, your superiors would call your office when they needed something, but when they needed to show up in person—that was when you were doomed. So, with dreadful anticipation as to which boss would further ruin your day, you waited for the door to open, half expecting flames to appear on the other side. 

But when the door creaked open and the figure standing in the doorway did not sport a pair of devil horns, you let out an enormous sigh of relief that it was only your assistant, Gahyeon. It wasn’t that she didn’t cause problems of her own, yet at least she wasn’t here to chastise you about an impending deadline or shove a brand new project to your already massive pile of work.

"Good morning, boss,” Gahyeon said as she stood in the doorway with her arms crossed, her mouth twisted into a less than genuine smile. 

“You look pretty busy.” Nothing she could have said would be more obvious other than calling water wet. With a heavy sigh, you glared at her and tried to keep your annoyance in check. Given the evident stack of documents on your desk, you couldn’t afford to waste any time today. 

"You’re late, Gahyeon. Once again. It’s half past ten, and you were supposed to be here over an hour ago.”

Upon entering the office, Gahyeon shrugged without a care in the world, but at least had the courtesy to shut the door so you could reprimand her in private. “But I’m here now, aren’t I?” 

That annoying smirk on her face made it even worse. You wouldn’t have been so annoyed with her if she hadn’t done this during one of the busiest weeks of the year. Nearly three months had gone by since you promoted Gahyeon to fulltime and made her your personal assistant. Essentially, it was the same job but with increased responsibilities and higher expectations, but you were beginning to regret it when she fell back on old habits. 

“Well, I’ve done all the heavy lifting already since you couldn’t bother to show up when I actually needed you. There’s not much left to do right now. Go get some coffee or something.” 

“But I don’t like coffee…” Gahyeon pouted, always finding an excuse to fight back against even the smallest command. 

With the last of your worn patience razor-thin, you resisted the urge to snap at her while rolling your eyes practically out of your head. There was little you wanted to deal with right now, but if she was here, then you’d find some purpose for her. "Then go get something else to drink, Gahyeon. Just be back here within five minutes."

As Gahyeon left the room, you took a deep breath and rubbed your temple. Having such an unreliable assistant just added more stress, especially when she often had to be micromanaged at every moment. Your one hope would be that Gahyeon took her new position more seriously and became a valuable asset to the team, rather than a hindrance. The last thing you needed was someone to babysit. 

Trying to put a dent in your many, many emails, Gahyeon returned with a bottle of fruit juice in hand, plopped down in a chair in front of your desk and took a sip, an unnerving smile etched on her smug features. She wiped her mouth, leaving a lipstick stain on the bottle as she placed it on your desk. 

"You look like you could use a break, boss," she said in her usual cocky tone. Again—nothing had been more obvious. 

“I could always use a break,” you replied, raising an eyebrow while you looked up from your monitor. “But that’s not a luxury we have. There’s a lot of work to be done, and not enough time to do it.” 

Growing more frustrated, you looked back at your monitor, then back at Gahyeon, who hadn't moved aside from continuing to sip her fruit juice. You took a good look at her—with everything going on, her outfit hadn’t caught your attention until now. When Gahyeon was an intern, you would typically ignore it as long as her attire didn't deviate too far from the office dress code, but now that she held a place on your team, there was an expectation to dress more professional. However, every day she showed up she seemed to wear something that the higher-ups would consider wildly inappropriate. 

“Gahyeon, what have I told you about your work attire?” 

“What’s wrong with it?” Gahyeon looked down at her outfit, puzzled as if she wasn’t wearing anything out of the ordinary. Which, if it were up to you, would be fine—but even if you didn’t make the rules, it was your responsibility to make sure that everyone who worked underneath you followed them. 

“Do I really need to answer that? A skull tie, ripped stockings, and those boots? This is a professional environment, Gahyeon,” you said, letting your frustrations all out. “And you’re expected to dress as such. You’re not that clueless intern anymore, you’ve moved up. You represent this company now, so when I ask tasks to be run and our clients show up and see you like that—”

“But I like the way it looks…I like being comfortable.” 

Like always, Gahyeon missed the point, and you could feel the throbbing ache in your temple again. 

“Gahyeon, do you think I like wearing these stuffy collared shirts? Or these boring, constricting ties? No, I hate them, but I deal with it.” 

Before continuing, you let out a deep breath. “I don’t ask for much. Just that you show up on time and wear work-appropriate clothing. Yet you’ve failed to do both today. When I decided to hire you, it was because you promised me that you would take this position seriously, but if you won’t—then I can easily find somebody else who will.”

“Okay, okay. Calm down, boss. Tomorrow, I’ll wear one of your ugly little ties. And high heels. I promise.” 

“Just be professional.” 

“Aren’t I always? I’ll wear my best outfit. You won’t even recognize me.” 

Gahyeon wasn't the same intern she was a year before, despite her sometimes acting like it. You had a feeling she would come around eventually, she just needed a little push in the right direction. 

“So…is there anything I can help with, boss?” Gahyeon asked, even if it was a bit too little too late. 

After a long pause, she leaned against your office desk, looking around at cluttered reports, financial documents, endless proposals, and worst of all—an entirely too empty coffee mug. Out of frustration, you laughed—because what didn't you need help with? 

“Everything,” you said, slumping back in your chair. “I need to finish looking over these reports so I can have them sent to Minji. I’ve got weeks of expenses that need to be tallied up so Siyeon can reimburse me. There’s a video meeting with our new business partner in an hour and I haven’t even begun to prepare for it yet. And on top of that, every time I take a sip of coffee, my inbox keeps filling up. I just—” 

Letting out a sigh of defeat, your voice sounded more and more strained. To make matters worse, Gahyeon hopped atop your desk, interrupting any chance to finish more work. She crossed her legs before reaching forward and placed a hand on your shoulder, squeezing it gently. 

“Boss, you’re stressed. And your muscles are so tense. It sounds like you need a massage. Do you want me to give you one?” 

“That’s not what I need, Gahyeon. I just need you to help me look over these reports.”

“But that’s so boring,” she whined, pouting those sultry lips in disappointment. Having little energy left to endure her presence, you could feel your headache coming back. 

“That’s why it’s called work, we’re not at a theme park. You asked what I needed help with, so this is what I need help with. Maybe after we finish, then you can give me a massage.” 

Gahyeon wasn't pleased with your response, as evidenced by the look in her eyes. Refusing to sit idly, she lifted herself up off your desk and slid onto your lap before you could say another word, swinging her legs over to one side, so the weight of her generous butt rested on your thigh. But she couldn’t help but fiddle with your tie, flashing a flirtatious glance in your direction.

“You smell good, boss. New cologne?” Gahyeon asked, leaning in much closer until her face became mere inches from yours, with her seductive lips dangerously close. It became impossible to avoid her gaze, and you were inclined to lift her petite frame anchored on your lap. However, it didn't really matter because fighting Gahyeon's charm was a hopeless battle.

“I don’t wear cologne. But you need to get off me, you’re being a distraction.” 

Gahyeon didn’t care—rarely did she ever, with the only goal to get whatever she wanted. “Take it easy boss, you’ll pop a blood vessel. A little break won’t hurt, will it?” 

“If I had time for a break, I would take one.” Whenever Gahyeon lingered around, you only grew more and more frustrated with each passing second. 

“There’s always time for a break…” Gahyeon said, always refusing to make work a priority. “Maybe you should take a short one, boss? It’s not good for your health if you keep this up. Besides—isn’t this what you hired me for?” 

Your brow furrowed in irritation, before finally letting out another sigh. “No, I hired you because you showed what a good worker can be. Which I’m starting to believe was just a mistake, and I should let you be an intern forever.” 

Gahyeon chuckled, her demeanor unbothered. “But you like having me around. We both know you didn’t hire me just for my work skills…” 

She wasn’t exactly wrong. When Gahyeon wasn’t being a thorn in your side, you enjoyed her company, and if you had to admit, it was nice to have a pretty face show up to your office first thing in the morning—when she actually showed up. 

“Gahyeon, please get off me. Once I put a dent in this work then I’ll take a break. I promise.” But as expected, she didn’t budge, stubborn as ever, and kept playing with your tie. 

“But I think you should take a break now…” 

“Gahyeon—” 

“I get it, work comes first. But so should my boss,” she smirked, taking advantage of your compromised position. You had no response.

“So you wouldn’t want me to give you a nice, sloppy blowjob under your desk? I shouldn’t get on my knees for you and wrap these pretty little lips around your thick, delicious cock?” 

You swallowed hard. Gahyeon knew how to make you crumble, no matter how tough you tried to hide your weaknesses. She knew better than anyone what exact words to say and when to provoke you. If only she put as much effort into seducing you as she did in putting off her obligations. 

But your lack of any protest was the closest thing to an answer as she loosened up your tie and positioned herself into a proper mount on your lap. “I wanna make you cum, boss.” 

Her words sent an electrifying tingle up your spine. “I wanna make you cum in my mouth, so I can swallow it all. So you can watch me swallow your huge load. Come on, boss. I’m dying to suck your dick.” 

When your assistant practically begged, it was hard not to cave in. Your heavy workload could wait, because you couldn’t avoid those tempting eyes any longer. And if anything—it would be the best way to silence that mouth. 

“Then get on your fucking knees, slut.” 

Gahyeon’s devilish lips couldn’t smile any wider. Quick to comply after you uttered her favorite word, a word she no longer pretended to protest against, she used those same lips to deliver a greedy, deliberate kiss, before wiping her lipstick from your mouth.

“Since when do you care about lipstick marks?” 

“I don’t, boss. I’d just rather see my lipstick at the end of your cock.” 

There it was again, that annoying sly grin as Gahyeon removed herself from your lap, and lowered to her knees. She then maneuvered into the space underneath your desk, nestled perfectly between your legs. 

“Anything for you, boss.” Not one to hesitate, Gahyeon unzipped your pants with an intense desire to please you, eager for what waited underneath when she felt up your crotch. Faster than your next heartbeat, she yanked your slacks down, letting them drop to the floor in a heap, and your boxers fell to your ankles moments after. 

Gahyeon might have been a lot of things: unmotivated, a complainer, habitually late, but if there was one thing she was an expert at, that would be taking your mind off work. So you watched while she grabbed your cock, and slapped it on her pretty face, all while maintaining that seductive smile that screamed I’ll do anything. 

But it had all fallen into place far too easily. “Are you sure you deserve to suck my cock?” 

Refraining from saying much more, Gahyeon frowned and answered with deft strokes as she pumped your cock with a tight grip. 

“I’ll convince you, boss.” 

Her eyes sparkled with determination, widening even more when she admired your shaft, before she teased it with her wet tongue and licked along your length. 

If you had to admit one weakness, it would be Gahyeon’s lips; so pouty and full, kissably soft and always ready to go down on you at a moment’s notice. When they made contact on your swollen cockhead and planted several wet kisses, there would be no holding back, you had fully given into temptation. 

But there would be no guilt about letting your assistant suck you off in your office for the umpteenth time, because as Gahyeon suggested—it was just part of the job. 

So without interruption, you let Gahyeon do what she did best. She continued kissing your cockhead and created a path of tender kisses all the way down to your base that warmed your shaft with her hot breath as she did so. “You’re so hard, boss…” 

Only Gahyeon could be blamed for that.

“Need to get this down my throat. I’m so hungry, I haven’t had breakfast yet,” Gahyeon murmured as she licked her lips, and gave your stiff cock a proper tongue bath, followed by bouts of kissing your cock that gave as much attention as she could. Ultimately, it was the look in her eyes that turned you on more so than the sloppy licks she gave your cock, but her unwavering eye contact and growing desperation while on her knees more than helped persuade you. 

“Then stop teasing me, Gahyeon,” you said, shooting her a look that demanded she comply. Surprisingly, she did just that—after one more long lick up your length, her sexy lips parted, and swallowed up the engorged head of your cock. From that moment, you melted into your office chair when Gahyeon sucked your tip, and her head bobbed in a hypnotic rhythm while her delicate hands caressed your bare thighs. 

“There you fucking go,,” you muttered, almost too loud for comfort as any tension in your body began to fade. Gahyeon wrapped those pretty lips around your cock and created a tight suction that instantly made you groan as she worked her magic. Using those perfect plump lips to suck on your swollen head, she only let go of your cock to flick against your leaking slit, then nudged down further to the base to take more of you in her warm mouth. 

“Mmm, you’re so delicious, boss. I’ve been waiting for this all morning,” she moaned, as she slapped your cock against her wet tongue. You knew her intentions went deeper than just your personal wellbeing, but you never should have fought back against this—and if anything, Gahyeon’s mouth on your cock should be part of your morning routine. 

That pretty mouth felt better the deeper it went, using all the tricks she had stored—spitting on your dick, hollowing her cheeks, and fondling your balls until your entire length ended up buried down her throat. 

“Fuck, Gahyeon—just like that.” With a deep groan, your gaze fixated on Gahyeon’s bobbing head, as you savored the intense wetness of her mouth, the softness of her lips, and the wonderful warmth of her throat. The messier she got, the more tension from your body dissipated, and soon you felt lighter than a cloud, as both the stiffness in your neck and shoulders subsided. 

Gahyeon, like she had candy in her mouth, sucked on each of your balls while she furiously stroked your cock. From there, her sloppy mouth swapped between your tender sack and your stiffened cock, giving equal attention until she doused each part of you with as much warm saliva as she could. 

In that instant, when your throbbing length filled her throat, her greedy lips remained balls deep, with her cute nose flush against your stomach. Lost in her piercing gaze, Gahyeon lips stayed latched onto your shaft, as she took hungry, fulfilling strokes, and had never looked so needy.

But you, on the other hand, needed more than just a wet mouth to satisfy your craving. “Open that shirt up, slut. Need to see those pretty tits.” 

Bobbing her head more frantically, Gahyeon kept her focus on swallowing your cock down her throat, but also loosened her tie up, and began unbuttoning her shirt. Multitasking was only a skill used when she needed it. Her nimble fingers practically ripped open her top, exposing her full, clothed breasts in the black bra underneath, with her skull tie nestled perfectly in between deep cleavage that stared back at you. 

“Fuck, there’s nothing more I love than sucking your cock,” Gahyeon said, filling up her throat with every long stroke, using her talented mouth with more fervor than she ever did before. 

“Doesn’t that feel good? I love hearing you moan, boss. My pretty lips must feel so good on your huge, throbbing cock, right?” 

Another set of painfully obvious questions that you shouldn’t have bothered to answer. “Yeah, Gahyeon. You’re being such a good little cockslut. Fuck, your mouth feels so fucking—

It was hard to finish your sentence when you had your assistant slobbering on your dick, lips hard at work, desperate to prove her worth. 

"Then why aren’t you fucking my throat?" Gahyeon asked, hands gripping your thighs to further add encouragement. You had to ask yourself the same question—but there was no need for an answer, especially after you immediately grabbed both sides of her head, with your fingers tangled up in her pretty locks. 

Fortunately for Gahyeon, it wasn't in your nature to be gentle with her, and she would never want you to be. After staring at her mesmerizing eyes, you shoved her head down your length, thrusting into her mouth until you bottomed out her throat in one fluid stroke, forcing out a gag on the first try. 

Holding her head down, you pumped vigorously into that tight mouth, and Gahyeon gagged once more as the bottom of your length became saturated with lipstick and saliva. Now that the last bits of control were taken away, Gahyeon let out sultry sounds of being unable to manage your length, regardless how many times she had been in this exact position.

“Sorry, boss. You’re just so big for my slutty little mouth.” Gahyeon got off on this part the most, and nothing made her happier than having her throat stuffed to the hilt, being choked with cock as you shoved it down until she couldn’t even breathe. 

More than the thick flesh that gagged her, Gahyeon loved the helplessness that came with being throatfucked, the way her mouth filled with drool, and how it took mere seconds until her once pretty face became an absolute mess with just a handful of harsh thrusts. On your end, you loved ruining Gahyeon’s makeup, as well as making her luscious lips glisten with saliva, because when she walked out of your office with mascara and tears dripping down her cheeks—you knew she had no way to hide the events that had just transpired. 

Yet, for all the many times you gave Gahyeon the rough throatfucking she so desperately begged for, she should have grown accustomed to the harsh way you used her pretty mouth. But you couldn’t say you didn’t love to see her struggle, audibly gag, and drool when your length continuously shoved down her throat. 

After all, whenever Gahyeon was on her knees, she had little trouble submitting to you. In fact, she preferred this, to be treated like nothing but your own personal toy, to use whenever at your own convenience. Without any complaints, Gahyeon continued gagging on your cock, as you continued thrusting your hips into her face, urged by the look on her face. 

“Such a good fucking slut, taking me so well. My pretty little assistant really likes being facefucked, don’t you? And gagging on your boss’s dick?” With her cock-filled throat gurgling on your shaft, slurping and leaking saliva down the corners of her lips as she tried to choke it down, Gahyeon couldn’t exactly give a response. But you could see it in those needy, lust-filled eyes, how much she took pleasure in her throat being fucked without mercy, without consideration for how well she could breathe. 

Only once did you grant Gahyeon a brief respite that left her gasping for air. Unconcerned for anything but your taste, she latched her wet lips onto your balls, and suckled them with a greedy hunger you hadn’t seen before, tasting her own spilled saliva. “I really love choking on your dick, boss. You make me so wet when you force my head down, when you make my eyes water, when I can feel every last inch of this beautiful dick throbbing down my throat…” 

From then, it only got rougher, even messier when Gahyeon sputtered out saliva against your shaft, gagging on your length over and over as she struggled to breathe properly. Regardless of how rough things got, she would always choose the hard flesh jammed down her throat over oxygen, and nothing could deter the lewd expressions she made, nor could it deter your vigorous skullfucking. 

More and more you craved your addiction—the sounds of Gahyeon struggling, the tears in her pleading eyes, the streaks of mascara that beautifully ran down her face, and the harsh tugs of her hair you made when you hit the back of her throat. Equally, Gahyeon craved the way her lips were forced down at the bottom of your base, her mouth wide open and her jaw stretched out. Most of all, you were addicted to the intense feeling of ramming your cock down Gahyeon’s throat, because there wasn’t anything better than the messy sounds from a good throatfuck. 

Gahyeon fulfilled her role well, even if she did little but stay on her knees and offer up her wet throat, dedicated to your pleasure. 

"Fuck, this throat feels so damn good,” you groaned, as the endless echoing noises her messy little mouth made compelled you to be even rougher, causing the final traces of self-control collapsed. “You sound so good choking on this dick. My little slut likes being your boss’s personal fucktoy, don’t you?” 

The way that Gahyeon looked up drove you wild as she answered with her eyes, not only just enduring, but savoring the merciless treatment of her throat, yet getting off more by your degrading words than any actions. 

Just as you felt yourself going insane with bliss and drew closer and closer to that sweet nirvana—there came a knock at a door that interrupted your fun. 

Shit. 

Mild panic kicked in—you couldn’t think straight. You wouldn't have any cause for concern if Yoohyeon or Bora came through that door, they’d even take a seat to enjoy the show and spur you on. But you had to be ready for anyone else who wouldn’t turn a blind eye, regardless if the entire office floor knew you railed your assistant more often than a fresh cup of coffee brewed. 

After you involuntarily released the tight grip you held on either side of Gahyeon’s head, you tried to collect yourself and ran through dozens of scenarios in your head in preparation for whatever possibility would materialize. 

“Don’t fucking move, Gahyeon. Don’t make a fucking sound, just keep my cock warm in your throat, okay?”

Moving back beneath your desk as a quick sign of acknowledgment, Gahyeon tried her best to stay out of sight, and for the time being, kept your cock in her mouth obediently. 

While your heart pounded as you wondered who could possibly be behind your office door, you made your best effort to tidy up your desk, wanting at least something to look presentable. 

“Come in!” you said, after some serious hesitation, and hoped that you wouldn’t be caught with your pants down—quite literally. Moments later, the door to your office opened, and it came as no surprise who stood behind it, the lesser of two evils—Kim Minji. 

“Good morning, boss.” Somehow, you found the courage to look straight ahead while resisting the impulse to look underneath your desk.

 “Morning!” Minji replied back, sporting a bright smile. “Don’t worry, I’m not here to add to your pile. I come with good news only. Here are our monthly earnings reports. We’re up ten percent from last month, so your bonus at the end of the month will reflect that. Good work.” 

You held your breath when Minji dropped a folder on your desk, and pretended everything was as normal as could be, like you weren’t naked from the waist down with your cock being warmed by Gahyeon’s pretty lips. 

“Thank you, boss. Oh here, I have some reports that you need to look over and sign them.” 

“Of course, I’ll have them back to you by the end of the day.” For all the stress that Minji brought, her smile alone came with a sense of relief, and she was much preferable to deal with than her scary counterpart, Siyeon. 

“Wait, where is Gahyeon? I swear I saw her earlier, did she not show up today?” Minji asked, folding her arms against her chest. 

If only Minji knew your assistant was nestled under your desk. Which of course meant Gahyeon couldn’t help herself. As if on cue, her tongue began to play with the underside of your shaft, and you gritted your teeth to control yourself, but you palmed the back of Gahyeon's head and dug your nails into her skull to prevent anything else. 

“Oh, she’s here. She’s…around. I sent her on a couple errands, so she should be back soon.” 

“Ah, okay. Well, whenever she comes back, send her my regards for a job well done. She’s an official part of the team now, so she shares the credit.” 

“Sure thing, boss.” Minji nodded, turned around to head back to her office, then shut the door behind her. Once she had departed, you took a deep breath, and relaxed back in your chair, with your heart still racing.

“Jesus, Gahyeon. What did I say?” You glared at her underneath your desk, but she didn’t utter a single word. No sooner had you taken your next breath before she snatched your cock back inside her mouth and went back to work. 

“Think you can finish me off by yourself? You want me to blow my load down your tummy?"

Gahyeon had never smiled so wide, nor had as much enthusiasm when she bobbed her head and played with your balls, trying to speed up your orgasm. “Yes, boss! Please let me swallow your cum, I’ll suck every drop out of you.” 

Despite how much she enjoyed having her throat used, Gahyeon also took pride in her oral expertise. So, in the blink of an eye, her movements grew frantic, eager to wring out your load as promised, with every stroke of her mouth bringing you even further to ecstasy.

More than ready to blow your load, you couldn’t ignore the tightness in your core when Gahyeon’s warm, sloppy mouth devoured your cock up, deepthroating from tip to base, with a trail of saliva covering every inch as she slurped the life out of you. 

“Don’t fucking stop, Gahyeon. I’m so close, keep sucking that dick until you make me explode,” you demanded, and she obliged as she sucked with a fervor never shown before, impatiently waiting for you to shoot down her throat. 

Nearly there, your breathing grew heavy, faster with each stroke, and you couldn’t wait to release that deep reservoir of pent up lust Gahyeon had caused. As each pass drove you closer and closer to release, you couldn't stop staring at how her lips swallowed you whole while her eyes kept their focus on you, anticipating your climax. 

Gahyeon didn’t hold back anything, finishing you off with one more long stroke from base to tip, as you gripped the back of her head tightly with both hands, pressed her face down your crotch, and let out a loud groan when you finally unloaded in her mouth. Like a tidal wave, your orgasm hit, her eyes widening more than they ever had when your thick cum quickly overflowed from the messy corners of her lips, the volume of your orgasm simply too much to handle. 

You firmly held her head down, unwilling to let go, all while your dick continued to pulsate inside Gahyeon’s throat, sending more hot semen down, and you spilled everything you had with loud grunts and lust-filled groans. Exhausted and drained of every drop, every ounce of energy, you gasped and panted while releasing the harsh grip you held, feeling the weight of the world lifted. With a messy face and a satisfied smile, Gahyeon pulled away until your cock released from her lips, and opened her mouth wide to let you see the creamy pool of cum gathered up before she swallowed the sticky mess that coated her throat. 

After licking her lips stained with saliva, Gahyeon cleaned up the remnants of arousal that she failed to contain, using her tongue to clean up your crotch so she could fill her stomach more. Only then did she place one more deep kiss on your cock that had yet to stop twitching, and slid her tongue into your sensitive slit, desperate to try to find a drop she hadn’t yet tasted.

“Your cum tastes so good, but I need more, boss, much more. Your delicious cum makes a very good breakfast.” 

“Greedy little cumslut.” Gahyeon giggled in admission as she licked clean the head of your cock. Several deep breaths later, you leaned back in your chair and just stared at her, who kept some part of her body touching yours, lips kissing your inner thighs, delicate hands longing to keep your body warm. 

You were far from done with her, but the workplace would no longer cut it, you needed a more open playground. 

“There’s much more for you later, but you’ll have to earn it,” you said, earning a pout from Gahyeon’s thoroughly used lips, because being told to work for something—even your dick, made her disappointed. Taking some pause, she lifted herself up, stood upright, and took a seat back on your desk, eyes looking around at the stacks and mountains of paperwork that seemed impossible to know where to begin. 

“Now that I’ve relieved some of that stress, what else can I help with, boss?” she asked, not even bothering to button up her shirt. 

“Nothing, Gahyeon.” 

“Nothing?” she repeated, tilting her head to one side. “But I thought you had a lot of work to finish…” 

“Yeah, I do. Piles of it, as you can see. But since you got me so worked up, it’ll have to wait,” you said, shamelessly focusing on her uncovered cleavage that still had glistening saliva staining her chest.

“I’m going to take the rest of the day off, and so are you, just so I can rail you into next week—but not here. Because we both know you’ll be far too loud, so we’re going back to my place so I can fuck your brains out far away from this office, where nobody will be around to hear how loud you’ll scream for me.” 

Even in her disheveled state, Gahyeon couldn’t have been more overjoyed. She’d take any excuse to leave the office. But convincing your superiors as to why you were leaving work with your assistant before noon would be the tricky part, though just this once, you could count on Gahyeon, because you knew she had a thousand different ways to get out of work. You'd leave that part all up to her.

✦ ✦

You couldn’t have driven fast enough to your place. Luckily, most traffic lights were in your favor, and those that weren’t, well—you were fortunate enough to not see red and blue in your rear view mirror. Not even three songs played through your playlist before you arrived, then it became a race to enter your house, and the door couldn’t open fast enough. 

The thought of staying in a hotel did cross your mind, with its spacious beds that you wouldn’t be responsible for changing sheets, scalding hot showers, and beautiful balconies that were perfect for ramming your pretty assistant up against the cold glass while admiring the view. If you wanted, you could have made everything come full circle and took Gahyeon to the same hotel you took Bora to that very first night that snowballed your office relationships. For sure, that really would have made Gahyeon jealous and brought out an even bigger brat in her, but also most likely you’d get kicked out for noise complaints within five minutes. 

Your place would suffice. After all, it was already well equipped with everything you needed, without worries of noise or any other concerns, although you planned on fucking Gahyeon hard enough that the entire neighborhood could hear her moans and screams. 

When the door closed behind Gahyeon, there would be no more holding back, the green light to take her against any surface to do whatever you pleased with her. But she didn’t even bother to properly store her shoes when she slipped them off, yet neither did you, as you tossed your keys, wallet, and all your inhibitions. 

“Bedroom? Living room?” she asked, but wouldn’t make it past the foyer before you pinned her against the front door with a hand wrapped around her throat. Gahyeon knew things wouldn’t be easy the moment she stepped foot in your place, but it didn’t stop her from feeling just a trace of nervousness when you tightened your grip, adding to her arousal. 

She couldn’t hide her anticipation, nor her little lip quivers under your control, but at the same time—this was what she wanted, what she worked hard to provoke you, willing to fold and let you have your way with her. 

“Here? You’re gonna fuck me hard against this door, daddy?” she asked, as though it were both a question and a suggestion, but it only made you clutch her throat harder when you pushed her more against the wood of the front door. 

“Don’t call me that, Gahyeon.”

“But you like it when I call you that. And we’re not at the office…” Gahyeon was right on all counts, but after her little morning shenanigans, she would have to earn her daddy privileges back. 

“You’re right. We’re not at the office anymore, but that doesn’t mean you still deserve to use that word. Because now you’re going to call me sir while I fuck you senseless until your legs give out.”

Releasing the grip on her throat, Gahyeon caught her breath, then gave a slight nod with a blatantly mocking salute. “Yes, sir.” 

“That’s much better. Now arms up.” 

Gahyeon stalled as she rolled her eyes and curled her lips into an even more blatant smirk. “But what if I don’t wanna?” 

That was what you expected, of course. Now, in the comfort of your own space, the best part of bringing Gahyeon home was the freedom to do what you wanted with her. But it came at a cost, for her to fall into her old bratty ways, with her own freedom to challenge every order you gave with less repercussions than at the office.. 

“Arms up, slut,” you repeated, but predictable as always, Gahyeon didn’t move a muscle, nor did she make any attempts to listen. Fine then, you would play her little game—for now. While you stared at the whites of those gorgeous eyes, waiting to see who would blink first, you seized her cold, delicate wrists, and pinned them above her head with the harshest grip you could manage. 

She pretended to fight back, squirming under your touch, and pretended like she couldn’t be controlled. But when you stared daggers into her big, round eyes, she folded like a deck of cards, thanks to your intimidating gaze. 

“Keep those arms raised, Gahyeon. Don’t drop them until I say so.” 

“Y-yes, sir,” she said after nodding in agreement, refusing to give up her faux defiance while you caressed and patted her cheek. 

“Good girl.” 

As her first test of obedience, you released the firm grip on her wrists that had developed bruises already, and observed while she kept her arms held high above her head. Searching for any signs of resistance, you couldn’t find any when you loosened up Gahyeon’s tie and slid it off her, almost tempted to use it to bind her hands together. Instead, you flung it aside and undid her top, allowing yourself access to her ample breasts once more. 

Her chest didn’t stay covered for long, and after a long stare between her deep cleavage, you tugged her lacy bra down enough to release her wonderful full breasts, cupping them the moment they earned freedom. 

Making sure Gahyeon still held her arms up, you squeezed her bare breasts, groping as much flesh could fill your hands. You teased her taut nipples, flicking your fingers against them as they stiffened up, which made a helpless Gahyeon moan against your touch. 

“Look at these gorgeous fucking tits. They look so swollen and sensitive,” you said while fondling them to your heart's content, enjoying their softness, their pleasant weight, and how effortlessly they bounced as you toyed with them. Her tits were as immaculate as they were sensitive, softer as you remembered, perfectly shaped, and you could spend hours kneading them, playing with them, all while her eyes begging for your continued touch.

The more you squeezed Gahyeon’s large breasts, the needier her moans became, as your hands got lost in that milky flesh. She could feel her shoulders ache the longer things went, but knew better than to dare complain. That would be the least of her worries soon enough. 

You tugged at her pretty nipples, pinched them, then flicked them more just to break the silence with her whines—but it would be the last modicum of pure pleasure you would grant Gahyeon. Without warning, you slapped one of her heavy breasts, and watched her flinch in surprise. You then slapped her other breast even harder, perfectly landing on her stiffened nipple that you pinched right after, making her yelp out while causing satisfying ripples of her sensitive flesh. 

Unable to hide her reactions, Gahyeon cried out in both pain and pleasure while you continued smacking her pale tits, the harsh sound an addictive level of arousal for her—for you, another release of frustration, more encouragement to hear those cute whines, and most of all, more punishment. 

Back and forth you went between her beautiful tits, and smacked one after another, right, then the left, then the opposite direction, even slapping them both at once, like a metronome of painful pleasure leaving an arousing soreness that made Gahyeon’s thighs clench. 

"I like you much better when you're an obedient little whore,” you said, proud to have wiped that smirk from Gahyeon’s pretty face, and kept up your assault on her supple, tender breasts that began to turn a shade of red that contrasted with her creamy skin, turning even more sensitive than from the start. She fought hard not to moan, unsuccessful when you carried on the ruthless nature, each pass across her reddened chest a heavy reminder that you were the one with all the power. 

“Fucking brat. You like these huge fucking tits being slapped?” Before she responded, you roughly kneaded her breasts, earning even louder whimpers when you played with her nipples, driving her crazy with stimulation.  

“Y-yes, sir, I love it, I love my tits being slapped! Please, sir, please—make it hurt,” Gahyeon pleaded, and for once, you’d oblige her by smacking her tits with much more force than previously, only to watch them bounce and bounce, as if counting the times she disobeyed you. You knew she could take more, that the painful sting of her tits being slapped would only ruin her panties more. Which was exactly why following a few more smacks and tugs at her swollen nipples, you gave each sensitive, reddened breast one final slap before you pulled away. 

Unsurprisingly, Gahyeon couldn’t help but be greedy and beg for just a little more. “Please, sir! Please keep slapping my tits, please, please…”  

But you ignored her pleas entirely and took a step back, admiring the way Gahyeon stayed frozen in this helpless state. “No, Gahyeon. A greedy little slut like you doesn’t deserve anything.” 

Next came the customary pouts, needy whines, and desperate pleas that you disregarded while guiding her away from the doorway, removing that pesky shirt and bra to leave her fully topless. Finally able to rest her tired arms, the first thing Gahyeon did was make her way over to you, squeezed a handful of your crotch, and let her eyes wander while a delightful smile overtook her sinful lips. 

“Please, sir…” Normally, you’d punish an unpermitted action like that, but well—you figured Gahyeon had enough punishment for now. Plus, you knew that would be exactly what she wanted. So instead, you simply grabbed Gahyeon by the waist, and held her tight against the nearest wall as you dove into her neck. 

“Ah, please!” Letting out little gasps while you licked, nibbled, and then sucked on her delicate neck, eager to leave a mark.  

As you kept sucking a bruise into her neck, Gahyeon returned to your crotch, and rubbed you through your slacks until you hardened under her touch. You made quick work of her skirt and removed it from her tiny little waist, then watched the way it dropped down to her ankles, leaving her in just skimpy panties and torn stockings. Those tattered, unprofessional stockings which gave you an idea when you dropped to one knee. 

You ran a finger over her thigh, scratching against the material to test its strength, and easily tore through the fragile fabric. Confirming your suspicions, you found the perfect spot and tugged at the sheer fabric right between the center until they ripped open. 

Gahyeon looked down in shock, but you couldn’t even be bothered to meet her gaze. “Hey! I liked those stockings!” 

You didn’t—they were tacky, cheap-looking, and most of all, inappropriate for the office. No better excuse than getting rid of them by ripping them off Gahyeon. “You earn a better paycheck now, you can buy another pair. One that’s more professional, like you promised. Besides, they were ripped already.” 

“But they’re supposed to be—” 

Ignoring her was, as always, the best course of action while you removed her now useless stockings and admired her bare, luscious legs in all their splendor. When you rose to your feet and pressed two fingers against her clothed cunt, Gahyeon no longer had any complaints to spare. 

“Ah! Will you—will you fuck me now, sir?”

Not a damn thing would stop you from that. “Yes, Gahyeon. I’m going to use your tight body, every slutty little hole, until I’m satisfied, and I’ll make sure I ruin you.” 

With your intentions laid out, Gahyeon couldn’t look more pleased, and there was no better motivation than your petite assistant waiting for you to ravage her body. Not wasting a second, Gahyeon unbuttoned your pants as you took off your shirt, adding both items to the discarded pile of clothes underneath. For a brief moment, you admired each other’s half-naked bodies, until you grabbed her waist to pull her close enough so that she could feel your bulge against her toned stomach. 

“I can feel how hard you are. I did this to you, didn’t I sir?” Gahyeon asked, as she reached down to massage your bulge, tracing every inch while your throbbing erection strained against the fabric. 

“You’re right, Gahyeon. Your slutty little body caused this. And you know what I plan on doing about it right?” 

“This cock is going inside me, isn’t it, sir? Until I can’t walk?” 

“Until you can’t walk.” 

Without saying anything more, Gahyeon began her ascent up the stairs that led to the bedroom, but only made it a few steps, before you grabbed her voluptuous hips and bent her over the stairwell railing. Little could compare from such a vantage point with your curvy assistant in your favorite position, yet you wasted no time peeling off her skimpy little thong to expose her plump buttcheeks and the prettiest set of pink pussy lips. 

“Impatient, sir?” she asked, and instinctively spread her legs, granting easier access to whichever part of her body you would decide to partake in first. Making that decision would be more difficult than anything you had done at work, for sure. 

“That’s your fault, Gahyeon. Now you’re going to share some of the responsibility,” you replied, pondering over your choices carefully. Her tight, spankable ass begged for attention, and that little asshole would be a wonderful place to start, but the wet flesh of her gorgeous cunt couldn’t be ignored, beckoning as it dripped with arousal. Either would provide an ideal home for your aching shaft. 

Until a decision could be made, you removed your boxers, and gave yourself some relief, stroking several times as your attention grew divided between Gahyeon’s juicy ass and the slick pair of lips that waited for you. 

“Where do you want this cock, slut?" you asked, unable to make a decision on your own and rested your shaft between her shapely cheeks. Surrounded by supple flesh that sandwiched your thick erection, you slid in between and throbbed while you awaited her answer. 

“Wherever you want, sir,” Gahyeon responded, an honest, yet unhelpful response that did little to steer your answer in the right direction. “It really doesn’t matter, as long as you pound me like a whore and empty these big juicy balls inside me.” 

Back at square one, it would be up to you to choose your own fate. Inevitably, you’d use both that tight sculpted ass and her drenched, succulent pussy, but without any lube in arm’s reach, the choice became obvious which would be the winner of your seed. You would save the best for last. 

“Fine, Gahyeon. Let’s start with this pretty little cunt.” 

With your cock poised above Gahyeon’s ass, she couldn’t have been more ready when she arched her back and leaned firmly on the railing, looking back for a moment to entice you with her eyes. As you lined yourself up with her warm opening, your tip nudged her plump pussy lips, and you felt her walls tremble in anticipation. You were all out of patience, so after you grabbed her wide hips and slid inside her with ease, you bottomed her out with your entire length in one fluid motion. 

“Oh god,” Gahyeon moaned out in surprise, while her pussy tightened around your shaft the moment she felt your thick shaft slide into her slippery warmth. “So fucking big.” 

There was no pause, no hesitation when you plunged your hard cock inside the intense warmth of Gahyeon’s tight little pussy. The soft flesh wrapped around you, already dripping wet when it squeezed your length, and your shaft felt so damn good inside that tight hole that your hips picked up speed right away, stretching out her velvety walls. With every thrust you felt her walls quiver, compelled to grip her body tighter, and used her body as an outlet, entirely out of frustration for how goddamn tight she was. 

“Goddamn, Gahyeon, you’re so fucking wet,” you hissed, out of breath at the hot flesh that craved your throbbing cock as you pumped into her heat, your entire shaft covered in her slick juices. “So tight, such a tight fucking slut, god—this tight pussy feels too good.” 

Already, you were going insane, even by the first set of thrusts, Gahyeon felt so hot around you, her delicious cunt squeezing so harshly, that you couldn't help but give in to lust, freeing the restraints that remained. Almost on autopilot, you pounded into her heat unabated, pistoning your hips that met her supple cheeks, and rippled with every thrust as the smack of flesh on flesh filled the small foyer. 

“Oh my god, just like that. Fuck me like that, please sir, fuck me like a toy!” she begged, not that being gentle with her would ever be an option, not when you could stretch her in ways unimaginable. 

“Your tight little cunt loves my cock, doesn’t it? Look at you creaming all over me like a needy fucking whore. You like being used, don’t you? You like being fucked this rough by your boss?” you growled, as Gahyeon desperately moaned for more. 

Fueled by the intense clench of her cunt that persuaded you to keep the rough pace, she held the railing while you kept railing her, and made every type of satisfied moan imaginable. Those delicious cheeks bounced and bounced when your body clapped against them, and they became a soundtrack of delirious bliss, one that you could listen to forever. 

“Sir, yes! Oh my god, you’re so deep in my little pussy, please, please, sir—fuck me harder! Fuck, oh fuck!” 

You continued to mercilessly slam into Gahyeon’s wet cunt as she repeatedly added the word sir to the end of her moans, and fought to keep up with the tempo you set as she became louder with each hard set of thrusts. 

Beginning to pant heavily, Gahyeon squirmed underneath your body and desperately tried to anchor herself to the stairwell. Her beautiful pale skin glistened with sweat as you kept pounding away into her slippery warm depths, and your movements became more and more erratic, borderline out of control. 

And she endured it all so well, so fucking wet you swore you would slip out of her at any moment, but you kept hammering out thrusts, with your end goal to absolutely destroy her cunt. Because with Gahyeon, there was no such thing as being too rough, no holding back, and it was a given to fuck her without a morsel of mercy that undoubtedly, even your neighbors across the street could hear the screams she made while your bodies crashed together. 

If it were anything less, Gahyeon would have complained without end. 

Leaning closer, with your hands still squeezing her insanely wide hips, you buried your face into the crook of her hot sweaty neck, took a long lick, and bit down harshly, yearning for the rich taste of Gahyeon.

“After I cum in you, that huge ass is next. I’ve been waiting to fill your holes, ever since you were on your knees under my desk. I could have pounded your ass at work, but I wanted to do it in the comfort of my own bed so I wouldn’t have to worry about staining the carpet. It’s not easy to explain to the custodial staff that my assistant can’t keep her fucking legs closed.”

For once, maybe since the first time you met her—Gahyeon became speechless. Her attention narrowed on how you were slamming your hips against her and rearranging her guts. “When you report to work tomorrow, you’re going to have to carry around one of those spare cushions from the maintenance closet from me ravaging your perfect ass.” 

Every slew of vulgarity that left your mouth made Gahyeon’s hips buck almost as much as the rough thrusts that battered her sweaty little body. You kept yourself buried in her tight cunt, consumed with desire from the sensations of your hard cock that slid between her drenched lips, pounding into her with thrusts so hard she almost collapsed. 

Overpowered by exhaustion, Gahyeon released her grip on the stairwell, and you took advantage by seizing both her arms one at a time, and held them behind her back, linking them with yours. She wasn’t going anywhere as her lips uttered the most needy cries of pleasure when you pulled her upright towards you, the warmth of her cunt intoxicating, sending you into a frenzy of bliss. Gahyeon was completely yours, and you were free to use and dominate her hot body as much as you desired until you had your fill. 

Utilizing your remaining strength, you followed down a final path of merciless thrusts while keeping her curves close to you at all times, maintaining the urge to fuck every last little bit of brat out of her. 

Her words became a jumbled mess of incoherence, and the more you plunged into that smothering wet heat, the greater the urge became to spill your seed inside Gahyeon, unwilling to fight back against the tightness in your balls that demanded to be drained. 

And while Gahyeon didn’t deserve to cum—you were more than content to keep this a one-sided ride of pleasure, but had to ensure that she became more than a ruined, blithering, fucked out mess who couldn’t remember whose assistant she was. You wouldn’t be satisfied until her legs turned to jelly, hell-bent on this maddening pace as her body began to tremble, counting down to the last moments of release that you both chased. 

Because there would never be anything better than watching Gahyeon fall apart at the seams.

"Sir, please, I’m so close. Please, n-need, need to—” Gahyeon didn’t even have to vocalize her desires when the walls of her soaked cunt tightened to a new level, but you always enjoyed that begging, and wouldn’t hesitate to finish what you had started. So after letting go of her arms, she collapsed to the stairs, clinging onto the wooden steps with your cock still pounding away.

“Hurry up and cum then,” you said, indulging your desires to reclaim her delicious hips once more, clutching them tightly. 

Gahyeon couldn’t exactly do much else under your control, so close to obtaining what she craved since you shoved your cock inside her. She seemed almost reluctant, but the tighter you held her and the quicker you pumped, the more the walls of her cunt pulsated violently—until she shattered like glass. The pressure boiled up inside far too much, making her writhe uncontrollably, juices pouring down your dick that painted the bottom stairs.

“Shit, oh fuck, oh fuck—” Gahyeon gasped out when she hit her peak, and let out a torrential outpour of shrieks, her walls continuously suffocating your cock. The only thing better would be seeing Gahyeon’s tits bouncing wildly in the mirror, as well as the look of pure bliss etched on her gorgeous face when she came. 

Never had her pussy felt so wet or so tight, those harsh clenches like she was prematurely attempting to extract the cum from your aching balls, desperate to be filled with your seed to the brim.

“You must be close too, sir. Cum inside me, please, please cum inside me, fill me, sir…” 

“Don’t you fucking worry, Gahyeon. Your slutty little pussy feels way too good for me not to empty my load into you. That’s what you wanted from the beginning, right? Your boss pumping all this hot cum into your warm little cunt?”

“Yes, yes! Please, sir—fill your little brat, fill me up and use me like a cumdump. Need to feel your big throbbing cock emptying into me, please.” 

Savoring the way that tight little hole trembled for your load would be the last thing you did before burying your length inside one last time, and unloaded deep into Gahyeon. All those hours of pent up annoyance disappeared when you spilled your hot seed into her insides. Her wet, hungry pussy clenched for more, milking out spurt after spurt, groan after groan, as your cock twitched in violent pulsations, and filled her up to the brim, overflowing with every drop. 

You chased that last bit of bliss, pumping with as many strokes as your body had left, and fucked your hot semen into Gahyeon deep, deep as it would go—all the way into her womb.

When that last spurt finally left your balls, you slumped against her, panting heavily, but with no desire to unsheathe from her warmth. Especially not when Gahyeon continued to quiver in ecstasy, catching her breath while you both recovered. 

“Th-thank you, sir,” Gahyeon whispered, her voice weak and trembling, just like her legs underneath her that became just as useless as any words. Your breathing only became deeper the longer you stayed inside Gahyeon, and eventually you pulled out from her swollen lips, watching a slow drip of thick, pearlescent cum that had just been swallowed up leak down her glistening thighs, meeting the rest of her arousal on the steps. 

“Gahyeon, fuck—” 

“D-don’t worry, sir,” she answered, almost reading your mind while your fresh cum continued to trickle down her battered cunt. “Never been better…” 

After a tilt of her head sideways, you kissed her lips while still pressing yourself against her body, feeling her breath in your mouth to validate her condition for yourself. “That’s my good assistant.” 

Even though her legs no longer felt like her legs, and her breathing remained unsteady, you helped Gahyeon up to her feet, and moved her so her back rested against the railing. 

“So, boss…” 

Her chest still hypnotically heaved, and she held onto each side of the railing for support. “H-how come you never fuck me this hard in the office?” 

“Because if I fucked you this hard, we’d both get fired. We’ve gotten caught enough times as is.”

“Yeah, well—” she paused, and avoided the subject, grabbing you by the arm with a weak grip. “You promised you’d fuck me in the ass, boss. Now, come on, I can still walk. Barely.” 

Whenever Gahyeon looked up at you like that, flushed cheeks, disheveled hair, and a magic smile, now you were the one powerless. If she didn’t need a breather, then neither did you. So, leading the way, Gahyeon sluggishly climbed up the stairs to the bedroom, swaying her hips, with her round ass such a beautiful target that you couldn’t help but smack. 

✦ ✦

After the pounding she took, Gahyeon didn’t exactly run up the bedroom stairs. However, her leisurely pace meant you could admire every aspect of her delicious body, and watch the way your cum still dripped down her thighs with every step. 

Her appetite for dick hadn’t been tamed, and if there was anything better than Gahyeon on her knees—it was Gahyeon lying on your bed naked. Running fingers through her hair, her head bobbed with familiarity between your spread legs, her bare feet dangling in the air, with a mouth full of cock. 

But while you loved the proper oral session Gahyeon gave as you relaxed into your pillows, and her hot mouth swallowing your length whole, that wasn’t her purpose here. That belonged to something waiting on your nightstand. 

You raised Gahyeon’s head off your cock with a simple motion, which caused her lips to pout, but instead of complaining, she crawled over your lap and grabbed something from said nightstand. 

“This must be for me,” Gahyeon said, attempting to act coy and innocent as she shook up a bottle of lube, its contents already half-empty. She flicked the bottle open with a pop, and turned her back towards you, positioning herself on the edge of your lap. Gahyeon gave you a worthy show when she lubed herself up, inserting one digit, then another, fingering her ass as she spread the cold liquid around her tightest hole, letting out cute little moans the deeper she went. 

“Can’t wait to feel your cock instead of my fingers,” she said, turning to face you, and drizzled lube down your shaft, eyes beaming with anticipation. “Can’t wait to feel all of it filling me up.”

For good measure, she poured some down your balls, just to see the way they glistened when she rubbed it in, but kept going, her oiled up hands massaging your stiff cock. 

“Hope you’re ready for that little asshole to be stretched, Gahyeon.” 

“I am. I can’t wait anymore, sir, please,” she pleaded, guiding your cock, and groaned when she sandwiched your girth between her asscheeks. Letting her impatience linger, you remained silent while Gahyeon’s massive ass rubbed your cock, but grabbed the bottle of lube from her, and coated her pale cheeks until her entire backside became oiled up. 

“See? Doesn’t that feel good? It’ll feel so much better when it’s inside me…” 

You couldn’t agree more, but that only meant Gahyeon would wait longer, because you needed one more moment to savor how the oiled flesh of her plump ass squeezed your cock, one more moment to admire that magnificent ass. Grabbing a handful, you smacked it hard, an imaginary green light appearing in her eyes. 

“Yeah? You’re going to ream my ass finally?” Gahyeon asked with a breath of relief.

“Yes, Gahyeon. There’s no way I’m not going to shove my cock up this perfect ass.” 

Those words made her grin from ear to ear, earning what she wished for, a reward for patience. "I’ve needed my little hole stretched so wide, sir, please—” 

“You don’t have to keep calling me sir,” you said, and her eyes twinkled upon earning her privileges back. 

“Please, daddy—” 

“Stop begging, Gahyeon. I'm not only going to stretch you out, I plan on destroying your tight ass until you become a pathetic, whimpering mess. And even if you pleaded with me to stop fucking your brains out, I won’t, because remember—you wanted this.” 

Gahyeon couldn’t help but curl her distinctive lips into a blush-inducing smile. Despite the fact that you just laid out the blueprints to give her the anal hammering she so richly deserved, you felt no obligation to move a muscle. After all, you shouldn’t be the only one doing all the work, should you?

“If you want this dick so bad, then come bounce that fat ass on it.” 

“Yes, daddy!” she replied, somehow still so energetic while she lifted her hips high and grabbed your cock, carefully lining it up against her back opening, that juicy ass eagerly waiting to be filled. When it came to anal, Gahyeon was nothing but enthusiastic, and preferred it almost as much as you did, and who could blame her when she had an ass like that. 

So naturally, Gahyeon wasted little time, taking a deep breath before lowering herself down, until your thick cockhead disappeared inside her impossibly tight asshole. That first orgasmic plunge was the very definition of heaven, a slow burn of bliss upon entering her back entrance that always took your breath away. 

“Oh god, daddy,” she gasped, placing both hands on your thighs for leverage. Sharing the sentiment, you gritted your teeth when you felt such an overwhelming tightness that surrounded your shaft, and could hardly process it all, eyes focused on the way Gahyeon’s luscious ass rose back up, nearly leaving herself empty before she sank deeper. There was nothing like watching her ass swallow up your cock. 

Every little twitch, every shudder that ran through your body urged her to take you deeper, because for your assistant, it wasn’t much trouble to fit more of you inside. At this point, Gahyeon was a seasoned veteran in taking a cock up her ass, relaxing every muscle, while she took more into her hungry lithe body.

“Shit, Gahyeon, that ass is fucking tight,” you said, now your turn to be blatantly obvious as Gahyeon worked more cock inside that warm little hole, with only one goal in mind—every inch balls deep.

That goal wouldn’t take long to accomplish when she arched her back, taking your cock into her small frame like it was nothing, and spread her ass cheeks to accept more of you. “Good girl, you take that cock like such a good girl, stretch that little asshole out.”

With every word of praise, she clenched hard, an extra bonus to that magnificent view in front, Gahyeon’s perfect, round ass taking more of your girth, begging for your whole length. 

“Ah fuck, daddy—oh my god, you’re so big. You feel so good, daddy, I need more, fuck, fuck—” 

Nothing compared to the tightness of Gahyeon; that divine cunt could squeeze a load out of you in seconds, but her warm, heavenly asshole, almost painfully tight—that’s where the real fun started. 

Greedy as could be, Gahyeon bounced her thick ass on your dick like she had something to prove, that vice-like grip already driving you to the point of insanity. Nearly burying your entire length in one motion, she pumped those wide hips like they had a mind of their own, and the pressure on your cock intensified while her tight little hole became stretched to the limit. 

“Fuck, I love how good this feels. Need daddy to gape me, open me up more. Please, daddy, fill me more…” 

She pleaded with every word, and your throbbing shaft fought against the constricting walls of her asshole, but for either of you, it was never enough—you needed to be as deep inside her as possible. At the tail end of one of her endless bounces, you reached up to grab her oiled ass and pulled her body back as you plunged the full length of your shaft deep inside her asshole in one continuous stroke. 

“Oh shit!” Gahyeon cried out, those tight walls grasping your cock with somehow more force after feeling your full length buried inside her. She rolled those magical hips to match your thrusts, that ass eager to take every last inch, and she tried her absolute best to accommodate your size. 

“Does my little slut like bouncing that fat ass on my dick?” you asked, returning the reins back to Gahyeon, who took the initiative and slammed her cheeks down on your thick, rigid cock, every bounce devouring you balls deep. 

“Yes, daddy! Oh god, it’s so amazing. You know I ride dick better when it’s in my ass.” Gahyeon demonstrated by using your cock to ride with more fervor, that plump ass engulfing your stiff erection as her hips moved in powerful circles, drawing you deeper under her euphoric spell. 

All your focus stayed on Gahyeon’s body, how sweat collected on her back, and the hypnotic way her round wet cheeks rippled as she fucked herself on your shaft without interruption. As her ass choked your cock, you did nothing but lay back in the sheets and let her handle everything, the cadence of her careless bounces mirroring the bed that creaked in protest. 

“Fuck, you’re so tight, so perfect—god, that tight little asshole feels incredible. Look how well you take me, keep going,” you said, demanding in your tone, and now that Gahyeon had been properly opened up, she had an obligation to take your whole length into her hot little asshole as she rode you like crazy, accelerating her hips, utterly consumed by lust. Even when the bounces of her ass became relentless, it didn’t dampen the unimaginable bliss; if anything, it planted the seeds of desire further. 

“My body is yours, daddy. Use it, use me as you like,” Gahyeon said, looking back with her lips curled wider than ever. Words like that made your swelling erection throb like crazy, the pleasure of your shaft buried in her suffocating ass almost too much to handle. 

Seizing control of Gahyeon’s tight frame, she lifted her bare feet and placed them on your thighs as you took hold of her hips, not wanting to waste any time as you remained lodged within that perfect plump ass.

“You feel that hard cock throbbing inside you? That’s what’s gonna destroy this amazing ass. I’ll make sure my pretty slut can’t walk for a whole fucking week.” 

Gahyeon wouldn’t be satisfied with anything less, nor would she if you granted her any mercy while hammering your dick into her asshole, making every thrust that you delivered count. Firmly in charge of her body, you pounded away at that tight muscular ring, using your cock to gape Gahyeon’s little hole until it no longer struggled to fit your length, but she craved more, much more, and you reciprocated her desires. 

“Yes, daddy, yes! Fuck, that cock stretches me so well, use me all you want,” she whimpered, the strength in her voice fading from all the begging. Just like in the office, Gahyeon understood her duties in the bedroom, knowing how to be an outlet for your lust, and how to be a proper fucktoy. There would never be any doubts about how aggressive you would be with her, so after sliding your hands under her sweaty thighs, you pushed her legs up into a V shape, locked your fingers around her neck, then lifted her small frame into the air, giving your all into every unforgiving thrust. 

“Oh fuck—fuck, fuck, holy shit—” Gahyeon cried out as you fully put her into the full nelson position and hammered her ass relentlessly like she was a fleshlight. As you used her incredible ass in the manner that she loved, taking absolute control, nothing could match the absolute bliss that filled your body, and you were lucky to pound something so perfect. 

If only you could see the way her eyes rolled back in her head while you rammed her ass without mercy—but hearing her boisterous cries of pleasure would have to do. In an instant, your hips released all their energy stored up for the last several moments, and you drilled Gahyeon’s asshole with so much vigor that her moans turned into loud, frantic screams—one of your favorite sounds from her lips. 

“Oh god, don’t stop, don’t stop, please don’t stop, ruin my little asshole, oh fuck!” Gahyeon managed to utter out before her words became little more than a slur of curses, unraveling underneath your unrelenting onslaught as the intense pleasure in your cock turned into an addiction, one that you would fuel by treating her body just like a toy, giving her the anal pounding she so richly deserved. 

Despite how forceful your thrusts were, nothing would stop Gahyeon from begging for more, and you could drill her ass indefinitely. But as much as you craved to keep her suspended in that position, the creeping urge for release began to take over, so involuntarily you would oblige it, savoring how helpless Gahyeon remained while you kept her asshole filled to the hilt. 

When your shaft finally slipped from her ass, you beamed with pride at how gaped you made her asshole, and Gahyeon fell to her side, able to catch her breath. But that respite wouldn’t last long, since she couldn’t stand not having your cock inside in some way, and slurped on your Gahyeon-flavored tip once more.

“God, you’re an insatiable little slut, aren’t you? You like tasting your ass?” 

“Mhmm,” Gahyeon hummed, and planted a big wet kiss on your tip before she shoved your cock back inside her warm mouth, down to the base in one stroke. She indulged her hunger, sucking you off while tasting herself on your cock, her throat aching to drain everything from you. 

You weren’t finished with her yet, left empty by every second that went by without the suffocating grip of her ass. “You want me to keep pounding this tight little asshole?” 

Gahyeon hesitated for a moment, too involved with slobbering on your cock before withdrawing her pouty lips. “Want you to cum again. Wanna feel you in my ass again, my little hole hasn’t been stretched enough.”  

“Such a slut for this dick, aren’t you?” you asked, while Gahyeon nodded in agreement, shifting to the center of your messy bed sheets, her legs spread wide as she rubbed her cunt, unsatisfied with how much time she had spent empty. Her impatience grew, but you did little but watch, indulging yourself in her divine physique, focused on every movement she made while touching herself. 

“Come on, daddy. Shove that big cock back inside my ass.” 

You rubbed her thighs, and planted gentle kisses on their pillowy softness while spreading more lube inside her, using it as an excuse to tease her further. “Needy fucking brat.” 

“And your needy little brat needs another pounding…” 

In one movement, you lifted Gahyeon’s creamy legs into the air, and rested her ankles on your shoulders. No doubt you wouldn’t have much left in the reserves, but just to see the frustration on her face, you stalled while you stroked yourself, teasing her warm little hole with your swollen cockhead. 

"Daddy, pleeease—please fuck me," she pleaded, with a drone of whines, your cock nudging against the inviting warmth of her ass. But you still hesitated—not for Gahyeon’s sake, but for yours, and needed a moment to prepare—to prepare for that insane tightness again. With one hand lining up your shaft, the other stroked her beautiful legs, until you were ready to fill her back up again. 

You waited for one more whiny plea, one more ‘daddy’ while keeping track of the desperation in her eyes, then impaled your entire shaft into that tiny, unyielding hole. Her back arched right off the bed upon re-entry, and you swore the second time felt like an even tighter squeeze, fitting perfectly inside her. “Shit, Gahyeon—”

That tight hole tempted you into an early climax, but you fought back against those urges, and one stroke at a time, pumped into Gahyeon, groaning at that familiar tightness. 

“Daddy, why aren’t you pounding me?” Her lips pouted in her usual manner, but you ignored her and focused on setting the pace, allowing only the head of your cock to disappear inside her asshole as she desperately squeezed you. 

“Let me feel it all, daddy. Split me open.”

Regardless of the look on her face, you wouldn’t give in that easily. “Be a good girl and rub your clit for me. Nice and slow.” 

You didn't take your eyes off Gahyeon as she obeyed, using her fingers to rub slow, lazy circles against her sensitive swollen clit, and bit her lip at the added stimulation. Her cute whimpers guided your hips and urged you to sink deeper inside her, your strokes quickening as you filled more hard flesh inside that tight hole. Every expression her cute face made became a contortion of lust, and you couldn’t keep yourself from bottoming her out once more, returning back to your animalistic desires.  

“Daddy, just like this, you’re so deep, need more…” 

Holding back would no longer be an option when the urgency in Gahyeon’s eyes mirrored your own, and you didn’t hesitate to keep your length buried inside her ass, not even giving a chance for her to adjust to your size, pumping against the harsh grip around your cock. 

Snatching whatever pleasure she could while Gahyeon kept playing with her clit, you rammed her little asshole without any cares or limits, thrusting with your hips in an erratic rhythm, more and more uncontrolled with every stroke. 

“Oh god, daddy, that feels so good. Stretch me with that thick cock, pound my asshole, fuck me hard!” The noises from her lips became borderline unintelligible as your thrusts increased tenfold, hard enough to make her big breasts bounce, and made her fingernails dig into the sheets she squirmed underneath. Her constant moans and whimpers spurred you on as you refused to let your cock stay outside longer than necessary, and held her legs together, hugging them tightly as you began to lose all sense of self-control.

“Fuck, this tight asshole makes my cock feel so fucking good, Gahyeon. Gonna pound you so hard, gonna fuck you like a little slut deserves,” you said as your shaft moved in frenzied, harsh strokes, hitting the right angle, not neglecting a single sweet spot. 

Not letting up your pace, you let those luscious legs fall from perched on top of your shoulders, then spread them wide as they could go, giving yourself a better view of your cock spearing her asshole. 

At this point, you weren’t so much as fucking Gahyeon anymore, but using her body as just a cocksleeve, a toy, a container for your uncontrollable lust. Through all that lust, you were so lost in the tightness of her ass that any words that exited her mouth sounded miles away, but still heard the faint murmur of pleas. You played with handfuls of her delicious bouncy tits, fingertips trailing up to her collarbone, and then you wrapped a hand around her throat, squeezed with just enough pressure. 

“Harder, choke me harder, daddy. Choke your little slut.” 

If there were any remnants of control left, Gahyeon relinquished it all when you squeezed her neck harder, and those large eyes spoke more than words ever could. Her asshole tightened more than you could fathom, just like your hand around her throat, and you had no qualms about how rough you were fucking Gahyeon, nor the red marks that would be left displayed on her bare flesh for everyone in the office to see in the morning. 

Not that your coworkers didn’t already know how rough you pounded Gahyeon in the various rooms and spaces around the workplace—if only everywhere else had as much soundproofing as your office did. 

But nothing would deter you from pounding Gahyeon’s wrecked asshole, when the constant uncontained lust in her eyes began to boil over, long past the point of no return. The pressure built up in her body faster than expected as she frantically worked two fingers deep inside her cunt, and without warning—Gahyeon sprayed your abdomen with a sudden influx of liquid, an orgasm so intense, so overwhelming, that it left her body shaking, desperate for more. 

“There you fucking go, Gahyeon. Good girl, cum for me one more time, can you do that?” 

Gahyeon could only nod. 

“Fuck!” she cried out, and did just that without hesitation, letting out another deluge of squirt from her greedy cunt that coated your lower body in her slick arousal. Her head fell back onto the mattress, quivering thighs spread wide, while you prepared to take your own climax. 

“Good little slut.” 

“D-daddy, I want your cum too—want it so bad,” Gahyeon said, with pleading eyes, and soon enough she would get it, every last little drop. You doubled down on your pace, and plunged your length into her asshole for as long as you could, savoring the last clenches while pumping into her until your climax was too strong to resist. 

All you could withstand were a few more thrusts, so after pulling out of her ass, you spilled hot cum all over her tight stomach, and covered her supple tits with the remainder of your milky load as Gahyeon groaned from below with each thick spurt that fell on her bare, sweaty body. 

Equally exhausted, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from Gahyeon’s perfect body used as your canvas, staring at her glazed breasts that heaved hypnotically, and her cute, cum-covered tummy that became the perfect target for your load. Lusting for more, she stroked your sensitive cock, almost disappointed when you were milked dry, but kept pumping, desperate to extract one more leftover drop. 

“Gahyeon—” 

“Yes, daddy?” 

You couldn’t find the words you wanted to say, but continued to stare over Gahyeon's body, panting hard while you took in every tiny detail, every droplet of sweat on her pretty, pale skin. 

“Wanna go again?” Gahyeon asked, and while you didn’t exactly have much gas left in the tank—you couldn't find a good reason to say no. 

"Needy brat."

"I'm your needy brat. Come on, daddy. I know you wanna go again. Press my tits against the glass, get them all wet and soapy for you. You’re still so hard—I know you’d love a nice soapy titfuck,” she said, massaging your balls, teasing them with her fingers like she was trying to get them to fill back up. 

Just the thought ensured your erection wouldn’t falter, and well, you couldn’t ever refuse an offer like that. With a grin, you hoisted Gahyeon off the mattress to her feet, legs unsteadily underneath her.

She still had your load painted on her body drenched in sweat when she stood upright, but wore it proudly, just like the grin on her features. “I’ll go get the water running.”

Neither of you would spend that much time getting clean, because you knew the moment you stepped inside the hot shower, Gahyeon’s hands would be all over your body, doing way more than soaping you up. But you were used to that. 

Nothing could really ever quench Gahyeon’s bottomless libido, anyway. 

[moonchildstyles]

someone making a comment about prosecco h about how he should date his age and it sends yn into a spiral like "oh god this isn't a good idea"

Would love to see the first fight for Prosecco (or any one i love the first fight one shots for ur other series lol)

Prosecco angst!! Pleaseeeee

wordcount: 14k+

—————

"(Y/N), love, c'mon." 

Harry's feigned exasperation fell short the more his smile grew. His arms were wrapped securely around her waist as she clung to him, legs hitched around his hips in her effort to not let him go. 

"I don't want you to leave." 

(Y/N)'s pout could be heard from miles away, Harry didn't even need the confirmation of her puffed lips pressed against his throat. He only sighed at her whining, the sentiment the same thing she'd been saying since he unraveled himself from the sheets of his bed and her legs. 

"We've spent the whole weekend together, haven't we?" he attempted to soothe her, running his palm along the span of her back, "And, you'll still be here when I come home, right? No reason to pout about that, is there?" 

"Yes, there is," she argued, her petulant tone making Harry's grin widen, "I don't want you to leave at all. Tell them you're sick and we'll lay in bed all day. You can go to work tomorrow instead, when I have class and can't miss you." 

"That's the same thing y'told me last week, and I really did take the day off, remember?" he told her, walking them back to the kitchen counter where his abandoned mug of coffee sat in wait after he was distracted, "Don't think I can get away with that again, sweetheart." 

A quiet humph sounded from where she was huddled in his neck as he settled her on the ledge of the kitchen counter. Despite the stable surface now under her bottom, she didn't bother to unravel herself from around Harry's form, thighs still cinched around his hips and arms looped around his neck. 

"Can you work from home, then?" 

"I wish, but I don't have any of m'things with me. And, I've got to be at a meeting today with some of our new clients." Harry dropped a kiss to her shoulder once he saw them deflate at all the reasons he couldn't stay him and lie in with her, no matter how much he wanted to. 

"Fine," she relented, peeling herself away from his neck only enough to get a look at his face. 

Just as he expected, even though she was giving up on her fight, her features were still molded into the sad puppy look she had begun to realize was something he had a hard time resisting. 

"Don't look so sad, darling," he cooed to her, ducking his head to press a kiss to the tip of he nose, "I'll be home soon, 'kay? Y'can even call me on my lunch if y'really miss me that much." 

"We just had so much fun this weekend, I don't want it to be over already," she told him, canting her head to the side as she gazed up at him. 

"We did, didn't we?" he smiled at her, thinking abut their weekend full of nothing but lounging around in bed and going out to eat when (Y/N) got too antsy in the house and wanted to dress up. "I promise we'll do it all again this weekend, pretty girl. Jus' need to get through work first, right?" 

"Okay," she sighed, "Maybe we can go to the aquarium this weekend?" 

Harry's smile winded at her words, dimples deep in his cheeks. "We can definitely do that, sweetheart. I'll buy the tickets today, alright?" 

She brightened some at his promise, giving him the smile he was missing since she decided to be his pouty girl. "Thank you, H." 

His arms around her waist tightened at her quiet gratitude. There was nothing he loved more than making her happy. With his grip, he pulled her just to the edge of the kitchen counter as her body relaxed, legs now dangling on either side of his with her arms a loose loop around his neck. 

"Now, give me a kiss before I go. 'M already going to be running late," Harry requested, dipping his head down with a nudge to her nose with his own. 

(Y/N) complied with no convincing, happily pressing her lips to his. Her kiss tasted like the fruit he cubed up for her for breakfast, warding off the bitter afternotes of the coffee he barely had time to brush from his teeth before (Y/N) pounced on him with pleas to stay home. 

"Love you," he murmured against her lips, planting a small smattering of pecks across her mouth before pulling away. 

"Love you, too," she told him, bright smile on her lips, "Text me when you're on lunch so I can call you." 

"You know I will, darling," he told her, giving her one more kiss before finally stepping out from between her legs. 

(Y/N) hopped off the counter and followed him for the send off, the length his button down swaying over her thighs as she followed him. As much as he hated to leave her, the idea of her waiting at his home for him, dressed in his clothes and full of love for him made his heart race. He'd never had someone to come home to like this, even if they weren't officially moved in together yet. That thought made the days a little easier to get through. 

With one more blown kiss in her direction and a wave before he pulled off, Harry tried his best to start his day despite the fact he was leaving his heart behind.

—————

(Y/N) was bored. 

Harry's house wasn't that fun when he wasn't there with her, she decided. She went through and finished up the laundry they started the day before and changed the sheets out on his bed, and even made sure she had all of her toiletries packed up in her bag so she could go home after dinner tonight, but that only filled a few hours before she was lounging on his couch watching a reality dating show she couldn't believe really found love for these people. Her only saving grace was the fact that the lunch hour was approaching. 

Despite the fact she had already promised to call him during the break this morning, these lonesome hours allowed her to think up an idea that sounded much more fun the longer she laid  out on his couch. 

She was going to go see him. 

She was going to pick up some lunch on the way there, and actually go see him for the first time at his big office. Planning her outfit took all of twenty minutes as she refused to take off his shirt, deciding to pair it with a pair of jeans that Harry had told her made her butt look good and the pearled headband she wore on their first date. It was a fun distraction, getting ready, as she primped her hair and did her skincare routine—forgoing makeup for the day—before placing a pickup order at Harry's favorite little diner he takes her to when she's hungry in the middle of the night. She couldn't wait to surprise him. 

The drive to the diner was a familiar one, a quick stop that had her bubbling with excitement as she double checked the order of Harry's favorite meal and all his fixings (he loved this melt they had, the ingredients basically making up a grilled cheese until Harry added all of these bits and extras that elevated it to a 'melt' instead). As soon as she had today's lunch packed away in the passenger seat, (Y/N) put the address of Harry's office building into her GPS. A canopy of butterflies made their way through her tummy as her ETA approached with every mile she drove to his office. She'd never been before, and the fact that Harry wasn't expecting her added another layer to her bubbling nerves. Hopefully, she could find the place—and his office—easily so she couldn't have to ruin the surprise with a call asking him for directions. 

Once the towering building came into view, (Y/N) realized just how many times she'd passed it on the way to her labs for her required science class her first year of university. The glossy windows shone in the sun's rays, gleaming almost as brightly as the blocky lettering that detailed the company name over the top floor of the structure. She knew his job was important, that he made a good living and met high-profile people, but she never figured it was this important. If she was being honest, what she had pictured was a building in a business plaza with a few floors to spare for the different departments, Harry's office settled on the highest one (at max, the fifth floor). Looking at the scale of his job, she now felt a little guilty for convincing him to call in the previous week. (That didn't mean she wasn't planning on doing it again, though). 

With their lunches in hand, the plastic bag hanging off her wrist as she locked her car, (Y/N) craned her neck to gaze up the height of the building. If Harry was important as she figured he would be—should be—, he was at the top behind one of those glossy windows. He probably had a killer view. 

Going through the glass doors, (Y/N) saw a luxurious waiting room complete with a receptionist smiling behind a glass desk and a shiny set of elevators pinging behind her as people came and went. It was definitely the lunch hour if the amount of suited people sifting through the lobby with lunch pails and takeaway containers to some of the fancier restaurants nearby was anything to go by. 

"Hello," the receptionist greeted her, a bright smile on her face as that could rival the gleaming plate on her desk that detailed her name to be Seline. "Are you here to drop off a lunch delivery?" 

Glancing down at her casual look and a bag of food at her side, (Y/N) couldn't blame her for thinking she was just here to drop off some executive's food order. The one day she doesn't feel like getting all dressed up to see him.

"Oh, no," she laughed, carefully approaching the desk so she didn't make any scoffs with the worn soles of her shoes, "I'm actually here to see Harry Styles? I think he's supposed to be on his lunch break right now, so I was hoping I could eat with him if you wouldn't mind telling me where I can find his office." 

"Oh," Seline chirped with a raise of her brows, glancing down at the desktop Mac stationed on the surface of her glass desk, "I see. And may I ask for your name?" 

"Right, sorry, I'm (Y/N). His girlfriend." (Y/N) hated the way her answer felt like a question with the way her tone tilted upwards at the end. She was beginning to feel so out of place in this building, she even doubted her own name.

"His girlfriend?" Seline deadpanned, her eyes flicking from her screen to fix on (Y/N). Though she still held a pleasant expression on her face, there was something vacant entering her smile, like she wasn't entirely sure what to do about this situation. 

"Yeah," she affirmed with a jerky nod, her hair fluttering behind the hold of the headband crowing her head, "It's kind of a surprise, so..." 

(Y/N) cringed as she trailed off, wishing she had thought through her statement before she opened her mouth. 

"Oh, okay," Seline smiled, the edges turning down some as she tapped away at her keyboard. After pressing definitively on the enter key, the receptionist looked up with an apology in her eyes, "Unfortunately, I'm not able to let anyone up to see any of the executives unless I have express permission from them or an appointment on their schedule. But, I can take a message for you and let him know you stopped by?" 

A kind of anxiety (Y/N) hadn't felt since her first day of college swept through her system. She was sure Seline was doing her job, following policies in place that made the most of Harry and his colleagues' time, but (Y/N) had never felt more stupid or out of place in her life. Another set of employees dressed in suits and skirts, everything creaseless with precise pleats and expensive shoes that clacked over the tiled floor made their way out of the elevator, making (Y/N) feel that much more out of place with the holes in her jeans and the wrinkles in her borrowed shirt. She hadn't even bothered to brush her hair before she left. 

The bag of food at her side crinkled as she shifted, grabbing for her phone from her pocket. "Um, could I actually give him a call, really quick? I-I'm sure he'll let me up, I just didn't know he needed to let you know." 

"Of course, take your time," Seline offered, dropping her skeptical gaze to (Y/N)'s flowery cased phone, "As soon as I have his permission come through my system, I can buzz the elevator for you." 

Peeping out a thank you, (Y/N) scurried off to one of the white leather seats that decorated the waiting area. She was sure no one was paying her any mind as she fiddled with her phone, getting frustrated when her Face I.D. wasn't accepted with the way her hands were shaking, but she swore every person that passed through the waiting area—especially Seline—had their eyes glued to the silly girl that was trying to bypass protocol to see her 'boyfriend'. 

By the time she had the phone pressed to her ear with Harry's contact pulled up, (Y/N) worried she was going to scream if the plastic bag with their food crinkled one more time in the quiet lobby. 

"Sweetheart, I was jus' about to text you," Harry greeted her, his voice offering a flood of relief. 

"Harry, hi—uh—I'm at your office." She cringed as the words left her mouth, knowing Seline could definitely hear the way she wobbled through her words. "But—um—I'm not allowed up until you say its okay." 

"You are? Sweetheart, I'm so sorry, I didn't know y'were coming," Harry prattled off after a beat, the sound of a keyboard tapping in the background. 

"It's okay, I was trying to surprise you with lunch and everything," she murmured, feeling silly now in her plan. Of course she wasn't going to be escorted to someone's corporate office without some kind of permission or appointment. At least they were getting it figured out. 

"Oh, pretty girl," Harry cooed through the phone, his smile evident in his tone, "That's so sweet of you. I can't wait to see you." He paused for a moment before she heard a ping on the line. "Alright, I sent my access code down to Seline, she'll buzz y'right up, yeah? Once you're on m'floor, just need to take a right to Shelly's desk and you'll need to tell her your name but she'll let you in right away." 

"Thank you, H," she sighed as her shoulders sagged in relief. With a proper plan in place, (Y/N) could breathe. "Love you." 

"Love you too, gorgeous. I'll see you in a minute." 

After hanging up, Seline waved her over as soon as (Y/N) stowed her phone in her pocket. "Mr. Styles' permission just came through!" she beamed at her, "I'm so sorry about that confusion, Ms. (Y/N). Mr. Styles just didn't let me know he was expecting anyone and you look so young, I was worried a daughter of one of his clients got a little too attached over a client dinner or something." Seline laughed as if she had told (Y/N) one of her funniest jokes as she clicked away at her keyboard, the up arrow above one of the elevators lighting up as she pressed enter. Swiping a keycard from a drawer on her desk, Seline handed it out with a polite smile on her face. "Scan this at the elevator, and go to floor twenty. Have a nice lunch, Ms. (Y/N)." 

(Y/N) swallowed as she took the keycard, reciprocating the polite smile the receptionist gave her though (Y/N) could bet her own was nothing more than a shaky imitation. She worked robotically as she followed the directions she was given, the keycard taking a moment to scan as she couldn't steady her hand. 

She looked so young that Seline worried she was a daughter of one of Harry's clients coming to stalk him? Alone in the elevator with her distorted reflecting staring back at her in the mirrored panels that slated the walls, (Y/N) didn't know what to think. Of course it was never a secret that there was a lengthy gap in age between she and H—the very reason he had waited so long in becoming close to her—but never had that fact been so blatantly presented to her. 

Sure, (Y/N) didn't do herself any favors with her makeup-less face and rumpled outfit, but she didn't think she particularly looked like someone's teen daughter who sought after a man of her father's demographic. Shaking off the comment, she tried to remind herself of the relief of finally getting out of that lobby and getting closer and closer to her Harry—her comfort zone. All she had to do was talk to Shelly, and she was in. No more crinkling plastic bag or scuffs of her shoes over the expensive tile. 

Once the elevator dinged, the number twenty illuminated over the door, (Y/N) let out a breath. This floor held the same ambiance as the waiting room she'd just left—clean lines, light colors, and glass fixtures everywhere. Office doors with titles and names lined the length of the hall. Each sprawling end was serrated by the lobby area that almost perfectly emulated the one below, only smaller. 

The same glass desk as Seline's was stationed in the middle of the lobby, the main fixture in the area with the gleaming iMac and tall vase of neutral flowers on the edge. A desk plate inscribed with Shelly across the brass shone in the sunlight seeping through the windows. But, there was no Shelly to be seen. 

Peering down the hall, (Y/N) spotted what looked like it could be the office to the Chief Officer of Brand Relationships, or his better known name: Harry Styles. Without Shelly there, and her safe haven within her sights, (Y/N) figured she'd just toe her way down the hall and get to his office by herself. Just as she moved to bypass the glass desk, the sound of heels tapping over the elaborately titled floors sounded from the hall behind her. 

Looking over her shoulder, (Y/N) paused when she realized who was clicking over the floor. 

"Hello, sorry about that I was—" Shelly cut herself off, her brows furrowing once she was close enough to realize who was standing in her lobby, "(Y/N)?" 

"Hi, Shelly," (Y/N) awkwardly greeted her, taking in her classmate from the Business English course she took before (Y/N) realized she would rather die than have anything to do with writing business polices and handbook guides. She'd never seen Shelly so dressed up, used to her curls being tied into a poof on the top of her head with baggy sweatsuits covering her form. Here, she was clad in a smart skirt with the matching top tucked in, complete with the resounding heels that clacked over the floor, hair in defined and shiny ringlets. (Y/N) swallowed before she spoke again, "I didn't know you worked here." 

"Oh yeah," Shelly waved off, a pinch remaining in her brow, "this is where I do my internship hours." 

When she paused, this is what (Y/N) had been scared of. She and Shelly certainly weren't close enough to maintain a bubbling conversation with anything other than surface level small talk before settling into a static silence. 

"That's nice," (Y/N) smiled, forcing herself to keep from grabbing for her phone out of habit at the feel of the awkward air, "How do you like it?" 

Shelly gave her a generic smile, one she most likely trained herself for with this job. "It's really nice, thanks for asking. Super nice place, and the food is awesome around here so there's always fun lunch breaks to be had." They both broke out into polite laughs, (Y/N) trying to ease herself when she saw Shelly's eyes drop to the plastic bag at her side. "Are you here dropping off food for someone?" 

Round two begins. 

"Oh no," (Y/N) shook her head, schooling her features as best she could, "I'm here to see—um—Harry Styles, actually. He said he sent a permi—"

"You're Mr. Styles' girlfriend?" 

(Y/N) nervously began to pluck at the buttons of her top with her restless fingers. Though her smile was beginning to waver, she kept up her polite facade. "That's me," she chirped with a shrug, faux-nonchalance greasing her joints.

"Oh," Shelly sounded, eyes wide with brows raised as she rounded the side of her desk. In seconds her gaze was flitting over her computer screen, incredulous look still pasted to her face by the time she finally looked up at (Y/N) again. "You're the one that talked to Seline downstairs?" 

"Yeah," (Y/N) replied simply, unsure of where else to go with a question like that. 

Shelly hummed, leaning down and typing out something on the keyboard before she stood to the full of her height and gave her attention to (Y/N), though she wished she could give it back. "You're having lunch with him today?" 

"Yeah," she parroted, the bag at her side crinkling at the worst time, "I called him when I was downstairs, so he should know I'm here and everything already." 

"Right," Shelly laughed, shaking her head with a fluff to her curls as she seemingly remembered where she was, "Sorry about that. I got Seline's message that Mr. Styles' girlfriend was here to see him, you're just not what I was expecting." She rounded her desk once more with a pleasant smile, heels clacking.

Gesturing for (Y/N) to follow her with a quiet right this way, Shelly started her down the same hallway (Y/N) had seen Harry's nameplate. As much as she had wanted to scurry away and hide in Harry's office before, (Y/N) dragged her feet during the trek. Maybe she was nothing but a glutton for punishment, unable to let the draining weeds growing in her head go unfed, but she couldn't help herself before the next question left her lips. 

"What do you mean?"

"Hm?" Shelly hummed, falling back to walk in line with (Y/N). 

"Just—I mean..." (Y/N) stuttered, cringing at herself for stumbling so hard over her words in the quiet hallway. "Um, what were you expecting when you heard his girlfriend was coming?" 

"Oh," Shelly chirped, slowing even further as she directed her gaze to the ceiling with a pucker to her lips as she thought. "No one specific, really. I don't know, I figured it would be some kind of executive lady, or something. Oh, wait! Do you remember Prof Frances?" 

(Y/N) stopped herself from taking in the deep breath that ached to be a sigh at the mention of one of the teachers that was well known across campus. She was a super beautiful woman, someone that people were known to take her class for with only the intention of staring at her and trying their hand at flirting with her during office hours. She was a kind woman, reserved and quiet when not up front lecturing, but held the kind of confidence that only came with age and loving the body you were in and the person you were. She was grown. Of course, Shelly would picture someone like that for Harry. 

Cool, confident, and sure of herself. Her beauty was only a plus and her age was much more well matched for Shelly's Mr. Styles. 

"I remember her." 

"I guess I pictured someone like her then," Shelly bubbled off, shrugging her shoulders as they came to a stop by Harry's door, "All tall and dark and everything. I definitely wasn't expecting one of my classmates." 

(Y/N) gave a polite laugh to Shelly's attempt at a joke. She felt entirely too stiff in the lungs and tight in her tummy to think of anything sunny at the the moment. 

"It was really nice to see you, though," Shelly chirped, eyes bright as she turned, "Let me know when you're planning on coming by next time, and I can tell Seline so she can have the keycard and everything waiting for you." 

Getting out a weak thanks, (Y/N) watched as Shelly knocked on Harry's office door before cracking it open enough to stick her head through and let him know his guest was here. The sound of Harry's deep voice sounding through his office, though muffled by the time it reached (Y/N)'s ears, did enough to soothe her anxieties before she was ushered over the threshold with Shelly shutting the door behind her. 

"Hi, sweetheart," Harry smiled at her, rising from his spot behind his desk with open arms, "'M so happy to see you, c'mere." 

It was instinct the way she moved across the office, dropping the bag of food into one of the chairs opposing his desk with her bag and keys. (Y/N) smushed her face against his chest as soon as she was close enough, looping her arms around his middle while Harry's became a cradle around her shoulders. 

"Hi," she peeped against his chest, eyes falling closed. 

"My pretty girl," he hummed as he dropped a kiss to the top of her head. "Best surprise ever, you know that?" 

"Good," she tried to laugh, urging her lungs to relax, "I was starting to worry that I wasn't supposed to be here." 

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, unpeeling himself from around her. Shifting his grip, he laced a hand through hers while he reached for the bag of food on his desk, a smile appearing on his face when he noticed the restaurant name on the plastic. 

Flashing back to the tight air that filtered through the lobby downstairs and the unexpected run-in with a classmate, (Y/N) only shrugged. Fanning her gaze across his office, she followed after him as he took her to the comfortable pair of chairs stationed by the floor to ceiling window that plated one side of his office. The perfect spot to schmooze clients and lunch with other executives. 

"It's just really fancy here, and all," (Y/N) settled on as she sunk into the plush leather of the chair. 

A huffed laugh left Harry's lips as he doled out the contents of the bag, packets of silverware and napkins being shared on the sidetable planted between the chairs. "Yeah, a little, isn't it? Definitely not what it used to be when I started working here." 

(Y/N) only nodded as he spoke, a small smile on her face. She wanted to be here with Harry, talking about his work, seeing his excitement when he realized what she picked up for him, or just allowing the fact she was spending time with him to wash over her. She wanted all of that, but each time she felt herself relax, a moment of Seline's quickly concealed judgement or Shelly's bordering-on-disrespectful surprise flashed through her memory. 

Should she even be here right now? 

"Pretty girl, y'got me my melt!" Harry chirped with a bright smile, bringing her attention back to the moment where an unopened takeaway box sat on her lap. 

A genuine curve of her lips molded her features. This was what she had been looking forward to when she thought up her plan. "And, I even made sure they put all that gross stuff you like on there." 

Harry scoffed and made a face as he reached for a pack of cutlery. "'S not gross to have mushrooms on a melt, love. At least 'm not dipping it in ketchup or something worse." 

With a pointed glance in her direction, Harry waited for the explosion she was going to give him. 

"Harry Styles, that was one time, and I was drunk. It's not fair to keep bringing that up!" 

The bright smile on his face was reward enough for all the trouble she'd gone through to make it to his office. "'S jus' shocking, that's all," Harry pressed, his curls falling over his forehead as he shook his head, "As a self-proclaimed grilled cheese purist, I expected a little better out of you." 

Rolling her eyes, (Y/N) cracked open her own box. From the corner of her eye, she could see Harry digging into his lunch, spinach leaves and avocado smears edging out the back of the sandwich. 

"You know," he started, swallowing down his bite while (Y/N) twirled her side of macaroni on her fork, "y'should be happy that's the most embarrassing thing you've done around me while drunk. By the time I was your age, I had friends who had to babysit me at parties after this one time I tried to eat some girl's cigarette. I only have photos to prove that even happened, though because I don't remember a second of it." 

Normally, (Y/N) would have been enamored at the mention of what Harry was like when he was university aged like her. But, today the phrase of when I was your age, struck a cord in her. 

There hadn't been too much thought in her head about their age gap when she met Harry. The only time she had really thought about it was when Harry brought it up, telling her that he hadn't wanted to pursue her sooner in hopes of avoiding making her uncomfortable. When he had told her that, she remembered the way she canted her head to the side with a furrow in her brow; the fact he was thirty-five (or close to, when they met) hadn't been something that sounded all that bad to her. If he had showed her any kind of interest earlier, (Y/N) wouldn't have given it a single thought before trying to subtly flirt her way into his life. 

Today had been the first time she really had to confront their age gap in a way that didn't make her feel protected and warm. 

Sure, she could understand a moment's hesitation. They weren't a traditional coupling, and that was fine, but hearing more than once that she was not what others had expected to be Harry's girlfriend got under her skin. The mention of a previous professor just about sealed the deal for (Y/N). 

Of course, someone his age would be able to bond over the same things they grew up with, the same formative years and pop culture references. Of course, he would be better matched to someone with the same level of maturity who was on the same chapter of their life. 

"What's got y'thinking so hard over there, sweetheart? Making me nervous y'jus' remembered y'left the stove on or something." Harry's joking brought her back to the present, the bright open space of his office greeting her from where she emerged in the back of her head. 

(Y/N) shook her head, "Nothing. I was watching Love Island before I left, and those people are so weird sometimes." As expected Harry's smile turned crooked at the mention of the television show she had managed to get him sucked into on more than one occasion. 

"Yeah? What happened this time?" 

"Too much, I'll have to show you later," (Y/N) brushed off. She could barely remember half of the contestants' names right now, let alone recall any specific scene of the episode she watched today. She had much bigger things on her mind. "Can I ask you something, H?" 

The responding hum he gave her was enough to have (Y/N) pushing at the fries littering her takeaway box as she tried to construct her question. 

"Have you... You've told people about us, right?" 

Harry nodded his head as he plucked a dangling piece of spinach off his melt. "Yeah, I've mentioned y'to my colleagues and all and talked about you at a couple of events and everything. Why?" 

Urging herself to be nonchalant, (Y/N) tried her best despite the robotic motion of her shoulders as she shrugged. "Both of the people I talked to—the receptionists—seemed really surprised to see me." 

"I mean, y'surprised even me, sweetheart," Harry laughed, smiling around the French fry he tossed in his mouth. 

"I know. I guess, it was like they were surprised to see me. Like, they couldn't believe that I was your girlfriend." (Y/N) zipped her lips before she could manage to spill any more of what was running through her head while she had been pinned under the microscope of his employee's gazes. 

 A furrow pinched at his brow as he wiped at his mouth. "I don't really show pictures of you, or anything since 's no one's business," Harry paused as he spoke, "But, I can start doing that if y'want? Was thinking about putting a picture of you on m'desk anyway, so we can start there." 

While the mention of being a fixture on Harry's work desk was a sweet sentiment, that wasn't exactly what she had been shooting for. She didn't know how to tell him about what had happened out in the waiting areas, not wanting to cause any problems or drama, and Harry didn't seem to understand what she was hinting at. She could always bring it up later, once he was out of his work clothes and (Y/N) wasn't feeling so raw from the experience. 

With that thought, (Y/N) brushed off the memories and sunk herself into the leather of her chair. 

"You'd put me on your desk?" she smiled at him, trying not to picture what Seline or Shelly would do if they saw a photograph of Mr. Styles with his co-ed girlfriend in his office. 

"Course," Harry cemented, a sweet smile on his features, "It'd be a whole lot easier than unlocking m'phone every five minutes to see your picture." 

Though there was a dark corner in the back of her mind that couldn't even begin to prune the poisonous weeds growing there, (Y/N) did her best to accept Harry's sweetness as it was. 

He loved her and she loved him back just as much, that was all that mattered. 

—————

By the time (Y/N) made it back to Harry's house, she couldn't think of another time she had been this exhausted. 

Lunch with him was perfect after she managed to banish those inflammatory feelings from her mind, but it was the trek back downstairs when his lunch hour was up that wrung her out. Shelly was behind her desk when (Y/N) left Harry's office, giving her a polite smile and see you later  pinged in (Y/N)'s head knowing that the next time she would see the receptionist would be on her college campus. Seline was just as polite, but still vacant as she flicked her gaze to (Y/N)'s shoes that squeaked over the tile on accident. 

It was nothing they said, but the way they looked at her that had (Y/N) fidgeting on the drive back. Shelly could be a bit of a gossip from what (Y/N) could remember back when they shared a class, and it wouldn't surprise her to find out that the ding she heard from Seline's computer was a message from Shelly dishing about Mr. Styles' girlfriend. 

(Y/N) was an overthinker and she knew that. The stupidest things in class could have her up at night analyzing every moment in fear she said the wrong thing or wasn't nice enough in a single moment. Everything with Andrew and Iris that happened forever ago had made her lose many weeks of sleep trying to figure out where she had gone wrong to cause either of them to treat her so poorly. When she and Harry started getting closer, she remembered the nights she would lay with her eyes on the ceiling trying to figure out if the way he said 'just friends' really meant they were only friends or if she should put more stock in the way he held her to his side and clung to her hand as he walked her home. She spun herself out on more than one occasion, and it appeared her power was needed once more. 

Stepping over the threshold to his house, (Y/N) was washed over with Harry's scent. Though the hallmarks of the typical comfort she felt walking into his space remained, she still had that lingering feeling of being out of place. Just like she had at his office. 

She kept her shoes on as she trekked through the space, forgoing the usual ritual of shucking them off before placing them beside Harry's own collection by the door. Her bag hung limply in her hand as he walked down the hall. She felt ready to bolt at a moment's notice like a spooked animal. 

Though he was partial to hanging art pieces through his home, Harry still had his fair share of personal photos pasted to the walls. A panel dedicated to his family and friends stole (Y/N)'s attention as she approached his room, eyes grazing the pictures. Many were with the friend group she was now apart of, majority with Harry's closest friends of the bunch, Mitch and Sarah. She could see holidays and getaways spent with his people; tan as he vacationed with Mitch and Tom and Jeff in Jamaica, and bundled up with a cap covering his curls while spending time in Japan. 

Trailing her eyes through the photographs, Harry's smile seemed to show the brightest in pictures with his family. More often than not, his mother and sister were tucked underneath his arms, matching smiles on their faces as they gazed into the lens. The trio of them all looked so similar; dark hair and pretty eyes, dimples and high cheekbones. 

(Y/N) wondered if his mom smiled like that when Harry told her about his girlfriend. When he told her that his girlfriend was still in university and had to have Harry order for her when they went out because she was too anxious to do it herself. Did those dimples still crater her cheeks when Harry detailed out how his girlfriend's ID was still skeptically looked at by bouncers and bartenders, a handful of them even blatantly asking if it was a fake or giving Harry a dirty look for corralling some young girl out to the bars with him. (Y/N) wondered how his sister reacted the first time she saw a photo of them on instagram, and even moreso when she had inevitably perused (Y/N)'s page after and found teenaged photos that weren't that far down the feed. 

Did either of them look the way Seline had? Did they share that same shocked surprise that Shelly had written all over her face?

Shaking her head, (Y/N) willed herself to go to his room, tearing her gaze from the wall of photos that she was only using to hurt her own feelings. Those weeds of doubt that had sprouted back at Harry's office had vined around her mind and taken her hostage with no escape route in place. 

(Y/N) knew in her heart that Harry was her perfect match; she could trust herself on that decision. No one had loved or cared for her the way he did. No one she had ever known texted her in the middle of the day just because they saw a bundle of clouds that looked like this little plush dog (Y/N) had loved as a kid. No one called her first thing in the morning with the express purpose of leaving her a voicemail to wake up to. 

She knew that Harry was her perfect match, but maybe she wasn't his. 

Was she holding him back? There could be someone out there that could actually relate to him when he brought up some toy he had as a kid that was discontinued before (Y/N) was even born. Someone who could afford to treat him to more than a cup of coffee or lunch at a greasy diner. There could be someone who could fit him better, but he was too busy entertaining her to find them.

Sinking into the edge of his mattress, (Y/N) hung her head in her hands with her elbows digging into her thighs. She knew she needed to stop herself right now, right where she was in her never-ending process of negativity. She wasn't being rational. 

Harry loved her and he wouldn't waste his time on someone the didn't believe was worth it. And, (Y/N) knew she loved him just as much, if not more than he did her. Spiraling over all of this wasn't helpful to anyone, especially when she knew there was no reason to doubt her gut or her place in Harry's life. 

But, that insecurity that rooted itself in her brain and guilt that had flooded in along with it wasn't that easy to boot. 

Pulling her head from her hands, she looked to the mess of her stuff she had made by his closet door, duffle bag left open with her clothes spilling out from all sides. (Y/N) sighed as she stood up, reaching down to clean up the mess she left on his floor after rifling through for her outfit for the day. In a pang of bitterness, she couldn't help but knock herself down with the thought that Prof Frances would never leave a mess like this at Harry's house. She was too mature, and put together to leave her charging cable laying along the floor with extra underwear hanging out of the side pocket to her bag. 

Taking a deep breath, (Y/N) shoved her things harder into her bag, wrinkling and mushing her clothes into a lump of fabric. She was mad at herself for getting so hung up over this all; it wasn't even bad what was said today! Sure it was a bit annoying to be compared to a teenager and told that her old professor would be a more predictable fit for Harry, but no one was out to hurt her feelings—it had only been herself knocking her down. Slumping back on her heels before her bag, (Y/N) wondered if she might have better luck of shaking this feeling if she just went home. 

There, she could shower using her fancy body scrub that was too hard to transport for sleepovers at Harry's, use her sweet-smelling shampoo and even do a face mask and wipe away everything that had bothered her today. At home she could lick her wounds and be a better partner to Harry when she wasn't so raw and down on herself. While she thought she hid it pretty well over lunch how upset she was, she knew it wasn't fair to Harry to wait for him to come home after a long day and pretend she was in the best of moods. 

With a sigh, brows pinched at the middle, (Y/N) hooked her overnight bag over her shoulder before reaching for her phone. She had her eyes placed on her phone as she left his room, making a point to bypass the wall of family photos without a glance. 

     hey h I think Im gonna go home:( im not feeling super good and really want to shower at my place and sleep some before class tomorrow. ill bring your shirt back after I wash it and everything. sorry :(

Her hands shook as he pressed send before locking his front door behind her. Locking her phone, (Y/N) made her way to her car with a pit in her tummy. It didn't feel good to lie to Harry, especially when it was a lie that would keep her from spending time with him. She didn't even want to see the inevitable sweet text he would send back, most likely offering to drop off soup or come by for a cuddle if she needed someone to help take care of her. In the long run, though, she knew this time apart would be good for them. 

That's why even when Harry texted her back with with a sad face and a promise that it was alright, pretty girl, she couldn't waver. Even when he sent her another message after he had assumed she'd fallen asleep while she was taking her time in the shower that he missed her and couldn't wait to see her later this week. He was here for her if she needed anything, he reminded her. 

Locking her phone without responding that night was the hardest thing she had to do. 

—————

Harry felt his heart ache when he stepped out of the shower, looping towel around his waist as he saw (Y/N) hadn't texted him back still. Poor thing really must not be feeling well if she conked out at seven, his little night owl. 

He hadn't been too surprised when she messaged him earlier in the day to let him know she wasn't feeling well, but it still made his shoulders drop at the prospect of her not being there when he got home. She had been a bit off during lunch, lost in her head and reluctant to eat more than a few bites before she claimed she was full from breakfast still. He was worried about her when he saw that she hadn't even been enticed by the side of macaroni and cheese she ordered for herself, the diner being one of her favorite places to have it. If not for the fact she told him she wanted to get some sleep in so she could be well enough for class tomorrow, Harry would have insisted in going to her place after he got off work. But, he knew that if he stopped by, she would do what she always did and try to stay awake as long as possible with him. 

If she wasn't well enough by Wednesday when they had plans to see one another, he wouldn't take no for an answer to bring her some soup or coddle her through her bug, like she had declined tonight instead for sleep. 

Settling into bed, Harry was wrapped in (Y/N)'s scent that puffed through his comforter as he fluffed it around himself. When he closed his eyes, it was like she was still with him. 

After setting his alarm early enough he had time to call (Y/N) and leave a good morning voicemail and make his cup of coffee before heading to work, Harry filled his head with all the love and affection he wished he could be giving to (Y/N) in that moment. Hopefully she would feel some of it and know he was thinking about her, and could help her feel somewhat better.

Harry hoped she was thinking about him, too.

—————

Though the threat of a day's worth of classes loomed over her head, (Y/N) woke on Wednesday morning feeling worlds better than she had even twenty-four hours prior. She had made the right choice in staying with herself for a couple of days, having all that time to spend with herself to get her head screwed on straight and talk herself down from the spiraling decline she had set herself up for. 

Tuesday had been a hard day to get through, especially as she started the day with a mention of her faux-illness in Harry's morning voicemail. That guilt she felt about holding him back, not being the right person to make him happy only increased ten-fold when she tacked on the fact she had lied to get away from him for a couple of nights. But, since she had all that time to herself she was allowed to wallow for a few hours before being sucked into real life and having to exit her head. 

The reality of it all was that it didn't matter what ran through Seline's head when she saw who her boss's girlfriend was. Same thing with Shelly; she had assumed Harry would be interested in someone like Prof Frances, but that wasn't true. Harry was interested in someone like (Y/N), and she loved him back just as much. That was all that mattered, and if anyone really had any issues, any quarrels about her age or whether or not she was an appropriate person for Harry to be in love with, didn't. She was happy with him, completely dedicated and willing to be in this relationship, and she knew he felt the same. That was all that mattered. 

By the time she'd gone to sleep on Tuesday night, (Y/N) was still happy to have this time to herself (especially since she was doing all kinds of body skincare that entailed her hands to be wrapped in serum soaked gloves and feet to be in the same situation), she missed Harry. At least this time she didn't pretend to be asleep while he was texting her. 

Wednesday morning was a piece of cake by then. The pit of anxiety that had weighed her down since Monday was finally gone, and (Y/N) couldn't have been more excited to see Harry that night. 

She just had to get through class first. 

By the time her final class of the day started—creative writing with Prof Daniels at two p.m every Wednesday and Friday—(Y/N) was excited. She actually really loved the current assignment for the class, and didn't feel even a tint of exhaustion at the idea of having plans after she was done for the day. If she made enough progress on her draft today, she might even be able to share what she had done with Harry and see what he thought. 

After Mr. Daniels made his introduction for the day, reminding the class of the first draft's due date and what themes are meant to be focused on for this assignment, he retired to his office for the hour leaving everyone to independently work and make progress on their drafts. A few of her classmates left once their professor went to his office, getting the attendance grade before going off to do whatever else they wanted for the day, but (Y/N) stayed planted in her spot, headphones in her ears.

Wanting to start off on the right foot when this project was announced, (Y/N) had outlined the general flow of the piece with each of the required themes weaved throughout, making this entire process much easier than she had in the past. (Y/N) had found her groove moments later, typing away at her laptop with quick glances back and forth at her handwritten outline. Much of the class had emptied out for the hour when she bothered to take a look around, but she didn't mind being one of the few that took advantage of this allotted time to finish her work. Besides, she didn't want to go home and forget what time it was while she was working only to have Harry come in to see her still in her sweats when she had something a little bit prettier planned to greet him with. 

When (Y/N) had just made it through the first section of her piece, out of the corner of her eye she noticed someone settling in the seat beside her. A quick glance showed it was one of the girls in her class that she often peer reviewed with, Isla. She was someone (Y/N) had met through Iris but wasn't all that close to either of them, which (Y/N) was thankful for after everything that had happened; she was nice during peer reviews and gave honest feedback, and (Y/N) would have hated having to find someone else in the class if she insisted on being loyal to Iris. 

Isla's body was positioned in her seat to face (Y/N), knees pointed toward her with a smile on her face. Her laptop was still stationed at the typical desk she occupied, so (Y/N) figured she wasn't switching her seating situation. Plucking a headphone out of her ear, (Y/N) paused her music. 

"Hey," she greeted Isla, voice quiet despite the fact almost all of her remaining classmates had their own headphones on and music playing, "What's up?" 

"Hey, (Y/N)," Isla smiled at her, quickly glancing at her phone that was lit up in her lap, "I'm so sorry to bother you, I know we're supposed to be working on our stories." 

"Its okay," (Y/N) brushed off, giving her attention to Isla despite the blinking cursor on her screen that urged her to keep going, "Did you need help with something?" 

Isla shook her head, red curls fluttering around her face, "Oh no, this is actually super weird. But, my roommate told me something that didn't sound right, but I wanted to ask you if it was true." 

A furrow pinched at (Y/N)'s brow as she listened. Couldn't Isla have just googled this? 

"Okay," she started, "I don't know if I'll know the answer, but I'll try." 

Releasing her bottom lip that had gone trapped between her teeth, Isla grabbed for her phone in her lap one more time. "You know Shelly Blake, right?" 

At the mention of Shelly's name, (Y/N) felt all the color drain from her face. Nonetheless, she gave Isla a small nod, rolling her lips between her teeth. She knew where this was going.

"Well, my roommate had brunch with her this morning, I guess, and Shelly said that you're dating her boss," Isla babbled, not being nearly as quiet as (Y/N) wanted, "But I told Kerry—my roommate—that I don't think that's true because I think Shelly's boss is, like, thirty or something. But, Shelly says that you, like, went to her office and went and saw him and all, but, I don't know, I don't believe it. I know you have a boyfriend and all, but it's not him, right?" 

(Y/N)'s mouth ran dry as soon as she heard the mention of Harry's age. Of course, that would be the point of contention as to why there was no way (Y/N) could be dating Shelly's boss. 

She didn't know what to say, but (Y/N)'s silence seemed to be enough for Isla to realize her own answer. (Y/N) worried her fingers in her lap as she tried to come up with something to say, the nourishing mask she had done on her hands the night before making a much harder task of picking at her cuticles. 

"Um, actually," (Y/N) started, feigning a smile on her features so she didn't make this interaction any more awkward by showing that she was hurt, "it is true. I've been dating him for a little while now, and I just went and visited him for lunch on Monday." 

"Oh," Isla sounded, glancing back at her phone before finally locking the device and turning it facedown, "I didn't know that. I guess I always figured the guy you post on instagram was from that tech university that's an hour away or something since I'd never seen him around." 

"Oh, no," (Y/N) shook her head, pleasant face still in place, "He's an executive at Shelly's company in the city. We just don't really hang out on campus and all, obviously." 

"And he's really, like, thirty?" 

That pit (Y/N) had been afraid of returning began to open up in her tummy again, working like a blackhole as it tried to suck her in from the inside out. "Yeah—um, he's thirty-five, actually. His birthday was a couple of months ago." 

"Wow," Isla said simply, brows raising over her eyes, "I had no idea. I didn't even know you liked older guys. Or, that there were any actually cute ones around here that were willing to date college girls." 

Just as (Y/N) was about to explain that while his age was something she found attractive, she wasn't necessarily into 'older guys', she was into Harry, Isla cut her off with a bubbling gasp that fed into a set of laughter. 

"You didn't meet him on one of those sugar daddy sites, did you? Because I've always wondered if they worked, and if you did meet him on one you need to tell me which one because I need to try."

While she knew Isla was only trying to play around, (Y/N) didn't know what to say and knew she wasn't hiding it that well. She was sure Shelly or Seline had the same phrase—sugar daddy—running through their head when they realized her relationship to Harry, but neither of them had said it out loud. There was nothing inherently wrong with those kinds of arrangements, especially when everyone was happy and willing, but to have her love for Harry be reduced down to a relationship based on favors and cash hurt (Y/N) more than she realized it could. She would never use Harry for his money or take advantage of the fact he had the means to take care of her in places where she couldn't. That was never something she ever considered when she met him, or that ever crossed her mind still. 

"Oh my god, (Y/N), I'm so sorry, that's not how I meant it at all," Isla rushed out as soon as she realized her mistake, her hands out between them as if she could wipe her comment out of thin air, "I just realized how that sounded, but I promise I didn't mean it like that, at all! I know he's your actual boyfriend, and its not like that at all. I was only trying to joke around, I'm sorry!" 

"It's okay, it's okay," (Y/N) said, trying to soothe the situation as best she could and hopefully get Isla's volume down before someone overheard her, "I know you were only joking, I just wasn't expecting it, that's all." 

"Are you sure?" Isla edged, features molded into an apology.

"Totally," (Y/N) pressed, "Don't worry about it, okay? It's not a big deal." The blackhole in (Y/N)'s stomach would love to beg to differ, though. 

"Okay," Isla accepted with a reluctant smile, "Its cool if I tell my roommate that its true then? About you and Shelly's boss and all?" 

In this moment, (Y/N) would rather die than have more people know about her relationship status and the opinions that went along with it, but there was no use in stopping it now. "Yeah, of course. Just let her know we didn't meet on a sugar daddy site, so I have no idea how legit those are." 

Her comment drew a laugh out of Isla's lips, finally easing her from her faux-pas. "Thanks, (Y/N). Sorry to bother you, again." 

As Isla stood from her borrowed seat, (Y/N) shook her head. "Its totally fine." 

After sharing quiet goodbyes, (Y/N) was left alone again with Isla settling in her typical post towards the front of the room. Pushing her headphones back into her ears, (Y/N) wanted to resume where she was at in her assignment, but couldn't find the spot in her brain to concentrate. Her outline no longer seemed useful with all of her previous work feeling like it was for naught now that she couldn't concentrate for the life of her. 

She knew her resolve was fragile when she made her peace with those comments she heard on Monday, but she didn't know it was this fragile. 

Not only had she been branded a teenage stalker, but she was now a sugar baby using Harry for his money—two things that had been shared with her in less than a week. The thread holding her sanity together was moments away from snapping if someone shared one more thought about her relationship. 

With another fifteen minutes left of class, (Y/N) just decided pack it up for the day. There was no way she was going to get any work done at this point, too much else on her mind to even begin to focus on her story. With her headphones in and bag slung over her shoulder, (Y/N) made her way out of the lecture hall with a wave over her shoulder to Isla. 

The cool air outside did some good for her as she tried to clear her mind, feeling a little less trapped in the pit in her stomach with so much space around her in the quad. Now that she was alone, (Y/N) felt the urge for her eyes to fill with tears she'd been holding back for days. 

She was just so frustrated, and, god, her feelings were hurt. Why she had to field questions about the validity of her relationship at all was something she didn't understand. Then to add that the three opinions she was given this week weren't the most kind of comments that have ever been shared with her, she wanted to scream with the frustration in her bones. 

Yes, Harry was older than her, and that was where she needed the conversation to stop. She didn't need to hear about how she had been mistaken for being someone's daughter that held misplaced affection for Harry. She didn't need to explain that no, they didn't meet on a dating site with the express purpose of setting up arrangements between wealthy men and girls like herself. Everything extra she had to field and explain was pushing her into that dark, weeded corner in the back of her mind. 

Making it to her car, (Y/N) didn't have the strength to hold back her tears anymore. The tint of her windows shielded the glimmer of her tears as they fell down her cheeks, tracking through the light layer of makeup she applied that morning. Her lungs squeezed as she tried to breath through her sobs the same way her fists did at her sides.

They'd only been together for a little over half a year, and just barely scratched the surface of the kind of comments (Y/N) feared they would get until she was old enough that people didn't notice the gap between them. How much longer could she do this, if she was now sobbing in her car after only a couple of days worth of off-handed comments. 

Without much forethought, (Y/N) reached for her phone and pulled up Harry's contact.  

      i think that bug i had is coming back :( I felt a little better yesterday but today's been really hard so I don't think it would be a good idea to hang out tonight h im sorry:( I don't want to get you sick:( 

She locked her phone before she could see if he was crafting his own reply back or even read the message. She needed to be alone tonight, and that was all (Y/N) let herself focus on as she drove back home.

—————

Coming out of his meeting, Harry couldn't help but let his shoulders fall as he looked at (Y/N)'s text. She still wasn't feeling well? From what she told him yesterday, she was just about good as new. 

There was no way he was going to let her get away with a third day in a row of not feeling well without stopping by or doing his part to help her feel better. 

Typing out a quick reply, Harry told her he was sad to hear she still wasn't feeling good and that he missed her immensely as he mapped out his stop to the shops before rerouting himself to her apartment after he was done with work for the day. She didn't deserve to care for herself when he was perfectly capable of at least making her some dinner and helping her get to bed. 

And, call him selfish, but Harry couldn't wait to see her again.

—————

Armed with a plastic bag containing the ingredients to his favorite chicken soup his mom used to make him when he was young, and a bouquet of flowers he hoped would brighten her day, Harry knocked on the door to (Y/N)'s apartment. That familiar shuffling sound on the other side of the door sounded through the wood as he awaited her, a grin poking at he edges of his lips at the idea of finally seeing her again for the first time since Monday. 

By the time she opened the door with a creak, Harry's smile dropped as soon as it formed. 

(Y/N)'s eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, lashes bundled together in the fresh wetness that had seeped form her tear ducts. She halfway hid behind the door, peering at him with a quiver in her lip as she avoided his gaze. 

"What are you doing here?" 

While that wasn't exactly the greeting he had been hoping for when he decided to come over, he figured he shouldn't have set his standards up so high knowing that she was feeling sick. He had just hoped she hadn't felt so ill she had to cry over it. 

"Oh, sweetheart," Harry crooned as he gazed at her, taking a careful step forward with the toe of his boot edging over the threshold, "How are y'feeling?" 

"I'm alright," she sniffled, running a heavy hand through her hair, "I thought I told you I couldn't see you tonight." 

"I know, I jus' couldn't live with myself if I didn't come help you even a little. I brought some soup for you." The flowers he had bundled against his chest tickled underneath his chin as he readied to take over her kitchen for the night. 

When she hesitated and dropped her gaze to the floor, Harry felt his gut drop. 

"I think you should go home, Harry." 

The nasal tone of her voice accompanied the wobble of her lower lip as she spoke, her eyes flooding with a new set of tears. 

Reaching out with a reluctant hand, Harry reached for her as he tried not to step through the door no matter how badly he wanted to hold her. He didn't want to overwhelm her. 

"Sweetheart, I don't mind that you're sick, 's alright. Jus' let me take care of you, you're worrying me," he pressed. Just as his hand grazed her cheek, (Y/N) took a step back from him, widening the gap between them that was beginning to feel like a trench. 

The way (Y/N) looked up at him afterwards told him she was just as surprised that she had distanced herself. Harry didn't know what was worse: (Y/N) deliberately taking a step away from him when he tried to touch her, or her moving out of the way on instinct, her subconscious keeping him from touching her? 

"Harry, I-I think I need to be alone tonight." 

"(Y/N), really. I don't mind taking care of you, you kno—" 

"I'm not sick, Harry! I just... Let me be alone." 

Harry stood stock-still, shocked by her outburst. The way she curled up on herself afterwards, recoiling form her own words, could have broken his heart if it wasn't already on its way to being shattered from her second request for him to leave. 

"You're—I thought," Harry floundered, his hand with his bouquet of flowers dropping limply to his side, "Y'told me y'haven't been feeling well since Monday." 

Another heavy hand moved its way through her hair, a tug being administered to her scalp. "I know I did, I'm sorry. I just didn't know if I could talk to you af—" 

(Y/N) was cut off by the sound of her neighbour's door opening, a blonde haired girl walking down the hall with an awkward smile stretched on her face as she realized what she had just walked into. (Y/N) reciprocated as much as she could until her neighbour disappeared down the length of the staircase, that was when her smile dropped again. 

He knew she was feeling embarrassed as she stepped off to the side, widening the berth of the door for Harry to fit through. She gestured for him to step inside, though it lacked every bit of enthusiasm that he had grown accustomed to when he visited her. With the plastic bag crinkling at his side and the bouquet of flowers rustling in the wax paper they were wrapped in, Harry stepped through the threshold of her door, her apartment almost completely silent. 

Standing by awkwardly, Harry waited as she locked her door after him and padded her way to her living room where he stood. Swallowing around the lump in his throat, Harry glanced down at the flowers in his grasp. 

"These are for you, by the way," he murmured, offering her the bundle of white magnolias. 

With her gaze attached to the flowers, Harry watched as (Y/N)'s eyes welled up with a new batch of tears. She peeped out a thank you as she pulled the arrangement from his hand, padding off to her kitchen while Harry stood in silence. 

He didn't know what she was about to tell when her neighbor interrupted them, but he almost didn't want to know. Knowing that she hadn't been ill and was using that as an excuse to avoid him was enough to have him on edge already, he didn't want to know why she had been avoiding him in the first place. 

Relenting himself to sit on her couch, sinking into the stuffed cushion, Harry sat with his chin in his hand and elbows digging into his thighs. It felt like hours as he listened to her pull a vase from her cabinet, followed by the running water for the flowers. Normally he would be there helping her, teasing her as she reached for the vase and helping her arrange the blossoms in the water so every stem could take a dip. Not today, Harry guessed, he wasn't needed.

When she finally joined him, (Y/N) took a spot on the opposing chair set up in her living room, the stiff decorative pillow taking up most of the cushion as she sat on the edge. Shifting his chin in his hand, he gazed at her through his lashes as he waited for her to finish what she started. 

As the silence stretched on, Harry felt more and more cracks appear in his heart. He couldn't take much more of this, especially when she couldn't even muster the courage to look at him. What did she need to tell him that was so bad she couldn't even look at him for a second? 

Dropping his face into his hands, Harry slid his fingers through his curls, a startling pinch being delivered to the roots as he tightened his grip. "Why didn't y'want to talk to me, (Y/N)? What happened?" he grumbled out. 

A sniffle sounded from the chair, but he didn't have the heart to look up. It would only make it harder to hear what she had to say if he had to watch her cry, too. 

"Harry, I—" (Y/N) cut herself off, her thought dropping from her tongue before she had even bothered to finish putting it together, "I don't know how to tell you." 

Something bubbled in his chest as he heard her hesitance to speak to hm still, even as he sat right in front of her. Frustration welled up in his system. How was he supposed to make anything better, fix his mistakes that led to her avoiding him, or make her at least stop crying when she wouldn't even tell him what was wrong?! How was he going to have a chance to save them from whatever had dug itself in her mind when he had no idea what he was up against?!

Forcing a deep breath into his lungs, Harry shuttered his eyes as he kept his head down in his hands. The heels of his palms dug into his eyes as he waited, giving her one last chance to say anything before he would take over. 

With the sound of his blood rushing through his ears, Harry unclenched his jaw, "Start with why y'wanted to avoid me so bad y'pretended to be sick for almost three days." 

"It's not that simple, H—" 

"Then, what happened?! What did I do wrong?! You jus' keep sitting there, crying, but y'wont tell me what I did wrong or how to fix it!" 

By that point, Harry was grateful for the fact his eyes were closed as he pulled his head from his hands, chancing a look up at (Y/N) though that view was quickly distorted by his own round of tears that flooded his vision. Sniffing his nose, Harry scrubbed his hands over his eyes to rid himself of the tears, still too frustrated to worry about them when (Y/N) still hadn't explained. 

With her fingers a nervous bundle in her lap, (Y/N) broke with her bottle lip wobbling and eyes closed as if to stave off another round of crying. "It was when I vi-visted you at work." 

Nodding his head, Harry took in deep breaths, already regretting the way he snapped at her. "Okay, thank you," he started, softening his tone as he gave her to the full of his attention, "What happened?" 

(Y/N) shook her head as she ran her hand through her hair, rolling her eyes at herself. "It wasn't even that big of a deal, so I don't know why it's bothering me so bad," she rushed out, voice wobbling, "It was just... Seline? That receptionist on the lobby floor?" 

Harry nodded his head, beginning to worry at the mention of Seline. She could be a bit cold, that much everyone at the office knew. 

"She—I don't know, it was just weird when I talked to her. I know I wasn't on your permission list or whatever since I was surprising you, but she said something after she figured out that I was there to see you that's just stuck with me." (Y/N) swallowed, her eyes still facing the ceiling as Harry waited on her, his fingers prattling with his rings. "She... She said she didn't want to let me up at first because she wasn't sure if I was a daughter of one of your clients, coming to visit Mr. Styles after getting too attached over a busy dinner." 

Rolling his lips between his teeth, Harry nodded his head. Sounded like Seline, that was for sure. 

(Y/N) finally chanced a glance down at him then, feeling somewhat more calm now that she was getting everything out that had been rattling her brain for almost three days now. 

"Then," she continued, surprising Harry as he had just began devising some kind of plan to keep Seline from being so rude to people in the waiting area,  "I didn't realize that the Shelly on your floor was someone I go to school with." Harry sighed as he figured out where this was going. "She was really surprised to see me," (Y/N) muttered, fluttering her lashes as she tried to keep her waterworks at bay, "As soon as I told her I was your girlfriend, she got kind of weird and told me she didn't expect your girlfriend to be someone like me. When I asked her what she meant, she brought up this professor that used to work at my school, that everyone thought was really pretty, and was around your age, obviously. It wasn't that bad but after what I heard from Seline, it didn't really help.

"And then, today, I guess Shelly got brunch with the roommate of a girl in my creative writing class, and they apparently talked about how I'm dating Shelly's thirty year old boss, and the girl in my class asked if I met you on a sugar daddy website." 

Now, that stung. The other two comments she shared with him hurt him for the fact it was hurting (Y/N), cheap shots taken at their relationship that questioned the depth of it just because of the gap between their ages. But this one—the implication that their relationship was nothing more than Harry giving out money and gifts in exchange for (Y/N)'s company—took a stab at his heart. 

Harry knew what a relationship would look like to others the second he took a liking to (Y/N). That was why, other than wanting to maintain (Y/N)'s happiness and comfort in her friend group, he didn't pursue her. He knew that someone of his age and position financially wasn't supposed to mix with a college-age girl that had piled on student loans and worked as much as she could on the side to help pay for school. He knew that those two things could invite people to make comments or pull faces, he knew that. But, maybe they had just been lucky with how well it was going beforehand; their friends didn't mind, never once making a comment or raising a brow at the idea of the two of them together, along with his family being so supportive when he divulged details about his (Y/N), and even strangers on the street didn't give them a second glance. They had been successfully missing any of these comments up until this point, and, of course, it was (Y/N) who had to endure them. 

If he hadn't already felt like shit for yelling at her earlier, now he felt like he should go sit on the curb with the rest of the trashbins. 

Rising from his position on the couch, Harry moved to crouch in front of (Y/N). Instinctively, she spread her legs wide enough to allow him access to sit between. Settling his hands on either of her thighs, he waited on her to return to her living room with him, leaving the dark space of her head behind. 

"(Y/N)?" he murmured, squeezing the full of her flesh in his palms, "Look at me, love." 

Running her fingertips under her eyes, (Y/N) cleared her tears away before she looked down at him, her bottom lip trembling though she tried to hold it all back. "I'm sorry, Harry." 

"Hey, hey," he crooned, shaking his head, "Don't need to be sorry, okay? Don't need to apologize for what they said." 

"B-But, I shouldn't have stopping seeing you or talking to you over it," she countered, dropping her gaze to her lap though she didn't dare lace her fingers between his like she usually did, "I just didn't know what to do. I started to feel guilty." 

"What do you mean, pretty girl? Guilty over what?" 

"Li-Like I was holding you back or something," she whispered, the volume of her voice being the only thing that kept it from breaking, "I-I don't want you to mi-miss out on someone who might fit you better. Or, at least be able to handle something like this without avoiding you." 

Harry shook his head as he stood to his feet, reaching for her hands that were bundled into a fumbling mess as she kept them from grabbing for his. Wrapping his fingers around her wrists, he pulled her to stand up before he replaced himself in her seat. The decorative pillow was crushed under his weight, becoming an uncomfortable lump under his bottom but Harry didn't pay it any mind as he pulled (Y/N) to sit in his lap. Her legs hung over the side of his own, her shoulder pressed against his chest as he looped his arms around her, interlocking his fingers as they rested on her hip. 

"You've got to listen to me, (Y/N), 'kay?" Harry waited until he got a small nod from her, eyes meeting his through the frame of her lashes. "There's no one out there that could fit me better than y'do, do you hear me? I had some extra time before I ever even met you to meet this better fit, and I've never found anyone that comes close to the way y'make me feel. There's no one out there that would love me better than y'can, and I know that. Don't feel guilty over something that doesn't exist." 

"But—" 

"No, I told y'to listen to me, didn't I?" Harry stopped her, unwilling to hear her make up fake scenarios about someone who didn't exist. "It hurts knowing that these comments made y'want to avoid me, but I understand why because I understand you. Y'weren't trying to hurt me, y'jus' wanted some time to yourself to be a little mopey and figure it all out before y'saw me again—I understand. Right?" 

"Yeah," she peeped, her cheeks heating and eyes watering as she listened to him, "I didn't mean to hurt you, Harry." 

"I know, I know," he murmured, dropping a careful kiss to her cheek, his heart eased when she didn't flinch away. "And 'm not upset now that I know, okay? Don't need to be sad over that. And, 'm sorry I yelled at you; I got scared when y'wouldn't say anything, but I shouldn't have done that. We're a team and teams don't work when one of us is being mean." The small nod and I forgive you, that (Y/N) gave him allowed for a short smile to carve into Harry's lips before he grew serious. "I jus' need y'to be honest with me for a second, then." 

A short nod came from (Y/N) as her hands unraveled, finally relieving Harry as she curled her fingers around his forearm to keep him close. 

Swallowing, Harry tried to figure the best way to phrase any of his questions. "Do you...Did any of what these people said make y'doubt being with me?"

Her answer was immediate in the shake of her head, stray strands of hair fluttering around her face, "No, no, no. I love you so much, Harry, I just want you to be happy. I don't want you to be bothered one day when you realize I'm not at the same spot as you; I don't know all of those references you make and I can't take you out for fancy dinners the way you do for me. At least not until I'm out of school." 

"I don't—... None of that matters to me, okay?" he reassured her with a squeeze of his arms around her, "I don't care about any of that. I like getting to see y'grow and learn and I never expect you to pay me back for any of the things I do for you. I don't understand all of your little jokes, either, sweetheart, and I know that doesn't bother you, because you're like me in that way. We love being with each other, and that's what makes us happiest, so that's all that matters. Right?" 

A watery smile worked its way on her lips as she nodded her head. "Right." 

"See, sweetheart," he cooed, "As long as we're on the same page about that, we can get through anything, can't we?" He was rewarded with another short nod and quiet smile. "'M sorry that y'were the one that had to hear those things, and I want y'to know that y'never have to hide that from me again. Tell me and I'll help talk y'down, okay?"

"Okay." 

"Good girl," he praised her, even when she couldn't speak louder than a whisper and manage a smile bigger than the one on her lips if she didn't want her features to crumble. "'M always gonna help you, jus' need y'to tell me how. Can y'promise me that?" 

"I promise, Harry." 

"M'best girl, aren't you?" he crooned to her, dropping his face to nudge his nose again her own. Her smile grew as she took in his words, just as he wanted. "Can I kiss you, sweetheart?" he asked her the full of his lips brushing against her own. 

The quiet nod he gave him was all he needed before he pressing his lips in affectionate pecks all over her face, starting with her plush lips. With each dot of his lips over her skin, more and more bubbling giggles fell from (Y/N)'s smiling mouth, his grip on her tightening as she wiggled in his lap. The bridge of her nose was smothered in his love before he tapped over her cheeks with his lips. Her forehead wasn't spared in the carnage either, getting as many kisses as he could fit in the space until he had to drop his kisses to her eyelids. The salt of her tears was bittersweet as he tasted them on his kiss; sweet knowing that he was able to quell them, but the bitter taste lingered knowing that they started in sadness. By the time he made his way back down to her lips, she was smiling too big to pucker her lips against his. 

"Kiss me back, pretty girl," he murmured, his own amusement seeping into his tone no matter how hard he tried to keep it held back. 

That was all the encouragement she needed before (Y/N) was cradling his face in her hands and trying her best to kiss him through her smile. It was clumsy and off-center, not perfect by far, but it was easily one of Harry's favorite kisses he's ever shared with her. This was where all of her sweetness concentrated itself: in her kiss as she nudged her nose against his and breathed out giggles every time Harry pulled away. 

"I love you," she spoke against his kiss. 

"I love you too, sweetheart, always," he murmured, drawing away just enough to match his gaze to hers. "Me and you, remember?" 

The mantra he had repeated to her more than once brought a bright smile to (Y/N)'s face. 

"Me and you, H." 

—————

angst is always so hard for me to write so I hope everyone enjoys this! thank u sm for reading and sorry for any mistakes! if you have any ideas or requests of your own please send them in:)

[writingjourney]

Friday Nights at the Cinema Club | Vampire!Primo x gn!Reader

Summary: The handsome old gentleman who attends the late night showings is certainly the best part about your small town weekend job. But as the gentle attraction between you slowly begins to bloom, you realise that there’s more to him than meets the eye – and promptly find yourself chased into the woods by an unexpected monster.

Content: 14k words, vampire!primo, gn!reader, horror, violence, being hunted, harassment, men being assholes, smut (18+ MDNI, biting, blood kink/blood drinking, oral sex r!receiving, penetration, coming inside, unprotected sex)

This was originally intended to fill the “hunted” prompt for the @petrifyingpapas challenge. I am a little late but I hope you enjoy it anyway and give Primo his chance to shine! ♡

Masterlist – Ao3 link – Part 2 | Secondo's story

“This life of earth, whatever my attire, Would pain me in its wonted fashion. Too old am I to play with passion; Too young, to be without desire.”

― Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Faust: Part 1

Now

He’s been following you for weeks.

Primo just can’t stop himself, no matter how many times he tells himself that he’s overstepping. As he watches the hurried pace you set, carrying you home in the early hours of a cool spring morning, he smells your distress like an overly strong perfume. Jacket tightly wrapped around your tense shoulders, your steps quicken whenever you leave the safe light of a streetlamp. You’re always nervous walking home alone, even more so since the incident at work. 

This is the very thought that calms his conscience – his concern is rightful, necessary even. He has to protect you because you have no one else who will. Not that you cannot protect yourself, he knows you can, you hold your own quite nicely, but why take any unnecessary risks? Four eyes see more than two, especially if two of those have preternatural vision.

Suddenly you stop, glancing around with searching eyes. “Hello?”

Primo stops as well. It’s impossible that you heard him, he didn’t make any sounds that a human ear could process. Your eyes dart in a different direction and he’s on alert immediately. A few rapid beats of your heart pass. You seem to decide that you’re alright because you continue on your journey even if your legs move that extra bit quicker, walking as fast as possible without actually running.

No, Primo knows you don’t need him. You never ask him to walk you home and when he offers, you politely decline every single time. You don’t need him. You don’t need him how he needs you, and yet it feels good to imagine that you do. That anyone does. The thought he will not entertain, however, is that his motive is a selfish one. He’s been lonely for so long that he pours all that he has into this… whatever this is. And why should he not? In all the centuries that passed since he was cast upon this earth you’re the most wonderful thing he ever had the pleasure to behold and his time with you is so tragically limited, no matter what happens. 

“Fuck,” he hears you mutter then, effectively distracting him. Again, you stop very suddenly, glancing vaguely into the direction he’s hiding in but without any real focus. “Who the fuck is there?”

Primo doesn’t sense anyone else. Possibly, you just heard a strange noise which wouldn’t be the first time since the incident. You’ve been on edge ever since and understandably so. Of course you don’t know that there is no danger of the same thing ever repeating. Which doesn’t mean you’re safe from other perils. Primo dares to stalk closer, foolishly so, because he’s too close now and you must have spotted his movements in the dark because you start to run like your life depended on it.

To his utter terror, you don’t follow your usual route home but take the shortcut through the woods. With breakneck speed, you run along the mud path that meanders through thick pine trees and mossy hills. Primo has no issue keeping up with you of course but he worries about protruding roots and sharp stones you may not see with your human eyes. 

His fear is misdirected. He’s so distracted, watching your every step, that he doesn’t notice the odd smell at first, the second strong, comparatively slow heartbeat amongst all the quiet and rapid ones of the forest animals. But this is no rabbit, no deer, no boar. When he finally notices the presence of the strange entity, the spike of panic is clouding every other rational thought.

He is after you – and he’s fast.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

Four weeks ago

The man has been attending the late night showings for weeks now, every Friday and Saturday. Every week, he shows up exactly fifteen minutes before the screening starts, even though there are practically no waiting times in the small club cinema you’re working at. His attire was what drew your attention to him that first night, even before you’d seen his face, and his choice of clothing seems deliberate. Most evenings, he wears simple black slacks over expensive-looking Italian leather brogues. Tonight, he combined them with a loose white shirt with frills and an open collar that peeks out of a burgundy tailcoat with black lapels and gold embroideries. It looks old-fashioned but not out of place in the similarly dated establishment.

As he approaches you behind the counter, you’re struck yet again, despite being familiar with his almost ethereal looks by now. He must be close to eighty but his deep wrinkles only add to his effortless beauty. His most notable feature, however, is the skull paint adorning his stern face with two uncanny, mismatched eyes – one iris in green and one impossibly white. With his face framed by long blond hair spilling over his shoulders, silky and curled at the ends, he looks like a man who knows exactly how to present himself. An air of easy sophistication surrounds him as he takes deliberate steps in your direction. You’re not surprised that he shows up on weekends when your boss screens his beloved classics. At least that’s what he calls any movie that came out before the year 2000.

“So, Dracula today, yes?” It’s not a question as much as a statement, dripping with distaste. “And the 1992 one at that.”

“Do you not enjoy vampires, sir?” you ask, taking the money for his ticket. Every single bill looks pristine, like it’s been freshly printed, and again, he won’t accept the change you hold out to him, waving off with a gentle smile. Buy yourself a drink on my behalf, tesoro, he’d said once, and you aren’t questioning him anymore, you just pocket the money since there is no one you could split it with.

He regards you with interest. “I enjoy them, sì, though I never found their portrayal in cinema quite believable.”

You chuckle. “Well, perhaps that is because they’re not real.”

“Perhaps, yes,” he says unfazed. “Or perhaps it is the clichés, no?”

“I really like the movie,” you admit. “Though I wish she would just get with the vampire. I certainly wouldn’t hesitate.”

He cocks a curious eyebrow. “Davvero?”

His thick Italian accent makes you blush on any given day, even more so when he speaks plain Italian. There is something about the timbre of his voice that changes, like gold melting in the heat of a forge, the syllables fused together with a flick of his tongue.

“Mhm,” is all you can answer.

“Will you watch it as well, little flower?” he asks and you smile at the nickname he chose for you weeks ago when he caught you arranging a bouquet in the foyer.

“Oh, no, I’m not allowed to leave the register unattended. Or… well, watch movies while I’m supposed to work.”

“I see.” He smiles again, the black lines over his lips shifting so that he looks almost gentle, the severity of the paint watered down by the kindness in his eyes. “That is a pity.”

Is he flirting with you? You can’t tell. Surely, he is just being nice, a polite older gentleman. Would you want him to be flirting with you, though? No, of course not. You couldn’t even flirt back. Your boss might fire you if he found out that you even so much as looked at him the wrong way.

“Can I offer you a snack or a drink, sir?” you ask, remembering your actual job.

“You know, I will take a whisky today,” he says. “If you have it.”

“Of course we do, sir, you can choose your seat and I will serve it in a second.”

The stranger heads off towards the screening room with its soft, polished leather armchairs and moody lighting, jazz tunes wafting from the speakers. You look after him, his long hair gently swaying with every step, and the door to the backroom springs open. It’s your boss, Max, a man in his mid-forties, so unremarkable with his shaggy black hair and his blatant misogyny that he could be any man you ever met. Only that he practically owns you by way of paying for your every bill while you finish your degree. Jobs in small towns are hard to come by, decent men even harder.

“Go serve our customer, come on,” he urges. “I heard him ask for something”

“The register…”

“I take it. Move your pretty ass over, perhaps wiggle a bit when you do, the old pervert is going to love it.” 

You make to leave without wiggling, heading towards the small serving station in the hallway. “Oh, hey,” Max calls after you. “I need you to clean up tonight. Cleaning lady called in sick. Feeling faint or whatever, broke down in the supermarket if you can believe it. They say she’s anemic, that’s their excuse for everything women have these days.”

“Okay,” you reply, hoping he chokes on his tongue one of these days. “Of course, Max. I’ll clean up. No problem.”

“Be a good little thing, don’t forget to check under the seats, always tons of junk down there after the evening showings.”

You nod and try not to run into the screening room and away from him. By now, all anger towards him has been numbed by the sheer amount of obnoxious remarks but you’re never sure if he’s above trying to actually touch you one day. So far, he’s all bark and no bite, but with men like him you never know. Being the only employee who works the night shifts doesn’t help but there is just not enough demand to bring in the others.

You find the stranger in one of the top rows, comfortably seated in what is your favourite spot as well. A smile creeps onto your face. “Here is your whiskey, sir.”

The man peers up at you in what looks like ingenuine surprise, his white eye showing a glimmer of sympathy. He must have heard you and Max but is clearly trying not to show it. You wonder how – you can’t even hear Max outside right now over the jazz music. 

“Grazie mille,” he says as he takes the glass from you.

“Of course, sir. Enjoy your movie.”

“Thank you, fiore.” He smiles, always such a kind smile. “You are a wonderful host.”

You can’t help but smile back, looking at him for just a little longer than is appropriate. But Max must have started the film because the lights dim suddenly until it’s fully dark and you hurry back outside right as the title music starts playing.

Your stranger is the only guest tonight.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

Now 

You run. You run so fast that your lungs are burning in the cold night air. There is no palpable explanation for why you feel so panicked. For most of your way home you’ve felt almost paranoid in your constant fear of being followed. You felt like someone was watching you right from the start but when you came close to the woods your instincts just told you to run. By now, your legs carry you almost automatically despite the fatigue in your limbs. There is a tiny voice in your head that tells you you’re in danger. Big danger.

Halfway through the forest, the track gets steeper. Less feet have trampled it flat as the usual walking path ends and you struggle to keep up your pace. Unsettling noises grow louder to your right – panting, hurried steps, moans and whimpers. Two seconds later you suddenly hear an echoing growl that puts any wolf to shame. Your head whips around but before you can make out anything in the pitch dark your foot gets caught on a root. The impact is suffocating. Your lungs empty out and you think you’re choking on nothing. Only after a long moment in which you struggle for breath do you feel the sharp pain in your arm where it hit a rock, warm blood seeping into your sleeve until its wet and sticky.

Meanwhile, the steps hurry closer and even in the full moon light it’s hard to tell where you are right now. But then you see the trees swaying at the edge of the path and all you know is that you need to keep going. Everything hurts but you manage to get to your feet. As the world sways around you, you leave the safety of the trail in favour of the cover of the trees, their canopy shielding you from the moonlight and hopefully any following eyes.

But of course the creature chasing you doesn’t rely on their vision to find you. Before you walk another mile you can hear rapid footsteps and panting breaths behind you. Too scared to look around and risk another fall, you just run and jump and run even faster. The woods grow thicker, harder to navigate. You try to fish for your phone but when you finally pull it out, it slips from your grasp. “Fuck fuck fuck,” you mutter but you keep running. You can’t stop. 

A familiar boulder appears somewhere in your peripheral vision and you wonder if you’re running in circles. You’re so lost. Even if the creature doesn’t get you, you’re doomed. But the thought is distant as a branch strikes you in the face like a whip. You run but more fallen branches block your path and as you try to jump, you get caught. 

A shriek tears from your throat, so loud and drawn-out that your voice gives out before it ends. The steps are so close now that you know you’re going to get caught any second now. Cowering, trying to get as small as possible, you slowly shift around, ready to beg for mercy. An enormous shadow sprints towards you and suddenly, a bright streak of moonlight falls through the trees. You cry out again as your eyes take in the sight: Spit-coated fangs, claws, thick rough fur on what you can only describe as a giant made of muscles and the horrors of the night. Its facial features look familiar, shaggy hair falling into its cruel eyes. Whatever it is has no merciful bone in its body, that much you can tell. This is your death, you realise. This is it. 

But before you feel the fangs sink into your skin or the claws tear you open, the monster loses balance. All you can see is a vague human-like figure pushing it aside into the shadows with a strength that is impossible to comprehend, two tall silhouettes wrestling for a moment before the huge hairy creature lets out a bone-chilling scream. The giant body slumps in on itself, lifeless, silent. You breathe in gasps, swallowing air that does nothing to calm you down. You fall over, sobbing silently in short-lived relief.

The monster is dead. But you’re not alone.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

Three weeks ago

“So, are you a big movie fan?” the stranger had asked you today when you served him his whiskey. He always orders something now, almost like knowing you serve him permanently changed his ’no thank you’-attitude. Whenever you bring him his order he asks you questions and you end up chatting with him for longer than you should.

“Oh, I like them, yes, but the reason I work here, if that’s why you’re asking, is that it’s one of the few jobs I can do on weekends that pays extra for night shifts.”

“So do you have a day job as well?” he asks, taking his first sip. He’s wearing all black today, black leather gloves, a black shirt and black tailcoat. The only pop of colour is a red rose that he has tugged into a buttonhole of his open jacket.

“Finishing off my degree,” you explain. “I don’t think I’ll work here after that.”

His brow furrows in surprise. “No?”

You chuckle. “No, it doesn’t pay that well. It doesn’t pay well at all, actually.”

“I see.” He turns the tumbler in his hand, the amber liquid twirling inside. “I have to say I am glad. I do not think he treats you well.”

You glance towards the door but Max seems to be busy behind the counter still. “He’s… okay.”

The stranger huffs out a laugh. “No, è un stronzo.”

The smirk that tugs at your lips is hard to shake off, especially with the way he rolls the R in the word. “Yeah, he is. But I have to pay rent and get groceries, so...”

“I understand.” Another sip, slow, barely coating his lips. “Fiore, I do wonder… what is it that you truly burn for? What would you do if no restrictive invention like money mattered?”

You take a deep breath and then you start to tell him about your real interests, your passions. He listens with the avid attention of someone who genuinely cares, who doesn’t just ask out of mere politeness. It’s addicting, the way his intense eyes are glued to your lips, how his whole body is angled into your direction. You get so lost in his gaze, in your explanation, that you forget yourself for a moment.

“Eh!” Max suddenly calls out from the doorway and you jump at the sound of his voice. “Come over for a second, will you?”

You reluctantly leave the stranger in his armchair with an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. Enjoy your movie, sir.”

“I will,” he says. “Thank you, fiorellino.”

Max watches you with a scowl, roughly pulling you aside as soon as you’re within reach. “Do I pay you for chitchat?”

“No, Max, I’m sorry. I just…”

“You just what?” he snaps, clenching his jaw. “Flirting with the old men won’t get you higher tips, it only screams pathetic whore. You think he can still get it up?”

You stay silent, waiting for him to calm down enough to notice the impropriety of his words and actions. The urge to kick him is so hard to fight that you have to actively push your feet harder into the ground. Your fists ache with how hard you’re clenching them.

Eventually he simmers down, smoothing out his shirt as he clears his throat. “Anyway, you need to clean up again today. The cleaner still hasn’t shown up.”

“What happened?” you ask.

He shrugs but it’s an ingenuine, uncaring gesture. “Apparently she ran away or something. She’s been missing for a while.”

Missing? Wasn’t she anemic? Before you can ask any more questions he leaves you standing right there to start the movie. You head back to the register even though you know no other guests are going to be coming in tonight. For the whole duration of the movie, all you do is wait, scrolling on your phone from where you’re hiding it underneath the desk. No local news site is able to tell you anything about the missing cleaner other than the fact that she just left over night exactly a week ago and hasn’t been found ever since.

“Oh, did we miss the movie?”

You look up to see two men strolling into the lobby. They sway slightly, probably drunk, and smoke despite the big no-smoking sign at the entrance that’s impossible to miss. They look familiar in how unremarkable they appear, one is blond, the other one dark-haired, jeans and crumpled t-shirts betraying their status even though they move with the confident audacity only mediocre white men have.

“Yes, I’m sorry. The movie is almost over,” you say. “By the way, you’re not allowed to smoke in here, sir.”

“Are you off soon, then, sweetheart?” the blond one asks, taking another drag of his cigarette

“No, I have to clean up.”

“Ah, cleaning up… whatever, can’t be that dirty in there, huh?” He grins. “Unless… we make it dirty.”

“Fuck you.”

“Oh, a feisty one!” the dark-haired man says. “That’s how you treat your customers?”

“You haven’t bought anything.”

They whistle almost in unison, though their tunes are slightly off-key. This is not the first time this happens, it’s not even the first time these exact men show up here and try to harass you.

“Come on, maybe you can show us where you keep the liquor?” the blond man asks. “Have a drink with us?”

“I don’t think so, sir. If you don’t want to buy anything, I have to ask you to leave.” You try to stay polite, giving him a tight-lipped smile. “Please.”

He chuckles, tries to round the counter to touch you but there is a sudden shift in atmosphere. It’s almost like all of the warmth is sucked from the room, like the charged air of a thunderstorm is crackling inside its walls. The men seem to feel it too because they suddenly stop in their movements, giving each other nervous glances.

“You were asked to leave, signori, no?”

You look up to find your stranger entering the lobby. The movie must have ended because the lights are on again and he looks so menacing that even you feel a chill running down your spine. His white eye glimmers dangerously, the other one shimmering almost red now but it could be a trick of lighting. They’re narrowed, the skull paint and severity of his features giving him the air of a predator. When the blond man takes another step into your direction, out of spite or stupidity you’re not quite sure, the stranger is on him in a second. You’re surprised by how agile he appears in his age, wondering briefly if he just looks older than he is or if you’re just prejudiced. But the man backs away immediately, joining his buddy by the door. A second later Max enters as well from the backroom, looking mildly irritated but unbothered by the weird atmosphere as he slams the door shut.

“Any issues here?” he asks, taking in the two loiterers. 

The men slowly backtrack, holding up their arms in pretend innocence. While the dark-haired one slips out the door, the blond man lingers. “No issue, no. Just had a question about your schedule.”

Max gives a dismissive wave of his hand and when the man is finally gone, he turns to you. “Were you rude to our customers?”

“They weren’t customers,” you say defensively, angry that he’d even assume something like that. “They were drunks.”

“Hmpf.” He gives the stranger another glance, still unimpressed, then grabs his bag from under the counter. “I’m off now. See you tomorrow. And hey, don’t forget to clean and lock up.”

“Yeah, see you,” you say, trying to swallow the lump of anger in your throat.

As soon as Max is gone, the stranger’s whole demeanour changes. His expression softens and he reaches out, his hand hovering right by your arm. 

“You are alright, little flower?” he asks.

You nod but it’s hard to fight off the tears. Situations like that make you feel helpless and you hate it. Being at the mercy of these men is frustrating, especially with a boss who just lets it slide instead of protecting his employees. You could have handled the situation, you tell yourself, you’ve had to handle so many similar ones before, but it just feels so incredibly good that someone cares.

“I think so,” you finally choke out. “I just… This is not uncommon and I’m so fed up.”

“I understand,” he says. “Did these men bother you before?”

“Yeah, but other people as well. Even Max treats me like a piece of meat just because I’m young.”

There is a hidden anger in his face, a barely noticeable clench of his jaw, his brow slightly pulled together. You’re not scared anymore, though. The menacing energy he exudes is directed at something else, not you, and you can’t bring yourself to wonder how he manages to command a room like that.

“Is it okay if I touch you?” he asks.

You nod and he reaches out, running a gloved hand up and down your arm in silent comfort. You take a step closer and he lifts his other hand as well, gently cradling your cheek. When a fat tear of anger falls from your eye he catches it, telling you it’s okay if you need to let it out. But you don’t cry, you don’t want to feel weak or fall into his arms like a sobbing child. Nevertheless, his comfort feels like a gentle hug, calming you so easily.

For a moment, he lets you breathe in the same air, a leather-clad thumb swiping over your cheekbone with a calming steadiness. You smile at him and he smiles back, so softly that not even the skull paint can hide the gentleness of his features.

“I have to clean up now,” you say. “Thank you for being here.”

He simply nods, slowly pulling away from you. Only when he’s gone and you smell a faint flowery scent do you notice that he’s tugged the rose from his jacket into your hair. You press it to your chest, right above your fluttering heart, and pray that he never stops coming back.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

Their blood tastes like shit. 

Not literally but it’s by far the worst he’s had in a while, certainly worse than that of the cleaning lady he’s been feeding on last month. Admittedly, he did not consider that losing her would prompt your boss to just make you work longer. At the time she was just an easy victim on his way home, sweet young blood that was easy to obtain, the blue veins shining through her pale skin like they were begging to be used. But as he cleans his jaw with a handkerchief, Primo thinks that perhaps he can linger after the movies now. Any more time with you, however long, is of immeasurable value to him.

A groan. Primo looks down at the man, the blond stronzo who tried to touch you. He feels no sympathy, no reluctance. Full moon rolls around in three weeks and if they happen to die before then… well, bad luck for his partner. Though he can’t say he’s very tempted to drink from them again with all the junk in their blood – cheap alcohol, so much nicotine and other poisons. Perhaps he should just end it now, they’re at his mercy in any case. But no, they deserve to be punished for what they did and he knows bleeding out is not a very painful death.

Primo is not a cruel man, he likes to think. The nature of his being prompts him to act cruelly sometimes for self-preservation but unlike some of his fellows he finds no enjoyment in the kill. Not anymore, not after his initial lust for blood was quenched centuries ago. Nevertheless, he has to admit that his obsession with you is testing those limits in ways he’s never felt before. For you, he thinks, he could turn into a killer.

A gurgle. The second man is starting to wake up and Primo decides to leave. He placed the wounds in unobtrusive spots, never using both fangs to puncture their skin, too obvious. They’re going to think they’re hungover and move on but he’s going to find them again, slowly drain them until the next full moon is here and they’ll find their demise in a different way.

Primo is not a killer, no, but he chooses the killer’s victims.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

Now

You’re frozen in your spot amongst the thicket, branches and rocks digging into your body, the throbbing pain in your arm slowly spreading out. The sight before you is absurd. A giant dead body, a monster, a… a werewolf? You can’t bring yourself to properly think the word and yet you know that’s what it is. Not that it matters anymore. The smell of death mixes in with the earthy scent of the woods and spreads out in the air around you. The second figure hovers above the body for as long as it takes you to gather your thoughts. Why, you cannot tell. Are they shocked by their actions? Making sure the creature is really dead? There seems to be a hesitation in their every movement as they slowly back away and move into your direction, their frame blurring with the surrounding darkness.

“Stand back,” you yell. “Don’t come closer!”

Your voice is high-pitched, unrecognisable in its trembling state, hoarse from screaming into the emptiness around you. Your fear has your senses heightened and every snap of a twig, every howl of the wind makes you flinch. The being before you now is smaller than the one before, human-shaped if your eyes don’t betray you. The canopy is so thick here, the trees surrounding you so close to one another that you struggle to see anything. And yet you can feel them moving.

“Stop,” you yell again. “Fucking stop!”

A sudden sliver of light catches their face and you can see two glowing eyes, the one that you know as a deep green shimmering red like it did in the lobby of the theatre the night the two men harassed you and the other one is still as white as bone. “It’s okay, fiore mio. You’re safe now,” he says and you immediately recognize the Italian accent, the nickname. “I’m here to help you.” 

You slump in on yourself, not quite relieved but still a little calmer.

It’s him. It’s your stranger.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

Two weeks ago

“It’s nothing personal,” Max says. “But I’m losing money here.”

You nod like you understand. You do understand, just not why it has to be now of all times, so close to when you would have been done anyway. A few more months.

“Just not enough people coming in,” he continues. “And the old guy doesn’t pay that much no matter how often you flirt him up.”

Again, all you can do is nod. Your boss wants to cancel the night showings and lay you off. Supposedly, no other shifts are in need of any more people and he can’t keep you on. It’s a cheap excuse, you know it is.

“So, I’m off then,” he says. “You can manage on your own one last time, right?”

You nod at him once again, watching him whistling a merry tune and twirling his keys on a finger on his way out. The tears come only after you hear his car driving off. You have no idea how to find another weekend job for the next few months and the sheer surprise of his decision has your stomach in knots. If he’d at least given you some time to prepare…

“Buonasera, fiore. Can I… uhm…” You look up into the stranger’s eyes, trying to wipe at your tears but it’s too late, his expression has already changed into what you can only assume is pity. “Scusi, is this a bad time? Can I help you, perhaps?”

“I’m so sorry… I just… Ugh, Max wants to cancel the late night screenings,” you explain, swallowing around the lump in your throat. “I guess this is our last night here.”

“Cancel?”

You sniffle, your voice scratchy when you speak next. “Well, as you may have noticed, you’re kind of our only guest.”

The stranger takes your hand, soft leather pulling you from the desk and towards one of the run-down couches in the waiting area. He’s so gentle when he beckons you to his side, never letting go of your hand.

“He wants to fire you, sì?” 

You nod, staring at your intertwined hands against the velvet upholstering of the couch. His thumb draws lazy circles into your skin, his hand so big it almost swallows yours. You want him to swallow you as well, his whole body wrapped around yours, engulfing you with his safety – but you’re not sure that you could ask him for a hug.

“I’m sorry, it’s really not your problem. I mean, you’ll lose your weekend activities but I’m sure you can just get Netflix or something.”

“Netflix?”

You look up with a smile. “Or… I don’t know, buy a DVD.”

The stranger smiles back, squeezing your hand just a little bit tighter. “Now, my little flower, do you really think I am just here for the movies?”

When your eyes meet it’s like you’re sucked into a vacuum. You don’t know whether to focus on his white iris or the burning need that’s visible in his green eye. The decision is taken from you when he leans in and captures your mouth in a kiss. You reciprocate without hesitation and yet he’s holding back, a suppressed moan bubbling in his throat, despite the tenderness of his lips. It’s not enough, not nearly enough. You press against him, opening your lips for him, and then the moan finally spills out as his tongue vibrates against yours. His free hand pushes into your hair and settles at the back of your head, angling your face in whichever way he wants to taste you. His lips feel surprisingly cold just like his cheek as you bring a hand up to touch him. The makeup smears under your fingers, at your jaw, mingling with your spit.

And yet it’s not enough, not until you’re half in his lap, until his hands roam your body with reverent desperation, searching, exploring. The kiss never loses momentum. He sucks in a breath and you push your tongue into his mouth, running it along his upper lip until you can feel his teeth. You frown into the kiss when you feel something pointy, pulling your tongue back, but there is no time to think before he sucks at your bottom lip. A sharp sting as he punctures your flesh with his teeth. He moans as the taste of your blood settles between your joined lips, sucking whatever he can into his mouth. You allow him to drink you in, offering yourself up in a way you haven’t done with anyone else before.

There is a moment in which you think, hope, that it never ends. But then he pulls away and you gasp for air. You stare at him, traces of red blood fuzing into the grey smears around his mouth. He’s a mess, equal to how you feel, but his eyes are focused, his gaze sharp.

“Do you want to see the movie?” you ask, hoping he’ll say no, hoping he’ll just take you away.

But he just chuckles, his hands slowly disappearing from your body until you slump into the soft cushions on the couch.

“Actually, I think I have to leave early tonight,” he says. “I will see you next week, fiore mio. Please, per favore, do not worry about your job, I will set things right.”

You want to ask what he means, if he’s going to talk to Max for you, but before you realise that he’s leaving, before you even finish blinking, he’s already gone. Furrowing your brow, you walk outside and enter a clear moonless night. Your flushed face soaks up the cool air and you look around, searching feverishly, but there is no sign of your stranger. You expect to see him along the sidewalk, perhaps he’s in one of the cars getting ready, but even after a few more minutes none of them roar to life. Nothing disrupts the soft silence of your sleeping small town and you shake your head in wonder as you make your way back inside, the metallic taste of your blood still lingering on your tongue.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

Primo is livid, furious in a way that he hasn’t felt in close to a hundred years. You are not part of their deal and yet this feels like a violation of conduct. Making you cry should be a criminal offense and he wants him to pay for it, in what currency Primo is not sure yet. He knows he can’t let his anger win but when he smells the creature from two streets away, even in his human form, he’s ready to sink his teeth into his throat. And of course he finds him in a nearby bar, nursing a beer while he watches football videos on his phone without a care in the world.

“You won’t fire them,” Primo spits out.

Max looks up in pretend confusion. “Huh?”

“You heard me, stronzo.”

“Your little flower?” He pouts, mocking him, then huffs out a laugh. “It’s business, man.”

“The job is important,” Primo says calmly, trying not to get too riled up. “A few more months.”

“Cry me a river. Just do with them what you want, fuck them, suck them dry. Whatever gets your blood pumping, Count Dracula.” A sardonic smirk. “Oh oops, I forgot.”

Primo won’t be provoked, not from the likes of him. “You’ll give them time,” he says calmly. “Or I have to rethink this… agreement.”

Max sighs in annoyance. “Fine. A little longer. And don’t think I haven’t smelled you on those two assholes yet. I only get to feast once a month and I expect the vampire to have better taste, that’s why I agreed to this in the first place.”

“I do have taste,” Primo says. “And we both know that’s not the reason or why are you sitting here all alone, lupetto, eh?”

Max snarls but says nothing to this painful reminder. Primo doesn’t feel bad. Their agreement serves the sole purpose of attracting less attention and would not work if Max wasn’t an outcast. Their solitariness saves them and keeps their peace intact. For now.

Primo leaves with an aching heart, hoping the werewolf stays true to his word. He comes back to the cinema only to see that you got done in the meantime and left. It’s not like he actually planned to continue what you started earlier but he really wants to catch another glimpse of you, see how you’re feeling after what happened.

He finds you two streets away, hurrying home even faster than usual. You’re scared, he can tell immediately as he hears your rapid heartbeat, the blood rushing through your body like a raging river. Since the two men tried to corner you you’ve been especially on edge. He knows it’s because you expect them to try again and he wishes he could tell you that they won’t, that he’s watching over you, that he’s been slowly draining them ever since despite the awful taste of their blood. He can handle it, he can handle anything if it’s for you. 

Only for you. 

Primo relaxes after he sees you closing the door to your apartment and your heartbeat slows down. That’s when he leaves – always. He’s promised himself that he never lingers, that he doesn’t stalk or overstep, only makes sure you get home safely after your shifts. Tonight, it’s harder to leave. He can still taste you on his tongue and what a taste it is. Never before has he savoured blood quite so sweet, quite so rich in aroma, and the violent hunger inside of him tries to keep him by your house for more. 

But the kiss was a mistake to begin with and he’s not sure yet how to proceed because he never expected you to respond quite so enthusiastically to his advances. Of course he could immediately tell that you wanted him, the smell and taste of your excitement so overpowering that it cut off any reasonable thought while it happened. He hasn’t lost control of himself like that in over two hundred years and now he set things in motion that may cost him this precious connection that he has with you if he’s not careful.

For now, however, he allows himself this small pleasure and lets the happy, giddy feeling settle in his hollow chest. If he wasn’t aware that he was a few centuries old he would promptly assume that he’s a lovestruck teenager. And he could get used to it, he realises, because with you he’s quite ready to start this empty life all over again and fill it with everything that he’s been missing.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

Now

“You’re a vampire,” you state, twigs and stones digging into your butt but you feel to weak to stand up.

The stranger approaches you slowly like you’re a wild animal he’s trying to tame, the roles reversed now in your agitation and his calmness. “I am, sì.”

The urge to back away, to run for your life, continues to simmer in your belly but you fight it because you know there is no escape now. You want to trust him but you feel like you’re in a fever dream. It has to be a hallucination, maybe you were drugged at work today, maybe you inhaled the fume of some rare mushroom when you fell.

Your eyes meet the dead creature again. “Is he-”

“Yes, Max is dead.”

“Max?” Your shrill voice betrays your shock. “My boss?”

“Yes.” He sounds oddly calm, not like he just killed a werewolf. “Please, allow me to take you home with me.”

“Home? Your home?”

“Yes, my little flower. I want to look at your scrapes and cuts. Allow me, please.”

You hesitate, even as you see the shape of his outstretched hand, the same black leather gloves now ripped and torn, revealing slivers of his pale skin.

“I understand you don’t… trust me,” he says. “But I promise, I will explain everything to you in as much detail as you want and then you can decide for yourself. I just want to make sure you are okay first.”

You swallow, your throat still painfully sore from screaming. “Are you going to… I don’t know, drink from me? Eat me?”

“I will not eat you. And I will not drink from you either,” he says. “All I want is to look after you.”

You suck in a deep breath, ready to collapse on the forest floor. He could lure you into a trap, he could have been plotting this for weeks now, and yet you still feel the butterflies in your belly stirring at the sound of his voice, your body aching to be with his, even now in its weak state. Reluctantly, you place your mud-smeared hand in his and when he lifts you up with ease, his arms wrap around you tightly. You have no strength to lift your arms but you let him hug you anyway, slumping against his frame.

And perhaps you’ve lost your mind. Perhaps you should use the opportunity to kick him, to fight, but instead you start to sob into his shoulder. The world you thought you knew comes crashing down around you and he holds you through it, whispering that it’s going to be alright.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

One week ago

You can’t stop thinking about him.

The week passes slowly but you do get a text message from Max telling you he’s extending your employment for as long as it takes you to find a new job. You have no idea how your stranger convinced him but you never wanted to get back to work so urgently before – to thank him, to ask if there is a chance that you could see him outside of this place. 

Any thought you can spare is spent thinking back to your kiss, extending it in your mind for hours and hours, exploring the fantasy alone in your bed at night with your hand between your legs. You ignore any of the worries that this intimate moment conjured up. So what if the stranger has a bit of a blood kink and conveniently sharp teeth? You certainly don’t mind doing it again. He can bite you wherever he wants, you realise, and you’d gladly let him suck on the wound.

He’s back Friday night and you can’t help but feel relieved that he’s not ghosting you after his sudden disappearance last week. Maybe it’s because of your intense crush on him but you swear he looks more beautiful tonight than ever before. His long blond hair is shiny and smooth as it falls into his face, the paint more pristine than usual. He’s wearing his usual black slacks but today he paired it with a deep red shirt under a black tailcoat with a red pattern of embroidered roses. His tall, slender frame leans against the counter as he regards you with a smile.

“So, what am I watching tonight?” he asks.

“Hitchcock,” you say. “The Birds. Max is a big fan.”

“Hm, I haven’t watched that one since it premiered,” he says and then he removes his gloves. You watch as he slides his now bare hand over the counter until it touches yours. 

“Well, I’m afraid I wasn’t born yet back then.”

“No, fiore.” He runs his thumb over the back of your hand. His skin is cold and pale and wrinkly, the lines and bumps revealing a map of his life that you can’t wait to explore. His long fingers slide under yours, surprisingly sharp black nails raking over your palm until he holds you comfortably. They look almost manicured, his hand dwarfing yours as he closes it. “You’re such a young thing and yet our souls have found such a deep connection, no?”

You gaze into his mismatched eyes, a fondness in them that makes your heart beat faster. As if he can feel it, the corners of his painted mouth curl upwards into a smirk until you can see the crow’s feet under his eyes deepen despite the dark paint. 

“Yes,” you finally say. “Actually, I was wondering if maybe you’d like to–”

You’re interrupted by the door to the backroom opening. You jump, pulling your hand from his as you see Max casting you a curious glance. He’s been in a bad mood all evening so you’re not taking any risks tonight.

You cough. “Ugh, here’s your ticket, sir. Enjoy the movie.”

The stranger doesn’t seem offended by your reaction. Instead he smiles at you, accepting the ticket from your shaky hand. “Grazie, fiore. I will let you know if I enjoyed it.”

As he leaves for the screening room he doesn’t even look at Max. You remain frozen behind the counter, watching his elegant form with a rapidly beating heart. Mindlessly clenching the hand he just held in his, you desperately hope you get to ask your question later.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

The werewolf won’t leave earlier tonight. As he lets the movie run in the background, only vaguely paying attention, Primo listens for any signs. It looks like he has to sit it out today, though, even as his patience slowly wears thin. One more week until full moon, so Max must be getting antsy, and Primo made sure to keep the prey alive despite his protests in the bar. Every time he feeds from them, he is tempted to bite into an artery instead of a vein, watch them bleed out, not even drinking their blood. But having Max go hungry will piss him off and since he is already aware of you, Primo can’t risk not providing him with any easier targets.

After the movie concludes, Primo lingers but he doesn’t spot you in the foyer. When Max finally heads out he sees no reason not to look for you and conveniently, the only place you could be at is especially private.

The backroom houses a tiny kitchenette and two desks for computers with displays that are already black. You’re standing in front of the open door of a supply closet to gather your cleaning materials when he approaches soundlessly.

“Don’t be scared,” he says from a safe distance. “It is just me, fiore.”

You spin around, your beautiful face lighting up at the sight of him. “Oh, hello.”

“I owe you the money for the ticket,” he says. “You never gave me a chance to pay.”

“Oh. Yes. Sorry… It’s not… I’m not embarrassed or anything, it’s just that Max…”

“Oh, it is quite alright, fiore mio, I know.”

A grateful smile. You don’t flinch when he steps in front of you, taking your hand in his to press a soft kiss to your palm. How lovely you are, Primo thinks, a pure, honest sort of beauty that he doesn’t deserve but wants with every fibre of his ancient being. He could show you a whole new world of pleasure and he knows it’s always the quiet ones who are so proficient in the art of sin. 

“I was hoping I would have some more time with you,” you say and he perks up.

“Were you?”

“The kiss…” A hint of red dusting your cheeks as you fiddle with the hem of your shirt. “I really enjoyed it.”

Primo can’t help but smile. “Me too, my little flower. Perhaps we should try it again?”

He can hear your heartbeat quickening at his words, can feel your skin heating up with the rush of your blood. Even now he is surprised by the evidence of your returned affections, struck by how perfect you are for him, your trust just another sign of hope that you can find it in you to love him back if he allows you to.

“Just tell me if you want me to stop,” he says and then he effortlessly pulls you into his arms. To his surprise, you kiss him first, standing on your tiptoes and melting into his body. Your mouth is insistent, soft and sweet and so eager for him. Primo’s hands explore the shape of your body, memorising your curves for eternity. Impatient now, he pulls you over to the kitchenette that consists of nothing but a mirror over a sink with a few cupboards housing a coffee machine and snacks. There is enough space for what he’s planning to do, though, and he grabs you tightly before he removes his tongue from your mouth.

He can’t see his own image in the old silvered mirror as he hoists you up but he can see the dips of his fingers in your ass as it hits the counter. You hold onto his shoulders as he kisses down your jaw and chin. He skips your neck, skips the temptation, and drags his mouth down your chest instead, ripping the button of your shirt open as he goes. No complaint leaves your lips, only soft gasps and tiny whimpers. Primo pauses to pull at his gloves and then at your pants and then at your underwear, impatient, urgent, until he can finally feel your hot skin burning against his fingertips. Goosebumps form where his cold hands touch you and you shiver against his palms.

“Please,” you whisper. “Please.”

He knows what you’re begging for and under different circumstances he might make you beg  until your voice gives out but with the smell of your arousal in his nose there is really no way he can hold back now. His hands on your hips pull you to the edge of the counter and he kneels between your thighs, placing two open-mouthed kisses that leave blotchy grey marks. Your eyes are half-lidded, hazy with lust as he gazes up at you and that’s enough to break his resolve. As he wraps his lips around your most sensitive spot, sucking gently, your head lolls back in pleasure. You’re so hot, so sensitive, reacting to even the softest of stimulations, and it’s addicting in ways he hadn’t thought possible.

You cling to the edge of the counter as his mouth works on you with violent passion, urging you higher and higher with his lips and his tongue, carefully avoiding his teeth. The taste of your arousal is so intoxicating that he can’t stop himself from moaning and he can feel a shudder tearing through your body. Primo increases his pace and you move your hips as well, following his rhythm and chasing your pleasure without shame.

You cum with a scream. Your hand digs into his hair, tugging, holding on with surprising force and it’s the most delicious pain he’s ever felt. He runs his fingers through your cum, licking them clean with a soft hum as he tastes you once again. But he needs more, he needs so much more–

“Do you want to come home with me?” you ask breathlessly as he gets up from his knees, the pain in his joints distracting him momentarily. “Spend the rest of the night?”

He looks at you in surprise but then a soft smile forms on his face. You’re so eager, so fearless. “You should be careful who you invite into your home,” he says. “You may find yourself hosting guests other’s would not deem welcome.”

You huff out a laugh. “What, like the devil?”

A chuckle and he presses a kiss to your forehead, longing to feel your warm skin on his cool lips again. “I wish I could, fiorellino, but I’m afraid my schedule is a little different from yours.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means we have to do this another time,” he explains, despite the painful tightness in his pants. “Preferably, I want to invite you to dinner. I don’t like that we did this in here, it is not very… classy. Maybe next Saturday?”

“Oh, okay sure,” you say, a hint of confusion crossing your face. “Of course.”

He stands to his full height, his frame towering above yours and it takes him every ounce of self-control not to just take you right here. You’re pliant, needy for him in ways he’s only ever dreamed of, and while it tempts him to no end he suddenly becomes painfully aware of his responsibility. He needs to get your full consent before he gives in to a possible relationship with you. But right now is not the moment to tell you what he is.

“This… this is not you turning me down, right?” you ask with wide, hopeful eyes.

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “Oh no, tesorino, this is just the start of what I want to do with you and now that I got a taste, I don’t think I will ever get enough.”

You smile, the bliss of your high still evident on your face, and he rubs your thighs in small circles for a moment, the softness of your skin a gentle reminder of how fragile you are. Primo leans in to kiss you and fights a grin when you lick into his mouth to taste yourself. Maybe not so fragile, he thinks, maybe your hunger matches his after all.

“I will see you next Saturday, fiore mio,” he says. “I’ll be here to pick you up and we can dine at my home.”

You nod tiredly and he feels bad for leaving you like this after what just transpired. He can smell your cum on his fingers even as he waits for you to finish work and probably will for the next few days. But Primo needs to collect his thoughts. This is the start of something big, something messy, and now that he tampered with the forces there is no going back. The regret that comes with it is excruciating. He can invite you to dinner, treat you like you’re the stars in the night sky, make love to you until you both pass out in exhausted bliss – but it won’t change what he is. And what he is might scare you off. The thought pains him but he tries to cling to the small shimmering light of hope inside his heart that perhaps you can accept him.

Until he figures out the logistics of having you over for dinner without giving you the scare of a lifetime, he decides to keep away from you. The temptation is too strong now, his need, his hunger, a quickly expanding black-hole inside of him that might eat you alive if he’s not careful. 

His resolve is strong, he tells himself, and it remains strong all week. Well, that is until he sees you running into the woods a mere day before your date, chased by a starving werewolf.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

Now

He lives in the old castle at the edge of town.

It really shouldn’t come as a surprise but as he carries you through candle-lit hallways and multiple small chambers, old is the last thing that comes to your mind. Everything looks well-kept, orderly, the old-fashioned style of his attire translating to the interior as well. You never stay in any room for too long, the castle so big that you have to climb several staircases until you reach another long hallway. Several men in black hooded robes that look like monk’s habits pass you on your way. They don’t turn into your direction as you pass, some of them carry books, some carry laundry.

“Who are these men?” you ask.

“They’re my ghouls.”

“Ghouls?”

“Mhm.”

You don’t ask any further questions but cling to your stranger’s neck even though there is no need to. You’re safe in his arms, his strength limitless, and he does not seem tired even as you finally enter a chamber that appears to be his bedroom. Big arched windows make up one whole wall of the room and a double glass door that seems to lead to a balcony. The only light source is the full moon outside, casting milky white rays through the old windows. A huge wooden bed with silky white sheets dominates the room from the centre, most of the old hardwood flooring covered by a burgundy rug with a floral pattern, two chests of drawers lining the opposite wall as well as a desk covered in what seems to be his correspondence.

“You’re safe here, my flower,” he says as he sets you down on the bed. “I promise.”

You sit, watch him as he kneels down beside you. His face is nothing but kind, so full of concern and affection, but you can’t help but feel out of place. Knowing what he is now, while it doesn’t change the core of your feelings, still circles in your mind and you have to fight your disbelief.

“You still hesitate?” he asks.

“Are you reading my mind?”

“No, fiore, I do no such thing.” He takes your hand, covering it with his broad ones. “I would not abuse your trust, even if I could. And we have trust, no?”

“I feel like I can trust you,” you admit, tears of overwhelm pricking your eyes. “But I don’t really know anything about you. I don’t even know your name.”

“Primo.”

You exhale and let the word roll off your tongue. “Primo.”

He smiles at the sound of it, a soft, recognising smile, as if he hasn’t been called by that name in a long time. “All I ask is that you let me look after you right now, sì? I will explain and we can talk in depth later, amore.”

“Amore?”

His brow softens, giving his smile a sad quality. “My affections for you have not changed. Though I do fear that yours might have.”

You shake your head at him but before you can say anything profound, two of the black hooded ghouls enter the room. Another one joins right after, rolling a big copper bathtub inside, and you don’t even question their magic when they lift their arms and the tub fills with water. One of the other ghouls lifts his hands as well and suddenly the water starts to steam. The third ghoul places a piece of soap and a washcloth on a nearby stool, then hangs a soft-looking cotton bathrobe over the edge before they all leave without uttering a single word.

Primo helps you out of your shirt and you gasp when you see the blood covering your forearm. The bleeding has stopped but the scrape is still burning, the pain a distant throb. When he sees it, his gaze hardens but he just leads you to stand without any commentary, helping you undress, radiating tension and concern.

“It is okay that I am here?” he asks when he sees you unbutton your pants.

You nod in reply. After everything that happened you can’t say that you feel very embarrassed being naked in front of him and you feel safer in his presence, safer when he helps you. 

The water is scalding and you have to take a moment to get used to it before you can fully let the heat ease the tension you hadn’t even noticed before. Primo pulls up a chair, sitting right by your head, and picks up the cloth. You watch his brow furrow in concentration when he cleans your cuts and scrapes and his eyes meet yours a few times throughout, gazing at you with barely hidden hope. You want to tell him that your feelings are the same, if not stronger, but you can’t find it in you to disturb the silence with anything other than the occasional hiss when he touches a painful spot. It feels too fresh still, too many uncertainties plaguing your mind.

Once you’re clean and the water has cooled significantly, Primo helps you out and immediately wraps the soft cotton robe around you. As you sit back down on the bed, he walks over to his desk and fetches a small brown leather bag. Inside, you find multiple small vials in different colours and an antiseptic that looks just like any modern ones. He uses a cotton pad to clean out your wound before he grabs one of the small bottles, holding it out for you to see.

“Let me apply this to your cut,” he says. “It’s a tonic, it will help you heal.”

You roll up your sleeve to grant him access. “So, are you a healer of some sort?”

“Well, I am more of a pharmacist.” He chuckles and lets a small amount of the white liquid drop onto your arm. “Not a doctor.”

“It feels good,” you admit, the cool tincture sticks to your wound, easing the pain.

Primo smiles and wraps a bandage around your arm, tight but not too tight, like he’s done it a hundred times before. You can’t help but stare at him, his eyes and his whole face so beautiful and mesmerising, barely hiding his emotions in the depths of his features. When he catches your gaze, he tugs his hair behind his ear like he’s flustered and you spot a small cut above his left brow.

“He got you as well,” you say, grabbing a new cotton pad and reaching out for his face.

“It’s nothing, it will be gone within the hour,” he replies but he still lets you clean the scratch with careful dabs. “I suppose that I am not as powerful as I need to be to truly protect you.”

“What do you mean? You seemed very powerful to me earlier.”

“I am not ugh… how do you say? In my best years.”

You furrow your brow. “I always thought vampires stayed young forever.”

“Well, you see, I was turned well into my old age. I am not as strong and agile as someone who is born with it or turned earlier in their life,” he explains. “Usually, vampires do not like old blood, they prefer the young and healthy. But mine was… very hungry and very cruel.”

You lean over and press a kiss to his shoulder. “Is it painful to talk about this?”

“No, fiore mio, this was many centuries ago.” He regards you with caution, letting his eyes roam your body for a moment. “Do you feel better?”

“I do.” You reach out for his hand again, fiddling with his long, spindly fingers. “So are we… I mean, do you want me to stay here?”

“Yes, I do.” 

“But we won’t…”

“No, I will not touch you intimately again before we speak,” he says, squeezing your fingers. “But perhaps you need some rest before we do. You can sleep in my bed, amore. The sheets are fresh.”

The exhaustion is too strong to fight for much longer, he’s right in that, and you crawl under the sheets, careful not to strain your arm. The silky material feels cool and soft against your skin but you keep the robe on for some warmth. Primo sits by your side, watching you with the fascination of a scientist observing the bacteria in his petri dish. You wonder when he last spent time with a human like this, if he was ever intimate with a human before, but that is a question for another time.

Instead you smile at him. “Do you want to join me? Or do vampires not rest?”

“Are you sure you want me to?”

“I would really like you to hold me,” you admit.

He visibly fights off a happy smile as he rounds the bed, shedding his clothes until he’s only in his pants and his white frilly shirt. Hesitating at the edge of the bed he pulls off the shirt as well and you can’t help but stare as he reveals his pale chest to you, speckled with light grey hair that runs all the way down to his waistband. He’s slender, bony around his ribs but with muscular shoulders and a soft belly, his slightly saggy skin the only real sign of his body’s physical age. You wonder how long he has now looked exactly like that. Centuries he’d said but that is a surreal thought you don’t quite grasp.

When he finally joins you in bed, you sink into his embrace, feeling his cool skin against your cheek as you rest your head on his chest. It’s odd, the quiet, the lack of a heartbeat, but with his fingers running along your spine, his nails scratching softly against your skin, you’re lulled to sleep in no time.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

You wake up in cold sweat – and alone. The bed is empty but you immediately spot Primo with a glance through the wide arched windows. He’s right outside the now open double doors you saw earlier, wearing a heavy, dark red robe, his blond hair softly swaying in the wind. You rise from the silken sheets and grab his wide shirt that lies as a puddle on the floor. The frills cover your hands when you slip it on and it’s long enough to cover you, his smell still clinging to the fabric and tickling your nose as you breathe in the fresh night air. 

The doors don’t lead to a balcony like you initially assumed but to a small garden, surrounded by the castle walls and illuminated by the full moon. You have no idea how long you slept but it seems to be the middle of the night. You don’t take the time to fully admire the garden, instead wrapping your arms around Primo and burying your face in his back.

“Oh fiore, did I wake you?” he asks, covering your hands with his.

“No,” you whisper. “I’m not tired anymore.”

“Come here.”

He wraps you up in his robe, pressing you tightly to his chest. You feel his lips ghosting over your forehead, then he presses them more firmly to your temple. His skin feels smooth and you turn your head enough to take in the surrounding area.

“What were you admiring?” you ask, your eyes caught on a plant that’s blooming despite the lack of daylight, long white blossoms opening themselves towards the night sky.

“Datura,” Primo explains. “They call it the devil’s trumpet. Highly poisonous. Many night-blooming plants are but of course they offer more to see to me than others.”

You smile. “The rose you gave me, was it from your garden as well?”

“Yes.”

He hugs you tighter and the pressure on your arm brings back enough pain to make you hiss in surprise. Primo tenses and you look up, only to find him staring at you with his brows drawn together. His anger isn’t directed at you and yet you feel a hint of anxiety. You know you won’t like the conversation you’re stearing towards.

“It’s my fault,” he says. “You’re hurt because of me.”

You raise a hand to his cheek. “No, no, it’s not. He attacked me.”

“But he attacked you because of my carelessness,” Primo says, leaning into your touch but avoiding your gaze. “I marked you. When we first kissed, I bit your lip and marked you.”

“Marked me for what?”

He swallows as his eyes finally meet yours. “We had an agreement.”

“An agreement? To… to kill people?”

“No, I don’t do the killing,” Primo says. “It is not my style. I am too old for carnage, amore. Or at least I thought I was.”

You furrow your brow, his explanation not helping you understand what he means. “So what is the whole deal with Max?”

“He was a werewolf,” Primo explains. “We ugh… we had this pact, I want to say. My victims, I don’t kill them, I just drink what I need and he… he gets the rest. He can smell me on them, so he knows who to target once he turns and loses most of his rational thinking. When I bit your lip, I must have marked you without my intent.”

You feel your blood rushing through your body now. “So what, he kills your victims?”

“He eats them, sì.”

“So the guys who…” You swallow hard, balling your hands to fists against his chest. “The guys who harassed me who never came back, the cleaner who disappeared… did you…”

“I never said I am innocent. But I did not kill them.” He takes your hand, softly uncurls your fingers before he looks at you with so much sadness that your heart shatters in your chest. “I understand if you don’t want anything to do with me anymore now. I know it is a lifestyle you have to condemn but it is the only way I survive.”

You feel tears welling in your eyes, uncertain whether you can accept the man you love harming other people like this. Of course it keeps him alive but handing them over to be killed is not very different from actually killing them. There has to be a different way, a way without murder.

“If we… if we were together… could you just drink from me instead?” you ask. “No more innocent people?”

“Have you ever donated blood, fiore? They will not let you give it too often, half a litre every three months.” He pauses, smiling sadly as he squeezes your hand. “That is to say… you do not produce blood fast enough. I would either starve or kill you.”

“But you could drink from me? And perhaps a bit from someone else and no one has to die?”

He nods. “I can but you might not like it, you might regret agreeing to this.”

“Try me.”

Primo furrows his brow. “Try you?”

“Show me what it’s like. How does it work? You bite my neck and suck?”

He shakes his head. “I will puncture your vein and drink until the bleeding stops.”

“You won’t suck?”

“Not when it’s you. I will just drink what spills out,” he explains. “Sucking would make the wound very bad, it would hurt you more, even though it is faster and gives me more of you.”

“It’s… it’s okay if you want to suck,” you say. “I want you to do it to satisfy you.”

“No, not this time, but thank you, amore.” A deep sigh as he relents to your request. “Va bene, but if we try this we have to go inside.”

Primo calls one of the ghouls as you settle back in bed and tells him to get you some fruit and a sweet drink for later. You’re buzzing, partly with anxiety but partly with sheer excitement. You remember the intense pleasure you felt when he bit your lip and wonder if this is going to be a similar experience.

As soon as the ghoul is gone again, Primo settles in bed behind you, ridding you of your robe and pulling you between his legs as soon as you are naked. You hold onto his thighs, the fabric of his black slacks rough against your palms.

“I will stop if you tell me to,” he whispers against your ear. “We go easy, I will not drink too much, yes?”

“Yes.” 

You sink against his solid chest, unclenching your muscles. His fingers run along your neck, brushing any stray hairs aside and gently positioning your head how he wants it. A moment passes before you feel his lips trailing over the exposed skin, pressing soft kisses to the tendon at your neck that make you shiver.

“Relax,” he mumbles. “No sudden movements, amore.”

You try your best to follow. Primo positions his mouth so very carefully that you almost anticipate the bite. His fangs poke at your skin and he gently increases the pressure until you can feel them puncturing it. The pain is not unexpected but you’re still surprised by the impact, moaning softly. His hands grab at your thighs, a deep groan leaving his throat that vibrates against your skin. You can hardly feel the blood leaving you with how tightly his mouth is attached to the violated skin. At some point, you can feel his tongue swiping along the curve and his grip tightens, long fingers digging into your flesh.

The more he drinks, the more he’s stirring behind you and then he’s suddenly rutting against you in his chase for more friction. You can feel his hard cock against your lower back and you can’t help but grind back against him. Primo stops to moan, his hands roaming your form all the way over your hips and up to your chest. His cold fingers feel heavenly against your heated skin.

“I’m sorry,” he says breathlessly. “Drinking from your… from your love can be a very intense, intimate feeling.”

You hum in agreement and his tongue laps at your neck again, leaving a wet trail all the way from your shoulder to your ear before he attaches his mouth to the wound. He doesn’t drink for long before his hips buck again. Subconsciously, you follow the movements, gripping his thighs so tightly that your fingertips dig into the firm muscles.

“Can you feel it, fiore? Can you feel how our bodies long to become one?”

You only whimper in reply, your head lolling back onto his shoulder as a sick sort of pleasure tears through you, a throbbing need settling in your core.

“I want you,” he says, his voice resonating deep inside of you. “I want you, my love. Will you let me have you?”

“Please,” you whine.

His mouth leaves you altogether. The bleedings has mostly stopped, his spit and your blood cooling against your skin in the still brisk air. Primo slips out from beneath you, urgently pushing the red robe off his shoulders and his pants from his legs before his weight pushes you into the mattress. He settles between your legs, his now bare cock digging into your thigh, and you moan when his bare skin touches yours. He feels warmer now, not hot but definitely more… alive. 

“You are the most wonderful thing I have ever seen,” he says and it’s beautifully grotesque, those pretty words leaving such a feral creature after he just drank from you, his face still showing the evidence of his attack. 

Your heart clenches with unspoken love for him.

You lift your hand to his jaw, dark red blood dripping from his open mouth and onto your chest. He’s breathing heavily with his fangs bared to you, staring at you in wonder as you cradle his cheek and run your thumb over his skin. His eyes close and there is something so heartbreakingly intimate about the way he’s melting into your touch. A predator, a being who spent centuries on this earth, who hurt and fought and killed for you softens at the mere touch of your fingertips. You’ve never wanted anyone as much as you want him in this moment and you already know that you won’t hesitate to do whatever it takes to be his.

Primo shifts sideways, moving one of his hands between your legs. He probes at your entrance, slowly stretching you open until he can slide two of his fingers into you, careful not to hurt you with his sharp nails. You can see how hard he’s trying to hold back, every muscle in his face clenching. But he holds your gaze, watching your lips part as he curls his fingers, fucking into you until you’re whimpering with every thrust.

“Primo,” you whine.

He nods like understands your need for more but he doesn’t stop yet. Running your hand over his jaw you collect all the blood and spit around his mouth that you can get and reach down to find his hard cock. He gasps at the contact, more blood spilling from his lips and pooling between your bodies. You pump a few times, spreading the wetness, and he unravels, hips bucking into your hand as he moans.

“Please,” you whisper. “Please don’t hold back.”

His pupils dilate and he removes his fingers from you, gathering more blood from your chest to spread on his cock. He aligns himself and slowly pushes in, watching as he his length disappears inside of you. The stretch is incredible. You keen when he bottoms out, one of your hands fisting his hair and then he finally kisses you. The metallic taste of your blood startles you at first but then you can’t help but want more of it, pushing your tongue into his mouth. Primo won’t indulge you for long before you can feel him losing his restraint, battling for dominance over your mouth. He sucks at your tongue as his hips start to move, slow thrusts at first but he quickly loses patience. 

His mouth slips from yours as he speeds up, leaving a mess of drool, face paint and cooling blood behind. He drives himself into you without holding back, just like you wanted, his gasps and moans filling your ears over the sound of his wet skin meeting yours. You tug at his hair, wrapping your legs tightly around him to get even closer, spreading the blood all over your bodies. Primo nibbles at your jaw, not breaking the skin but running his teeth along the edge before they settle at your neck again.

“I want more,” he growls against your skin. “I need more, amore mio, please. J-just a little bit.”

In reply, you angle your head to expose your neck to him. He immediately latches on, sucking the wound back open. He was right, it hurts more this time and perhaps it’s a figment of your imagination but you can feel your blood rushing out of you in a way that is dizzying, intoxicating. Everything feels more intense now, the deep thrusts, his sharp nails digging into your flesh, the throaty moans in your ear as he drinks.

You clench around him and the orgasm hits you without warning. You cry out in pleasure, raking your nails down his back as you ride out your high with a few rolls of your hips. Primo falters, his hips stuttering into yours as he approaches his own release. His mouth leaves your neck with a pop and he pants desperately. You’re overcome with emotion when you hear his needy sounds, when you feel him twitching inside of you, so close to letting go. The last few drops of your warm blood run down your clavicle as the wound slowly closes, stopping right at your heart.

“I love you,” you breathe. “I love you, Primo.”

He shudders, his cock jumping wildly inside of you before he freezes, spilling his seed with a deep, drawn-out groan. You hold him through his high, stroking his hair and back. He gives two more slow pumps, drawing out your pleasure until he collapses on top of you.

“I love you, fiore,” he mumbles, then he props himself up on his elbow, staring into your eyes. “I love you.”

A surprisingly gentle kiss. A hand caressing your wet cheeks. Primo rolls you onto your sides and you can feel your mingled cum, blood and sweat glueing your bodies together. It’s messy and sticky but you’re not ready to let him go either. His gaze falls to your bruised neck and he frowns, grazing the skin with his thumb until you groan in pain.

Primo shakes his head in displeasure. “I am sorry, amore. I made it worse.”

“It’s okay,” you assure him. “I wanted it, my love, and I have no regrets.”

“Are you sure?” he asks. “You want all this, fiore? You want this old man?”

You take a deep, shaky breath, your lungs burning and your head still dizzy, but there is not a hint of doubt in your mind. “I want you and all that comes with it. I’m not scared, Primo.”

“No, you’re quite fearless,” he agrees with a smile. “We will have to take care of your wound, clean up this mess, sì? But maybe we can wait a few more minutes, I am quite exhausted.”

You hum in agreement and pull him closer. He doesn’t object as his head comes to rest on your chest this time. The blood loss seems to register now because your vision starts to swim, and so you close your eyes for a moment to let the wave of dizziness pass. Your thoughts are jumbled, so many questions, so many things to consider.

“Primo?” you ask after a moment.

He hums. “Yes, fiore mio?”

“Will you ever turn me?” 

A scoff, bitter and sharp, like it’s the absurdest thing he’s ever heard. “No, amore, I will do no such thing.”

“But if I wanted you to?”

“No.”

You open your eyes to find him looking up at you and lift a hand to smooth out the stern crease on his brow. “We’ll have to talk about this.”

“No,” he says again, then buries his face in your neck with a deep hum, wrapping his arms around you tightly. A moment passes. Then another one and he seems to mull the thought over in his head. He sighs in defeat. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“We will talk about it but not soon. We have many years to come before this ever matters.”

You’re satisfied with that for now, giggle when he presses a plethora of bloody kisses all over your neck and chest, and you can feel his smirk against your skin. You know he’s trying to distract you and it works. Your feelings for him flutter to live inside of you like a colony of bats and you breathe a kiss to his soft blond hair. As he falls asleep, he slowly exhales with his lips against your windpipe. You close your eyes and savour the feeling of his body wrapped around yours, thinking that if you’re lucky, this is a moment you’re going to remember for all of eternity.

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed vampire primo – kudos, comments, rbs etc are as always much appreciated ♡

Read now Part 2: Friday Nights at the Vinothek | Vampire!Secondo x gn!reader

Masterlist – My Ao3

[be-my-ally]

Crash Landing

(aka Big Bunny 4)

Wheeew, only 6 months later than I intended! it's 4am and somehow, despite spending forever on this, I fear the grammar may be janky - so apologies for that. This follows directly from The Lisa-Marie, and the masterlist for the series is linked here!

This is the last of the planned ‘main’ chapters, but there are some time jumps in this and the last chapter, so if anyone has any requests for any bunny/elvis one shots pop them into my inbox and I’ll see what I can do. I have a few little plans to fill out some of the gaps, but no promises on when they might appear. 

warnings: 18+, some mild sexism, p in v, oral (v receiving), afab!reader, skiing, allusions to poor health, Elvis is swearing like… a lot in this chapter. Make of that what you will. References to drug use. THIS ENDS IN JULY 1977 - AUGUST IS IMPLIED. wc: 14k I don’t know what to say - there was meant to be a brief skiing interlude and then all of a sudden I’m 10k in and they’re still in Colorado. 

Early 1977  

Linda is gone for good, finally some of the guys would say, and you couldn’t totally say that you disagreed. It had been stressful - the ups and downs of their relationship, being caught in the crossfires. You had enough experience to know it wasn’t really specific to her but nonetheless it had still been somewhat difficult to witness. It had been hard to face her on the jet, knowing what Elvis was saying behind her back; how adamant he was for them to be over. On the way between stops in the October tour he’d sat on the couch on the plane, glistening with the sweat from the show and still dressed in his white jumpsuit with red flames jumping up his chest, he’d tugged you over, uncaring of the others in the room. Telling you that you were the only girl he could trust to have his back, that he didn’t even know why he kept her around. He didn’t seem to remember, and you didn’t care to remind him that he’d told you the same thing back in June too. Every time she’d suddenly reappear - his desperation to be looked after superseding any desire he may have had to say goodbye to her. Why you couldn’t be enough for him you didn’t know. 

Then, almost immediately after Linda’s gone - and, admittedly, briefly before she was too - you’re meeting this new girl, Ginger, albeit rarely. Elvis for some reason putting her on the Jetstar with her family more than with him. In some ways it helps - the fact that she’s not there all the time, in others it makes you feel awful — his rush fiancee and her family seemingly not even willing or wanting to travel with him. It’s mostly a slow season over the winter though and for some reason Georgia is getting more hours than you and so, you’re forced to say goodbye to your examination of the inner workings of his private life until after the New Year break. It ends up being early February before you get a call to come in for one of his vacation whims.  

It feels like it’s been an age since you last saw Elvis even though it had barely been a six weeks, and you felt guilty that it had felt so nice to relax a little. It was hard when you spoke to your friends, and all their careers or mothering sounded so stressful all the time, they were all jealous of your ‘easy’ job, the extra benefits sounding all too impressive.  Where else would you get a new wardrobe paid for? A shiny new car sat outside for you, or an apartment rented? But it was hard to explain without giving away too much, how it was impossible for you to ever really turn off; how you thought about him all the time, worried about him all the time, even when you were at home.  

He hadn’t been difficult to manage the last couple of months of the year, at least, not as bad as the middle and start of the year, but his moods had turned almost overwhelmingly blue, and it had been tricky to level your tone and actions to appropriately comfort him. You’d started feeling on edge every flight, worried and insecure. So, the break had been nice. It had given you a chance to re-evaluate, take a breather and consider what was best for you to do.  

Elvis himself called to wish you a Merry Christmas, he’d been sweet and kind and promised you a gift even as he made small talk that you knew he disliked, even if he was good at it in that southern way, and it had made you hate him just a little. Your chest aching with the feel that he was treating you like a total stranger. It hadn’t improved when you’d returned to your Memphis apartment from your parent’s house and discovered a card had been delivered in your absence. “Season's Greetings, Elvis and the Colonel and Friends.” You’d allowed yourself the briefest of cries staring at yourself in the mirror while the blotchiness crawled up your neck. You were still an ugly crier despite your best efforts. It’s the final straw, you thought to yourself as you stared at your wild eyes and messy hair where you’d tugged your hands through it. You’ll see it through the summer. Then you’re done. That’ll be just enough time to work out what to do next - maybe you’d go back to school. You dried your eyes, patting yourself on the cheeks. That’s it. Decision made. You refused to give it any more thought. Especially, about why you didn’t just quit immediately if you were planning on it later anyway, not willing to admit to yourself you wanted to give him another chance more than anything else. It was just altogether too much, being the girl on the side of the girl on the side, having to balance being his friend, employee and lover. But you’d had your moment, and you were using your trusty technique of just not. thinking. about. it. anymore.  

You were nervous as you tied your little necktie and pulled at your hem from where you were sure your dress had shrunk over the past month, preparing to greet the men loading onto the plane. It was informal, as it normally was, and you looked back somewhat fondly to your days on Big Bunny, where everything was written and handbooked out with the proper procedure for every situation. Now it was just up to you to decide what to do for every eventuality. In this situation you made the brave decision to hide. So, you tuck yourself away in the galley on the other side of the little half wall, waiting until enough of them have boarded that you’ll be forced to peek out and say hello. There were more people loading on than during the last tour, and despite the extra numbers you knew you were handling this mostly alone - Georgia had been unable to come in under such short notice; something about a grandmother. So not only were your nerves shot worrying about when you should tell Elvis you were quitting and how it felt like you were harbouring some awful secret, you were also having to steel yourself to be overworked and run down by the time you were able to get off the plane. When you peek out around the partition you get the first glance of him and you’re a little embarrassed at how you can feel a flush start to rise just from that look.  

He looks not dissimilar to how he did that first day on Big Bunny - open collared shirt and jogging jacket on - this time a navy blue with a baby blue stripe down the shoulder and arm. He looks good - like you could just burrow into him, and you’re relieved that the sudden demand for your appearance isn’t for something panic-inducing from the way he’s smiling and chatting - laughing with Charlie and Joe. You’d been a little concerned that the rapidity of the request was hiding a more sinister origin after a similar call had preceded a rush to the hospital last summer. But he was looking good, really good actually. Somehow his face had lost some of its puffiness it’d been holding onto and he was a far better colour than you’d gotten used to - perhaps a high from the success of his New Year’s concert as he’d been pleased with the reaction and reviews or maybe even just high off the excitement of his, apparently, serious relationship with Ginger. Although, evidently not altogether that serious since she wasn’t joining them; you’d already decided you’d keep your thoughts about that to yourself. You shyly watch him from across the plane where he’s already sat himself down, comfortable in his own space and leaning against the back - his legs spread wide, retelling some story you’ve already heard once before. You take a deep breath before heading around the little partition, fully intending on acting as if you had an important job to do by the door. You managed to keep the ruse up long enough to shut the door and let Ron know you were all set to go, long enough to hand out drinks and cigars and let them all settle in,  but you couldn’t pass directly by him again without him noticing you, and his arm shoots out, grabbing your wrist as you go to walk past. You barely have a chance to notice his hold on you before he’s pulling you in, forcing you to bend over in order to accept a kiss on the cheek in greeting. You can’t explain why you’re so nervous, but you find your tummy flipping at the close proximity to him. With anxiety or excitement, you can’t quite tell. In some ways it’s slightly more forward than you’d expected from him for having not seen him in a month, but perhaps you had just gotten used to him ignoring you in the months prior.  

“Good evening, Elvis.” It’s a fine line between polite and aloof, and you can already tell you’ll be reliving this interaction all night. His eyes are bright with amusement at your formality when he gazes back at you, his thumb still gently stroking over your wrist.   

“Well, it is now.” He grins as you visibly cringe at his cheesiness, “Good evening to you too, honey.” He looks you over as he lets go of your hand, allowing you to stand back up, and eyeing your hemline, “‘re you ready for the cold?”  

“Hopefully it’s not gonna be too cold on the plane,” You stumble over your words in nerves, “but I can always turn the heat up a little - “Elvis shakes his head, 

“Nah, I’ll keep you toasty, hon, snug as a, as a bug.” You struggle to regain your composure as your mind flickers with images of just how he could be keeping you warm.  

“Hmm, I suppose you’ll have to since someone makes me wear this. But I’m pretty well covered anyway.” You grin in response to his smirk when you gesture down at your stockinged legs.  

“Well, that’s real good doll,” He runs a hand through his thick hair, letting a hint of the grey around his temples show as he pushes it back, and you find yourself missing the steadying warmth of his grip, “but you know - we’re stopping in Vail.”  

You pause, unsure how to put it politely, “Mmhmm, that’s what Elwood tells me.” He frowns, leaning back and settling even further into the seat, arm spreading across the back rest and he shifts so his thighs are encasing you.  

“Alright then miss know-it-all, tell me what I was gonna say next.” He stares at you, and it makes your insides twist even as you can feel heat pooling in your stomach.  

“Uhhh,” You struggle, to try and think of what to say that will maintain the teasing playful tone, feeling like you’ve been called on daydreaming in the middle of class with everyone’s eyes on you and simultaneously totally distracted by the feel of his legs against yours. He smirks as you flounder, “Well, perhaps, that you uh,”  

“You can say you don’t know.” He sing-songs it, “Silly little girl like you can’t know everything, huh?” He raises an eyebrow, and you can feel the frustration rise at his teasing,  

“No. I suppose not.” He smiles crookedly, pleased he gets to tell you the next part, even as he explains it like you’re a little slow.  

“I was goin’ to say that I hope you’ve got a coat somewhere…” He pauses for dramatic effect, “since you’re comin’ with us.” Your brain goes blank.  

“Me?”  

“Why not?” He straightens a leg, it, perhaps inadvertently, knocks against yours and you immediately feel your gaze pulled to it, the heat of his thigh against your knee making your head go fuzzy. “Been a while since we’ve been off this plane together.” He’s looking at you hopefully, eyes wide behind his shades and you can feel your insides fizzing with excitement - even as you feel the need to protest,  

“Oh well that’s very kind but -”  

“C’mooon, honey - it’ll be fun! Hot cocoa, and, and skis, and playin’ in the snow.” His leg moves again, the soft cotton blend of his jogging suit catching on your nylons, “Dashin’ through the snow…” Your mouth opens, about to make a Paul Anka joke but one look at his encouraging smile puts you off,  

“Oh, well, like I said, that’s very kind - but I don’t, I don’t have any clothes or coats or boots or -” He cuts you off with a tut, rolling his eyes and shaking his head like you were being particularly stupid.  

“I was only kidding before.” He sounds a little petulant at the suggestion, “You don’t needta worry ‘bout that - we’ll get you sorted out.” He nods, as if you’d already given him your agreement.  

“That’s very generous Elvis, but I don’t know how to ski.”  

“Don’t worry I’ll teach ya!” He seems overwhelmingly confident considering you and he both know he doesn’t know how to ski, “You can just be - hey!” He sits himself back upright in his excitement, knocking against you enough that you shift on your feet, “You can just be my little snow bunny, can’t ya?” He laughs as he says it, and his laughter is infectious - you find yourself giggling along with him,  

“I suppose that would be fitting.” 

“ ‘Sides what else were you gonna do while we were out?”  

“Well…what I normally do - fly home or stay in whatever hotel I’ve had booked for me.” He looks curious for a second, “Sometimes I visit people if we’re close to someone I know.”  

“Do I book ‘em?”  

“Uh. Well. I think maybe your daddy does? Or, whoever’s organising everyone on your behalf yeah, sure.”  

“Oh…” He looks contemplative, before with a frown, “Are they nice?”  

“They’re fine El - it’s normally the same place the band is.” It’s sometimes a shithole but you’re not about to tell Elvis that.  

“Would you - why… did you not wanna come with me?” He half-whispers it and your brain stutters to a halt,  

“What? That’s not, that wasn’t ever an option Elvis.”  

“Well. It is today. Come with us.” He holds out a hand, serious for the first time in the conversation and with his eyes looking at you like that even if you’d wanted to refuse you couldn’t. You nod in agreement, acquiescing to his demand. 

 “C’mere then.” He tugs you down against him and you wriggle into place on his lap, the fabric of his trousers catching on your nylons as you settle against his sturdy thighs. He rubs gently at your calf, his thumb and forefinger encircling your ankle and you feel yourself relax out of your self-consciousness to enjoy the closeness.  

You laugh at a terrible joke at Joe’s expense and Elvis’ legs shake underneath you as you collapse against him in a fit of giggles. Your giggles taper off as you feel him twitch against your thigh. You school your face but can’t stop yourself turning to look at him in surprise, and more than a little excitement. His expression is unchanged, and you wiggle almost imperceptibly, come out, come out and play. It twitches again, and Elvis shifts as if in discomfort, you glance around but no one else seems to be paying you any attention - already distracted by something or someone else so you feel comfortable you’re not about to get caught as you try to wriggle your hand down to him. He immediately clamps an arm around your waist, holding you tight in place - your arm caught between you both. He looks down at you amused and you bite your lip - a pretty pitiful attempt at seduction,  

“Shh.”  

You indicate to the bedroom, more than a little disappointed when he shakes his head. “Later baby.”  

He keeps you trapped on his lap, making it impossible for you to go and do anything, making the boys make their own drinks even when they try and ask you. Even when you try to whisper that you need to get up, he holds you there, gently soothing you back into compliance with a press of his lips, a whispered promise, a stroke of his fingers.  

“Elvis I really hafta get up - we’ll be comin’ down soon and I’ve gotta make sure - “ 

“It’ll be fine baby, don’t worry ‘bout it.”  

“Well, we can’t just sit here forever - at the very least I’ll have to go and open the doors.”  

“Shit baby, Ron or Jim or God, I’m sure even fucking Elwood can manage that. No offense doll but I think they might even be more qualified at it than you. Besides I ain’t payin you to open doors.”  

You push off his chest, turning to face him and interjecting before he can even continue that thought,  

“You sure as hell aren’t paying me to keep you ‘company’ either.” He rolls his eyes,  

“We’ve been through this, I don’t give a fuck about the plane or anything else. Your job is to care for me.” His eyes burn behind his shades, and the intensity of his frown takes you a little by surprise. You stroke the wrinkle on his brow,  

“‘m sorry but look - I have a couple of things I have to do and anyway you’re gonna have to put a seatbelt on in a second, because it’ll get bumpy - and if you hit your head, I’m not being responsible for it.” You wag one of the heavy gold seatbelts at him and he sighs,  

“Well, fine, but you’re mine soon as we land. No excuses then.” His hand strokes your thigh, and your tummy flips,  

“No excuses. I’ll be yours as long as you want me.” There’s a hum, and you both suddenly realise Larry has come a lot closer than before, “Your hostess I mean.”  

——————————— 

Ron patted your arm as you disembarked with the others. “Remember we’ll be there soon too,” He looks at you, “We’re staying at Betty’s aunt’s place, but I’m sure we’ll be invited round.” You nod, reading between the lines and you smile, 

“I’ll bear that in mind.” 

“You do that. Have fun.” He winks, disappearing back into the cockpit and you take a breath before rejoining the group dispersing into a collection of cars.  

“What’s she doin’?” The whisper travels as you climb into the car, Larry and Joe start to reply but Elvis jumps in before either could get their words out too.  

“Goddamnit,” He kicks the seat in front although it certainly wasn’t Joe who had piped up, “She’s coming too - so shut yer fuckin’ mouth before I shut it for you.”  He shouts out the open door and slamming it shut. He slides across the bench seat to be pressed close against you, his hand curling over your thigh.  

You smile shyly, pleased when Shirley turns around to smile at you, you weren’t her biggest fan - she’d never been overly friendly, but at least she was now acknowledging you.  

A whirlwind shopping excursion ensued while Elvis sent the other car to scout out where he wanted to stay. You were a little taken aback, but not altogether surprised, that he’d demanded the trip on such a whim that he hadn’t even secured proper accommodation, but he did a fairly good job of explaining himself while you were being sent back and forth from different stores for the appropriate clothing.  

“The thing is …” You kind of zone out while he talks, the story leading from one to another, before returning to the actual point he was trying to get to, but you appreciate the rumble of his voice and the gossipy tone that makes you feel a part of his exclusive little group. You manage to capture the gist though; that he was pretty sure they could stay at the same lodge as last time, because it was a friends but he hadn’t actually asked - since the decision to go away hadn’t been made until yesterday, and that he couldn’t see any reason why not - but if they had problem with it there was surely other, bigger better lodges to stay that would be overjoyed to host him.  

You were tired by the time he decreed that you finally had a suitable wardrobe and he looked over the collection of bags with satisfaction, although - despite the three other coats he bought you, he still felt the need to lament that it was a; 

“Damn near trav’sty,  none of these backwater stores have white fur. Can’t be a proper little snow bunny,” He sighs, “Joe - make sure we order her one for next time.”  

Your chest glows at the nonchalant way he says it - like he just expects you to be there again. Like it’s no big deal. The other car returns with good news, and they all filter up to the same lodge as the year before. 

“I reckon Ron and Bob’ll regret being such fucking, well, they’ll regret it anyhow now - once they see this and know they could’ve been here too.” You don’t know what to say, so you stick with saying nothing and Elvis tuts and shakes his head, shifting to stare out of the window, although he doesn’t pull his hand away from where you’re making little circles on his palm.  

It’s dark and late outside, and yet Elvis demands everyone get suited up to go and play in the snow, and everyone is in high enough spirits not to protest. You’ve not yet had a lesson though, and as you pull on your brand-new ski suit you playfully refuse to even entertain the prospect of heading anywhere on actual skis - Elvis doesn’t seem to be disappointed, grinning at you under his mask and gesturing for you to clamber onto the back of his snowmobile.  

Despite his promises on the plane, things never did, that first night, progress past heavy petting in the bedroom - but it was something just to have his thick weight next to you in the bed, laughing and joking as he pressed kisses down your face and throat. His little huffs of laughter as you returned the favour tickling his chest made you feel the same pleasurable contentment as if he’d decided to fuck you for hours.  

It was rare, recently, for him to be in such high spirits and still lucid - and you couldn’t help but wonder whether Dr Nick had managed to work out the exact right combination of drugs to keep him perfectly stable, or if he was contributing more placebos. Either way, you weren’t privy to their intimate conversations, nor allowed to witness his daily dosing. The most you saw was the little pills he put into his palm, twice as many as he tipped into yours, before bed and in the morning alongside the occasional couple that he nonchalantly explained them away simply as “Jus’ a little painkiller.” Shrugging his shoulders.  But either he was being a lot sneakier - and you weren’t sure you should be viewing that as a good thing - or he was finally listening to concern and easing himself off a little.  

It felt like it had in those first few weeks after you’d met him - carefree and fun. And somehow you felt yourself relaxing from the tense feeling you’d had since the start of last year. The worries falling off of your shoulders. You spent the first two days joined at the hip - not even really partaking in the snow sports on offer; snuggling up on the snowmobile and then taking yourselves off to curl up in the lodge instead.  

The third day, or really night - since as always with Elvis you soon found your days and nights flipped around - he was ecstatic about the fresh, perfect snow and clear weather and you’d all been sent out to play.  

It felt like a long night by the time Elvis was happy to let everyone return to the house. He hadn’t even joined you on the slopes properly, instead choosing to order everyone about from the comfort of his snowmobile.   

“C’mon fellas - get into a line! Go on! I’ll chase ya!”  

“For god’s sake Billy, move it along! You nearly made me take your whole damn leg off!” A pause, before raucous laughter ensued, “Again!”  

Still, you hadn’t minded this turn of events since it meant you hadn’t had to try and remember your rushed and hurried lesson on the nursery slopes that afternoon. Instead, you’d given it one go accompanied by his shouts of laughter at your falling,  

“How’d a dancer get to be so goddamn clumsy?”  

“I wasn’t a dancer!” You’d protested from your position flat on your back in the snow.  

“You danced real pretty for me though doll.” You rolled your eyes, scrambling back to your feet, trying not to pout as you brushed yourself off, he shook his head laughing once more before shouting back at you.  

“Aw now darlin’, that ain’t a pretty sight. C’mon, better hop onto the back of here, it’ll be a bit safer for you.” He’d said it through giggles, and you felt the determination to get down by yourself rise up again,  

“That won’t be necessary!” You attempted to take off again, and just as you were attempting to straighten your skis, about 12 feet from where you had last fallen, you were on your side again in the snow. Elvis didn’t give you a choice this time, angrily killing the engine completely and storming over as best he could through the thick snow, yanking you up by your arm and dusting you off himself.  

“‘S not the time to be stubborn, C’mon now.” You can’t see his facial expression, obscured by his layers and the dark but you can hear that his annoyed words would be accompanied by tightly knitted eyebrows and a frown. 

“I can do it.” You angrily pulled your arm out of his grasp, the momentum immediately making you start to lose your balance again, and Elvis catches you before you could fall for a third time. 

“For heaven’s sake,” You can practically hear his eyes roll, accompanied by a sigh as he tries to change tact, “I’m sure you can, but it’s dark, and you’ve already tripped twice.” You frown, and he placates, a soothing hand rubbing down your arm, “I just, I just worry about you baby, c’mon, let me look after you - you’re liable to break - no no no, don’t look at me like that,” His hand comes up to cup your face, “I just care about you s’all, don’t want you to get hurt.” He says it so honestly and affectionately that you find yourself nodding in agreement, and truthfully, despite your obstinance, you couldn’t have agreed more - you probably would break a leg if he’d let you go on. He grins at you, “There we are, you know it makes sense, don’t you - there’s my good little bunny. C’mon then, hop to it,” He pats your ass encouragingly, although the padding makes the action redundant, and you slowly make your way over to the snowmobile. 

You climbed onto the back slightly awkwardly, almost reluctant to be too close in front of all the guys, despite your cuddling the days before - they’d always been a little more distracted by their own activities to spend much time assessing yours. But Elvis yanked your arm around at the first possible chance, patting your hand where it lay against his padded stomach and tugging you to press yourself against him. You were getting a little bored, and nervous, of all the commotion so you found yourself totally content to curl against his body for warmth and tuck your chin into his shoulder. Despite your brand-new base layers, and soft down ski suit, there had still been enough of a chill in the night air, and from laying in the cold snow, that you were eager to be as close as possible. Elvis’ figure was more padded than you were used to feeling him, his coat also puffy and filled with down. You took immense pleasure in squeezing him tightly enough that you felt the padding compress, eager hands trying to find his body underneath. You found yourself considering, as one hand came to play with the little hairs escaping his mask and goggles at the base of his neck, that it was a damn shame you were both so covered up, since you couldn’t smell him. If you’d been less love-drunk on him you’d have been amazed at yourself; at thinking it was a damn shame, you were unable to smell an undoubtedly sweaty man.  

You have no idea how long you spent on the back of the snowmobile, hands roving all over him; only that you quickly lost all sense of self-consciousness and instead felt a rising feeling of possession. A dangerous feeling if ever there was one, but enough that you felt your manicured hands staking their claim, rubbing over his arms and back. Elvis seemed to be enjoying it, shifting to be closer to you whenever you moved away, and patting at your arm.  

When he finally, at speeds far too reckless for the early morning night sky, drove you back to the lodge he barely said a word to the rest of the group grabbing your hand and pulling you straight to the master bedroom. It was exciting and, whilst you were almost reluctant to get your hopes up too high, your thighs had been clenching of their own accord for the past hour and you could feel the dampness of your underwear against your warm delicate skin - it was impossible not to; you’d been on edge for hours.  

He’s sweaty from his layers, his red face revealed when he pulls his ski mask and goggles off, there’s a hint of stubble coming through and his face looks alive, cheeks plump with his grin. You were happy to be back in the comfort of the wood-panelled bedroom, although its cozy feel belied the chill that seemed to remain in the air of the wintry cabin. Elvis doesn’t say anything as he concentrates on taking off layer after layer until he’s mostly down to his bare, pinkened skin. You smile when it’s revealed he hadn’t backed down from his childlike refusal to wear proper base layers, silk shirt coming into view but at least you can tell from the sweat patches and his damp skin that he’d certainly been warm enough. You feel like you’re melting from the inside out from the sheer fondness overtaking you until he tugs it over his head, an unusual lack of care shown to it.  You meet his eyes in pleased surprise, and you’re further taken aback at how he manages to make his eyes twinkle so much, playfully glittering in the low light of the room. You can see his smirk growing as your eyes travel down his bare chest, an involuntary noise spilling out of your mouth. It’s been so long since you had the chance to stare at him like this. Elvis gestures at you, disrupting your intense focus, and you suddenly realise you’ve been standing still staring at him for almost too long, so you rapidly start to unboot yourself. You don’t get any further than kicking your shoes off before Elvis is suddenly in front of you. He brushes your hands off of yourself, fingering at your zipper himself. He twirls it between his fingers, ever so gently with one hand - the other coming to distract you from the anticipation by cupping your face, drawing you around to look into your eyes.  

Elvis’ hair has always been long enough for you to run your fingers through, but it seems to have grown almost thicker, and you inch even closer to stroke his cheeks, pushing back his hair - frizzy from its woollen containment. Despite Larry’s accompaniment on the trip when you brush back the hair at his temples you can see the same hint of grey starting to show through as before, and you can’t resist stroking the strands there.   

He smiles at you, pulling you into him to kiss you, making you breathless. As soon as you were distracted, he was unzipping the jacket of your snowsuit, shoving it off your shoulders and down to your waist. It falls to your feet by itself and you immediately pull off your under layers. It simultaneously feels frenzied but also slower than before; like both of you couldn’t wait even though you knew you had the chance to take your time. You lean back so he can tug your undershirt over your head, barely breaking contact with his lips. He pulls back, grinning, after fiddling with your bra clasp, the straps falling from your shoulders. Soon you’re practically nude, your naked chest pressed against his.  

He feels solid against you; it’s been a long time since you both had the opportunity to take your time like this, and his body feels slightly different than before. He still had that uniquely Elvis feel but he was sturdier, and though you doubted it could possibly be true, it felt as if his soft carpet of chest and stomach hair had grown larger, trailing down into the swell of his stomach like a tantalising arrow. He’s surer of himself than he was the last time you found yourself naked with him, reminding you of how he was back on Big Bunny, his broad yet slender hands firmly spanning your sides. You couldn’t help but wonder if you were finding him so attractive because it had been a while, or if it really was just that he always looks good. Any thought was swept from your mind though when he recaptures your mouth, his lips soft and firm against yours, and his tongue insistently presses past yours in a way that could only be described as eager.  

The movement of your chests against each other is enough for you to gasp against him - desperately moving to be closer, trying to practically become one with him. You can feel him smile at your desperate noises, before he moves a little. One of his hands slide down to rest at your waist, the other encircling your wrist. He holds it at your side, your other arm is trapped between you, and you whine at him between gasping breaths that it’s not fair, “C’mon El, that’s unfair, let me touch you,” He grins against your cheek, his spare hand moving to palm up at you.  

Elvis presses a kiss against the side of your mouth, and as you start to voice your protests at his movement he mutters, “I just need - let me light the fire, hon.” against your skin, the vibration of his voice causing you to shiver. He pulls away with a final tug to your bottom lip, and you find yourself pouting at the loss of his heat. You fold your arms across your chest, a little self-conscious now he’s moved away and besides it was slightly chilly, but you couldn’t bear to let him leave you - besides weren’t you about to warm each other up? Although, maybe you were more ready than he was; as he was soft still, and the thought of him tending to the fire - the domesticity of the combination made your stomach clench perhaps more than if he’d been hard and ready to go. But still, you were reluctant to allow him to move away.  

“I’m sure I’m hot enough,” He shakes his head, kissing your hand as he lets go of you entirely, “Honestly - we-we’ll be under the covers in a moment anyway, and I’m, I’m already burning babe.” But he’s already wandered over to the fireplace; thankfully it had been left pretty well set-up, and all that really has to be done is the physical lighting of the kindling already in place and you console yourself with the knowledge that it should only take a few seconds.   

“Not gonna let my bitty baby bunny get cold, hims gotta take care of herses.” He mutters seemingly mostly to himself although he was more than loud enough for you to hear. It does the job he intended it to, and you can feel yourself start to melt in response. He glances back at you as he crouches by the fireplace.  

“Hadta do this in the army baby,” You start to laugh at his tangent, “Yeah I did!” He ardently refutes your chuckle, “- with none of these fancy tools,” He’s holding up a box of firelighters, “No siree, just two sticks and a rock and I could light anything up.” You giggle, finding the situation all the more amusing when you notice he seems to be struggling to light it now. He keeps trying with the book of matches from the side, but for some reason they just won’t seem to take and he huffs, swearing, standing himself back up from his kneeling position to storm over to his jacket, fumbling in his pocket for one of his lighters. Your jaw drops as you watch him reach inside the fire to hold one of the crumbling firelighters in his hand, and he lights it to the accompaniments of your shrieks and admonishments;  

“Elvis! Oh god put that down! You’ll set your - oh lord, you’ll set your chest on fire doing that!” He turns to grin at you, before swearing as the fire licks his fingers, throwing the flaming chunk into the fire, and finally - finally watching as the kindling starts to flicker.  

“Told you, honey, no problem at all.” He shrugs his shoulders, but your heart rate hasn’t yet levelled back out and you can’t help but continue to scold him.  

“Jesus, what would I have told everyone! I swear -” He stands up, away from the fire now crackling to life, holding his hands out placatingly,  

“No, no, no,” He grins, “No sweat, baby, I knew what I was doin’.” He’s got that boyish glint in his eyes, happy as only a man who has achieved a stupidly primal action like lighting a fire or setting off a firework can be, and when you continue to scold him he suddenly rushes at you, knocking you off your feet and sending you tumbling together onto the bed. His broad arms come around you, holding you like a movie starlet swooning in his arms.  

“Shhhh…. honey, bunny, I knew what I was doin’ ok? You see, I was just foolin’ around, pretendin’ I couldn’t light it - you know, just messin’ with you a little, just - just for fun.” You snort in disbelief, although you’re quickly distracted as he kisses the crook of your neck, following an invisible line down to your shoulder and back up to your neck, one of his hands coming to hold the back of your neck while the other traces circle on your stomach. You gasp, and you can feel his grin against you.  

“El—vis, oh - god, you can, let me get these off - please,” and you wriggle out of your panties, shoving them to your knees and kicking them off, when you manage to flick them off of your ankle  your legs return to the bed, slightly more parted than before, desperately inviting Elvis to do more.  

“You believe me don’t you honey?” His fingertips dance over you,  

“Wha-” He repeats the question, 

“You believe me, right, bunny? Y’know I could’ve lit it in seconds?”  his fingers trace below your belly button.  

“Uh, yeah, yeah, of course - who needs firelighters! Not Elvis!” He grins at you, and the sight of it makes you tease further, “Boy, you could, you could,” You giggle breathlessly, “You could make it a part of your show, you know - what can’t Elvis set on fire?!” You do a jazz hands gesture for emphasis. Elvis throws his head back in laughter, his head hitting the pillows and you wriggle in pleased amusement next to him for a moment before he sits back up,  

“Oh ho - you take that back, little girl,” His fingers prod into you, tickling your sides and you scrunch up as you giggle more,  

“I take it - oh! I take it back! You did, you did an excellent job.” He nods in self-satisfaction,  

“Now,” his hands soothe the pinkened skin from where he’d jabbed into you, “Let me make you feel good, baby.” Elvis leans up and over you, cupping your face to pull you into another, deep, kiss while his hand finally travels down past your navel, brushing over your inner thighs. Your hips jerk up, as if offering yourself up to him. You can feel his arousal growing against your thigh, twitching like the little bunny nose he claimed you had. 

“Lord, bunny, you’re so soft, can barely feel ya, s’like silk down here I swear to god.” Your eyes slip closed, your back arching at the feel of his soft pads sliding through the silky wetness of your folds, and your legs opening a little wider of their own accord in invitation, begging him to go lower or higher or something. When all of a sudden you feel a chill at the loss of his presence as he moves away. Your eyes flutter back open to see him, bare ass on show, bent over and poking at the fire - adding an additional log that immediately crackles and spits, onto the top.  

“El-Elvis.” The situation catches you by surprise; to be abandoned in favour of fiddling with a fire could be seen as a little offensive in some ways, but it tickles you and the giggles overcome you before you can ask what exactly he was playing at.  

“Ah, sorry honey, I didn’t mean to leave you hanging’ there but it was in danger of goin’ out.” He runs his hand through his hair as he stands back up, his hands falling to just below his hips for a second while he surveys the fire - making doubly sure he’d gotten it set up.  He stretches, and you admire the muscles in his back as they move with his arms for a moment. He turns and stalks back over to the bed - immediately jumping beside you, bouncing you up before he gathers you back into his arms. His hand reaching across you to cling you to him, arm over your waist, finger barely brushing a nipple.  

“You should worry about me going out at this rate -” He laughs at you, rubbing his thick fingers down your sides.  

“Ohh-ho, but baby, bunny, I thought you were burnin’ for me? “He does his famous lip movement, somewhat self-deprecatingly, “just a...” He moves his hips next to you, “burnin’ love. Uh-huh? Bunny love?” You bite your lip at him - it was funny, but more than anything you can feel the arousal growing again in the pit of your stomach. He smiles at you, not expecting a response before he shakes his head, leaning over to press a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth before flopping back to stretch out on his back. You roll with him, lazily kissing his chest. It’s the most relaxed you’ve felt with him in months, maybe even in the past year.  

He slides his hand back down, one of his long, thicker but still fundamentally slender, fingers preceding the others. You’re more than ready for him, and while your hips move in response to him pressing it past your entrance it’s not enough for the desire burning inside you.  

“’S no good - can I - are you, are you ready for me?” He looks at you a little surprised,  

“Yeah, sure, just - how d’you want the pillows.” He makes as if to get up and move himself off of his back, but you stop him with a hand to his chest. Your fingertips tweak his nipple, just the tiniest bit and you take pleasure in his open-mouthed reaction; perhaps a little surprised at your initiative and he looks wide-eyed when you tell him,  

“Well, maybe I could…uhh..y’know,” You gesture vaguely towards his cock, he blinks at you, “Climb on?” His mouth stays open for a moment before he seems to remember himself, remember that such an offer shouldn’t seem a surprise to him. If you had the brain power to think you would consider it a little sad; the confidence he’d had on Big Bunny in comparison to now. He shakes his head, even as he settles back against the headboard, seeming to recollect himself, smirking.  

“Sure thing, honey, I just thought women didn’t like doin’ any of the work.” You roll your eyes, not bothering to mention that this wasn’t even the first time you’d ridden him, but still, you swing your leg over him and with a helping hand from him to position himself you settle down, your thighs straining over the breadth of his lap. You immediately regret your decision to face him when you realise it means he’s watching your face almost too closely, and you say a silent prayer of thanks that you had had enough experience with him that you weren’t overly intimidated.  He holds himself steady, letting you sink yourself down onto the sturdy length of him. His own face screws up, falling back onto the pillow behind him at the feel of the warmth of your wet heat pressing down onto him. You struggle for balance for a second, before your hands find their way onto his shoulders for a moment while you adjust to him. It’s been a while, a fact Elvis points out as he gasps at you that,  

“Oh - lord, Jesus, honey, you been waitin’ for me? Ain’t - God, takin’ me so goddamn perfectly; feels just right for little Elvie, such a good little bunny, all for me.” Your hands scramble down his chest to his, admittedly thicker and softer middle, to push back and hold yourself up.  

“Elvis - you feel, oh, I, I’ve missed this,” You shudder around him,  

“Can tell,” He huffs as you start to lift up on your knees, “Can tell you’ve been so good for me, huh baby,” He grips your hipbones, “just a itty bitty baby bun bein’ good for me, holdin’ on jus for me.” You moan at the feel of the different angle he hits inside of you from this position, and as you find your momentum rising up and rocking yourself back down you feel your confidence growing.  

“Oh, uh-huuh, good girl, oh lord that’s sexy…” You moan in response as you lean backwards a little, encouraging him to come up to play with your breasts. It amuses you how he still tweaks and pulls like a teen in the back of his daddy’s car, yet somehow, he manages to get the pressure just right, grinning at you knowingly as he licks his fingertips before bringing them back to your nipples twisting them just enough that the combination sends a rush of wetness. It’s a distraction for a second, but mere moments later and your thighs are screaming at you. Unlike on Big Bunny though this time you’re determined to see it through, and you blink through half-closed eyes at him, his own sweaty face staring back at you, mouth-open. Your hands paw at his chest, struggling to find something to grip to get the leverage you need, fingertips scratching at his chest hair, and Elvis eventually puts his hands back to your waist, his own hips moving to help you bounce on him.  

You can no longer bring yourself to care about how you look - entirely lost in the sensations - groaning a little in annoyance as your hair falls over your face and into your eyes. You struggle to try and brush it away while still keeping your balance and momentum but quickly you feel Elvis’ hands move from your waist, one large sweaty paw coming up to push your hair off your face, his thumb stroking down your cheek after it’s tucked back. You let him slip it past your mouth as you rock onto him, moaning against his soft skin. His mouth stays open watching you with heated eyes,   

“C’mon now, mama, finish the job.” You nod rapidly, his thumb tumbling out of your mouth, and he trails the spit-soaked digit down to rub along your thigh, letting his hips jerk into you, rolling with the movement. His hand sinks down, and your hands come to his shoulders as he starts to roll his thumb against your clit, his hand resting on the joint of your thigh and his other coming to back down to clutch at your hipbone. You’re almost there when you feel his hand suddenly pause as his hips thrust up more aggressively than before - more like how he used to perform and you’re about to shriek in protest, tell him off for stopping you right at the precipice, until you see his face screwed up, perfect lips open.  

“Oh - Oh, fuck, fu-fu-uck.” He stutters the word, relief palpable, as if releasing after an immeasurable time. His hand moves back to play with you, his thumb moving rapidly, rubbing exactly over the right spot and it’s almost too much, the overstimulation making you lose your words as he slips and slides it back and forth. You’re begging him for something, although you’re not sure what and he praises you as you grind against him.  

“That’s it, that’s it,” Elvis is breathless still as he encourages you, “C’mon bunny, you can give it to me baby, c’mon baby, c’mon.” He’s growling in your ear and you fall forward, his softening cock rubbing wetly against your folds as you land against his chest. His voice is enough to tip you over the edge, and you find yourself rutting against him, gasping into his collarbone before going stiff, stomach muscles and thighs convulsing as you twitchingly hurtle through an orgasm.  “Shit.” He swipes his thumb over you again and you flinch away, but he pulls it away himself, shushing you before he pats his other hand onto your back and you jolt at what amounted to a an unintentionally heavy thump, his thumb stroking and soothing you back to quiet. His lips press against your shoulder blade, I love you it feels like he whispers against your skin, and you shout it back to him in your mind.  

The next day you think to get ahead of Elvis, sending him to go and play with the guys while you rush back into the house, claiming a headache and a desire for an early night. You’ve lit the fire by the time he gets in and while you’d debated waiting for him naked and ready, you’d grown too self-conscious in his absence, so you were tucked under the covers; supposedly reading his book he’d left on the nightstand although you’d done more listening out for their return than actual reading.  

You can hear him shouting to the boys on his way through, no regard for the idea that you might be asleep. He comes bounding through the door, coming to an abrupt halt at the sight of you. The door falling closed behind him with a clunk.  

“You waitin’ up for me, bunny?” You swallow, trying your best at seduction, shoving the covers off to unveil your lingerie clad body,  

“Uh-huh,” You nod, “Waiting and waiting just for you.” He grins, unzipping his jacket and starting to stalk towards you. The fire crackles and he pauses, his head turning to look at it.  

“Oh. You lit it without me?” Your mind runs in circles as you try to work out his tone,  

“Um, yeah - it was cold, so…” He frowns, looking back at you, huffing as he shoves off his jacket entirely, you come to the realisation that he’s actually a little annoyed, “I, I, just thought it would save you a job - you know, it would all be done, and you could just…” You gesture down yourself. He doesn’t respond, finishing stripping himself off and collecting up his pyjamas to take them into the bathroom with him. 

“Elvis? You’re not, don’t be mad at me - I really was just trying to be helpful.” He shakes his head,  

“I’m not mad, baby.” Elvis disappears into the bathroom leaving you to squirm on the bed, your tummy in knots. You’ve put his book back on his nightstand and have tucked yourself back under the sheets, feeling too exposed to stay as you were, by the time he comes back out clearly ready for bed himself. He throws back the sheets, climbing in,  

“I-I like doin’ it honey, honest -” He opens up his arms for you to curl into, “I know the place has proper heat and all, but it just feels more, uh, atmospheric, doesn’t it?”  

“I know El, that’s, that’s why I lit it?” He hums against the top of your head,  

“I know sweetheart, uh, thank you, but I like taking care of you.” You nod in understanding, trying not to be too disappointed that your attempt at doing something nice seemed to have derailed your night. “So, what did you think?” He nods towards his book, 

“Oh, I- I barely got a chapter in, I didn’t wanna lose your place,” You settle against his chest, 

“Oh no, honey, I’ve - I’ve read it over and over, not got a place to lose - you go right ahead.” You mumble a thank you, but make no attempt to move, “Or I could read it to you?” His hand strokes your back, and you nod your head against his chest,  

“That would be nice - yes, thank you.”  

“Did you like it?”  

“Mmhmm…. what, what do you like about it?” He never picks the book back up and you happily drift off to the sounds of his deep voice rumbling on about his spiritual conclusions from the text.  

——————————— 

The next morning you find yourself waking up much earlier than everyone else, and you end up unable to fall back to sleep. You eye the bottle of pills on Elvis’ nightstand, but you would be too nervous to take something without waking him up and he looks so peaceful, gently snuffling beside you. Instead, you end up pottering about in the kitchen, making yourself a drink and curling up onto the couch in the living room with his book. An hour or so later Billy stumbles across you on his own hunt for a cup of coffee, and it’s almost awkwardly silent for a second as he stares at you from across the room. You’re just about to ask if there was something he wanted you to do when he breaks the silence first,  

“You know…he’s really going for Ginger.” He looks you up and down, “But, you could - well, what I mean to say is that the boys like you.” You’re taken aback, unsure what he even means by that, and you stumble over your response,  

“Oh, I don’t - I don’t wanna step on anyone’s toes or anything, you know I’m just - I’ve never been skiing so Elvis asked and -” He cuts you off mid-sentence,  

“Look I’m not saying you’ve gotta go around acting like you’re off the streets, but just you know. If you wanted,” He gestures in the general direction of the hallway and Elvis’ bedroom. “I’m sure… well I know I wouldn’t protest.” You swallow hard as you try to consider the correct response.  

“That’s very kind of you to say. I appreciate it.” You’re a little nervous this is a test and while part of you wants to bombard him with questions about what the issue is with Ginger - and does he really think you have a chance with Elvis? Like his girlfriend? You’re not sure how much will get back to Elvis and you’d rather be painted as cold than desperately vying for Ginger’s spot.  Part of you cringes at the implication that all the guys were out discussing his relationships; that they all thought they knew best, on the other hand the little you’d seen of Ginger did little to change your perception from the same as theirs. She seemed nice enough, but Elvis certainly seemed a lot more hot and heavy than her. Even if there hadn’t been a lot of hot and heavy lately - except, apparently with you.  

Later, when everyone but Elvis was up and despite everyone else’s protestations (and Billy’s attempts) you stayed firm in your resolve not to let them light the fire in even the main room. If Elvis wanted to do it and liked doing it, you were going to be damn sure it was there for him to do. It was storming quite heavily outside, and while you waited for Elvis to wake up, you’d all decided it was best to hang around inside.  

You settled down on the floor by the coffee table to set up some cards, pretending to be nonchalant about where you’d placed yourself even as you hoped your position would put you exactly by his legs, and the perfect distance for optimum warmth from the, soon to be lit, fire. Elvis chooses that moment to walk in from the bedroom, in yet another strange silk shirt and tracksuit combination.  

“Hi doll,” He bends over to press a kiss the top of your head, and you lean up into it. He rubs his hands together in an exaggerated motion as if for warmth when he stands back up.  

 “Shit. It’s fucking freezing in here.” He looks around, “Why’d no-one light the fire?” They all turn to glare at you, and you start to explain, stumbling over your words.  

“Yesterday! Yesterday - you, you were offended, when I - I just thought you’d enjoy it!” You protest, and Elvis stares at you, eyes narrowing as if you were the white witch putting the cabin into permanent winter. 

“Offended! Lord, the whole goddamn world will be fuckin’ offended when I can’t sing for shit b’cause I’ve caught pneu-neu-monia and my throat’s scratched to all hell!”  

“Oh, I didn’t - I mean, the main heat is on - I didn’t think…” He ignores you to plop himself down opposite to where you were sitting, miles away from where you’d been planning and anticipating for him to sit. Elvis angrily gestures towards the fire and both Ed and Dick rush towards it, making sure it was lit quickly. You can feel the other girls look at you sympathetically, even as you desperately try to avoid everyone else’s eye, annoyed and upset at being publicly scolded. It’s bad enough for Elvis to be pissed off with you in public, you didn’t need their pity too. It felt like you were being judged for not knowing how to deal with him like this, you can feel some of them - Joe and Shirley for sure - rolling their eyes at you, but you didn’t know better; every time he’d been annoyed in the past you could escape with the excuse of needing to get something from the galley or you were alone in the bedroom together - and you could use other methods to soothe him. But to be in this situation in public was completely unchartered territory, and though you knew everyone there had to be aware of your relationship and situation, it still made you uncomfortable to be having an argument out in the open. At the first opportunity you have you excuse yourself, claiming another headache and shaking your head at Dr Nick’s offers of painkillers you head off to the bedroom. 

Elvis comes barging in an hour or so later, and you flinch at the bang of the door against the wall, already bracing yourself to be accused of sulking or some other continuation of the argument but you remain where you lay in bed, on your side facing away from the doorway and try to concentrate on the words on the page of his book again. He sighs, and just as loudly as he’d opened it he slams the door closed. He makes his way over to you, sitting on the other side of the bed and looking over at you.  

“My little bunny isn’t mad at me is she?” His tone is almost contrite, and you immediately roll yourself over to look at him. He’s got a boyish look on his face and you can feel yourself starting to melt, but you’re not entirely ready to forgive him yet.  

“I’m not mad at you Elvis.” He frowns, titling his head like a confused golden retriever. He lets his head flop into his shoulder as he peers at you.  

“Come on baby, you know I didn’t mean it.” You hum back at him, trying hard not to be swayed by his expressive blue eyes. He clambers up onto the bed, to cuddle into the side of you, running a finger down your arm, “Oh you can’t be mad at me, bunny can’t be mad at him - not when he yuvs her so so much,” He curls his arm around you to tug you closer to him, and you struggle not to smile as he continues baby-talking you, “not his bitty bunny,” He presses a kiss into your arm, shifting himself to place several leading up the back of your neck, and then leaning over to press them against your shoulder, he murmurs against your skin, “she wouldn’t ever be mad at him, his bitty, baby, bunny who he yuvs…” Your heart clenches. You know he’s manipulating you, and you’re still embarrassed, but he sounds so sincere. Even if he’s only saying it so he doesn’t have to outright apologise Elvis suggesting he loves you in any way is enough to make you forgive him.  

“I’m not mad at you, I promise.” You roll around to look at him, staring into his eyes, “I swear Elvis - I’m not. I’m sorry for trying to control the situation.”  

“Nah, nah you were just, you were just tryin’ to take care of me - I see that, let me, let me make it up to you baby,” His fingers glide over your stomach and sides, toying with the waistband of the corduroy trousers you were wearing. He looks deep into your eyes, searching for something, and he smiles a moment later, “C’mon bunny, lemme make you feel good. Let hims make it up to hers.” His fingers wriggle under the waistband while the other pops the buttons and you lift your hips to allow him to take them off.   

He presses his lips to yours, ever so briefly, and you try to chase him even as he pulls away, his palm holding you down while he moves his mouth down your neck. He sucks a bruise onto your collarbone, and you shift in his grip, rubbing your thighs together as he laps at the little maroon mark. He sits up, settling himself between your legs but keeps his hand on your stomach, its wide span pinning you against the bed. No rings this time to dig into your skin, just the intimate feel of his fingers flexing against your abdomen. He brings his other to pat your legs apart. You flop onto your back, unable to stay in a crunch staring at him, the look on his face as he stares at your pussy too much to take.  

You’ve been tense waiting for him, and though you feel yourself automatically relax into his thick hands you still worry momentarily that it’s going to be hard to get you to finish. You don’t want to disappoint him, and you open your mouth to tell him as much when his rough tongue laps at your soft folds, twirling around your clit. His tongue has lost none of its finesse, and he has no difficulty, with the help of two of his fingers to bring you to the brink within a few minutes.  He laps against you, sideburns tickling your inner thighs, for what feels like forever and you’re struggling to keep your legs open and not wrap your thighs around his head, contenting yourself with tangling your fingers into his hair, holding him into place with the little strength you could muster. He’s not quiet when he does this - Elvis never is, uttering his own pleased little hums that seem to harmonise with your own, much louder moans and curses, the vibrations rebounding around your core. It’s not long before he sits up, mouth glistening - clearly ever so pleased with himself while you pant away the white spots behind your eyes.  

“There’s a good girl now.” He pats at you, “C’mon back out now - ‘s no good sulking in here.” And though you never were sulking you find yourself tiredly nodding at his instruction, more than willing to do whatever he asks of you, boneless and biddable.  

——————————— 

It’s strange when you get back home - It felt like you’d been away for months, wrapped up in your little Elvis vacation bubble, and yet it had scarcely been two weeks. It’s absurd that it’s such a struggle to adjust again. You’d let yourself get so close during the trip that it was painful to have to force yourself to watch and listen as he calls Ginger before you take off on the way home, or to be totally ignored as they all clamber out of the plane when you hit the ground in Tennessee. The trouble with Elvis, you thought to yourself as you finally sunk back into your own bed, was that he was everything. More than everything - everything revolved around him, like planets orbiting the sun and it felt near impossible to escape his gravitational pull. You knew your mother would say, “Baby, finish on a high; keep the memories.”  The issue with that is that now you’ve had a little you want more. There’s no way in hell you can quit now. Not before you’ve had just a little taste more, just one more fumble, one more heated look from him, one more whispered I love you into your neck. But you have no idea if the desire is reciprocal; it’s hard not to read too much into it when your presence is conspicuously absent in March. You didn’t even know they were going to Hawaii, or that they had gone until Georgia told you about it while mentioning their rushed return home. Did he think you’d have a problem flying him and Ginger somewhere? Or did he think you wouldn’t be able to be discrete; a laughable idea since you’d been proving yourself in that department for the past three years. Elvis doesn’t mention it to you, so you keep quiet too, and almost immediately after regular service seems to resume.  

You weren’t pleased for long, when it became clear that while he hadn’t looked much worse for wear after the apparent ordeal in Hawaii, and his voice sounded as good as before - none of this was to last. The monotony of the road, the easy habits of most of a decade immediately flooding back to him.  

Despite having spent as much, if not more, time with him than a girlfriend would have done in the past three or four years, the long days and nights spent together you can feel him drifting. You had been there when other girls were there, there when they weren’t - watched over him awake and asleep. But you weren’t. You weren’t his girl, you were, at your core, essentially an addition to his jet. An amenity. So, when you get the call that a couple of tour dates were cancelled and that your services weren’t needed, before an almost immediate redaction and urgent request for your services, to get him ostensibly home, and in reality, quickly to the comfort of a hospital. You were at once concerned - you weren’t allowed to be worried, that was for family and friends - for Ginger and Vernon to pace back and forth in a waiting room. Your job was to remain calm. Professional and calm, even if you knew that had he been more conscious he’d have demanded your presence. He’d said as much after Linda had left - that you were his first choice. Maybe not just an amenity after all. That you would have been the one with his head in your lap, dabbing at his forehead - rather than Ginger’s hesitant pats to his arm. But it’s not you, and you have to simply take a deep breath, hoping that you’d at least get an update. 

There were, by May, so many signs that things are going wrong, even to your untrained eye. Maybe because you saw him less and less, the flights short between tour stops, the requests to see you at the hotels suddenly lacking, that it doesn’t feel like a gradual change in the way the men describe it to be. The paranoia, the fear, and the sheer absurdity of his behaviour all seem to hit you all the more because you were able to directly compare to when he was doing alright, to how, mere weeks ago, you’d been having a grand time in Vail together.  

The guns. The guns had become a symbol of his sheer level of turbulence. He’d threatened you before, at a time where it had seemed so out of the blue it was laughable - now, if he’d done the same thing you’d be more worried - he wasn’t as careful as he had always been. You weren’t a pilot, you didn’t have the same responsibilities, but even so the guns at Binghampton had almost cost you your job and would have certainly cost you your reputation had it all gone south. Had Elvis not somehow, despite his state, been able to effectively charm the officer in charge into forgetting his apparent oversight; although how, considering the guns had tumbled out right in front of them, was anyone’s guess. The ramifications were awful though, you and Ron and Elwood stressed about the ‘cargo’ on the plane, while Elvis shouted to anyone who would listen that he could do what he goddamn liked, waving his narcotics badge at anyone who tried to tactfully protest. You hated it.   

It’s a long flight, at the end of a long week. It’s been trying for all involved, although Elvis has spent a lot of the time that you’ve seen him in a half-asleep state, desperately trying to recover from the strains and stresses of the brutal tour schedule he’s been put on again. You’ve corralled him into the bedroom on the Lisa-Marie, it’s a six-hour flight - not nearly long enough for him to recuperate properly, but enough that you actually have a fighting chance for once. He’d been playful and handsy the day before, the way he was sometimes - likely having taken one too many uppers, but you could tell from the lines and bags under his make-up that, though it’s been ages - to try and tease or play with him now would be borderline cruel. Instead, you focus on making him comfortable, tucking him up with you under the soft covers of the large bed, petting him exactly as he likes it. He’s just starting to calm himself down and you continue to murmur to the top of his head when he suddenly starts talking,  

“I don’t, don’t wanna marry-marry her.” His speech is slurring, and you can’t be sure if it’s from sleep, or the effects of the palmful of pills he’d taken an hour ago, or some combination of it all. Oh, so maybe that’s why he’s gone off the rails?  

“You don’t, - you don’t have to El- if you don’t want to,” You murmur back to him, acknowledging internally that he must be both absolutely exhausted and feeling miserable if his immediate response wasn’t to tell you to mind your own goddamn business.  

“I’ve gotta take care of it - get the boys to take care of it…. Daddy'll do it for me. He should.” He nods to himself, but his eyes stay closed.  

“Elvis, sweetheart,” You whisper to him, “you can’t make your daddy do that for you, you’ve… gotta do it yourself.” You pat his back, and he burrows his head further into your lap, your fingers finding their way into his scalp, curling around and into the hairs at the nape of his neck as you gently stroke his head and back. “She’s, she’s a reasonable girl - I’m sure she’ll understand-”  

“That’s…” There’s a long enough pause as his breathing evens out that you’re fairly sure he’s asleep, but then he mumbles back, “’S not her ‘m worried about…’s her, her folks.”  

You try desperately to reassure him, muttering about how no-one could judge him for making a sensible decision, and better to cool it off now than later, but it’s too late, and the only response you get back is the sound of him snuffling in his sleep, his eyelids and forehead relaxing as he curls his legs into you, snuggling against your warm heat, tucked against the thick gold comforter.  

You try to relax yourself, but your mind is whirring at a thousand thoughts a minute; all too many of which were imagining poor Vernon being gifted with the unfortunate task of breaking up with his son’s girlfriend.  

You feel sorry for him, you never believe when the husbands of your friends make jokes about how they’ve been ‘trapped’ - it’s a man’s world, and it seems absurd to suggest that someone’s womanly wiles were solely the root of their relationship crisis and yet, his description of his relationship is starting to sound less like young fun and more like a calculated entrapment. For perhaps not the first time in his life. You sigh again, and jump when Elvis pats your arm,  

“Shhh, s’ok, s’ok baby, I got you,” He’s fast asleep, eyes twitching being their lids — but still, his hands swipe over your side as he clumsily pats at you, shushing you while he does. The notion makes your eyes fill with tears, how could he still be so utterly sweet and dependent? 

The next morning he made no reference to the night before, or his whispered confession and you dressed and continued on as normal. Your mind though kept floating back to the words Billy had said to you back in early February. Should you attempt to make a move? Or at least, make sure Elvis knew you were totally available? Before you have the chance to act on any of these impulses though there’s a rumour spreading across the group - that Elvis wasn’t coping, that he needed a break, that the tour was going to have to be cancelled. You’d pushed it out of your head, hopeful he’d just need a decent rest that would be enough to rejuvenate him to get through the tour. But tragically, the rumour had turned out to be true and you’d delivered him home to Memphis amidst cancelled shows and runs to the hospital. He’d looked terrible when you’d left him, looking back at you at the top of the plane steps. You want to turn up, check he’s ok, check that he’s sure about Ginger, that if he’s not going to end things then that she knows how to take care of him. That she’s doing the best she can.  

It had been radio silence since that last flight and perhaps you should be assuming that no news is good news, but you find yourself thinking about him most days. Worrying and waiting. You wonder if he would let you in if you went to Graceland to see him, or if that was altogether too presumptuous, hell you’d heard all about how he hated girls that were too forward. But he loved to be taken care of - you supposed it all came down to control, and though you were desperate that he be well looked after, and you wished you could supervise that yourself, you were otherwise happy to let him take the lead – it was just altogether too scary to do anything else.  

——————————— 

Finally, in the middle of the third week of July you get a call reminding you of the upcoming tour, and then, almost immediately after you agree, an unusual call from Elvis himself. The phone ringing insistently less than 5 minutes after you’d agreed to the tour details.  

“How’re you doing baby?” He’s talking in that slow drawl he does when he’s sleepy, worn out from the day - from rehearsals maybe, or just life in general. “My bitty baby doin’ ok, huh?” 

“I’m just fine,” You’re impossibly hungry for details, but reluctant to sound too eager, 

“My yittle bun-bun lookin’ after herself?” You’d basically already told him this, but the wording makes you blush, and you don’t mind repeating yourself for him, “Of course. I’m ‘cited to see you.”  

“That’s good, well, that’s reeeall good honey, because, uh, you see,” His voice takes on the explanatory tone he so enjoys, both didactic and gossiping, “I don’t know if you’ve heard… or I suppose you wouldn’t have yet, but uh, Ginger’s not, she’s not coming on this tour with me, we’re, uh, we’re well…” He trails off, and there’s little breathy noises down the phone to you, which lets you picture the way he would have just taken off his glasses, rubbing his fingers along the bridge of his nose.  

“Oh,” What else is there to say? ‘Oh Elvis, I’m glad you’ve ditched your fiancee?’ Hardly.  

“She was just, just a lil too young, jus’ a baby, not, she just - it wouldn’t be right to make her settle down with me right now. Not, not when I don’t know if she really…well you know.” You don’t know what to say, and Elvis waits only for a brief second before filling the silence himself,  

“The thing is - I wasn’t sure, I don’t know if you’d heard, I’ve uh, I’ve been, well, I’ve been real sick to tell you the truth. Weren’t sure I were gonna make it out to this tour and we thought for sure we were gonna have to cancel but well, here we are.”  

“You’re not… you’re feeling better?”  

“Yes ma’am.” At least that sounds confident, “Got myself a new doctor, and ‘m, uh, on some new, uh, treatments and uh stuff.” He pauses, “Playin’ a lot of racquetball.”   He sounds slightly sheepish, and while you’re endlessly curious you don’t press the point.  

“Were you just ringing to confirm I’d be around?”  

“Well, here’s the thing, the thing is, honey, the thing is - I know you’ve already had a call, but you see, I was sorta hoping maybe you’d be happy to cancel them plans?”  

“Oh. You don’t want me on the plane?” There’s a moment of silence before he swears to himself, muttering down the phone that he’d learn to have some balls one of these days.  

“No, No, you misunnerstand - I want you on the plane, and off the plane - I just want you to come with me.”  

“Oh.”  

“If you can’t, well, I understand.” He sounds resigned, and your heart breaks a little, “But, I want company baby, and I want yours.” You twist the phone cord around your fingers, breathless in your excited agreement, 

“I want yours too! I’ve been - Billy said, well I’ve been hopin’ for months El, I miss you so much when we’re at home, and oh, I’d love to.” Somehow you can hear him shaking his head through the phone,  

“That meddlin’ shit.” You giggle back at him, and he laughs in response before he keeps talking, “So - pack your bags, honey, and I’ll send a car to get you at the usual time?”  

“So, am I - like working?” He huffs at you, 

“No - no, not workin’ for me no more - just being there for me. Want you to be my girl baby - be good just for me - not chasing down the other guys to make ‘em drinks.” You shake your head, brain skipping over the important part of the statement to the last part for a moment.  

“I don’t believe I’ve ever ‘chased’ the other guys,” He huffs down the phone,  

“Well lemme tell you they’ve been chasin’ you, wolves chasin’ their lil bunny,”  

“Hmm, there’s only one wolf I want to eat me though Elvis.”  

“S’that right?” 

“That’s right.”  

“Well then, I’ll have it all ready for you, s’probably easier, y’know this late notice and all,” You read between the lines that Ginger’s still at Graceland, “that I’ll uh, you’ll be waitin’ for me on the Lisa-Marie?” You cringe, but he does sound more like himself than he has in weeks, and hopefully - unlike with Linda and Ginger he’ll keep to his promise and actually get rid of her before you get on board.  

“Mmhmm, that should be fine.” You hear him move away from the phone for a second, talking to someone else for a moment,  

“Right, honey, I’ve - I’ve, I’m bein’ told I’ve gotta go now - got a meeting in a minute, but don’t be afraid to call - anytime, you’re to be put straight through to me, y’hear?”  

“Yep, Elvis, I hear,”  

“Alright then, I’ll see you in a couple of weeks, then - you take care of yourself baby,”  

“You too El,” You’re about to say something stupid, like I love you, but with one last,  

“Ok - buh-bye.” The line’s gone dead.  

——————————— 

TAGLIST:

i’m just gonna tag anyone that’s specifically msged me about it and/or anyone who commented/reblogged the last three chapters -

@lookingforrainbows @ooihcnoiwlerh @ellie-24, @whositmcwhatsit, @thatbanditqueen, @vintageshanny, @doll-elvis @18lkpeters @prompted-wordsmith @richardslady121 @meetmeatyourworst @marriedtopresley @steph-speaks @a-literal-no-name @elvisabutler @precious-little-scoundrel @eliseinmemphis @iloveelvis @literally-just-elvis-fics @livelaughlove-talia @angelborn1 @amydarcimarie @peskybedtime @shakerattlescroll @i-r-i-n-a-a @saintomie @literally-just-elvis-fics

[addledmongoose]

Good Omens Fanfic Friday (30 Aug 2024)

10 Easy Ways To Seduce Your Demon (15K; Rated T) by @waitingtobebroken

Oblivious Crowley is oblivious. After the Notpocalypse, Aziraphale becomes more touchy-feely, uses more endearments, and wants to spend more time with Crowley. What could it possibly mean? By the same author of the marvelous Kidnapping A Supreme Archangel For Fun And Profit series.

***

what a way to make a living (5K; Rated T) by @areyougonnabe

Aziraphale convinces Crowley he needs something to do, so the demon starts driving for Uber. This is partly told from an outsider POV, and it's really sweet and cute. From the author of the hilarious, dearly departed and it's a new craze.

***

Our World Will Change (Part 2 of One life, One love) (14K; Rated T) by @thinkinginscripts

Human AU. The sequel to One life, One love, where Aziraphale and Crowley are slaves who fall in love and plan their escape to freedom. I can't really give a plot for this one without spoiling the first story, but if you've read that one, you'll know what the story is about.

***

And my addiction that started last week, a story I actually considered re-reading immediately after finishing both because of and in spite of the word count.

If He’s Your Cleric, Why Is He Putting Me In His Bag of Holding? (300K; Rated E) by @noodlefrog-omens

Human AU (sorta). That word count could've been twice as long, and I still wouldn't think this book had overstayed its welcome, because I absolutely loved every moment of this D&D-inspired story. Don't worry if you've never played a D&D game in your life; you don't need to know anything about it to follow along. Aziraphale is a cleric for an adventuring party that's been given the quest to go into a dungeon and collect a dragon egg from the deepest level. His party (Gabriel, Uriel, Michael, and Sandalphon) abandons him in the dungeon, leaving him at the mercy of the dungeon's denizens. (By the way, the absolute dumbest thing an adventuring group could ever do is abandon their healer, so you know the level of competence Aziraphale is working with here).

Unknown to Aziraphale, he's being stalked by a hungry mimic named Crowley. When he finds a gorgeous book on a shelf in the dungeon (mimics shapeshift into inanimate objects like treasure to ambush prey), he puts it in his magical bag of holding, unaware the book is a living creature. Aziraphale saves Crowley from suffocation in the nick of time, and the two quickly form a friendship as they go to look for Aziraphale's adventuring group, despite Crowley informing him that they deliberately abandoned him.

Both of these characters are wonderfully realized, and the parts of the story from Crowley's POV as he tries to figure out what he's feeling with Aziraphale are really well done and feel realistic. Crowley doesn't have the words to understand what is actually going on with his feelings toward the humanoid he adores but he knows he feels something, and Aziraphale doesn't think a being like Crowley would ever find a humanoid interesting romantically or sexually.

There are puzzles to solve, traps and monsters to avoid, and enemy adventurers to thwart, and there are two (well, really more than) particular standout side characters: Sister Mary, a nun for a Draconic Order that worships the dragon at the bottom of the dungeon, and a kobold clan that works for the dragon and keeps the dungeon properly stocked in deadly traps. All the kobolds are named Eric.

If you don't want to read any of the monsterfucking/tentacle porn, you can read the entire main plot without encountering anything more salacious than a few cheek kisses. Just stop reading after they leave the dungeon and know they'll go on to live happily ever after. Everything after that is them getting to know each other better without the constant fear of death, showing Crowley the surface world, and figuring out how their relationship is going to work. The porn loosely starts in chapter 31 (of 40) and truly starts in chapter 33.

I don't know if the author has any plans for future adventures with these two, but if he does, I know I'll be there to read them.

[atruththatyoudeny]

Happy 28th! Here are all the fics I read and enjoyed this month. this could either break my heart, or bring it back to life | anditsonlyforthebrave | [18k] Harry never really cared for love: he has two children he needs to care for, and a Country to rule. Love is just not in his cards. Enter Louis, who spins his children's lives but most importantly Harry's. In Shining Armour of Trackie and Trainers | LadyAJ_13 | [9k] Online dating isn't exactly working for Harry. In fact, it couldn't really be going much worse. But then the door of the bar opens, and the pack of friends walking in parts and - that’s Louis Tomlinson. Louis fucking Tomlinson.

Angel Baby | brightgolden | [51k] “You’d be a MILF,” Louis teases, squeezing Harry’s love handles. Harry smiles, dimples deep in his cheeks as he hums in agreement. “I would, wouldn’t I? Your MILF.” OR When Louis’ sugar-baby-turned-mate suddenly wanted a pup, he simply couldn’t say no to his bright-eyed omega. After all, who didn’t want a mini Harry running around the house? He should have known that it wasn’t all wonderful in the wonderland of baby making. It's Fine To Fake It 'Til You Make It ('Til It's True) | sunflouwerhabit | [141k] Harry Styles @HarryStyles_KE hi again! so, i wanted to apologize one more time for the whole “helogogjs good gksdjid” thing, and also say that i didn’t just accidentally open your DM’s when i wasn’t paying attention earlier. i sort of had a question about a tweet you posted yesterday? like. the whole “rent a boyfriend” thing? is that something you were serious about? and if so, how does one come to hire you to be their boyfriend? i’m, um, asking for a friend ***** Harry dreads an impending visit to his hometown, where he’ll be forced to reunite with a newly engaged ex-boyfriend, a childhood best friend turned near stranger, and a family who never understood just how desperately he needed to leave. In the midst of it all, a ludicrous Twitter proposition brings him to Louis.

It’s Only Sunny Cause the Planet’s Dying | LetTheMusicMoveYou | [14k] The man leans back in his chair and looks down at the tarot cards in front of him. “Wow, that was really impressive. How long did it take you to memorize all this bullshit?” He raises a brow and that challenging look is back on his face, but he’s not even bothering to mask it this time. It makes Louis’ blood run cold. “I beg your pardon?” The man chuckles, but there’s no humor in it. “If you take a peek in my wallet that you just stole, you’ll see there’s a detective’s badge in there. Why don’t you come on down to the police station with me and you can explain your methods to me there?” (Or the one where Louis is a thief and a con-artist who’s used to getting what he wants, using any means necessary. And Harry is is the straight-laced detective who might just be tired of always doing the right thing). Running Over Thoughts That Make My Feet Hurt | enchantedlandcoffee | [5k] Louis is the little league coach of 'The Ducklings', the team that Harry's daughter plays for. Whilst she tries her best, she doesn't quite have the skills so Coach Tommo steps in. He offers private lessons to try and help her, and if he gets in her dad's good books? Well that'd just be a bonus. Save Me (from myself) | Imogenlee | [159k] The problem with being friends with Liam Payne was that he had a lot of friends... and forced them to be around each other. When they finished high school, both Louis and Harry were equally relieved that they wouldn't have to tolerate each other constantly or whatever it was that they did. For five years, it worked out perfectly. They'd only had to see each other a handful of times. Unfortunately, Liam had to go and get engaged, ask them to both be groomsmen, and then go full groomzilla on their arses. With just twelve weeks to plan the 'perfect' destination wedding and throw every ridiculous pre-wedding celebration Liam and his fiancée stumble across, it was safe to say they were firmly back in each other's lives. And no one could have predicted that was exactly what they needed. Fight For Us | FallingLikeThis | [11k] Louis isn’t okay. It’s beyond wrong, the way they’re held in a cage waiting to be chosen for mating. It’s the way it’s been all Louis’ life, but he never wanted to end up like this. He’d hoped against hope that he’d present as a beta since they don’t have these same restrictions on them. They don’t have to adhere to their biology. And one dark night, long after all of the other omegas in the pen have fallen asleep, biology comes calling for Louis. In The Name of Being Honest | sunflouwerhabit therogueskimo | [124k] Back at his desk, Louis closed his eyes for a moment, trying to settle into the reality of this. He was leaving the UK for only the second time in his life. Suddenly, the holiday he took to Spain three summers ago felt like it paled in comparison. He was going to the U.S. - for work, it was true, but still - alone. He’d been all for seizing the moment when his boss had been looking at him with a gaze of steel, but now he felt vaguely nauseous. Louis took several shaky breaths, feeling like the air was being sucked from the room, and opened the manila folder, laying it flat on his desk. His breath caught as he saw the destination, centered in a large, block font at the very top of the first page: Robinson Publishing - Chicago, Illinois, United States of America. ~~~ After two years of living in an everlasting cycle of work, sleep, and regret, Louis finds himself wandering brand new streets perpetually haunted by the ghosts of his past. The Chicago Fic.

[cafeseoulmate]

Kang Taehyun’s Hot Boy Summer Destiny

time, mystical time cutting me open, then healing me fine. were there clues i didn't see?

featuring: child of athena!taehyun x child of apollo!gn!reader

genre: fluff, angst, pjo / greek mythology / demigod au, childhood best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers au, soulmate au, slowburn, mutual pining

wc: 14k

warnings and other notes: cursing, blood, injuries, graphic mentions of murder, alcohol consumption, charmspeak, insecurities, cliche upon cliche upon cliche, reader is a psychic

You had a dream—or a vision, what have you—that you gave your childhood best friend, Kang Taehyun the son of Athena, an elaborate hot boy summer makeover in a span of two months and had him meet his soulmate at the Summer’s End bonfire. It came to you just last week, the same night you dreamt about the quest you sent your half-sibling Hueningkai in the other day and how exactly you will slay the minotaur terrorizing the camp borders right now—which is why you can confirm, as a child of Apollo, that it was a very much prophetic and bound to happen soon.

“Apparently, I gave you a wardrobe update, a haircut, and introduced you to some Aphrodite and Hermes kids under the half moon—watch out!” You continue to explain as you lure the bull-headed monster further away from the camp gate, dragging Taehyun by the arm and picking up speed when the beast swings its ax exactly as you remember in your dreams. “So what do you think?”

You then aim your crossbow at the minotaur’s ankles as Taehyun instructed you earlier, shooting it with a specialized poisoned arrow. As expected, it takes a moment before the poison takes effect for a beast as large as the minotaur, effectively paralyzing it anyway right as you reach the clearing in the woods and giving you and Taehyun time to charge towards it this time.

“I think you’re properly crazy!” Taehyun belatedly yells back at you, heading straight for the minotaur’s horns while you set your crossbow aside on your shoulder in exchange for your sword. When the two of you near the minotaur’s laying on its side, your best friend swiftly releases one of the specialized net traps Yeonjun made, one that magically adjusts to the minotaur’s size and strength as it traps the beast in place. “I’m not letting you give me a makeover!”

You groan in annoyance even when you already expected this as his answer, kicking the minotaur to lay on its back and stabbing it down right in its torso while Taehyun digs his boot on its neck, slicing one of its horns off.

Up close, the yells and growls that the minotaur releases into the peaceful air is enough to burst a human’s eardrums off. Instinctively, you protect yours and Taehyun’s ears by manipulating the soundwaves and shutting up the minotaur.

“Not even if you’ll meet your soulmate at the end of it?” You ask as you hold the minotaur down by your sword when it starts to flail around the net trap, moving only with half its strength with the poison quickly spreading in its veins. You feel a slight sting on one of your arms but decide to quickly ignore it as you busy yourself with the monster's frantic movements. “I literally just mentioned that I saw them from behind at the end of the dream—red string and all—and you’re not even just a little bit curious?”

Taehyun briefly pauses, the blood on the minotaur’s horn in his hands dripping down his elbows as he looks at you incredulously, before definitively shaking his head. “The future’s still subject to change, even in your dreams, remember?” He counters matter-of-factly, stabbing the horn straight into its heart and effectively killing it once and for all. “You could still dream about something different later on.”

You roll your eyes, removing your sword from the minotaur’s torso right before it fades into dust right in front of you. “The vision should happen in two months, I’m not going to dream of anything new about it at this point.” You counter, jogging over to Taehyun’s side as he gathers the net trap back in its pouch. Once he’s done, the two of you get your bearings and walk back to the direction of camp. “And before you argue and use my dream journals against me again, I re-checked them all as soon as I wrote this vision down so I can confirm that I have no other unrealized visions that says anything else about what’s destined for you this summer."

“Whatever. I can meet my soulmate fine even without a hot boy makeover, thanks.” He chuckles in amusement in front of your oddly determined expression, wiping the blood off of his sword with a cloth from his bag. “A haircut would be nice, though.”

You bump your shoulder harshly against his as you also wipe your sword, returning it to the sheath on your hips and making a mental note that you'll clean everything thoroughly tomorrow. He retaliates quickly and you give him a glare. “You’re mocking me.”

“I’m not, my hair really is getting longer. It’s annoying.” 

“Why settle for just one if I can give you a full makeover, then, genius? It’s not like I won’t ask for your input at all or make you do something you don’t want to do.” You pull your best puppy dog eyes despite the blood drying off in your hands this time, looking up at Taehyun with wide eyes and pursed lips. “Plus, I objectively do better makeovers than half the Aphrodite kids! The muses are literally my godmothers!”

It’s not hard to miss the small smile that briefly breaks out on Taehyun’s usually stoic face even as the two of you trek through the forest this late in the afternoon, the sunlight filtering in through the towering trunks of trees illuminating his face just as you spot the tiniest hint that you’ve broken into his tough facade successfully once more.

“Beomgyu’s gonna get you for that comment at the next Capture the Flag.”

“Only if you tell him which I know you won’t because you’ll be teaming with our cabin again in the next game.” You scoff, waving your hand dismissively. “So, what’s it going to be, Tyun?”

Taehyun shakes his head. “Still a no for the whole makeover but a maybe on the haircut.”

“Are you serious?”

“Tell me this, then: what does my soulmate look like, oh great Seer?” He smirks teasingly. 

You huff in exasperation, kicking a branch that happens to be in your way as the camp gate comes into view. “I already told you, I only saw them from the back. I woke up before they could even turn around.”

“Yeah, so what do they look like from the back?”

“They were in bronze armor and had sheaths for a sword and daggers on their side.” You recall, jogging over to the camp gate and into safety. Taehyun follows close. “It could literally be anyone in camp.”

“Exactly, so why bother dolling me up if they’re probably just someone we’ve been camping with since we were kids?”

“They could be a new person in camp for all we know.” You retort swiftly with a hopeful smirk. “Or a visiting Hunter! You know I dreamt that they’re coming this summer.”

“Whatever, they’re still people we meet everyday.” Taehyun shrugs before gesturing to the direction of the Big House. “I’ll report to Chiron. You should get that gash checked at the infirmary.”

“What gash?” You ask dumbly, to which Taehyun rolls his eyes before taking your hand in his and showing you a gash running down the outer side of your arm. “Oh. Well, shit.“

“The minotaur probably clawed you while you held it down.” Taehyun tsks softly, examining it for a bit longer before gently releasing your hand and smacking your forehead. “Stupid. For a child of Apollo, you should be more aware of your body when you get hurt.”

You hold the spot where he just smacked you, furrowing your brows. “Ya!”

“I’ll see you at dinner! Don’t make detours and get that checked out with Soobin!”

You groan in exasperation, digging your boot deep in the soil as you watch Taehyun’s retreating figure disappear in the dirt path. Once he’s gone, only then do you begrudgingly turn around and head to the infirmary with a sigh, focusing your remaining energy in the meantime to at least disinfect the wound with your own vitakinesis.

You had a dream—or a vision, what have you—that you gave Taehyun an elaborate hot boy summer makeover in two months and had him meet his soulmate, red string connecting their wrists and all, at the Summer’s End bonfire. As his best friend of 13 years who’s also secretly pined over him for at least a decade of that time, you know that it’ll take all the brains and brawn at camp combined to convince him to follow his destiny at the end of summer. 

It’s no easy feat but Apollo and your mentor, the Oracle of Delphi, is not raising a quitter of a demigod.

♡  

Taehyun’s hair is growing longer as he’s mentioned and you’ve expected, bangs sticking closer to his eyes when you spar and your view of the back of his head when you try to surprise him from behind seemingly shaggier. The natural blonde roots of his hair are also starting to grow back as the dyed purple ends he did at the start of Spring are fading into a dull gray, signaling the change of the seasons along with the increasingly hotter weather. 

You already know that he won’t give in that easily when it comes to buying him new clothes and forcing him to socialize at camp functions. Taehyun’s stubbornness and logic are, from your point of view, his worst features when you know you’re about to lose your case to him. But, after letting your friends in on your agenda last week (and both Hueningkai and Beomgyu laughing in your face before you pushed the two in the lake) and consulting with the Oracle of Delphi yesterday, you’re hopeful that you’ll get him to agree to the rest of the makeover by virtue of either peer pressure or another vision of his future this summer—whichever works on him first. 

For now, you focus on the clippers you borrowed from one of your siblings in your hand, leaning forward in your own seat as you work through the section above his right ear. In front of you, your best friend calmly skims through his copy of Neil Gaiman’s Stardust, occasionally glancing at you through the bathroom mirror. 

As cabin counselor, you’ve cut your siblings’ hair far more times than you’ve actually done much more important leadership duties such as turning off the lights exactly at midnight or constantly reminding people to clean up after their respective areas. As the one who’s been insisting that you predicted this specific situation, you’ve also dreamt of giving your best friend a smooth haircut, noting in your dream journal about how this part of the overall vision was relatively quick but you still managed to remember Taehyun’s smile when you woke up. 

Regardless, a looming feeling of dread stirs at the pit of your stomach and you unconsciously hold your breath as you snip at the hair right above his ear. 

“Relax.” Taehyun suddenly mumbles, head still hanging at the angle you instructed him to but his eyes moving over to your direction. “You being nervous makes me nervous.” 

“I’m not nervous.” 

“You’re not even breathing right now.” He points out sharply before moving to another page, careful not to move his shoulders too much as he dusts off chopped hair from the previous page in the process. “Breathe.”

You ponder on whether you should tell him that you’re worried, partly about the fact that you’ve never cut his hair yourself before but mostly because this is exactly how the dream played out in your head so far and, for some reason, fulfilling your own personal future is often daunting. Regardless of how long you’ve been having visions and fulfilling some of them yourself, you still worry that something unexpected will happen. In this case, the last thing you want to do is to accidentally nick your best friend’s ear. 

There’s also the fact that you’re doing all of this to lead him to the path of his soulmate in the end and as much as it pains you to not be that person for him, it also worries you being the one to have to lead things until they meet. You want to put your best friend’s happiness first and that includes making sure that everything goes according to destiny.

“You won’t hurt me.” He adds softly almost as if reading your mind, pausing briefly as he reads one more paragraph in his book. “Anyway, you brought this to yourself because you kept insisting about your dream.” 

You roll your eyes, the worry quickly dissipating when he chuckles right next to your own ear. “I’m not worried about that, not anymore at least.” You reply with a soft exhale, moving your chair behind Taehyun as you finally move on to the back of his head. “And I’ll make sure I see my vision of you fulfilled at the end of this summer no matter what.” 

Taehyun hums in thought, shoulders tensing slightly when you place your hand over it. You snicker in response, knowing full well that it’s because he’s ticklish, before continuing your work. 

“So, how did you exactly see my hot boy makeover in your dream?” 

You unconsciously furrow your brows as you work, carefully dusting away the hair that sticks to the nape of Taehyun’s neck when it builds up and holding the clippers in your other hand away when he flinches in response. “What do you mean?” 

“Last time, you just said everything you generally have to do but how did you actually see it in your dream?” 

You take a moment to gather your thoughts and recall the dream itself and how you wrote it down in your journal, filling in the silence with the faint buzzing of the clippers as you even out everything nicely. “Well, it started out exactly with this very moment: me cutting your hair and doing an awesome job. Then, when you stood up and admired my work in the mirror, you let me drag you to a bunch of flea markets that were right outside the cabin for some reason.” You narrate slowly, occasionally pausing between words as you bit your lip in concentration while simultaneously thinking about how you’re going to proceed with telling him the rest. “The more we moved between stalls, the more trees turned into the buildings at the Lincoln Center until we reached the end of it all where the campers were all partying by a bonfire in front of the Met.” 

Taehyun chuckles, most likely as he tries imagining your dream for himself. Pausing again, you also laugh at how silly it all sounds being spoken out loud. 

You continue after you’ve gathered your thoughts once more. “You talked to some Hermes kids and Aphrodite kids until it turned into night—with the half moon out as I mentioned before—and you got so tired that you excused yourself to the buffet.” At that, you finish the back section of his hair, moving your chair to Taehyun’s left side. “I watched you talk to your soulmate from the sidelines after that. They came into the scene right as you grabbed a drink, mentioning something about the bonfire and showing the red string around their wrist. I woke up right after and wrote everything as I remembered it.” 

You sigh in relief under your breath after your mini speech, mostly at the fact that you were successful in not accidentally letting slip some details the entire time. Though it makes you feel guilty not sharing everything to Taehyun sometimes, you particularly omit the parts you think he doesn’t have to know—the way his dream version’s smile made your dream version’s heart skip a beat, the way his dream version held your dream version’s hand through the flea market, the dread of knowing that he was going to meet his soulmate that you were unconsciously feeling the entire dream, and the way your dream version actually ran away from the scene before you woke up. 

Besides, if Taehyun knew about these things, the teasing would never end. 

He has a soulmate and it’s not you, you remind yourself again internally for good measure, Stop having weird thoughts, Y/N.

“So you just concluded after that this will all happen over the summer?” Taehyun asks after a moment, darting his eyes over to his left this time as you continue working. 

“Sometimes, I get that instinct of important details I have to know when I dream, like my subconscious telling me that I have to know this and that while interacting with the people in my dreams.” You shrug, bending down to the level of his left ear this time. “At that time, my subconscious kept telling me that time was passing as we moved places then your soulmate confirmed it towards the end when we reached bonfire.” 

“Did you tell the Oracle about this?” 

“Oh, right!” Your gasp, suddenly remembering what you’re supposed to also tell him today. When he looks up briefly and steals another glance of you, you quickly return his gaze with a knowing smirk. “I almost forgot to tell you but I visited them yesterday to consult about my vision. I was hoping I’d get a second opinion from them because, knowing you, you won’t easily agree to letting me give you a makeover unless something important comes up.”

Taehyun seems unfazed despite your best impression at being menacing, shrugging as he follows along your train of thought. “Okay, and?” 

“And I asked them about my vision about you and if they’ve seen other things lately. Guess what?” When Taehyun doesn’t ask the question back, you roll your eyes and continue, “They also saw a flea market and Lincoln Center in one of their visions about you and me! Apparently, they saw both places in a vision about Chiron’s next quest for us!” 

In that moment, Taehyun’s calm and composed disposition immediately does a 180 as his mouth forms an ‘o’ shape and his hands unconsciously move to close his book in shock. “Oh...” 

“So...” You drag out, just as you finish working on the left side of his head. Untying the top section of his head, you then switch your clippers for scissors and a comb before moving in front of Taehyun with a proud grin on your face. Dread, on the other hand, dawns on him in an instant. “I guess prepare your money because we’re going shopping in Manhattan after our next mission!” 

Taehyun groans, sinking deeper in his seat while you bend down and comb down his hair. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me...” 

“You can come with me to my next visit to the Oracle if you want to confirm it all but they’ll probably just get annoyed by you asking the same questions I did yesterday.” You chuckle, tapping his shoulder as a signal for him to sit properly. “So I guess the only thing left for me to do is to get you to come to at least one party this summer and everything should be good.”

He glares at you from behind his bangs. “You always have to have the last laugh, huh?” 

“Well, I am the one with the prophetic visions in this friendship.” You shrug with a laugh, gathering some of his bangs in between your fingers and carefully trimming the ends. “Anyway, I’ve thought it all over and tried recalling my vision as much as I can and we won’t actually be buying a whole new wardrobe. At the very least, there’s this shirt I have to buy for you because you were wearing a flannel I couldn’t recognize towards the end.” 

“Is it at least my style?” It’s his turn to frown and pout which you giggle at as you work in front of his face.

“Very much, yeah.” You nod confidently, cutting another inch off of his bangs before ruffling his hair. “Trust me, Tyun, I got you always. Also, I’m done with your hair.”

You stand up and move to the side, setting your tools away in their proper bathroom basket while Taehyun shakes off all the hair on his clothes and move forward to the mirror.

“Do you want me to dye your hair too?” You ask, crossing your arms and leaning your whole body by the marble sink. “I think either Beomgyu or Yeonjun have leftover purple dye in their cabins.”

“Did you foresee it in the future?” He asks with a defeated sigh, inspecting his bangs and the back of his head meticulously.

You shake your head. “No but I’d be happy to dye your hair for you if you want. It’s the least I could do after trapping you into your own worst nightmare.”

Taehyun shakes off more chopped hair from his head and his shirt, stepping aside the pool of purple hair littering the very center of the bathroom. “It’s not that it’s a nightmare for me, it’s just—you know how I feel about destiny and soulmates.” He sighs, moving to the side to change into the extra camp shirt he brought with him. “I’d rather just make my own way without thinking about it too much and meet whoever’s out there for me when I do meet them.”

“And I promised you before, we’ll move along this whole thing at your own pace—or when things present themselves.” You assure, quickly looking away when he takes his shirt off in front of you with a nervous gulp. “Like you said, the future’s still subject to change, and like what my dad always says, the visions are often just guidelines into the future.”

“But does fate really think I need a makeover right now?” Taehyun asks more to himself than to you, his voice muffled only at the start as he pulls his shirt over his head. “I mean, besides the haircut, I don’t think I need a whole new look right now. I’m perfectly fine.”

In the meantime, you busy yourself with crossing the bathroom without peeking at Taehyun and grabbing a broom and a dustpan in the cleaning cabinet, sweeping off the hairs on the tiled floor while keeping your head down.

“Maybe it’s not going to be about having a brand new Taehyun—like visual-wise,” You suggest, only glancing up at him momentarily when he tells you he’s finished changing before moving the hairs you’ve gathered to the trash can. You make sure that your tone is sincere, mainly thinking about how, in the time since you’ve known him, Taehyun really is a person of work and routines and not much of relaxation and doing little things for himself. “maybe it’s just about trying new things this summer. Who knows, you might discover that you actually enjoy shopping in Manhattan flea markets the most after this or that you can finally tell that one kid from the Aphrodite cabin—Haneul, was it?—that you’re not interested in her advances.”

There’s a pause that momentarily hangs in the air as Taehyun combs his hair down absentmindedly by the sink, dirty shirt in his other hand. “Did you rehearse that beforehand?” He says with a teasing smile, one that you easily catch over the mirror and immediately recognize as the same that you dreamt of.

Witnessing it in person pushes heat on your neck and up to your face, your chest feeling light when he chuckles at the way you frown at him. “The one time I'm actually being sincere to you and you ask me if I rehearsed it beforehand.”

“You never know with children of Apoll—ow!” You smack him in the chest in a heartbeat, his hands swiftly moving up in front of you before you could deliver a second blow. “I was kidding!”

You roll your eyes, fighting back a grin when you pretend to hit Taehyun again and he instinctively holds his arms up in defense. “Gods, you children of Athena are so annoying. Do you want me to dye your hair or not?”

“Not right now but definitely the next time we’re both free.” He grins. “Thank you for the haircut, by the way. Hyuka's right, you should start charging people for this.”

You unconsciously annoy yourself with the way your heart starts speeding up as you take a proper look at your work on his hair. Get a grip, he’s just complimenting your work, he always does that when he needs to. “Oh, I will be collecting my fees in our next sparring demo at the arena.” You retort, hand reaching up harmlessly this time as you fix his bangs. "Gods, you better sweep your soulmate off their feet when you meet at the end of the summer with how well I did your hair."

He briefly freezes under your touch before visibly relaxing his shoulders as you ruffle more fallen hair off of his scalp, following you carefully with his eyes the whole time. “Y-Yeah, I got it. Well, future Taehyun does.”

In the back of your mind, a small feeling of dread starts seeping into your thoughts—the exact same dread you felt in your dreams that anticipates the arrival of the stranger that is Taehyun’s soulmate. But at the same time, your heart skips a beat as you glance up at him again.

Gods, you are fucked.

♡

When Chiron inevitably gives you and Taehyun your next mission a week later, you find out that the quest you’re embarking on has to do with retrieving a demigod and one of Persephone’s pearl that has somehow ended up in a nearby flea market.

You retrieve the demigod Kazuha first, explaining everything to her over the course of three days before killing the harpies that have been stalking her by disguising themselves as potential sponsors for her ballet school. Given the hassle of commuting back and forth to Long Island, however, you let her tag along with you and Taehyun on the second part of your quest right after—even helping you narrow down the possible flea markets when you let her in on the information Chiron gave you about the pearl’s previous whereabouts.

(Taehyun initially insisted that he can just call Yeonjun to pick up Kazuha but you insisted otherwise, citing that you don’t want to bother Yeonjun and that Kazuha is a natural with your extra bow and arrow. While partly you have a feeling that Kazuha is one of your half-siblings, there’s also the way she held onto your sword when you let her borrow it that gives you a strange feeling about something that you’re not sure of yet.)

So what was originally two people scouring the Greenwich Village flea markets becomes three as Kazuha links her left arm with your right and asks you all sorts of questions about camp. To your left, Taehyun is loosely holding your other hand as he often does in big crowds of people, eyes examining your surroundings carefully.

Taehyun's hands are cold despite the humid weather but you don't pay much mind, not when your own hand is warmer than normal as a child of Apollo and balancing everything out.

“Oh we should buy this!” You exclaim as you see yet another pair of earrings that catches your eye, Kazuha immediately agreeing with a nod and a grin as you inspect the vintage sunflower-shaped accessory. “It’s so cute!”

Taehyun rolls his eyes from behind you, letting you drag him along by the hand anyway as he carries a paper bag of all of your combined purchases in his other hand. “Ya, I know I said we can stroll around but we really need to find the missing pearl and get home before sundown.”

You ignore his words, turning around with a smile and hovering the earrings next to your face. “What do you think?”

“Beautiful. But you have so many sunflowers at home already.” Taehyun calmly points out, glancing over your shoulder as he tries to inspect the merchant’s items but to no avail. You hope he misses the way your knees almost physically buckle in front of him. “I’m actually starting to think that your dad is also symbolized by the sunflower.”

“But I don’t have sunflower earrings yet!” You retort before turning to Kazuha. “What about you, Kazuha? What do you think?”

“I think yellow brings out your complexion pretty well! It's wonderful!” She flashes a thumbs up of approval before lowering her voice for her next words. “And I think it’s pretty fitting for a child of Apollo!"

“Thanks, Kazuha!”

Taehyun squints his eyes at Kazuha, shaking his head in disapproval. “Don’t entertain them too much, it’ll get in their head.”

“Jerk.” You scoff, removing your hand from Taehyun’s to elbow him to which he only smirks at you before you face the merchant again. “How much for this, ma’am?”

The old woman leans over the table to inspect the earrings, pushing her eyeglasses higher up her nose before smiling warmly in recognition. “For you, I can give it away for six dollars.” She answers, voice simultaneously hoarse and small. “Great choice, child, it would look very lovely on you.”

You smile at her, before glaring up at Taehyun playfully. “See, a compliment isn't so bad every once in a while.” You scold him before taking out your wallet from your slingbag and handing the old woman your six dollars. “You have really lovely items, by the way, ma'am.”

“My, thank you!” The old woman smiles before moving to the clothes rack on the side of her table. “Feel free to look around, my dear. I’m sure your sister and boyfriend can also find something that they like around here.”

You almost choke on your own spit and Taehyun, though seemingly unfazed, coughs awkwardly before moving to the clothes rack. Then, on your other side just witnessing it all, Kazuha giggles behind her hand.

“Oh no, ma’am you must be mistaken. We’re not—“ You shake your head wildly as you put the earrings on and take a step away from Taehyun, heat rising up your face uncomfortably despite the scorching hot afternoon sun beating down on your backs. “He’s not—he’s not my boyfriend.”

In the meantime, Taehyun busies himself with combing through the clothes on sale, eyes abnormally wide in what you’ve come to know as his go-to flustered expression before pulling out a green plaid flannel. “How about this, Y/N?” He asks, trying to keep his voice monotonous even when he knows full well that you can decipher his embarrassed feelings through his voice. “About that thing you mentioned last time?”

“What thing?” You and Kazuha ask at the same time.

“The thing.” Taehyun repeats with more emphasis this time, waving a green plaid flannel in front of you before showing you another hanger with a blue flannel. “This too.”

You open your mouth to speak but no words come out, Kazuha ending up speaking on your (and, unknowingly, your vision) behalf. “Um, I don’t know what the thing is but I like the green one.” She says, pointing innocently at the exact same flannel you’re belatedly registering as the one from your vision. “But the blue one is cute too.”

Taehyun nods in thought, ultimately returning the blue flannel and folding the green plaid one over his arm. “Kazuha, you can look at this too if you want.” He suggests, beckoning her over to his side. “Y/N, I thought you wanted to shop for more clothes.”

Kazuha’s expression brightens and she’s quick to jog over to Taehyun, relaxing immediately at Taehyun’s first gesture of hospitality towards her. “Oh, right! Sure!”

You, on the other hand, remain at the very front of the stall, watching the two interact on the sides until it hits you, the same sense of deja vu you always get when parts of your vision unfold in reality.

The way Kazuha held your sword last night, her passing comment about wanting to learn how to work with daggers, and the way Taehyun also visibly warms up to her in real-time when she suggests a second and a third shirt for Taehyun to buy for himself.

“Holy shit.” You mumble to yourself, coincidentally spotting a familiar ocean blue pearl in a pile of brooches that the old woman brings out when you look away from the two at the same time.

Taehyun looks over his shoulder to you in concern, following your gaze to the brooches. “Y/N.”

You meet his gaze, eyes widening as you quickly pick up the pearl brooch and show it to the merchant. “Excuse me, ma’am, how much for this brooch?”

“Oh, that’s something a neighbor just gave me to sell away this morning. A dollar would do, darling.”

You sigh in relief, handing out an additional dollar to the old woman before thanking her then joining Kazuha and Taehyun near the clothes racks.

“Okay, I got it. Easy enough...weirdly.” You declare, showing Taehyun and Kazuha the brooch in your hand then quickly averting your gaze to the clothes in racks and boxes around you. Seeing the two up close, the total weight of your realization slowly starts uncomfortably settling on your chest, making you cough awkwardly. “What else do they have?”

Taehyun, meanwhile, takes the brooch and leans close to pin it on your sling bag, patting it down on your chest. You unconsciously hold your breath the whole time.

“Let’s keep it here for now so we don’t accidentally crush it on the ride home.” He whispers low, glancing up at you before quickly leaning away. 

You nod meekly, belatedly exhaling as your eyes follow Taehyun’s figure when he turns around and pays for the clothes he’s picked up—including the green plaid flannel you’ll see him wear at the bonfire.

“Y/N, do you like wearing silk scarves?” Kazuha asks from your opposite side, showing you a whole band of patterned silk scarves. “They’re pretty trendy this summer!”

You nod again absentmindedly, fighting the urge to blurt out what you’ve just realized about Kazuha and Taehyun right now as she shows you a bunch of silk scarves you can try.

You try looking for the red strings for the rest of that flea trip market and the subsequent subway ride back to Camp, discreetly inspecting Taehyun when he slots his hand back into yours when you move on to other stalls and making sure that you lead Kazuha to the right subway by hand when you go home. Though you don’t have the ability to do so, it was worth the try anyway in your head, anything to further confirm your suspicions. 

Taehyun definitely noticed, though, but chose not to speak on it until after dinner when you’ve introduced Kazuha to Yeonjun who’ll be her temporary cabin counselor.

“There’s no string, not one I can see anyway.” He states on the walk to your cabin, holding his arms up to show you his bare wrists.

You frown when he takes your hand back in his after, both in frustration and the uncomfortable feeling of being hyper-aware of how his thumb rubs the back of your hand. “Maybe you won’t see it until later? You tell me, I'm pretty sure you've read all about it before."

“There aren't much books on it actually. Anyway, didn't you dream of it for Soobin before?" He points out, referring to last summer when you helped the child of Poseidon actualize a vision you had of him befriending one of Hades’ children. In that particular vision, you also dreamt of a red string but your subconscious instincts (also confirmed by the Oracle in your later session together) only told you that the future anticipates it to be platonic. "Did he say anything about it?"

“I didn’t think they’d date, I just predicted they’d be good friends because my subconscious told me so. The Oracle also didn’t see it coming either, you know.” You clarify. “And, no, Soobin hasn't mentioned anything about seeing the string on himself. He did mention that there are older Aphrodite campers who can see them but they’ve all left camp before we even came in. No one in camp right now has the gift.”

"Then maybe it's just a metaphor for connection in your dream. Simple as that." Taehyun shrugs.

"Still a connection and clearly pointing towards something important." You insist, finally reaching your cabin and getting bombarded by the sounds of Sunwoo’s electric guitar and what you can identify as Soyeon making up a tune on the spot. “Who knows, the red string in my vision may actually be platonic or romantic like what happened with Soobin!”

“You’ve known me for 13 years. What do you think?”

You stop on the marble steps leading up to the entrance, instinctively raising your hand up to the door and manipulating the sound waves escaping the walls to form a bubble around the cabin. The house mutes up from the outside in an instant. “I just told you what I think?”

Taehyun rolls his eyes, gesturing to himself then to you. “I mean what do you think about us? Suppose we have a red string to each other, what does it mean to you?”

Your entire body tenses up, eyes looking up to inspect every inch of your best friend’s face for any signs of breaking out into a laugh and revealing that he’s messing with you.

Taehyun furrows his brows in thought, anticipating your answer with bated breath and a seemingly erratic heartbeat that reaches your ears when you unconsciously focus on it.

You gulp, the sound seemingly louder in your now quieter surroundings. When you focus in on the sounds around you once more, you also hear your heartbeat uncomfortably pounding in your eardrums at the sudden tension.

“You’re my best friend, my first friend here and the longest one I've been with, actually.” It takes all remaining strength in you to answer, coughing awkwardly in the silence. “We grew up together, went to school together until the 12th grade, and spend the holidays alternating with your dad and my mom. We train together on weekdays, and we go on quests together all the time because we always insist to Chiron and Mr. D. that we’re a package deal. Not to mention, we've already gotten ourselves stuck in the Lotus Casino for a whole six months before. I think that's already pretty epic enough in itself."

“If we were tied together,” You add, hesitantly hammering in the final nail in the coffin. “I think it’s just platonic like all of our other connections with other people. If we’re anything else, something would've happened long ago."

Taehyun takes an abnormally long moment to reply, his expression morphing into something undecipherable before he lets out the breath he's been holding. It makes you frown and you ponder on asking him if you said something wrong until he beats you to it.

“Exactly my point." He coughs awkwardly before taking a step back. "Like us, it could be friendship for all we know in the end. Soobin's was just a whole different case."

Your heart sinks somehow, as if you were expecting him to say something different in the back or your head. “Then we’ll never know until next month.” 

Taehyun hums with a nod, the loud music coming from your cabin gradually returning as you dispel the sound bubble you made around it. 

You want to ask his question back to him, the words at the tip of your tongue and hoping he’ll actually say something completely different from you until they dissipate as Taehyun pats your head goodnight, a strange smile on his lips. “I’ll be off, then. Sweet dreams, stupid.”

“Night, genius.” You greet back instead, the feeling of dread you’ve been holding back for weeks now momentarily slipping up as your voice shakes towards the end.  

You don’t end up sleeping at all that night, all sorts of thoughts—from anxiety you’ve been feeling as your summer unfolds similarly to your vision to the possibilities that Kazuha could be one of your siblings and Taehyun’s soulmate—keeping you up with your siblings’ loud music until the next day. So instead, you reread all of your recent dream journals entries with your live journal, correlating each event and detail with each other: the time Taehyun had you cut his hair, your quest of finding Kazuha, all of Kazuha’s comments that could possibly be clues, the flea market trip today, and Beomgyu’s brief mention of a beach party co-hosted with the Hermes cabin and the Dionysus cabin before you embarked on your latest quest. 

Taehyun’s hot boy summer was unfolding in real-time with some contingencies your vision didn’t warn you about beforehand. On the one hand, you’re glad that it’s happening generally as planned at least, with only the beach party and the bonfire left to fulfill. But on the other, you feel somewhat conflicted and overwhelmed—anxious of seeing the rest of the plan through, conflicted about having an inkling of who your best friend’s prospective soulmate might be before the bonfire, and resentful that, for some reason, you suddenly and selfishly don’t want it to be anyone else but you. 

(Soobin ends up having to fight an internal battle of not to laugh in front of your face when you report for a volunteer shift at the infirmary the next day, dismissing you quickly and letting you sleep in one of the cots.

“This better be a life-changing realization if you have eyebags this bad.” The older boy sighs with concern as he brings you an extra blanket from their supply closet. “What is it this time?” 

“It’s nothing.” You grumble, draping the blanket over your legs as you lay down before lifting it over your head.

“Are you sure?”

“Go tend to your patients, Soobin. Someone’s gonna come in in 10 minutes with a concussion.”)

♡

The Saturday of the beach party, Kazuha is coincidentally claimed as a child of Aphrodite in the middle of the beginner's archery class that you teach. Though the strong gust of wind brought by the doves that welcome Kazuha as one of Beomgyu's half-siblings eases your worry about her discovering her godly parent and the possible difficulties that may happen if she ends up as your half-sibling, it is an inconvenience to your class and a tell-tale sign that Beomgyu and the Dionysus cabin counselor, Hyunjae, will bring in more ambrosia and alcohol for reckless campers to consume.

Forcing Taehyun to socialize with the Aphrodite and Hermes cabin kids suddenly seems like the worst idea, your suspicion immediately proving itself true when you arrive at the beach later in the evening and scour just how many people are already drunk by 8 PM.

"Drinks?" Taehyun asks you after you've congratulated Kazuha on her claiming, gesturing over to a group crowding around what seems to be coolers of beer and soju and a table of snacks and ambrosia. You've bleached and re-dyed his roots in his cabin over the course of the week, his hair looking as bright as it did in the Spring, and he's allowed you to style him tonight in a crisp white printed shirt you ordered for him online, a cropped leather jacket, and jeans. "If you're making me talk to a bunch of Aphrodite and Hermes kids, I'd probably need two bottles of beer first."

You look up at him as the two of you walk to the drinks, actively avoiding his hand reaching for yours when you feel your knuckles bump against his.

"I mean, do you still want to, looking around?" You chuckle nervously, instinctively ducking along with Taehyun when a beach ball gets tossed in your direction. You then quickly pick the ball up and toss it back to Chaewon who thanks you appreciatively. "Everyone definitely sounds and smells like they're pretty buzzed already."

On your right, a bunch of Hephaestus kids and Zeus kids have started an impromptu fire show around the bonfire then to your left, a good half of the Poseidon kids, Ares kids, and your own siblings are all knee-deep in the water and having an intense game of water dodgeball. Then somewhere behind you, some of the Aphrodite kids, Hermes kids, and Dionysus kids have started big circles of the camp staple truth or dare, dragging anyone who comes near while also occasionally playing music on the speakers provided by the Hermes cabin.

Making a whole turn as you walk, Taehyun ends up shaking his head with a laugh. "Maybe not intentionally right now." He answers belatedly, stopping in front of the coolers and picking up two beer bottles for you. In the meantime, you pick up some chips and ambrosia for yourselves. "I'll need to be at least a bit buzzed myself before I let any of the Hermes kid drag me to a conga line

You laugh but nod in agreement, snatching the beer bottles from his hands and opening them simultaneously using both of the caps. You then hand one to Taehyun and take a big gulp of your own. "Okay, so where do you want to go for now?"

The two of you move away from the coolers, scanning the area as you walk and snack on your loot.

"Yeonjun's probably getting pissed drunk with Wooyoung, Haknyeon, and Changbin by now and Beomgyu's definitely making sure that none of the Aphrodite kids end up in places where they don't want to be in tomorrow morning." You start before taking another swig of your beer, the beverage warming slightly in your hands as you harness the sun’s energy through the half-moon. “Personally, I don’t want to be taking care of three more guys later when you’re all drunk and talkative so I’d really like to avoid any 98 liner tonight.”

“I don’t get too talkative.” Taehyun frowns, sipping his beer slower and hissing at the cold temperature running down his throat.

You roll your eyes, thoughts immediately going through all the times he’s jumped on the big rock formations further down the beach and pretended he was Socrates while blackout drunk. “That’s why you don’t remember things when you drink, genius.” 

Taehyun sighs, opening a bag of potato chips whil he drinks. "Whatever. Anyway, we just saw Soobin with his siblings so he's not drinking tonight but I'm not really in the mood to get in the water.”

You nod in agreement, immediately moving away when the water climbs closer in the sand. "That leaves us with Hyuka, wherever he is right now." You point out, snatching a handful of chips from Taehyun’s bag. “Come to think about it, I haven’t seen him since lunch.”

"Me too. Where could he even be?" Taehyun squints his eyes under the dim lighting of the fairy lights haphazardly set up around the beach, turning his head on both sides as you walk past the fire show that has now quieted down with the kids preparing DIY fireworks on the spot. "He's not with Soobin or Hiyyih. I doubt he’d be with Yeonjun and Beomgyu at a party too unless he’s drinking tonight.”

The two of you walk further down the beach, examining every face and group you pass by, occasionally making small talk with the other campers, and making sure that your respective siblings are still drinking safely and responsibly. Some of the Demeter kids hand you more food and drinks while some Hermes kids invite you to do shots and drinking games with them as the night progresses further and you momentarily forget about looking for your half-sibling, feeling light-headed from all the beer mixed in with ambrosia while Taehyun gradually loosens up as well right next to you the more freely he converses with the other campers.

You take more and more notice of the Aphrodite and Hermes kids approaching Taehyun much like in your vision, complimenting his outfit with flushed cheeks and cheeky grins in real-time before running away to gossip among themselves. Though you realize early that you’re feeling quite tipsy already, the amount of people that crowd you for Taehyun every now and then effectively keeps you awake with a strange feeling bubbling up in your chest.

“Do you think it’s weird that Eric just called my outfit nice after I pushed him off the climbing wall on Wednesday?” Taehyun hums at one point, glancing over his shoulder as the said son of Ares joins his friends at a new big circle in the sand.

It's almost an hour later when you've scoured the whole beach for Hueningkai but to no avail, finding it weird even in your light-headed state that your half-brother is not at the very center of all the festivities.

In the meantime, you shake your head, dragging Taehyun to your opposite side when you see another child of Aphrodite, Haneul, try and approach you two. Glaring her down until she backs off, you then muster up an answer for Taehyun, “It’s not weird. He probably thought it’s nice to see you out of your polos and sweatshirts for once. You’re overthinking it.”

“I like my polos and sweatshirts. I mean…I’m glad you reminded me that I own a leather jacket but I like my other clothes.” Tipsy Taehyun pouts at you with his eyes blown wide and his cheeks flushed, linking his arms with yours as well which you don’t mind as much now compared to earlier in the evening when you were sober.

After probably three or four bottles of beer and a gods-awful lot of shots, the drunk Taehyun you know was slowly coming out with the long but slow sentences and the darting eyes. “You know, I was wearing a yellow sweatshirt when we first met.” He adds belatedly, finding interest in the sand.

You nod, slowing down in your walk as the breeze picks up and smacks your drunkenness in your face. When Taehyun stumbles slightly in the sand, you’re slower in pushing him back on his feet as the two of you stand near a smaller bonfire made by one of the Hephaestus kids. 

“Yeah, you let me borrow it when I arrived in the dead of Winter without a jacket then you gave it to me a week after when I couldn’t sleep well at the Hermes cabin. We didn’t know I had limited thermal manipulation that time.” You try your best recalling, finding it now a good time to sober up a bit as he tries talking your ear off. “Ya, you literally saw me wear it with my sunflower earrings when we had workshop together on Thursday.”

“Right, right! Soobin and Hyuka complimented you after breakfast too.” Taehyun grins and chuckles, nodding along. “I remember because I was there and I was proud they complimented something of mine without knowing!”

“Right, Hyuka. We haven’t seen him all night.” You frown, taking your last sip of your fourth bottle before disposing it in one of the trash cans set up near the bonfire. “We should look for him soon.”

“Wait!” Taehyun suddenly exclaims when you walk ahead towards the more secluded area of the beach. When you turn around, you then see him shrugging off his leather jacket and passing it to you. “It’s cold!”

You raise a brow and nod. “Yeah, so wear your jacket, genius.”

Taehyun stubbornly shakes his head, pushing the leather jacket to you. “No, I mean it’s cold so you wear my jacket!”

You conclude that Taehyun is more intoxicated than usual at this point with the way he’s just casually forgetting who your godly parent is. The thought makes the more rational side of your brain, currently pushed away in the deeper recesses of your mind for tonight, emerge back further and laugh.

“Oh, we’ll have to get you water soon. You’re literally forgetting who your best friend is.” You tsk softly, taking the leather jacket and wrapping it around him again. Your fingers end up grazing his exposed collarbones in the process, hotter than normal after a few drinks. “I’m hoping you still know how to put on a jacket, at least, given you just removed it a second ago?”

If Taehyun was taken aback by how hot your hands suddenly are, he doesn’t visibly show it on his face. “Why are your hands so hot all of a sudden?”

“A family thing, I guess. I learned it after you gave me your sweatshirt.” You shrug teasingly, already feeling yourself sober up the more Taehyun uncharacteristically keeps his head in the clouds with the final sip of his beer bottle. “If you remember, you also called me a portable furnace when that snow storm hit in the 3rd grade then avoided me like the plague when that heat wave came the summer after.”

“I would never do that.” Taehyun frowns as he discards his own beer bottle in the trash can, almost missing it by a literal hair and hiding his embarrassment by taking your hand in his. “Well, not the me right now, at least. I guess kid Taehyun had more sass."

You chuckle lightly. Your rational side, wanting to come back to your full senses, wants to take your hand back immediately but the remnants of the alcohol in your system holds you back from actually saying it. "You're still pretty sassy most days. Family trait too, I'm guessing."

“I wish my hands could also heat up like that, though, especially on colder nights like these.” He sighs to himself as he pushes his arms through the sleeves of his leather jacket again and rubs his hands for extra warmth. “But then I won’t be able to hold your hand whenever I want to since we’d just burn each other.”

You almost choke on your own spit, coughing as Taehyun obliviously leads the two of you to walk around the beach again. “E-Excuse me?”

“I like holding your hand.” He squeezes your hand once for emphasizing before shrugging, as if it was the most casual declaration in the world right now. “Anyway, let’s go around and look for Hyuka once then if he's really not here, let's just join the Hephaestus kids by the smaller bonfires.”

Dumbfounded, you just let him led you down the sand path of the beach with your hands swinging gently between the two of you, almost missing the way tipsy Taehyun smiles to himself after glancing down at your hands.

Eventually, you find your aforementioned younger half-sibling with Beomgyu, Kazuha, and the Aphrodite kids in a rockier and more secluded part of the beach of all places, right at the center of a truth or dare circle.

"Hey, you guys came!" He exclaims giddily, running over to you with a peculiar skip in his steps before wrapping his arms on both yours and Taehyun's shoulders. "My other other other favorite sibling and the guy who's been stealing them away from me!"

"I wouldn't say stealing your sibling away. I just needed help with my hair." Taehyun rolls his eyes as he helps you pry Hueningkai's bigger frame away from the both of you. "I didn't think you'd be drinking tonight."

"Me too, actually! But I got apple juice to go with everything so it's been pretty fun!"

"How many bottles have you had even?" You ask at the same time, more sober now that you’ve walked the entire stretch of the beach. "Gods, you stink! Did you come in straight from sparring?"

"I made it to three bottles today!" Hueningkai proudly slurs his words in answer, taking both yours and Taehyun's free hands and dragging you to the circle. "And I was dared to bring in two more people so I guess that's you guys!"

You glance over at Taehyun, raising your brows in question to which he answers non-verbally by shrugging.

"Come, come!" Hueningkai tugs you closer before you could protest, sitting you down next to Beomgyu while Taehyun is dragged over to Kazuha and Yuna. "Sieun, you’re next! Truth or dare?”

Though you end up witnessing Yuna getting dared to do 10 consecutive soju shots, an elephant spin, and then a whole somersault, Taehyun reciting the multiplication table backwards and revealing the campers he’s not very fond of, and Jeongin revealing the names of all the people and nymphs he’s ever had a crush on, this circle of campers is relative tamer than the others you almost got dragged to previously. It’s a rowdy bunch with too many bottles of ambrosia and soju swiped from the main party (courtesy of Beomgyu) but you find yourself easily tipsy again and laughing along to your friends’ antics, leaning your half of your body weight on Beomgyu next to you and even picking dare twice to entertain yourself and everyone else.

(The first time, you ended up getting in a competition with Hueningkai and Yunjin on who can raise their body temperature the highest then on your second dare, Kazuha dared you to mute Beomgyu until his next turn.)

“Oi, Beomgyu, truth or dare?" Sunghoon asked once the said child of Aphrodite’s phone pointed towards its owner five rounds later.

You then manipulate the soundwaves in the air with a snap, allowing Beomgyu to immediately and excitedly blurt out, “Dare!”

While everyone comes up with a new dare for him, Beomgyu then shoves you away from him playfully because of how you muted his voice out for 15 minutes, making you laugh.

“Dude, that was awful! I wanted to yell when Sunghoon jumped in the water!” He exclaims to you, making you and Ryujin on your opposite side laugh. “Then when Kazuha prank called Eunchae and Taehyun did all those ambrosia shots!”

You shrug teasingly, raising your hands up in defeat. “Well, it was nice for us being slightly quieter for 30 minutes!”

“Ya, come here, you little—!”

“Okay, we dare you to use charmspeak on anyone in the circle!” Sunghoon interjects with an excited yell, eyes then landing on you. “How about on Y/N?”

Your eyes widen as your mind quickly goes blank with all eyes on you. From the corner of your eye, you see the same indecipherable expression on Taehyun’s face and his body visibly tenses up despite the soju bottle in his hand.

At the same time, Beomgyu’s hazy eyes brighten up in an instant before turnjng to you with a menacing smirk. “Oh, revenge is coming early for you!”

“It’s just for a minute, though!” Hueningkai points out. “Just make Y/N do something small. Nothing too weird or dangerous please, they have two siblings here!”

“Wait, let me think of something!” Beomgyu raises his right hand in front of him with a chuckle while his left raises his soju bottle on his lips again. “It should still be interesting since this is my opportunity at revenge!”

You glance at Taehyun again from the corner of your eye, almost flinching in the sand when you meet his eyes, then at Kazuha two people away from him with wide eyes and mouth forming an ‘o’ shape curiously. When you focus on Kazuha and Yunjin, you can faintly hear her ask about charmspeak as an ability of Aphrodite’s children.

Gulping down another sip of soju, you suddenly find yourself shrugging and agreeing to the dare. “Fuck it, okay, sure. Give me your best shot, lover boy.”

“Okay, okay. Geez.” Beomgyu rolls his eyes, irises turning pink right after. “You’ve always been curious about my charmspeak, huh?”

Without even thinking about it, your mouth suddenly blurts out, “Yeah, sure.”

Your circle of friends gasp in surprise, having never really seen you entertain requests like this before, and you also gasp at the very recesses of your thoughts, belatedly realizing what is going on with you.

Beomgyu smirks and clasps his hands together in content. “What should we have you do? What do you want to do, love?”

A force settles itself on your shoulders, moving your muscles around like a puppet. This time, you shrug and gesture over to Beomgyu in a daze. “Whatever you want me to do, it’s fine.”

“Y/N, truth or dare? I think another dare would be good for you this round, don’t you think?”

“Ya, Beomgyu, careful there.” Jeongin warns, to which he earns a shushing gesture from said child of Aphrodite.

“I choose dare.” You answer back monotonously despite your efforts to fight back whatever force is making you answer before you could even comprehend anything, worry settling in the back of your head as a mischievous glint crosses Beomgyu’s now blood red eyes.

“I dare you to kiss the prettiest person in the circle!” Beomgyu declares, glancing around. “If you can’t decide for yourself right now, you can pick me or Kazuha or Sunghoon.”

Beomgyu’s name somehow pushes itself to the front of your mind and the tip of your tongue, pushing Taehyun’s name of all people. “I choose—“

“Beomgyu, that’s enough.”

Taehyun’s low and commanding voice is enough to snap you out of your trance, blinking twice and turning your head towards him, and disrupt Beomgyu’s concentration, much to everyone’s chagrin. His stoic expression remains the same but if you focus on the fainter sounds around you, you can clearly hear him gritting his teeth and huffing.

Next to you, Beomgyu raises his hands up in surrender, a small hint of a knowing smirk on his face. “Okay, okay, calm down. I was going to stop there, actually.” He replies with a light-hearted chuckle, eyes going back to their natural brown. “Should we move on? Taehyun, truth or dare?”

Instead of answering, however, Taehyun stands up and storms off, leaving his soju bottle in the sand and walking to the direction of the path back to the cabins.

“Tyun—“ You try standing up and going after him, only for Beomgyu to hold you back down by your elbow. “Gyu, let go of me!”

“Are you crazy? There’s literal steam going off of his ears right now, I’m not letting you go after him.” Beomgyu retorts calmly, tightening his grip on your elbow when you flail around. “Let him cool down for a bit.”

“I swear to the gods, Choi Beomgyu—“

This time, it’s Hueningkai who interjects, “Dude, no, he’s right. Let’s leave Taehyun alone for now, I don’t want you getting thrown off a tree or something.”

“But—“

Beomgyu shakes his head. “No, nope, no buts. I think that also checks out for our game tonight.” He interjects, standing up and dusting the sand off of his pants. “Come on, guys, let’s clean up and head back too.”

You groan, standing up last and helping everyone clear out the mess. “I don’t even know why he’s so upset.” You mumble to Hueningkai after, heading back to the more crowded area of the beach to discard your empty bags of chips and soju bottles. “It was just a game.”

It takes your half-brother a moment to ponder on your question, opening his mouth multiple times only to close it quietly. When he does answer, he says, “E-Eh, well, it’ll probably go away by morning.” Shrugging, Hueningkai then offers to walk you and Yunjin back to the cabin after finding Hiyyih by another bonfire. “Taehyun was probably just upset by charmspeak, child of Athena and everything. Don’t worry about it.”

♡

It did not go away by morning, not even in the weeks that followed. Though Taehyun was civil with you—continuing to spar with you on weekdays, accompanying you even on smaller solo quests, and even partnering up with you during one of your assigned strawberry picking days—it was the kind of civil you’ve associated over the years as him being cross with you. 

For one, he’s suddenly quieter than usual and only speaks to you when it is absolutely necessary, which in Taehyun talk would only be when he has to ask a direct question about your work or if he has to clarify something. He doesn’t even ask you anymore if you got hurt during sparring sessions or what time you finish your beginner’s archery classes, the longest he’s spoken to you in the past three weeks being the time when he asked you and your fellow cabin counselors the details about the arrival of Artemis’ hunters to camp. 

Though Beomgyu’s apologized to you and to him multiple times, you’re also quick to catch onto Taehyun tensing up whenever the three of you are within five feet of each other before ultimately moving away. He’s mostly hung out with Hueningkai and Yeonjun in the meantime and you’d often find the three standing together even when they’re not teammates for an activity, leaving you to resort to drilling your half-brother with questions about Taehyun at the end of the day. 

(But even Hueningkai is no good help most times because he’s decided that he’d rather keep some things between him and his friend rather than open up to you, his literal sibling. You also had to find out from Yeonjun that it was Hueningkai himself who proposed that they talk via text messaging when they’re together, knowing that you can focus on sounds well.) 

But most importantly, Taehyun, whether he’s doing it intentionally or not, has been harsher on you than everyone else during team games. As you’ve observed before in all the other times when he’s held grudges on you or other campers, it’s his way of letting off steam: being more critical of you during brainstorming sessions, yelling at you a little louder in the field, and pointing out all of your mistakes with a harder expression on his face after. Though it was nice that he’s at least not giving you the cold shoulder, there have been times in the past few days that you’ve wanted to just tear his head off or stab him with a poisoned arrow in annoyance because you knew him well enough to know that he doesn’t fully mean what he’s saying and that he’s just projecting. 

And you desperately want to apologize for whatever it is that you did at the party, as evidenced by the growing number of paragraphs on your phone’s Notes app and the amount of times you’ve tried cornerning him at the forge, but you just can’t seem to find the right time—not when Taehyun’s always buried in work, talking in secret with Hueningkai and Yeonjun, or nitpicking at everything and making it an argument between the two of you. As much as it hurts knowing he’ll meet someone new soon, it hurts even more knowing that he’ll meet this new person while being extremely upset with you and won’t let you apologize. 

Gods, you think that you really are fucked. 

By the afternoon before the Summer’s End bonfire, a celebration at the canoe lake for departing campers, you find yourself terrorizing Soobin at the infirmary instead of helping out with last minute preparations on the bonfire. 

Initially, you were going to the big house and consult with the Oracle of Delphi until they kick you out, then you’d stick with the Hunters of Artemis for the rest of the night when the Oracle pushes you to go to the bonfire. However, Mr. D. has closed the big house earlier than you anticipated, pushing you in the direction of the infirmary at its closing time and catching Soobin packing away his things for the day. 

“Have you ever thought about making a cure for any kind of broken heart?” You ask with a sigh as you help fold blankets and fluff pillows. “I mean, I get that most demigods and heroes would rather follow their loved ones to the underworld but don’t you think it’s also good to have a back-up option, especially for us people in the waking world?” 

"Just go up to him, make sure he’s alone, and say sorry like you’ve always done in all the other times you’ve fought.” Soobin shrugs three cots away from you as he makes an inventory of the infirmary’s medical supplies. “I get that he’s a bit intimidating when he’s mad and that you’ll probably need to apologize at least five times but he’s still your best friend. Besides, this isn’t your biggest fight with him, as far as I’m concerned.” 

“It’s not just that.” You whine dramatically, plopping down on the cot in front of you. “It’s also because I—well, first, I’m not exactly sure what I’m apologizing for. For complying with Beomgyu for a dare? Willingly getting charmspoken? He’s upset and he’s valid for that but I just can’t seem to wrap my mind around his point of view that time.” 

“Maybe he was upset on your behalf. While it was a drunken joke for everyone else, it probably wasn’t for him. He’s still a child of Athena and you know how his mom feels about Beomgyu’s mom sometimes.” Soobin suggests. “And you know he’s very protective of you. That and the fact that charmspeaking is done differently with Aphrodite and Athena kids probably agitated him.”

“I mean, still, I was fine and nothing really happened, anyway.” You point out before scratching your head and waving your hand dismissively. “Whatever, there’s also the thing with tonight. I might just ruin it for him if I corner him for a bit just to say sorry. Soobin, he’s literally meeting his soulmate tonight and my instincts told me it’s the romantic kind of soulmate.” 

“Yeah, so? Before this soulmate person, you’re Tyun’s best friend. I don’t think five minutes of apologizing is going to change anything for the rest of destiny.” Soobin retorts expertly and you immediately regret coming to your most level-headed friend in your time of actual stress and dramatics. “I think you’d even make his night if you try and make amends right before he meets this person, whoever they are.”

You pout and Soobin rolls his eyes, finishing up his inventory before walking over to you. He sits right next to you on the cot, sighing as he does so. 

“I didn’t see me apologizing to him in my vision.” 

“You also didn’t predict that you’d be getting into this specific situation in the first place.” Soobin retorts sassily. “Isn’t it your dad who said that your vision are just general guidelines? This isn’t the future you saw back then, it’s your present now and it’s demanding you clear things up with Taehyun as soon as possible.” 

You rest your chin on your knees, whining dramatically. “But Soobin!”

“You’re literally just making up excuses. Take it from me that if you don’t do what you have to do as soon as possible, you’ll regret it when you have to wait for a long time for your next shot.” 

“That’s easy for you to say, you got the girl in the end.” You grumble. 

Soobin raises a brow at this. "So it’s about being in love with Taehyun now?” 

Your eyes widen and your hands immediately find themselves smacking Soobin’s arm. “Ya, I never said that!”

Soobin, however, is unflinching as he maintains his stance calmly. “You don’t have to say it. Yeonjun and I watched you two grow up too, you know.” He states matter-of-factly. “If you really love him as a best friend first and foremost, you’d still go up there even with all of your excuses and conflicted feelings about tonight. I promise you, destiny protects certain events to make sure that they happen so just go up there freely and talk to him, it’s fine.

“Besides, you’ve been putting this up for three weeks now, shouldn’t it be time that you do something about it? Knowing Taehyun and how Athena’s kids hold grudges, it’s probably just as hard on him as it is on you too.” He concludes, standing up and dragging you with him on your feet easily. “He needs you there, Y/N. Don’t keep him waiting for too long.” 

“Will you make that cure for broken heart when he breaks mine right after?” 

Soobin rolls his eyes but proceeds to drag you out of the infirmary anyway. “We’ll just have to see.” 

♡

Taehyun is wearing the green plaid flannel from the flea market over a cream-coloured hoodie and jeans, purple hair styled neatly and a silver earring on one ear. When you spot him as you arrive at the campfire, he stands by the drinks table with a glass of ambrosia and his brows furrowed in thought. Kazuha stands in front of him in full armour and sheaths on her hips, most likely from the games with the Hunters of Artemis that you organized this afternoon, and showing something on her phone. 

The dread you’ve been harboring the whole summer rises up your throat along with the full weight of the last part of your vision happening in real-time. Instead of running away like in your vision, however, Soobin just holds you in place before letting go and disappearing into the party when Taehyun spots you over Kazuha’s shoulders. 

“Y/N!” He calls for you, eyes wide in what you’re surprised to find as worry. Walking past Kazuha, he sets down his glass and takes another tentative step forward to you. “Wait, it’s not—”

“Can I talk to you?” You interject, gulping down your nervousness. You’re nervous about what you’re going to say to him but, most importantly, you worry about the fact that you didn’t see this part in your vision. “Alone, if that’s okay.”

Taehyun immediately nods, almost as if he was expecting you to ask, and jogs the rest of the distance to you. “Let’s go somewhere quieter.” He says, extending his hand to take yours before quickly retracting it and walking past you. “Come on.” 

You follow him away from the bonfire quietly, stopping a few meters from the canoe lake and away from the path campers usually take. 

“Look, Taehyun—”

“Y/N, I swear—”

You both back away from each other in surprise, Taehyun coughing awkwardly while you immediately avert your gaze in embarrassment.

“You first.” Taehyun eventually suggests with another cough, hands digging deep in his flannel’s pockets from the cold breeze that blows past. 

“No, it’s okay, you can go first.” You insist awkwardly, finding interest in the soil under your boots as you avoid his gaze. 

“Y/N.” He calls for you sternly, taking a step forward and making you look up at him. “We won’t get anywhere if we just keep tossing the conversation to each other. Just go ahead.”

There’s a long pause between the two of you as you try and stare him down, but to no avail. Sighing, you then give in and speak first. “I wanted to apologize for the thing with Beomgyu last time. I didn’t mean to upset you by playing along with the dare and letting him charmspeak me.”

“Oh that. No, it’s—”

“I’m really sorry for not apologizing sooner too.” You continue to ramble on, zoning out in your own words that you fail to notice how Taehyun’s eyes have softened from your words. “At first, I thought I’d give you time to cool off while I thought about what happened but then I let it drag on for so long because I didn’t know how to approach you when you were actively avoiding me and everything. I should’ve just went for it instead, like I’ve always done, but a lot of things were holding me back—”

“Y/N—“

“—like you’re always tense when I try approaching, especially when Beomgyu’s around, and you gave me a different position for Capture the Flag two weeks ago. I just knew from those things that you’re more upset than usual and that I should be extra careful with what I say to you—”

“Y/N—”

“—then, there’s also the fact that you’re meeting your soulmate and I kept using it as an excuse to myself that if I talk to you before, during, or even after tonight and mess up, I can’t forgive myself for making you angrier or, worse, ruining your night. Then, there’s also the fact that I—”

“Kazuha’s not my soulmate.” 

You close your mouth immediately, at the same time as your eyes widen in surprise. Taehyun takes the opportunity to step closer to you. 

“But, you were there, exactly like my vision...”

Taehyun shakes his head. “She was showing me her soulmate while explaining how she can see the red strings.” He clarifies matter-of-factly, gradually picking up speed in his speaking once more. Half of the weight on your chest and shoulders leave, only to quickly return when he continues speaking, “Then, she told me something else. Well, confirmed something for me, really.” 

You gulp, feeling your mouth dry up as you ask, “W-What is it?”

Taehyun takes a moment to respond, filling in the silence by finally taking your hands in his. "It’s you, Y/N.” He sighs in relief, catching your eyes with his sincere ones. He smiles softly at you. “It’s always been you.”

When you don’t speak or react beyond wide eyes and a slacked jaw, he continues. “Since I gave you that sweatshirt when you first came to camp and the 3rd grade when you made sure I wasn’t cold by practicing your thermal manipulation on me. Since we were first allowed to head classes on our own and you made sure that I ate and rested between sessions because that was also the summer when we were so understaffed because older campers were going on quests. Then when we got stuck at the Lotus Casino and I didn’t want to tell you what made me snap out of it but I can tell you now that it was my mom getting in my head and telling me to save you.” He releases a long exhale, his normally confident and composed demeanor slouching up to what you couldn’t believe as nervousness. “I wasn’t really upset with you or Beomgyu that night and I really am sorry for how I’ve been acting. I was just angry with myself for not doing anything then—and for not doing anything about my feelings until now, even—and that made me even angrier with myself that I couldn’t bring myself to just talk to you. I was just really embarrassed.

“Kazuha’s not my soulmate, she just happened to be confirming it for me when you arrived. She actually approached me in the first place because she worried about us, mainly you and the red string she’s been seeing around us this whole time. But whatever, red string or not, I’ll only ever be in love with you in this lifetime and the next. It’s you, Y/N, and it’ll only ever be you for me.”

Taehyun’s breathless at the end of his mini speech and you’re effectively caught off-guard, hands unconsciously warming up in his. 

“Y-You...you’re in love with me?” You repeat incredulously, feeling your heart pound in your eardrums. When you try and loosen your hands from Taehyun’s grip, worrying that you won’t be able to control your body heat as your emotions rise, he only resists. 

“If that’s okay.” He purses his lips worriedly. “Look, we’ve talked about it last time. It could be platonic if you want. Like you’ve said—”

“That was before I knew you were in love with me! I was thinking Kazuha was your soulmate that time!” You interject quickly. “I...I just thought that I love you too much and that I wanted you to be happy before anything else.

“Listen, when I dreamt my vision of you earlier this summer and saw someone else with you in the end, I just thought that was it, it was over for me. How can I compete with someone you were destined with? I’m just your best friend who’s stupid enough to wait until I thought I was about to lose you to do something.”

“Don’t say that.”

You sniffle lightly as you speak, not expecting yourself to break this easily with all the overwhelming emotions coming to you all at once. Taking a deep breath, you then continue, “So I just pushed my feelings aside tried pushing you to your destiny because that’s what the Oracle told me to do, that regardless of whether I want the future or not I have to deliver it. I wanted you to be happy first even when I wasn’t and I wanted you to meet your soulmate so I had to say all of those things but I really, really love you, Tyun—as more than a friend, if it wasn’t clear to you already.”

“Did you never consider that it could be you?” Taehyun frowns, cradling your face gently as you catch your breath. “That I’d feel the same way?”

“I didn’t think you’d choose me that way, at least until now.” You shrug unsurely, voice getting embarrassingly small towards the end. Taehyun shakes his head in disapproval. “Not against people as beautiful as Kazuha, at least...maybe even Zeus kids like Yeji and Chan or—”

“That won’t do, my love.” He tsks softly, wrapping his other arm around your waist and leaning closer until his lips are only an inch away from yours. You look up at him with bated breath, closing your eyes when he connects your lips briefly for a kiss. “Don’t ever think like that again, please.”

It’s sweet and chase but also desperate and yearning, Taehyun gently pulling you as close to him as possible while you raise your arms up to his neck. 

“Gods, I thought you didn’t have to worry about things like this. Child of the sun and all.” He chuckles lowly on the crook of your neck, hugging you comfortingly as he moves to littering more kisses down your neck. “But I’ll gladly prove it to you right now and for the rest of time.”

You scoff through a few tears that have slipped down your cheek, patting his back once. “Since when did you get this cheesy, hm?”

“It’s just for you, don’t worry, my love.” He assures, lifting his head up to capture your lips once more.

♡

(bonus)

You had a dream—or a vision, what have you—that you invited your childhood best friend and boyfriend, Kang Taehyun the son of Athena, on a date at the strawberry fields right after a day of patrolling camp borders. You had it all planned out according to what you saw: a nice picnic dinner of yours and Taehyun’s favorite foods that you prepared with Kazuha and Yunjin, a playlist of music you’ve curated for him over the past week (and some from your archives of the past years), your prettiest picnic outfit, candles, your dad’s missing chariot that you may or may not have swiped while he went on vacation to Egypt, and a pair of wings-shaped earrings you’ve been secretly making at the workshops with the help of Yeonjun and Beomgyu. 

(Well, the earrings aren’t actually part of the dream but you did see yourself giving him a gift and Taehyun did mention something about wanting to make earrings for himself for some time now so you thought of going just a little off-course and bring it along.)

“Eight PM sharp tonight! Don’t be late, I have a surprise!” You remind Taehyun as you pass by him on the way to the forge, pressing a kiss up to his cheek before reluctantly letting go of his hand when Hueningkai complains about being late to his session with the Hephaestus kids. “Oh, and wear that fitted black shirt you have! I hung it in front of your closet yesterday.”

“Will do, love. Oh, and I also have a surprise.” Taehyun winks with a grin, ruffling your hair with a fond smile. “Unless you saw it in your dream then just pretend that it’s a surprise.” 

You have a hunch but not because you saw it in your dream, rather because Taehyun’s not that discreet with going around camp with his guitar and because Yeonjun accidentally let it spill to you that your boyfriend had him order something for you a few weeks ago. Apparently, it was something fresh and yellow that he was planning to preserve and you remember mentioning in passing at a workshop class about how you were interested in flower preservation. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You feign ignorance, making him roll his eyes while you laugh. “I’ll see you tonight, genius.” 

“I’ll see you tonight, stupid.” 

♡

taglist: @choisuebin @forever-in-the-sky2 @rencarnationofangel @hyukalovie

[bottomlouisficfest]

We hope you’ve enjoyed the fics from weeks 3-4 of the Bottom Louis Fic Fest 2023! Every two weeks, we’re compiling all of the fics from that period into one roundup post so they’re easy to find for anyone looking to catch up on fics they missed. Enjoy these amazing fics and give them the love they deserve!

only you and you alone (can thrill me like you do)

A fic by camilevol6 on AO3 | @svnflouwervol6 on Twitter

13k | Explicit | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Harry wrinkles his nose as he fights Louis' dress to get his hands underneath it, panting deeply. "Alpha..." "I'm still hungry, Louis," he claims with a severity that is derailed by his ragged breathing. "I thought I heard you say you were going to take care of everything."

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Sugar Water

A fic by neversaygoodbye on AO3 | @tomlinsunsfringe on Tumblr

9k | Explicit | Tumblr post | Twitter post

When his most familiar begins to feel all too unfamiliar, Harry finds out what it means to love like real people do. Or, Harry comes back home from Princeton and has to face the consequences of his actions. The songs for this fic are 'Changes' by Cam and 'The World Spins Madly On' by the Weepies.

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PILOT.

A fic by babby_cakess on AO3 | @_babby_cakes on Twitter

5k | Teen & Up | Tumblr post | Twitter post

“We have fifteen minutes.” Harry glanced down at the watch on his wrist. “How fast do you think my tongue can make you come?” Still against the wall, Louis felt a shiver run from the back of his neck down his spine. In three years walking on moving planes, he'd never had such zero control over his legs. At least not until now.

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Stockholm Syndrome

A fic by Hazzascul_07 on AO3 | @hazzascul on Tumblr

14k | Mature | Tumblr post | Twitter post

"That's it!", Harry screamed in his face, "I'm done with you! I'll take you to your home, where you belong, where your father will be waiting for you with a belt in his fucking hands!" He could not go home. He was finally free. He will do anything to not go back to that place. He desperately and uselessly tried to free his hands, stumbling on his feet. "NO! No! No please, please, please don't take me back, please! I'll behave, I'll listen to you, I swear! Don't take me back, Harry! Please! Alpha!!" By now tears were flowing down his cheeks. Screw his stupid brain and his stupid heart. He was too good for the world. He was too hopeful to think that Harry was any different from his father and his brothers. It was true, all the alphas were the same. All with their disgusting need to control and breed and ruin the life of an omega. To take and take and take, and never give anything back. It seemed as if expecting goodness from the world was a crime and he was the biggest sinner.

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all the small things you do (remind me why i fell for you)

A fic by Ashisinlove on AO3 | @Ashisinlove28 on Twitter

54k | Not Rated | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Prompt 68: Pack alpha Harry only wants to marry for matrimonial benefits but no other omega wishes to marry him for his reputation of being a big scary wolf who snarls at everyone for even breathing the wrong way. Omega Louis, to improve his pack’s condition, decides to be Harry’s pack Luna but is taken aback by how soft and sweet Harry actually is with him. AU where Harry is intimidating pack alpha but is very sweet and lovely with his soon-to-be mate and would do anything for his pack Luna, even make fool of himself in front of everyone just to see his giggle.

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Swap me for your shadow

A fic by lunarheslwt on AO3 | @lunarheslwt on Tumblr | @OWildeLarry on Twitter

17k | Explicit | Tumblr post | Twitter post

“…I’m just … so in love with him.” Louis blinked. What??? This hushed revelation from Harry came like a gunshot- loud - and made his heart plummet. He could hardly process it, as he stood there freezing in the wind, hidden behind the balcony door. Harry was … Harry was in love?? Since when?? The shock and confusion that had fallen over him like a bucket of ice was slowly washed over by a feeling that ran hot and acidic. Somehow, it gripped around his lungs tighter, more cruelly. Harry was in love with someone….and it wasn’t him. If Louis thought being in love with his best friend was a knife that continually twisted into his heart before, it was nothing compared to when Harry started to go around talking about having fallen for someone else. A 5+1 fic; 5 times Louis has to listen to Harry’s vague confessions of love for his ‘omega friend’ and the 1 time Louis snaps and confesses his love for Harry.

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White Noise Frequency

A fic by whoknows on AO3 | @crazyupsetter on Tumblr

6k | Explicit | Tumblr post | Twitter post

In the dark, something crashes. Louis stirs, barely opening his eyes as he gropes across the bedside table for his phone. Muffled cursing is coming from the hallway, probably about ten feet away from the bedroom door. Allowing himself the tiniest of smiles, Louis yanks the phone free from the charger and slips out of bed, leaving the blankets pooled on the floor. He doesn’t bother with shoes or clothes, moving silently across the floor in his bare feet. Eyes open now, adjusting to the shadows in the dark room, he waits behind the door, crouched down. There’s no more noise. Louis waits, breathing slowly, steadily. He’s awake now, fully alert. He’s got a loose grip on his phone, and he doesn’t glance down at the screen no matter how much he wants to. This really shouldn’t be happening anymore. Three years, two new houses, an upgraded security system and actual money to throw at the problem means this definitely shouldn’t be happening anymore. In the dark, something crashes. Louis stirs, barely opening his eyes as he gropes across the bedside table for his phone. Muffled cursing is coming from the hallway, probably about ten feet away from the bedroom door.

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Tainted Love

A fic by Darling28 on AO3 | @darling-28 on Tumblr | @sunfLOUwer__ on Twitter

39k | Mature | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Broken awards, cut-up blouses, childish pranks and lots of nastiness? This is apparently all that remains of Louis and Harry after a sudden break-up and they walk a fine line between love, revenge and jealousy. Will the two find their way back to each other or are they both too hurt? ↫•↬ ↫•↬ ↫•↬ Prompt 4: Exes to Lovers AU where Harry and Louis are celebrities who have had a bitter breakup and they write songs/post shady captions to rile each other up. Louis says in an interview that he has moved on from dating pop stars to football players because they have better stamina.

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A Package Deal

A fic by alltheselights on AO3 | @alltheselights on Tumblr | @alltheselightts on Twitter

19k | Explicit | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Louis knows Harry hasn’t fucked and run because he can hear him talking quietly in the next room. He shouldn’t care enough to get up and find out who he’s talking to—he knows cops get phone calls at all hours of the night and day—but Louis has always been too curious for his own good. He pushes himself up off the couch and pulls on his underwear, which he finds several feet away, folded in a small pile. Harry must have done that while he was still asleep. It feels a little silly to be tiptoeing around in his own home, but Louis does it anyway. When he finally peeks around the corner to the kitchen, he sees Harry kneeling on the floor with Biscuit, and that alone is enough to disrupt Louis’ usual heart rate. When he realizes that Biscuit is allowing Harry to scratch around his ears while he mutters to him quietly about what a pretty boy he is, well, okay. Now Louis might need a defibrillator. For the past three years, it’s just been Louis and his one-eye orange cat, Biscuit. When Louis starts sleeping with Harry, the aggravating cop stationed at the emergency room where he works, he has no reason to think anything will change. Unfortunately, Biscuit and Harry have other plans.

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it was all by design ('cause i'm a mastermind)

A fic by tempolarriefics on AO3 | @tempolarriefix on Tumblr

22k | Explicit | Tumblr post | Twitter post

“You can’t be serious. You think I would be so awful to work for - you would rather quit?” “Don’t be all high and mighty about it,” Harry scoffs. “Surely you would do the same.” “I’m not being high and mighty. It’s called being professional.” “Really?” Harry pushes. “You’d work diligently under me with no complaints? You’d do whatever I asked of you?” “That would be my job, so yeah.” Harry shakes his head. “I’d work you so fucking hard,” he says slowly, “that you’d have to quit.” Or, the childhood friends to strangers to coworkers to enemies to lovers fic that you never knew you needed.

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Remember to give these fics kudos and comments, and spread their fic posts!

--

All roundups will be linked here:

Weeks 1-2 Roundup

Weeks 3-4 Roundup

Weeks 5-6 Roundup

Weeks 7-8 Roundup

Weeks 9-10 Roundup

Week 11 Roundup

[ginoeh]

This is the second part of three for my entry for @the-centennial-husbands-bigbang 2024! The awesome banners were done by @lalaithquetzallicaresi who is also on Deviant Art !

The story is available on AO3, where I will post chapters serialized!

To the Edge of Night

Explicit || Hob Gadling/Dream of the Endless || Part 2 of 3 || 14k

Part 1

Part 2

*** *** ***

Chapter Three

The reconstruction of the New Inn was coming along swimmingly. The tap room was nearly all done which was great, really, because that meant Hob was perfectly in time for the day of the planned grand opening. He’d set it, nostalgic fool that he was, for the 7th of June. 

But on the other hand, there was this:

“Are you absolutely sure you don’t want to work behind the bar, Bobbie?”

Hob sighed and resisted rolling his eyes at Martin. The man understandably thought he was ‘Bobbie’s’ elder by several decades. But Hob could really do without his repeated attempts at motherhenning him into a healthier lifestyle. Which, according to Martin, included more friends and more social interaction.

Usually, Hob would agree. It was just… well, it was just that so far, his attempts at interaction had been met with mixed results. It wasn’t even that he didn’t want more friends apart from Emily and Oswin. The actual reality of that was turning out to be somewhat more difficult to achieve, though. 

It was hard to be entirely genuine when he knew the fears and nightmares of every person he came across. He simply didn’t know how to work with that, yet. Maybe in time he’d get used to it all. So far, all he’d managed to do was inadvertently alienate a lot of people; his inborn sociable nature didn’t fare well when coupled with this new kind of knowledge. 

Martin sighed as well but he wasn’t half as good as Hob when it came to hide annoyance and concern. 

“Kiddo, you need to get out more. I kept telling the same to your uncle. Ya need friends and people to talk to! Bartending is exactly what you want right now.”

It wasn’t but Hob had to concede the point. He did need to get used to people.

“I can do the late shifts, if you absolutely insist.” 

Hob made sure to sound as longsuffering as possible. Wouldn’t do to seem like he was giving in too easily, after all. Otherwise, next he turned around, Martin would try to ply him the sunday roast left-overs from his wife. It was very much enough that Emily kept trying to get him to eat.  

Hob was perfectly aware that he didn’t necessarily need to eat, to stay alive. That didn’t mean that he enjoyed starving but the thing was, he simply didn’t. He wasn’t hungry because he didn’t need the food. He was not starving. He knew intimately how that felt, after all. Looking back, Hob was pretty sure it had started at the same time when his lucid dreams began to outnumber his normal nights, at the same time that he started seeing the shape of people’s fear in their eyes.

He wasn’t sure he liked the conclusions that could be drawn from this. 

“The late shifts? That is a stupid idea if I ever heard one, Bobbie.”

Hob shrugged. He appreciated Martin, he really did, but he had to put his foot down somewhere. He wasn’t going to let the man dictate the schedule of his waking hours, after all, no matter if he’d usually find the caring nature endearing. 

“That’s all I can offer right now. You do know that I have my coursework to do, right? If you say it would be good for me to get out more, then the late shifts it is.”

Martin levelled him with a dark glower that Hob was sure not to find too amusing, and set his empty glass of coke onto the table between them. For a guy in his seventies he sure had a lot of life in him yet.

“Three nights a week, tops.”

“Are we really haggling over this now, Martin? I’m still your boss.”

Martin crossed his arms on the table and kept his large hand on the signed papers that declared him manager of the New Inn. 

“You want me in charge of the staff as well, Bobbie. And I take care of my staff, believe me. Three nights a week. Four during semester breaks.”

Hob smothered a laugh at the stubborn look his future manager shot him. Exactly that was why ‘Bobbie’ had insisted to employ Martin, his ‘uncle’s’ closest living friend. 

“Okay okay. You win.”  

Hob ginned and gamely shook Martin’s hand in agreement. There wasn’t really any reason to tell the other man that Hob hadn’t actually felt any real need for sleep in weeks - months maybe even - and therefore the late shifts wouldn’t impact him at all.    

*** *** ***

The rise on which the forest ends slopes down gently into the valley. There is fog hanging around bare tree tops and over the houses and a pale sun lurks behind a thin white cloud cover. Hob becomes aware of the dream, or maybe steps into it might be a better descriptor at this point, at the edge of  the forest, half lying between the tall stalks of damp, yellow winter grass. He appears to be wearing something like a cloak this time, its unadorned black fading away into wisps of smokey grey towards the frayed hem. Underneath, there might be just a normal jumper and trouser combo but Hob finds he’s entirely unable to concentrate his sleeping mind to look beyond the shadows of the ominous cloak.

It feels a bit like a game the dreamworld is playing with him and Hob is amused despite himself. He’s had the usual nightmares of being butt naked in the middle of the city so he’s a bit glad it’s not that. 

The Gargoyle that he has glimpsed the last time gamboles around the shingled roofs and over a crooked chimney, dips playfully behind a barn and clips one wing on the branches of a massive oak tree before it rights itself midair and continues its dizzying game of hide and seek. Hob makes his way down, the nightmare Otter - and he thinks he should maybe find a name for it - contently lingering on his shoulders. It’s an unexpectedly reassuring weight even if it offers no warmth like a mortal creature might. 

It’s when he draws closer to the two storeyed houses that a rather stately figure with carefully coiffed hair steps through one doorway. He’s in a three piece suit but bears an iron rake in one hand that gleams like polished steel knives. 

Hob slows down when he approaches an old bridge that leads on into the yard between both houses. The man stands on its other end, one arm at his hip and the other tightly wound around the rake that he holds in front of him like a weapon. 

“Who goes here.”

His voice is a nice baritone but it carries his mistrust as easily as his drawn brows do and Hob is, for once, thrown. This is the first time since entering this world of dreams that someone - or some-thing - isn’t naturally inclined to be friendly towards him. 

It’s also the first time since his very first awakening that an inhabitant of his dreams speaks to him in an audible voice. This might be the chance he’s been waiting for to gain a bit more information about this strange strange world he’s in. 

“I’m just… passing through,” he says and holds up both hands placatingly. In answer, the man grips the rake harder.

“To where.” It’s less a question and very much a demand. 

“Um…I don’t know? On, I suppose?” Hob gestures vaguely into the direction of the valley behind the two houses, where he now knows a large part of the landscape centres around something like a palace.

The man frowns, annoyed, and levels Hob with a look that speaks volumes as to the intellect he thinks Hob possesses.

“So you come here, to the gateway of the Nightmare marshes, and you don’t know where you’re going? Are you mocking me?”

This is turning out to be one very unique dreaming experience, Hob realises. It’s not an unpleasant realisation at all. Hob is living for new experiences after all, and while he certainly loves the land he has for some reason been chosen to traverse in his dreams so far, this is a welcome interruption. 

On his shoulders, the Otter lifts its head to lay a proprietary claw against Hob’s neck. The man startles at that and Hob looks a bit closer. There’s apprehension in his eyes, something that looks like anger but veers closely towards fear.

And quite suddenly, Hob has another epiphany. The strange mind-reading powers that he has gained while awake, the same thing that lets him feel his little nightmares intentions, work just as well on this different dream-creature. Because no matter how human he looks, Hob is pretty sure that the man before him is both less and more than simply a human man.

“Are you,” he starts and lifts one careful hand to cover the smile that threatens to break out on his face, “perhaps afraid of intruders?” Of old enemies, he wants to say, or rogue nightmares, because that is what he sees when he concentrates. But he’s not really looking to make the man more uncomfortable than he already is.

“I’m Hob,” he offers instead, when there is no answer, “And I think I’m on my way to… the palace.”

The man gears up to say something cutting, Hob can see the way his shoulders draw up and how his glower deepens when they are interrupted by a cheery yell.

“H-hey b-broth-ther! Is this a g-g-guest you’re holding u-uu-up there? Ca-can w-we inv-vite him in fo-fo-for t-tea?”

The man that turns around the corner of the leftmost house looks nearly exactly like the one barring Hob entrance - they are brothers, without a doubt, even if the way he eyes his much more personable sibling promises murder.

“Shut your jabbering gob, Abel. He’s a dreamer. He’s not supposed to be here. So no, we can not invite him for tea.”

The so-called Abel hurries closer, an amicable smile on his face for Hob and a fearful glance for his brother. In it, Hob sees flashes of blood and pain, shallow graves and wooden crosses. He winces. This is… not what he’d expected, really.

“B-b-but h-h-he’s a r-real my-my-my-mystery, r-r-right? Don-don-don’t y-you want to k-know it? Really?”

Despite his fear of violence and death by the hand of his brother, Abel rolls neatly past him and manages to make him lose his grip on the rake. He comes to stand in front of Hob, a hopeful smile on his face, and holds out a meaty hand.

“I-I’m Abel. And h-h-he’s C-cain. Welcome t-to- the H-house o-o-of Secrets! W-we have t-t-tea. An-and c-c-cookies.”   

The vision of blood and murder flashes across Hob’s new sense again and Hob knows, intrinsically, that these are ‘the’ Cain and ‘the’ Abel. It’s all a bit much to swallow and he’s sure that if this weren’t a dream with all the ingrained suspension of disbelief he’s desperately been clinging on to since his journey started, he'd be much more pole-axed by this revelation. Instead, Hob shakes the hand of the first murder victim.  

“And I have Earl Grey and digestives,” the biblical Cain, first murderer, interjects. He looks miffed but the threatening rake has been abandoned for now and he as well holds out his hand. “I welcome you to my house of Mystery. I’d be honoured to have you as my guest, dreamer. You can tell me all about how you came to be here.”

“B-but he was my guest f-f-first! A-and I can tell him nice s-s-secrets. Ma-maybe the o-o-one about th-th-the Thing in the b-b-b-basement!”

Hob does end up going with Cain first. He has the vague hope that it might avoid or at least postpone the clearly inevitable bloodshed that’s sure to be in Able’s future. There are a lot of crooked crosses and mounds of overturned earth that peek from the strip of land that borders the half-hidden backyard of the houses.

His nightmare, though, has no inclination of going with him. As soon as they reach the door, it nimbly hops off Hob’s shoulder. Cain casts it a long glance. 

“If you don’t wish to come, you can visit Gregory. My soft-hearted fool of a brother insists that he’s getting lonely. You wouldn't owe me either way.” 

The Otter bares its teeth in something that Hob thinks might be equal parts amusement and threat. Cain just scoffs and turns to step through the door. 

The nightmare glances at Hob and if there were words they’d be a flippant ‘so long’ before it summarily abandons Hob for the first time since he’d arrived on these shores.

“Oh very well then,” he says gamely, “no one forces you to have tea, after all.”

Cain’s house is dark and warm and narrow. Everything is wood panelled, from the carved ceiling squares to the soft grey planks of spruce that make up the walls, and down to the unnaturally long and gleaming floorboards.

There aren’t many right angles in the house. That doesn’t mean that it doesn’t seem to be built sturdy, quite the contrary even. But the angles are all just slightly off and despite the bookshelves, knick knacks and homely fireplace, there is something eerie to the place. 

Cain is backlit by the glow of the fireplace where he takes a steaming pot of water from the hanger with a glowing poker. 

“Gregory is the Gargoyle, I’m guessing?”

“Gregory the gargoyle, yes. He lives here.”

Hob thinks this is a paltry amount of information to give about an actual Gargoyle but then again, this is the land of dreams and nightmares. So maybe having a mythical creature as pet isn’t all that strange, all things considered.

“How did you come to be here,” Cain asks abruptly after they sit over sturdy mugs of tea. 

“What do you mean, how?” Hob swallows around his digestives. They taste of nothing. Neither does the tea.

“You are a dreamer, a human one at that. You should not be able to traverse the Dreaming like you do.” 

The firelight reflects eerily in Cain’s thin glasses. In the background the iron poker heats up in the open fire. This, Hob realises, is still a nightmare, after all. 

“This is what the place is called, then? The Dreaming?” 

“Don’t you know? These lands are the sleeping marches, the nightmare lands, where all dreams and nightmares dwell.”

Queen Mab’s country after all, after a fashion Hob thinks with a mixture of amusement and apprehension.  No wonder his Otter had been so thrown by naming the offering he’d made. Hob’s wild guess had been close to the truth, after all. Though he’s reasonably sure that’s not all there is to it.

“Huh. I knew I was sleeping. Dreaming, as it were but - I didn’t know that there is a name attached to the place. Are you telling me that this isn’t just… in my mind, then?”

Cain stares at Hob and Hob can’t read his expression at all. 

“Are you asking me if you made all of this,” he gestures around and to himself, “up in your sleeping mind?”

Hob has the grace to look chagrined. He’d been lucid dreaming for months now. Years if he wants to count the many times he’d been dragged into the sea of dreams and nightmares by the nightmare he now has as a travelling companion. He has developed strange insights while awake and he has had more than just a suspicion that these dreams hold more truth to them than mere figments of his imagination.

“No. No, not really, I guess,” he finally mutters. “I s’ppose this is as real as anything I experience when I’m awake.”

Cain looks at least marginally mollified. 

“So you don’t know how or why you arrived here, I gather? That… is disappointing. Rarely do things like these happen without reason or will of our Lord.”

There are many things Hob wants to unpack here; so this isn’t the first time someone has gained access to the Dreaming in a way that resembles his; and there is a Lord - and not a queen - who holds the power of this place. He’d known that one already, considering that he’d been greeted once, so very long ago, by this Lord’s librarian.

“Who is this Lord,” he decides to ask, “and isn’t he… missing?”

Cain straightens and spears Hob with his glare.

“And how have you come by this information? Has your… nightmare blabbered? Talked about abandoning the realm?”

“Nothing of the sort,” though now Hob wonders; had many nightmares left the Dreaming? What then about those that he encountered? “When I first woke up - at that dock over the endless sea? -  there was this woman, Lucienne. She told me.”

Cain doesn’t look convinced at all. He stands with narrowed eyes and leaves Hob at the table in favour of stoking the fire with the red-hot poker. Hob debates telling him about the neglected air of the places he’d travelled, about the feeling of bruised and yearning emptiness he'd seen in every world he’d rushed by on his mad dive through the nightmare sea. He decides not to, in the end. It feels… personal, somehow. 

“Why would Lucienne travel all the way to the Dreaming Sea, just to greet a… dreamer. Now this is a mystery…”

Hob snorts. “Well, her greeting wasn’t all that enthusiastic. Was surprised to see that I wasn’t her Lord after all.”

It is silent for a while apart from the crackling fire. Hob discards the tea and digestives; he doesn’t know why he thought dream food would do anything for him, really. When he’s about decided to leave the brooding Cain to his own devices and instead go and try his luck with Abel, the man finally turns.

“Yes… there is something about you, dreamer. Hob. I thought for a moment at first, that you might be… but that was foolish, of course. You are nothing like Lord Morpheus, after all.”

“So that’s your missing Lord’s name?” It does have a bit of a ring to it, admittedly, even if it’s only due to Hob’s much longer memory of Morpheus the roman god of dreams that he doesn’t immediately think of the new movie that has just hit the cinemas. He doesn’t suppose Lord Morpheus looks quite like Laurence Fishburn in The Matrix. 

“The Dreaming is the Realm of Dream of the Endless. Morpheus is one of many names he holds. And why he’s missing or where he’s gone - that is the greatest mystery of all, isn’t it?”

Hob leaves Cain’s house feeling not one jot more knowledgeable than when he entered it. 

“The Dreaming is governed by Dream. Go figure.” He makes sure to keep his voice down but this one is a bit of a let down. At least he’s rather sure that Lucienne the palace librarian is something of a known entity. Which in turn promises the palace he’d glimpsed in the Ruby’s facets to be an actual place as well. 

But this Lord… there is his missing Stranger in the waking world, there is a missing Lord on this side of dreams and between them, a deeply magical Ruby has found its way into his hands. Hob isn’t sure how much he believes in coincidences like that. 

He’s nearly bowled over by a diving Gargoyle when he clears the awning of Cain’s house. Shingles shatter on the crooked pavement in his wake and a wildly gesticulating Abel rounds the corner.

“Gr-gregory, s-s-stop that!”

Abel hurries over on the beast's heels but doesn’t manage to deter him at all. The Gargoyle dances around Hob a few times, inspecting him, it seems like, before it comes to a stand squarely in front of him.  

“Hello there,” Hob croons, enchanted.

Intelligent eyes consider him, before he bobs into the likeness of  a shallow bow. Then, he buts up gently against Hob’s side.

“G-gregoy don’t bo-bo-bother our g-g-guest!”

When Hob’s hand comes into contact with Gregory’s rough scales, something like knowledge suddenly sparks between them.

“So you’re a nightmare, too.” Hob strokes Gregory’s scales behind the spikes on his head. “Or were, at any rate. You like this better now, don’t you?”

Gregory puffs hot breath across his neck in silent bliss.

“Have you met my- the nightmare I arrived with, yet?” 

Hob gets the impression of sleek black fur rolling between moss and stone and grins. 

“G-g-gregory c-can you p-p-please s-stop destroying m-my house!” Abel looks forlornly at the shards of mossy green shingles he’s swept into a sad little pile. “It’s ge-ge-getting worse a-and worse e-e-either w-way. N-no need to ma-ma-make it g-go f-f-faster.”

Gregory looks repentant but Hob gets the sense that the Gargoyle, however much he might want to try, can't really stop destroying things in his wake. It’s in his nature to be disruptive and playful. 

“I can help,” he offers instead.

“Th-that’s t-t-terribly n-nnice b-but the r-repairs ne-ne-never stick anyway.” He pokes the pile with the tip of his shoe. It’s so pitiful that Hob feels like it’s a kicked puppy and not a grown man. 

“Why don’t they, though? Mine alway do.”

He kneels at Abel’s side and takes a few fitting pieces out of the shard pile. They slot together easily.

“I've repaired a lot of things on my way here. My repairs always go well.”

He swipes over the shingle in his hand and some of the moss comes off, leaving it a faded, dusty red. The breaks are thin lines still, but it all holds together. He’s really gotten better at this.  

Abel watches him, something guarded in his jovial face.

“N-no repair ha-has stayed wh-wh-whole, since o-o-our L-Lord le-le-left.” 

Hob thinks of the dock that regained its sturdiness, or the little bridges in the moor that repaired themselves with barely any effort from him. Then he glances back at the forest that rises over the valley’s far side and takes in the lush dark green it has become in his wake, teeming with lively nightmares.

“I don’t know,” he says and smiles, “maybe you need to have a bit more faith in this whole thing. It works fine for me.”

He holds up the shingle for Abel’s inspection. It’s unbroken again.

“I think most things here know what they’re meant to be. It’s a dreamworld, after all. Just help them get back to that. That’s all. Do you have a ladder?”  

Abel does have a ladder, though it’s a rickety thing when Hob starts ascending it. He’s pretty sure that on his way down it will be much sturdier. It is not hard work to set the roof to rights again, Hob has had much more strenuous jobs over the centuries. Though admittedly he’d never been a roofer before. 

“H-hob?” 

Abel calls him over where he’s taken off his shirt - it does after all exists under that terrible cloak - because the sun has decided to peek out behind the thin white cloud cover. It fits his mood well; he has a goal now and something like a plan. 

“I w-want to t-tell you so-something. I-it’s a se-se-secret.”

“What is it?”

“A d-dreamer who rem-m-members h-himself ca-ca-can ch-change th-their d-d-d-dreams.” 

Hob thinks he knows all about lucid dreaming by now and this seems spot on, even if it’s not really a secret. Abel and Cain both aren’t really very inclined to part with useful information, it seems like. It does pose an interesting question though.

“And you and Cain, you aren’t dreamers, are you? But then, how does the upkeep of this world work? Only by the Dreamlord’s will?” 

Abel shrugs. “The D-dreaming sh-shapes itself o-o-only for th-those that l-l-love it. B-but a-a-a few ca-can do th-things, w-w-with His b-b-blessing.” 

It sounds as mystical as impractical - and this power imbalance surely has its drawbacks, considering the state the Dreaming is in with its Lord’s disappearance. 

“Maybe he should consider sharing a bit of his power then,” Hob mutters and slips into his shirt again. It’s time to go on, he thinks. There’s the palace waiting for him and possibly, hopefully, answers to his questions. 

“L-lord Mo-mo-morpheus d-doesn’t share. He i-is the D-d-d-dreaming.”

The strange emphasis Abel puts on the last sentence perlocates in Hob’s mind, sleeping and waking, long after. 

***

He leaves the Houses of Mysteries and Secrets behind without mentioning the magical Ruby or the Stranger that used to wear it. Neither does he mention anything about his immortality or the growing suspicion that the Dreamlord’s absence and Hob’s presence in the Dreaming are intrinsically connected.   

Instead, he finally starts to tell his nightmare companion a bit about his life. He starts, of course, with the greatest reget he holds. It’s a nightmare after all, and probably much more interested in the things Hob has had nightmares about than in the general comings and goings of a human life. 

“He could just as well have simply left me hanging to prove a point, you know,” he tells the Otter when the Houses of Mystery and Secrets  behind them are swallowed into the last wisps of fog. “I mean I was a bit of a berk, all things considered. Not that I wanted to be, but you know how it goes, don’t you? Wanting something so much that you just… overreach. And by doing so destroy what you try to build.”

The Otter doesn’t answer, of course. But it does clamber up Hob’s truly terribly threadbare cloak and settles again on his shoulders. 

“Thanks, my friend. I really appreciate that. I hope one day I can apologise and make it up to him. I mean it’s been a hundred and fifteen years now since that cursed meeting. Who knows what happened to him in the meantime…”

Hob thinks of the invisible weight of the Ruby at his chest and wonders how or why the Stranger had lost it. Because there is no way he had gotten rid of it on purpose. Not with the way it had been the main and centre piece of each of his statement outfits. It was important.    

The muddy path underneath his feet stretches into the far distance, where the cloud cover isn’t quite as heavy any more. There is the pink light of a friendly sunset that beckons him on in a perfect reflection of his own tentative hope.

Maybe he’ll meet his Stranger again. Maybe he’ll find answers at the palace. All he needs to do is make his way there. He needs to find Lucienne. 

*** *** *** 

His dreams were occupying Hob’s quiet hours more and more. Sometimes, after waking, he thought the reflection in his bathroom mirror mocked him - there was red and black in his eyes where there should be the browns he was born with, the shadows he cast looked like writhing masses of nightmares and the deepest waters, his face the same one he had seen when he’d thrown the flower crown into the cursed pond. And then, within the blink of an eye the illusions were gone again.

The Ruby was warm, as always these days, when he took it out of the box. He’d bought a new chain to match its delicate gold casing and wondered if it was normal for a magical jewel to seem proprietary and unwilling to leave its owners hands. All the same, it looked entirely unchanged in all other respects and he knew that if he looked closer, there’d be the same pictures, the same views in its facets as the last time he’d done so.  

There hadn’t been any more incidents of surprise souvenirs from his dreams after that first time. Instead, the phantom sensation of wearing the Ruby as a pendant underneath his clothes didn’t stop with his dreams.   

But there were two other things that reluctantly joined Hob’s mental list of changes that were most likely connected to the jewel:

Emily had kept up pestering him about eating - it was the thing that had started their friendship two years ago. But by now, Hob was starting to become suspicious of his lack of need for food. Usually, he loved eating. Physical pleasures were part of the experience, after all, and food was one of the many things that changed constantly, to Hob’s neverending delight.

And the newest and most concerning thing: Hob didn’t remember the last time that he had felt truly tired. 

The Ruby, even though he was never wearing it, rested like an unseen weight on his chest. 

*** *** ***

As if the Houses are a gateway that Hob has passed, beyond them the Dreaming feels like a different world. He finds himself in an endless landscape that looks like it's been well tended and designed but with harrowing signs of neglect everywhere. There are skeletons of trees where a lush forest once grew, dry earth and cracked stone in place of meadows and rivers. 

Hob doesn’t see any paths or streets as such, at first glance but he discovers fast that wherever he steps, paths try to form or emerge from the debris. 

The Otter on his shoulders grows quiet - Hob hadn’t noticed actively because of course the little nightmare has never made so much as a sound at him; but there had been, for lack of a better description, a sort of humming at the back of Hob’s mind, a susurration of unheard whispers that conveyed laughter and wit, disdain and hope and all things the nightmare wanted Hob to know. 

It’s never been as clear to Hob as now when it is entirely absent, how the Otter has indeed talked to him in its own way.     

“This is wrong, somehow, isn’t it?” Hob hushes his voice down to fit the horrifyingly despondent mood of his surroundings. He’s equally as horrified if he’s being truthful. This is not how it’s supposed to look, he knows that much without needing it explained. 

“Where do I even start setting this to rights again?” 

He can’t see what most of the landscape was supposed to look like so he doesn’t know how to start fitting things back into place. There are no structure for him to mend, only barren landscape. 

“You don’t, “ says a high-pitched voice at his back. 

Hob swivels around and feels his Otter’s needle sharp claws prick through his clothing to keep its place. Behind him are two androgynous figures, holding hands. They look like children at first glance, if children were monocolored including skin and hair. 

“You can’t,” says the second one, voice nearly identical with the first. 

They sound like children as well. 

“And… why can’t I?” Hob gentles his voice even though he knows that these are, of course, not actual children. 

They feel like nightmares as much as his Otter does and as Gregory did. Where their hands touch, their skin is the oppressing colour-leached grey of foreboding twilight; otherwise, one is entirely white and the other, entirely black. 

The first one, black as a moonless night, shrugs.

“The power here,” they start. 

“It’s gone back to the palace,” the other finishes.

“It’s needed there,” the white one whispers.

“Because if that place vanishes…”

They look at each other and Hob can sense their fear. But that means that he can probably help more at the palace or close to it, where there is something left to draw from and form. Here, he only feels the hollow phantom pain of a missing limb when he tries to look and see what the ephemeral path he’s on wants to become. 

His own capability of repairing the Dreaming seems to be dependent on the power of the Dreaming itself, at least in parts.

“Then what about the other part of the Dreaming? The ones I came through?” Hob gestures to the far away reaches of the Dreaming, where he woke.

Again they shrug in tandem.

“Oh that’s a bit different…”

“...it’s nightmare country, after all.” 

“They’re wild.”

“And know how to take…

“...and take…”

“...and take…”

“...what they need…”

“...from the dreamers.”

The Otter shifts on Hob’s shoulder and Hob finally finds that its quiet stream of thoughts and feelings are back. What it projects feels to Hob a lot like dissociation - a loss of identity and directed thought, of watching from the outside, going under and only remembering in short glimpses when breaching through the surface of confusion. It’s helplessness and impotence and a strange kernel of hope when the little nightmare looks at Hob. 

“And it takes from the nightmares, too,” Hob realises out loud and for the first time, dares to run a hand over his nightmare’s slippery fur, “you were once… something bigger, weren’t you. The Nightmare of Drowning. Until the sea swallowed you up.”

The Otter presses into Hob’s careful fingers and he understands more. The sadness and rage of being diminished, the knowledge of going back to what it was before its creation, the hope when it found, in Hob’s dreams, persisting memories of itself and then clinging to them.  

The twin nightmares share a glance but don’t contradict.

“That’s why the two of you are here. Instead of there.” 

“We didn’t want to…”, they begin. 

“...disassemble. We like…”

“...how we were made.”

“So we came here,” they finish in tandem.

“We could have left,” white mutters, discomfited and black squeezes their hand. “No. We’re not Arcana. We’re not strong enough to last long.”

“I travel to the palace. Do you want to come with me?” Hob has offered the same to the nightmares of the nightmare country after all.

They share another long glance, a communication that Hob feels but doesn’t yet understand. He thinks he might, one day if he keeps trying. He rubs his chest and thinks of the Ruby in his bedroom. 

“For a part of the way,” they finally decide.

“We can’t go everywhere here.”

“Lead the way, dreamer.”

Hob turns, leaving both of them in his shadow and walks for a few short steps before he suddenly stops. He can’t help the delighted laugh. He’s been thoroughly had there.

“I know who you are now,” his grin is so broad that it rings in his voice.” I used to know you well when I was still young.” 

“Yes you did,” they giggle.

“C’mon then, you terrible two. Let’s get going.” 

He doesn’t need to turn to know they are following. After all, behind him walk the Nightmare of Being Chased Through Empty Streets and the Nightmare of Being Too Slow. Hob grins quietly to himself for the better part of this dream. 

***

Sometimes, Hob thinks he hears the churning waves of the sea of nightmares and dreams from the shadows of this scorched landscape. It takes him a while to realise that what he hears is an echo of a place within himself. He doesn’t know how it works but he knows that he’s hollowed out a part of himself to make space for that which is the foundation of the Dreaming. 

He’s not sure if he can ever make that undone. And he doesn’t know if he even wants to. He loves the place, after all.

Sometimes, they come acrossother nightmares. All of those who cross their path are small. They might have been bigger once and found sanctuary in this powerless stretch of the Dreaming out of fear of being swallowed back into the sea. He talks to them, the many-eyed and tooth-limbed and creeping-fears, even if they can’t answer back like the twins do. The way he’s learned to listen to his Otter works on them as well. So he listens when they in turn tell of themselves.

They meet only two more of the bigger nightmares; where the rest is, Hob doesn’t want to know. There is the Nightmare of Empty Houses that Should Be Lived In and the Nightmare of Gone Loved Ones - both of them Hob recognizes at first glance - but other than them, it is empty here. He wonders where all the dreams have gone.

“Closer to the palace,” the Nightmare of Gone Loved Ones answers. 

“It has been empty here for a long time now,” the Nightmare of Empty Houses adds.

They don’t walk with him far, not like the twins who still follow in his shadow, but they do offer their help if Hob needs them.   

***

Hob doesn’t know how many nights and dreams he has spent traversing this part of the Dreaming. He’s never counted any of them and anyway, he can’t decide if he should count nights in the waking spent sleeping or rather the progress of time as it flows in the Dreaming. They are not at all the same, after all. 

Rather, he measures his progress by how far he feels he still has to go to reach the palace. And that is, despite all of Hob’s attempts to measure the distance any other way, the only manner to do it: by some vague compass in his chest - if he had to put money on it, he’d probably say that it is the Ruby and its strange connection to the Dreaming that helps him out. 

During one visit, he comes across the most wretched sight he’s ever seen. Or not seen as it were. Before him is a stretch of land that simply - isn’t. A place that has once been somewhere, but now exists only in broad strokes of bareness - like an artist colour blocking the barest shapes of a background; the reverse of an actualized idea. 

“I can’t go through there.” 

The words barely make it past his lips and after they leave them, they seem to vanish in the vague emptiness. His head hurts from looking at the stretch of - of bloodless heart-tissue. His own heart hurts as well.  

“You must, if it’s the way,” says black, unimpressed.

“You are the one deciding on the path,” adds white.

“Can’t I go around?” 

He knows before he speaks that that’s impossible. He knows the way and to detour from it is not a good idea. There are places here that he might get lost in and never leave again.

A suggestion of darkness and soft fur swims into his mind’s eye.

“Do you think that will work?” he asks the Otter, “Don’t you think that I should see where I’m going?”

The equivalent of a mocking ‘are you an idiot?’ tickles his ears without sound.

Hob sighs. “No, of course I don’t. This is a dream after all. Why would I need my eyes to see, really.” 

The Otter stretches, satisfied in Hob’s answer. The twins, though, remain silent.

“We won’t go through here,” black finally says.

“It’s not a place any more.”

“It hurts to go in…”

“What is it then? Or, what was it before it became - this?” 

“It was Fiddler’s Green…”

“...the Heart of the Dreaming.”

Hob shudders and averts his eyes from the stretch of horrifying bareness. The place left behind when a dream leaves, when a heart is gone…The Ruby he’s not wearing beats a warm and calming rhythm against Hob’s skin. What does one put in the place left empty by a missing heart, Hob wonders. It’s probably not so surprising that the Dreaming is so receptive to Hob's attempts to help - he’s grown to love the place after all and a thing without its heart… Hob wonders if he’s reading much into it. ‘Heart of the Dreaming’ might be an entirely metaphorical name after all.  

The Otter, impatient as his little nightmare is, clearly decides that it has had enough of Hob’s woolgathering and puts its tail firmly across Hob’s eyes. It is unexpectedly soft but doesn’t budge one bit when Hob tries to push it down again. Bossy little bugger his nightmare is. He feels the tickle of laughter at the back of his mind

“Thank you for keeping me company, you two,” he says and gives up trying to dislodge the tail.

“You are welcome.”

“We will wait here and listen…”

“Incase you need us.”

Hob smiles in the nightmares’ direction, or he hopes at least that it’s the right direction, and concludes that he definitely won’t call for them if travelling closer to the palace is something they’re uncomfortable with.  

“Take care.” 

In his mind’s eye, the Ruby glows. Beneath his feet, a street starts forming in the dark of his imagination. He hopes the Otter can see it too and won’t lead him astray. 

 *** *** ***

Hob’s shift at the bar is long over, the New Inn empty and dark. He’s moved into the freshly finished upstairs flat only a week ago and already it feels more like a home than the apartment he’s had for nearly five years ever did. 

He hasn’t switched on the light after coming in. It’s not really necessary, after all. While the streetlights are more than enough for navigating the space, he feels comfortable in the darkened shadows. He can feel them, like an extension of the Dreaming or doors connecting into it. They are the home of many nightmares. Hob wonders how many of them he’s gotten to know during his travels through the Dreaming. 

He perches at the edge of his bed and stares listlessly into the London summer night beyond his window. He’s not tired at all, but strangely hollowed out even here in the world of the waking hours, where he’s nothing more than a human with a magical jewel. The ebb and flow of the sea of nightmares and dreams thrums underneath his breastbones at all times, by now. Something is missing but he doesn’t what it is.

The bed sheets are nicely cool underneath Hob’s bare thighs when he finally decides to settle. He doesn’t really feel like he needs the rest but all the same he’ll dream as soon as he’ll have closed his eyes. There have only been the lucid dreams for him, for weeks now.  

Next to him the ruby sits on the bedside table, sparkling invitingly. He’s given up keeping it in the metal box. When Hob closes his hands around it, it beats in time with his pulse. In the mirror on his new wardrobe he thinks for a moment that he can see into the Dreaming, a bird’s view of a ravaged landscape yearning for its Lord. 

The ruby screams in his mind and Hob flinches. 

And then he realises that whatever it is he is missing - love, life, his heart maybe - it has come alive in the ruby, has fed it and given it power. 

*** *** ***

On the other side of the missing Fiddler's Green, the palace suddenly looms closer than ever. There is a cobblestone road stretching from where he stands and into a quaint assemblage of houses and huts. To his right there are steep hills with the obvious ambition of becoming mountains at one point. To his left, there are swaths of burnt and grey meadows and dried out rivers but between them, the remnants of flowers and fields still shimmer like fading dreams. 

The sound of a hammer being swung rhythmically onto wood drifts from the village. With the sound comes the smell of tobacco and the low scratch of off-key singing. 

Chapter 4.  → chapter 6?

There is a man with a pumpkinhead trying to fix a bullock cart. Or maybe it’s a pumpkin that play-pretends to be a man. He - it - he wears a simple white shirt underneath a worker’s overall. There is a cheroot cigar clenched in his gaping black mouth and puffs of its stinking smoke spiral slowly out from beneath the cut out lid of the pumpkin’s stalk. He hums a terrible rendition of ‘In the Army Now’ that has Hob’s toes curl in sympathy with his ears.

“Hi there”, Hob tries.

The Pumpkin man doesn’t react.

“Hello, good sir,” Hob begins again, several decibels louder and takes a step closer. 

“Fer fuck’s sake what -” The pumpkin whirls around, angry words dying on his lips when he sees Hob. The hammer falls and narrowly misses the wooden sticks that serve as his legs and feet.

“Who’re you then?” He squints at Hob who holds up his hands placatingly. “And watcha doin here. Huh!?”

He rudely points a wooden finger straight into Hob’s face and leans closer.   

“If ye’re an intruder then ye’re shit outta luck, my man. Cause I’m gonna flatten yer ass and feed ya remains to the birds. Ya hear me?”

Hob does hear and that’s the only thing he gets from the pumpkin man except for his general presence as part of the Dreaming; there are no flashes of fears, no general sense of what he wants or feels. This, Hob concludes tentatively, is probably a dream. 

“Okay,” Hob says, “then it’s a good thing I’m not an intruder. I‘m here to see Lucienne the Librarian. Do you know her?”

It’s likely, after all, this close to the frankly enormous palace that looms behind the little hamlet.

“Sure do. What’ch want with ’er?” 

“I need to ask her something that I’m sure she can help me with. See, I might have come across something that originally belonged to the Dreaming.”

“Something from here? But ye’re a dreamer. Dreamstuff doesn’t live long in the Waking ‘s far as I know.” 

Hob shrugs. “So you see that I do need to talk to her, right? I’m Hob Gadling, by the way. Pleasure to meet you. Can you tell me where I can find her?”

The pumpkin-man spits his cigar onto the dry ground and stomps one of his wooden stick feet on it. Hob wonders if he’s ever managed to set himself smouldering on accident.

“I can do ya one better. I’ll bring ya to her. You’ll need a guide into the palace of the dreamlord. Not just anyone can come and go as they please.”

He puffs out his chest. 

“Mervyn is the name and I'm the facility manager of this dump.” 

He gestures around himself grandly and kicks the offendingly rickety ox cart. One wheel tilts sadly sideways on its frayed hub.

***

Mervyn prattles on and on as they make their way around the outer reaches of the palace. It’s forebodingly large this close to it. The onion domes, turrets and minarets he’d seen from afar tower so high above him that they might as well belong to the clouds. It probably was once a gleaming white jewel but now, there are signs of decay everywhere. 

They detour around fallen remains of grand arches, climb over broken pieces of beautifully carved balustrades and take a shortcut through something that might have once been a rose garden.

“We gotta go all th’ way round to the front. Used to be doors here too but they’ve all vanished - poof - a while after Lord Murphy left. There’s only the Bridge now ‘n’ the main gate.”

The bridge is magnificent. Was magnificent and Hob sees only the sad echo of something fantastically great. There are hands holding it up over a ridiculously broad moat but they are crumbling, missing whole fingers that lay broken and shattered in the dried out basin like the remains of some grand beast.

The dereliction makes Hob’s heart ache. He wishes he could make it go back to how it was before but this… he eyes the broken balustrade and the deep drop where part of the bridge has fallen. Beneath his skin, he feels the Ruby like a physical weight.   

Could he? If he tried - if he threw everything he has into it - could he repair this?

“There ya are,” Mervyn says and stops them before a pair of grand doors that hang askew on their hinges. “Used ta quibble with tha gate guardians. The pegasus is a right uppity li’l shit if ya ask me. They stopped movin’ though. It’s just Lucienne holdin’ down the fort now.”

There’s sadness behind Mervyn’s gruff words.

“Great woman, tha’ Lady. Must’a been an incredible raven to his Lordship back in the days.”

Hob is too close to his goal now to ask after either the fantastical gatekeepers or how Lucienne was once a raven. The only thing he wants to know is what the Ruby is, and how his stranger is connected to the Dreaming. The palace calls for him, or something in it does. He can feel it better, now that he’s closer but it is the same thing that helped him navigate the dead parts of the Dreaming after leaving Cain and Abel. Or maybe, it calls for the Ruby.    

“So we just go in?”

“Nah.” Mervyn cups his hands around his mouth. “LOOSH! LUCIENNE! YA GOT A GUEST!”

He clears his throat while Hob’s ears still ring and adds, a bit awkwardly, “I don’t like entering the palace anymore. Haven’t been in there in forever.”

They wait in silence.

Once, Hob thinks the Pegasus - no matter how uppity it might have been - blinks but he’s not entirely sure. He is sure, though, that the Griffin on the other side of the door has turned his head towards them. 

It doesn’t take long until a figure emerges in a brisk pace from the darkness beyond the gate.

Lucienne looks exactly as Hob remembers her from his very first foray into the Dreaming, sharp suit and sharper eyes. 

“Mervyn. What are you shouting about?”

***

She notices him right away, of course, before she’s stepped far enough into the entrance hall to be seen. There is a dreamer at Mervyn’s side and he’s very clearly lucid. He is also familiar. 

Much more familiar than he has any right to be, even considering that she once found him, aware of himself, on the dock to the dreaming sea. He’d been a strange case back then already. His arrival in the Dreaming proper had been felt by her in a swell of power that swept through her entirely unexpectedly. For a few painfully hopeful moments she had thought that the surge might herald Lord Morpheus’ return. She’d hurried to where it had come from, taking every shortcut the Dreaming could still provide for its last keeper. But even on the way there, she’d felt the quick decline. Still, she continued to hope.  

Instead, she’d found a dreamer on the dock. Yes, he’d reeked of remnants of Lord Morpheus’ power but it was fading fast, becoming nothing more than a quiet little hum until it finally vanished from her innate raven sense for Dream of the Endless completely. 

It is back now though, steady and strong, like a thread woven through the dreamer’s own soul.  

“Ya know the guy, Loosh?”

“We’ve met before,” is all she says to Mervyn, “thank you for bringing him.”

Mervyn squints suspiciously at the dreamer who looks entirely nonplussed - there’s even an amused smile at his lips if she’s reading him right.

“She’s right. And thanks Mervyn.”

“If ya say so Loosh…” He grumbles and turns to the human, “if ya so much as put a toe out of place, I’ll find ya and mince ya.” 

He leaves with the threat, throwing occasional glances back at her and the dreamer until he vanishes behind the broken southern hand of the bridge. The dreamer stays, eyes focussed neither on her nor on Mervyn but on the solid statues of the former gate guards. Lucienne remembers the grim loneliness that had settled once the both of them had grown back into stone. 

“I think the Griffin turned his head,” the human says and tilts his own.

“That is unlikely. They have not moved for a long time now.” Still, when she turns around and follows his gaze, the Griffin indeed looks different. 

His whole head is turned towards the dreamer, inclined as if the lifeless statue had tried for a bow. 

Impossible.

She’s unable to keep the hope and fear contained completely and she knows it shows through her next words. They aren’t as unaffected as she wants them to be.  

“Usually I wouldn’t have to ask but since these are the most unusual circumstances I am without a choice: What is your name, dreamer?”

He finally ends his appraisal of the Griffin and gives her a most charming grin. There are dimples at his cheeks and his eyes nearly sparkle. He looks … warm, all around.

“I’m Hob Gadling, my Lady. And you are Lucienne, the Palace Librarian.” He says the name like the title it is. “A pleasure to finally meet you properly. I’d apologise for taking so long, but it was a while until I realised that this is where I have to go.” 

Not an unknown entity after all, she thinks, slightly validated in finding him familiar. 

There has been talk about Hob Gadling the Immortal in the Dreaming, once long ago; the only connection close to something like friendship their Lord has ever had. The emotions his meetings with the human could evoke in Lord Morpheus had been rivalled only by those he expended for his lovers and family.

Hob Gadling, as far as she is aware, is neither.  

That setup had lent itself to both positive and negative outcomes. There’d been bouts of furious creativity, begetting dreams of hope and nightmares for healing, there was April weather, capricious and bewildering, and of course the oppressive tension of 1789 where even decades later there had still been gossipy wondering whether that had been budding anger or another tension all together.  

The dreary and awful weather that had persisted for a good while after his meeting in 1889 had prompted her to seek out Jessamy in a bid to find out what had gone wrong. Her Lord had been - furious and upset. More upset than furious if she was being honest but she hadn’t gotten a good enough look on him afterwards to ascertain if the tears in his eyes had been of hurt or of anger. With Dream of the Endless, it was often both at once if someone did manage to get close enough to truly hurt him - the kind of privilege rarely afforded to anyone.

When Hob Gadling bows, half in jest and half serious court manners that she knows are the genuine learned thing of a noble, she notices that what she’d thought was an odd patch of uneven sable fur on the strange clothes he wears, can move and nimbly clambers down from his shoulders. 

The human doesn't look surprised in the least.

“So you don’t want to come with me?” he crouches down and Lucienne can’t see what it is he does but then he says, “I see. Take care and - thanks for … bringing me here.”

This is a nightmare, Lucienne realises and watches in disbelief as the human continues to hold a conversation with it.    

“I’m glad I could help. You don’t owe – okay then. Anyway, you were a great guide.”

The nightmare in the form of an Otter gives her a mocking half-bow and a leer and then slinks into the shadows along the edges of the bridge until it vanishes through a gap between several broken columns. Hob Gadling seems absolutely unfazed and the smile with which he follows the curious form of the nightmare is fond. 

“Sorry about that. That was the Nightmare of Drowning. It… found me, I guess you could say, and stuck around.” He grins quickly and Lucienne is sure that he has no idea about the unlikeliness of what he has just said. Nightmares do not ‘stick around’ dreamers like that. Neither do they converse with them or share their names. This one nightmare in particular, if the human has the right of it, she had thought lost or dissolved back into raw dreamstuff decades ago.

It is… heartening, to see that it is not so. There is one more dreamthing left in the Dreaming when she had feared that their number had nearly reached zero.     

“I have a few questions for you, if you don’t mind? I think I … might have found something that came from here, originally. But I'm not sure. May I - come inside?” He gestures towards the shaded awning, and a bit of tension creeps into his shoulders. There might be something like a frown on his face as well.

“You are welcome,” she decides and hopes that this is not a mistake, “You may follow me.”

He crosses the threshold in front of her and then wavers. It’s a movement small enough that Lucienne nearly wouldn’t have noticed it if there hadn’t been at the same time a flash of red that ran across him and drawn her curiosity. Hob Gadling is half turned towards her and so she sees how he presses a hand against his chest where the light seems to gather for a short moment. The curious hum of Lord Morpheus’ power that seems to hang around him, grows stronger.

Before she can even blink the human straightens and keeps walking. 

Lucienne hesitates too long then and before she can decide on a course of action - maybe it would have been better to bar Hob Gadling entrance after all - the man starts walking into the depth of the palace by himself, feet carrying him in a straight line towards the corridor that leads on the shortest route into its heart.

He could not have seen the corridor from where they stand, Lucienne is sure. Silently, she follows him. Maybe she should warn him about staying on the path - the palace isn’t any nicer about lost wanderers notwithstanding Lord Morpheus’ absence, after all. 

She does not and stays behind him.

“You have come far since I last met you, Hob Gadling.”

“Just Hob is fine, Lady Lucienne. And yes, it was a long way. I suppose you took a shortcut to the palace?”

“Of course I did.” 

She doesn’t offer him the same familiarity of using her given name and  has no intention of using his but - Hob Gadling seems like the embodiment of friendliness, despite the strangeness of his presence. 

He laughs. It’s a warm sound like the palace hasn’t heard in the longest time. Longer than the century Lord Morpheus was gone. She wants to believe that he is a sympathetic character. They walk in the dim light of the corridors, past junctions and up several stairs, around twisting bends - a spiralling, illogical maze that makes sense to exactly no one but Lord Morpheus and, at best, those that he allows to serve him in the palace. 

It should be impossible for a dreamer to navigate it without following a clearly set path.

And yet… Hob Gadling does.

Lucienne takes care to stay just half a step behind him at all times, just to be entirely sure. He never hesitates, he never slows his steps or turns to Lucienne to take point. On the contrary, he seems entirely unaware that she is the one following, instead of him.

“Why did you seek out the heart of Lord Morpheus’ Realm?”

“I thought that title went to Fiddler’s Green?” The question sounds like idle small talk, not something Lucienne likes to indulge in normally, but it has been so long since things have been normal in the Dreaming. 

“How do you know of Fiddler’s Green? Has the Drowning told you?”

“The Drow- oh yeah right,” he laughs sheepishly, “I suppose ‘The Nightmare of Drowning’ is a bit of a mouthful. And no, I met other nightmares on the way. A few of them fled to…” 

He flounders for words for a moment and doesn’t seem to notice how the crumbling relief on the wall he musingly runs his fingers over while walking is glowing with a red sheen.

Everything about this human is ludicrously impossible.

“...hm that strip of scorched Dreaming that starts after you leave the Houses of Mysteries and Secrets in the direction of the palace? I don’t know what it’s called. It’s not the nightmares’ country any longer, though.”

There is no such thing as a direction in the Dreaming, least of all for dreamers. 

The relief he has touched starts reassembling, stone chips and dust gently lifting from the floor he walks on and agglomerating in pristine shapes along the wall. 

Absolutely, gallingly impossible.

She swallows a soft inhale and when her eyes start watering, she tries to tell herself that it is just the unexpected dust. This is a sort of power and care that she has last seen employed in the hands of Lord Morpheus. 

“The Heart of the Dreaming - It is the title Lord Morpheus bestowed on one of his Arcana - Fiddler's Green, a long time ago,” she finally answers when she finds her voice again. “But this here, the palace, it is where Dream of the Endless resides. Without him, there is no Dreaming. It is all him.”

Hob Gadlings looks contemplative at that, as if the words remind him of something.

“…It empty though,” he finally says, some unnamable thing in his voice.  “I know that Lord Morpheus is missing. You told me so already. But still it’s… empty.”

“So he does. I did not expect you to remember. Dreamers rarely do.”

They come to a stand in front of elegant double doors. And Lucienne realises that she hasn’t kept an eye on their path at all for a while now.

Despite this, Hob Gadling has unerringly brought them to the remains of the throne room.

***

There is power in every stone, every filament and tapestry. It suffuses what he breathes as air, and the hollow part in him that has been replaced with the Sea and the Ruby vibrates. It’s a high pitched humming at the back of his mind that nearly makes him want to scratch at the inside of his skull. 

It’s hard to keep still, to not try and touch everything. It crackles under his fingertips, the power he associates with the Ruby, like the prelude to a storm. The palace is empty, yes, and it is yearning, screaming, pleading for its missing Lord. And Hob isn’t it; what it wants is not Hob and his power but it’s rightful ruler.  

“What would happen if Lord Morpheus never returns?” 

He’s curiously pushing at the double doors. They are finely wrought in carvings of illusive fairytale scenes and end in a pointed arch that makes him think of the gothic architecture of the Minster of York. 

“The Dreaming would decay entirely. The waking world as you know it would descend into chaos.”

What is left in the absence of a dream; or Dream, in this case. Weren’t dreams and hopes two sides of the same coin? 

“That sounds… awful, actually.”

“Very. Yes.” Lucienne steps up beside him. “So far, his absence has caused an ailment called Encephalitis Lethargica in the Waking. We still have dreamers here that have not left the realm in decades, and some who do not even reach us. I dare not imagine what would follow were the Realm to collapse entirely.”

Hob… can, actually. There were friends with him in the trenches that never woke up after falling asleep in 1916. He remembers the confusion and horror vividly. A new weapon of the Germans, they’d feared. More though, never found true rest again. They’d called it shellshock and yes, trauma was surely a large part of it but…The onset of the Sleepy Sickness was followed by the worst stretch of the First World War. 

Nausea churns in his stomach. To imagine that the impact has already been felt in the Waking - it’s hard to swallow that a world of dreams might have such an influence on the Waking. What would the world look like if its access to respite and hope was - restricted; or gone entirely. He doesn’t want to remember the Second World War at all. If it got to be even worse… 

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that, right?” He hopes his grin isn’t as shaky as he feels.

Then, he finally pushed open the doors in front of him.

Lucienne slips past him, when he can’t manage to gather his wits fast enough in the face of what lies beyond. There’s something curious in the press of her lips, something between disapproval and naked hope.

“This is the throne room of Dream of the Endless, Hob Gadling. Will you not come in? You have led us here, after all.” 

The room is grand. 

Or rather, it was grand but the decay has not left even this innermost room of the palace untouched. The room stretches long before him, debris strewn in columns and shards up to the foot of winding stairs that rise unsupported towards three magnificent stained-glass windows.

The windows are unbroken, filtering colourful beams of ambient light into the cavernous room. It illuminates the remains of enormous arches that reach up high above him like the skeletal ribs of a slain beast. Beyond them, there is no ceiling. Glittering stars and nebulae make Hob feel as if he’s falling into space.   

Hob doesn’t have a lot of time to take it all in. 

The moment he has crossed into the room, a wave of power expands within him. It’s the nightmare sea’s full weight, it’s the ruby’s unfiltered heat and it drowns out every other sensation with him. He’s vaguely aware that he stumbles and manages to barely catch himself against the wall beside the entrance. His visions swims and he thinks he might lose consciousness if something like this was possible inside a dream

Under the hand he uses to support himself, marble carvings, once finely wrought like thinnest porcelain but now broken and chipped, regains their pristine edges and shapes. He hadn’t even meant to repair this. 

He takes a deep breath and then another, trying in vain to pull the power back underneath his skin and into himself. It’s there to stay. 

Lucienne, the only orderly thing inside the chaos of the throne room, observes him with sharp eyes. 

When he finally manages to right himself and steps between the debris and shards of glass to join Lucienne, dust starts to swirl around his feet and the insistent pull of the ruby’s power has him stumbling like a newborn foal. He’s too small for it, not enough by far.

“Lady Lucienne? I think… I think we really need to talk about what I came here for, now.”

It’s hard to swallow around the words, his teeth and tongue are unwieldy.  

“Indeed, we should.” Her voice is quiet and barely makes it above the insistent sound of crashing waves and static humming he hears. There is a careful hand on her shoulder and he finds himself led to the set of impossible stairs where he sits heavily.  

“I found something in the Waking,” he forces out and does his best to calm the grip the ruby and the nightmare sea have on him. It’s… exhausting, and his stomach churns uneasily under the greedily pulling sensation. 

“A jewel. I think. I think  it might have come from here.”

“A jewel you say?” 

“A… ruby. Or at least it looks like one. Since I found it, I have started this - this dreaming journey. It has… a strange power to it.” 

Lucienne’s face is shuttered and her glasses make it hard for Hob to evaluate her ecpression. She’s taken a step back from him, tense and straight but her words are gentle.

“There are many magical stones and artefacts in the Waking, Hob Gadling. Some of them, in the right hands, might even allow you some measure of control over yourself in this realm. They must not necessarily have come from here, to let you dream lucidly as you do.”

That would explain the very beginning he guesses but nothing of the rest of it all.

“This here is not exactly the same as lucid dreaming, though, is it?” He makes sure that he’s as gentle as she is, that nothing of his fight to stay above the pull of the ruby gets out. “This is not really my dream at all, am I right? This is the place where dreams and nightmares dwell and I don’t think I should be able to perceive it like I do.”

They stare at each other for a long moment. Before she unfolds her staunchly crossed arms.

“You are not wrong, Hob Gadling. There is a way to prove it, once and for all. If this jewel is truly of the Dreaming, then you should be able to take it with you when you come here. If it is of the Waking, it cannot cross into your dreams with you and retain its properties.” 

“Just like that? I could have proven-”

Hob breaks off. There’s no need to make himself look even more foolish. If he’d just dared to wear the ruby after all…

“Yes. Just like that.” The small crinkle of her nose and eyes is silent laughter. There’s unexpected warmth to it. 

Hob grins self-deprecatingly and braces himself for having to wait out his time in the Dreaming. He’ll have to leave the palace before long; he doesn’t think he can sustain himself against the power of the ruby very long any more. He feels as empty as the palace, hollowed out and scraped clean by the tides of the Dreaming Sea and the jewel. There’s not a lot left for him to give without getting something, anything really, in return. Otherwise there’ll be nothing left of him. 

He shudders and makes to stand with trembling knees.    

“I need to wait until I wake.” It goes without speaking, that in Dreaming time that could take a long long while, still.

There’s something considering in Lucienne’s gaze before she turns and walks towards the part of the wall he’d accidentally repaired when coming in. She runs a hand over the intricately carved wall cornice musingly and looks between him and the broken stairs to the throne.

“Try willing it,” she says quietly. 

“What?”

“Try it. Tell yourself that this dream is over and will yourself awake.”

“I don’t think that’ll really work.”

It couldn’t be that easy, could it? He could just -

***

Hob opens his eyes in the dark of his bedroom and rears upright with his heart rabbiting against his ribcage. It did work; and it was truly that easy.

“Fuck.” He runs a hand over his face. He’s not sleepy but wide awake. Like always. 

“What the actual -”

It worked. How has that worked? Granted, he’s never before tried to actively make himself wake up - why would he after all - but this was just… this was too easy and too real. The power he’d felt in the palace tingles in his fingertips like static. It’s not gone entirely but for now, in the Waking, it’s manageable.  

He disentangles himself from his bedsheets and plants his feet squarely onto the cool floorboards. It doesn’t help much against the feeling of waves crashing against his insides. 

The ruby glows where it sits innocuously on his bedside table, hypnotic as always. It resonates somewhere within Hob’s mind and makes his head ring faintly. It stays, no matter how hard Hob rubs his face. 

“You’re the real thing then.”

Dread pulls at his stomach. This has terrible implications for his Stranger. If he even is a stranger any longer. Because if this ruby is of the Dreaming - what are the chances that his Stranger isn’t. There are many dreams and nightmares missing, as far as Hob has seen, but there is not a particularly large likelihood that someone who holds a power that belongs to the palace of Dream of the Endless is a mere dreamthing.   

It’s… a staggering thought and Hob shies away from it. Waking up on purpose is not enough proof. He needs to bring the ruby back to Lucienne. It’s the only way to be absolutely certain about what he fears.  

The gem is warm to the touch and slips around Hob's neck without second thought - as if it belongs there. It’s unexpectedly heavy and the fine gold chain he’d bought seems suddenly insufficient to carry its weight in the long run. The moment the stone settles on his skin the ringing in his head stops. So does the staticky feeling. Instead, it’s just the deeply thrumming growl of waves breaking against waves. 

It fills him, every nook and cranny and pore of him until he feels he might burst with the sheer might that suddenly runs through his much too human body.  

He’s too small, too tiny in the scope of things to hold this power without it changing him irrevocably. 

He doesn’t know what is different this time; it's by far not the first time he touches the stone. But maybe it's not mere physical contact at all, he realises slowly, thoughts nearly sluggish under the weight of the Dreaming Sea and the ruby combined. He is now actively acknowledging its power, after all; for the first time he accepts it in a way he has never dared to before. 

He’s always felt it reaching for him, surely. It’s only now that he is reaching back. He’s made space for the ruby and its power after all. It’s time to accept what it gives in return. 

Hob only realises that he’s closed his eyes, when he finally deigns to open them again. He’s still sitting on the bed in his flat above the New Inn. It’s still the night hours of a new day. Around him, there is a spread of awareness that reaches out into the world. It starts small but he can feel it expanding with every heartbeat.

His neighbour is still sleeping, as is the old couple one floor up. Their visiting grandson teeters on the edge of waking. Across the street a man is in the last throes of a nightmare, its presence a brush of warm water to Hob’s cold black sea. Fears, old and new, linger in the wake of the shadows. 

There is a shimmer to the world, a curtain behind which he glimpses the Waking in strands of truth and story and fears. 

He becomes aware, mind reeled back into himself, at the window. London is sleeping and Hob can feel all those dreamers like little pebbles sinking through the Dreaming sea. And beyond the humans, beyond London and England - he snuffs the thought, suddenly nauseous, his unspooled awareness like the sting of a rubber band that has been stretched too far before snapping back. 

Is this how his Stranger had felt when he’d worn the ruby? Because this is more than just a paltry bit of magical power. This is responsibility and duty. Hob could decide hold them all, those Dreamers, and guide them … or clench his hand mercilessly and -

This is inconceivable.     

He falls heavily into his armchair. The ruby needs to go to Lucienne, as fast as possible. Natural sleep, though, feels a million miles out of his reach at the moment. On the other hand, he did will himself awake once already. Curiously, he prodds the veil that sits ephemeral somewhere at the back of his too small mind. 

He might just as well try the reverse of waking up and will himself to sleep. Slowly he leans back and gets comfortable in the armchair.

“Sleep, Hobsie,” he mutters as he reaches into the power of the stone and pulls at the veil.

He doesn’t even have to close his eyes before he appears in the throne room between one heartbeat and the next, the ruby hanging heavily around his neck.

Beyond the palace, there's the raging sound of heavy rain and booming thunder. 

***

Interlude

Dream cannot stop the shudder that runs through his crafted, cold body when it happens. He carefully unfolds his limbs until he is upright again and sitting in his temporary prison. 

Where the warm flow of stories had settled underneath his skin, there is now the gentle hum of power. He cannot reach for it, not through the bindings of the circle but it is there nonetheless - the ebb and flow of his might and his realm as he hasn’t felt it in longer than a century. 

It is the culmination of a development the true reason of which he can only speculate on. The warmth that had burrowed unbiddenly underneath Dream’s skin has persisted. No, not persisted. It has grown - steadily and unnoticeably at first until it flowed nearly like mortal blood though every part of him. 

But it’s not only power and warmth he feels. 

He has bent his whole focus on it, dissected its flow, its cause, its effect. What he has found  is gentle care shown to the Dreaming that has grown into something more. So much more that it changes him even in his prison. He is the Dreaming, even here, even cut off from it.  

There is endurance in his limbs where there was the strength of rage before. The colour of faith is a new blush on his cheeks and lips, a trickle of spring that contrasts the winter of his cell. He has - grown used to it, over the months. Cherished it. Awaited each increase.

This, now, is more than that. It is a surge, a rising wave that blazes through him without an inkling of remorse. He tilts his head up and smiles at the painted ceiling. A large part of his power has just been fully returned the Dreaming. 

Someone has brought his ruby back and restored it to its primary purpose. 

He wonders how long it will be until he finds an opportunity to leave. He wants to see for himself who serves him undaunted and bold like this. 

*** 

It’s worse than wearing it in the Waking. 

Much much worse.

The jewel is heavy, chain cutting deeply into his neck. It's bright, nearly too bright to look into and it hums with the voices of millions, billions of Dreamers all vying for Hob’s attention at once simply for being there. When Hob closes his eyes, he’s swimming in a dark, endless sea, lost in between all the beings that make up this realm. 

Quickly he slams his eyes back open, panting as if he’d really been caught in the deep sea. For the longest moment he can’t differentiate between the thunder crashing around the palace and the booming waves of power pounding inside him.  

There‘s too much in his head. His skin is wrong, his body is wrong. 

In the many facets of the ruby, he can see his own face - thinner than he's used to, black-bleeding eyes staring back at him. There’s no trace of the brown he’s used to, only the same black he knows from the eyes of the nightmare of Drowning. 

“I knew it,” he pants, out of breath simply from trying to hold on to his sense of self, “I knew it was from here.” 

The grin he shoots at Lucienne is probably more a grimace. 

She doesn’t return it anyway. She has a hand in front of her mouth and there are unmistakably tears running down her cheeks even if she’s quick in wiping away the evidence. She’s not looking at Hob at all, though. She’s entirely fixated on the ruby that lays heavily on his chest. 

“Yes,” she breathes, voice thick, “this is a thing of the Dreaming. It is Lord Morpheus’ Dreamstone.” 

She brushes new tears away before they fall. “He would never be parted from it of his own will. It is an extension of his power, a sign of his sovereignty.”

“Lord Morpheus’... Dreamstone.” 

He’d known it, hadn’t he? At one point, he thinks, he must have realised the possibility that his Stranger and the missing Lord of the Dreaming were one and the same, right? He’d simply - decided to ignore it.  

“Do you want to know why I kept it at all after I came across it? It wasn’t for any kind of power I felt from it. To be honest, I didn’t feel shit at first.” 

Hob hears himself laugh but it’s an ugly, self-deprecating sound.

“I kept it because it reminded me of my Stranger. The one I met up with over the many centuries of life he gifted me with. One century, one meeting. I kept it because it reminded me of the stupidly large gemstone he would wear each century. Except he didn’t show up last time, did he? And I… missed him; miss him now even, more than a decade later.” 

His eyes are hot and he doesnt think he could stop the tears if he tried. He doesn’t even know why he’s feeling so betrayed by this. He’d come here purely because he wanted to know about a magical stone. He was an idiot. An utter and complete fool.

“You’re telling me- What you’re telling me is, that the man - being - who I owe my immortality to, who is most likely missing in action, is your Lord Morpheus, Dream of the Endless.”

A foolish human meddling with forces beyond his imagination. Why is he so angry that this is the way he learns about his Stranger? It’s not as if it makes a lick of difference. Hob still misses him, still wishes he could have had a chance or a way to show him that he’s come to care for him. 

“Yes, of course that is him.” 

“What do you mean, of c- “ He breaks off at the curious expression she looks at him with. It’s nearly apprehension. It dawns on him at once “… You knew. You knew who I was the moment I said my name, am I right?” 

“I did. There has been a lot of talk in the palace about you over the centuries, Hob Gadling.”

The storm outside howls against the stained glass windows and Lucienne frowns uneasily.

“Then why didn’t you say anything?”  But why should she have? Hob himself had given no inkling of recognizing her Lord’s name or station after all. He’d given her no reason - he’d only asked for advice.

“I… apologise,” she says, “I should not have held back the information.” 

Again she throws a tense glance at the windows. She says more but Hob can't hear her over the howling inside his dreaming body and the winds battering the palace noisily. He’s angry - at himself mostly or at fate maybe. Why hadn’t he wanted to wear the ruby? If he had, would he have found out earlier? He hurts, everything hurts and bends and stretches in ways that are impossible even in his worst nightmares.

His Stranger hasn’t come to their meeting, Dream of the Endless doesn’t freely part with his Dreamstone, has been missing since 1916 if Lucienne is to be believed - something horrible must have happened. And Hob has squandered precious years by dithering, pitying himself, by being to much of a coward to- 

He grips his arms with nails that are much too long to belong to him. They shimmer, black and shiny and sharp. He feels thin and hollow and angry. Something in him hungers. He hasn’t felt hunger in so long. 

“Sir! Hob Gadling! Hob!” Lucienne’s hand on his too pale arm rips him out of his spiral.

“L-Lucienne. What is-”

“I apologise,” she says again, more softly this time and despite the howling in Hob’s ears he hears her easily, her touch on his skin a steady grounding point. “I should have been frank with you from the moment I recognized who you are.”

“It’s- it’s fine. I’m mostly angry at myself,” he grits out and then closes his mouth again. There is something wrong with his teeth.

“What is happening to me?”

“I do not know, Sir,” Lucienne's voice startles him despite having expected it. She’s much too close now, nearly hovering. “But whatever it is that the Dreaming is doing to you, it is trying to help you fulfil the purpose you set for yourself. It… is partial to you. Very much so, I fear.” 

“It’s the ruby, though. Not the - not the Dreaming.” 

“There’s no difference. None that matters at least,” she says, “The Dreamstones are as much a part of the Dreaming as they are a part of Lord Morpheus. Here, in his Realm, it is the Dreaming’s tool. Just as it is Lord Morpheus’ when he wields it.” 

Hob's smile is a shaky thing as a long overdue realisation slowly takes shape. 

“The purpose I set myself, huh… What I wanted…” 

What had he wanted, at first? He’d wanted to see his stranger again when he first found the ruby, wanted to find him and apologise. Then, when he began his journey in the Dreaming, he'd been curious, and enchanted. 

But after that, he'd just wanted to help - help those sadly decaying things of beauty he’d come across - full of teeming possibilities but slowly falling prey to hopeless dereliction - help that fantastical landscape who’s scorched bones screamed for something that had been ripped away.

And he’d wished to help that depthless sea that had hummed and whispered underneath his skin and in the shadows of the world he had so easily come to love the longer he had walked in it… 

“I wanted to help this place,” he whispers, “because I've… grown to love it.”

The Dreaming and Dream of the Endless are the same, he remembers. He doesn’t think it makes any difference at all to disentangle which one he’s fallen in love with. 

It’s okay, though, he thinks as he considers his nails and feels his teeth. He’d given freely of himself and he doesn’t begrudge the Dreaming for trying to give something back. It’s only fair. He’s not going to eschew the gift it offers in reciprocity. 

[fixfoxnox]

The Silk House (1) (AleRudy)

Summary: The Silk House is a gaming parlor and brothel that caters to both the good and bad of society. Neutral ground in the non-neutral western world, it's own Gary "Roach" Sanderson runs his business and more with more power than anyone can really fight against. It's no surprise that this center of the west see's numerous interesting characters and numerous interesting stories with it. From a Sheriff falling for the Prostitute that he hires to the danger that outlaws can pose without a gun, the Silk House only has stories to tell.

Or, a compilation of COD Cowboy AU stories :)

Today's Story: Sheriff Alejandro Vargas Gets a New Deputy

Pairing: Alejandro/Rudy

Word Count: ...let's not talk about that (14k)

Notes: A commission from the wonderful @wmdamadeof

Alejandro enjoyed the hand running across his chest. The feeling of skin against his skin, the warmth of another's touch. Between the days of constant stress and work, capturing and recapturing the same men over and over only to be forced to free them because of corrupt politicians, Alejandro needed a break.

He, like many others in the town he’d somehow found himself the sheriff of, found his break at the Silk House, the local gaming parlor and brothel. He always found himself returning to the Silk House, even when he promised himself he wouldn’t do it again, even when he told himself he had to stop. 

It was his own fault, but he’d developed a routine and the idea of breaking it tugged harshly at his heart. When he would try not to go, his hand would always itch. He needed something to do with them, whether that be flicking playing cards through his hands or burying his fingers between the thighs of one of Roach’s workers. 

Never just one of the workers, he reminded himself, his attention stolen by the man climbing into his lap. Hands moved from his bare chest to his hair, running through to tug at the knots that had formed there through the day. Always the same worker. Always the same, just like his schedule. They knew when he’d come in and Roach always made sure that his favorite was never busy, always made sure he was available to him. 

Alejandro’s schedule followed the same pattern. Wake up early to do his job, roaming the streets and watching for the usual outlaws who caused trouble for the people of the town. On a good day he’d catch one of the men and throw them behind bars, keeping them off of the streets until a bad day would hit. The bad days were when the pardons came in, the orders to release men who would be right back in his cell the next week. 

Whether it was a good day or a bad day, Alejandro’s schedule stayed the same. When the sun started to set over the horizon, he’d lock up the station and head toward the Silk House. Roach always greeted him at the front door, that small knowing smile on his lips as he invited him in with honey on his tongue and the promises of his usual spot at the poker table waiting for him. 

He’d take his seat and, within minutes, he’d be dealt into the game with a whiskey placed next to him. “On the house, Sheriff.” Roach would give him a wink and turn to leave and, just like clockwork, Alejandro would be tugging him down close enough that he could whisper out the request for his dirty not-so-secret. Roach always knew what Alejandro wanted, but he always made him ask.

Minutes later and arms would wrap around his neck, feeling along his chest as a voice that caressed his skin like silk would whisper a greeting in his ear. Those sweet hands, the ones he knew he’d later have restrained against soft pillows, they’d rub at his shoulders, slowly work the knots from his skin. Alejandro would let them as he sipped at his whiskey and played his little game, needing the comfort of those hands on him in whatever capacity they could be at the moment. 

They’d stay like that until Alejandro finished his first glass of whiskey. As soon as the glass left his lips, one of those hands would take it from him with a promise of returning with another. Alejandro hated to have the warm presence leave him, even for a moment, but the promise of what came afterwards was always worth the sudden loss. 

A whiskey glass would be set on the table and Alejandro would have a weight settled onto his lap, arms wrapped around his throat as dirty promises were whispered in his ear. Of course he was hardly able to stand it, but he’d pretend to focus on the card game, at least for a little while longer. He liked to pretend, more for himself than anyone else. 

The man in his lap, the sweet thing that he was, he’d torture him throughout the game. Between pretending to peek at other player’s cards for him and giving a little clap any time he won a hand, he would be driving Alejandro up the wall. Hands skating over his chest, dipping lower than what would ever be considered appropriate. Moving closer just so he could rock his hips against Alejandro’s offering the sweet temptation between his legs. 

Alejandro would hold out as long as he could, he would keep going until he was practically aching, his body begging him to just bend the man over the poker table and have what he came for right then and there. He wouldn’t. He knew the rules. Instead he’d pull himself from the game, collecting his wins for the night, he almost always had some sort of win, and whisper for the man against his chest to wait for him by the stairs. A hand would return to his hair, tugging for a brief moment just to pull a low growl from his throat, then the weight in his lap would be gone. 

He would finish whatever was in his whiskey glass, tossing it back in one quick move before heading to the bar where Roach would be waiting for him with that knowing smile on his face. At times, Alejandro hated that smile. Roach knew too much, it felt like he knew everything about everyone and had both the good and bad of the world backing him. Alejandro had wondered time and time again what had put the man in such a position, but he knew he’d likely never get his answer. 

He’d hand his empty glass to the bartender before tossing Roach the usual payment, a few eagles and a silver for his nights stay. Roach would make a point to count it out before giving him that knowing smile once again and telling him to have fun. Alejandro would grumble out some curse toward him, one that only made Roach’s smile grow. They knew who held the power between them. 

Then, the part of the night that always kept Alejandro returning, he’d find his mark exactly where he’d told him to be. Waiting pretty by the stairs with a hand held out to guide him up to whichever room they’d be taking for the night. Whichever room wasn’t already taken. 

That’s where Alejandro was now. In one of those rooms. 

“You look more stressed than normal, Vaquero.”

Alejandro watched with soft eyes as the man in front of him stepped away, moving carefully toward a little dresser set up in the corner. He’d always wondered what the point of the dressers was in the room, though he could assume it was to make things feel more natural. Just like the rest of the furniture in the little room. The more homy and comfortable your guests were and the more likely they’d be to return. 

“Cigarette?” Rodolfo lifted a little silver tin from the dresser. It was Alejandro’s own, pulled from the pockets of his coat before he’d tossed the thing onto the little coat rack. That was before Rodolfo had gotten his hands on him, those addicting hands that had slowly undone the buttons of his shirt to help him get more “comfortable.” 

“Please, Conejito.” He rubbed at his face and leaned back to relax into the cushion of the little love seat that Rodolfo had pushed him into.

Rudy gave a hum before sliding open the little silver tin and carefully removing one of the cigarettes from the inside. He flicked the little tin shut before setting it down in favor of picking up Alejandro’s silver lighter. He wasted no time in striding back over to Alejandro and straddling his lap, resting all of his weight against the others thighs. 

Alejandro couldn’t help himself, so he let his hands fix themselves against Rudy’s bare thighs, enjoying the feeling of the skin that had been so carefully revealed to him almost as soon as they’d stepped into the room. He admired the way the skin dipped under his hold, molding to fill his hands with Rudy. He let his eyes trail back up, meeting the knowing and amused gaze of the man above him. 

“Don’t tempt me with that look,” Alejandro warned. He used his grip on Rudy’s thighs to tug him ever closer, pulling a gasp from those pretty lips as his naked bottom half rubbed deliciously against the friction of his pants. He admired the way that Rudy’s gaze dropped, his lids lowered into something dangerous and seductive. He did always seem to enjoy Alejandro’s manhandling. 

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about, Alejo.” Rudy rolled his hips again, pulling a groan from Alejandro’s mouth and another gasp from the man above him. Alejandro gave an indignant grumble as Rudy laughed. Just the sound from the man above him had Alejandro’s chest feeling warm, heat spreading through his body and affection curling in his gut. He tried to ignore the affection in favor of the heat, but it was hard with that beaming grin on Rudy’s face. “Now then,” Rudy leaned closer and brought the cigarette up to brush against Alejandro’s lips, “let’s get you relaxed.”

Obediently, Alejandro parted his lips, allowing Rudy to bring his fingers close and slip the cigarette to rest between his lips. He couldn't help the shiver that pulled at him as Rudy let his fingers brush against his bottom lip and chin as he pulled away. The move made him want to drop the cigarette just to have a taste of the man in front of him. He resisted the urge, trying to maintain whatever he had left of his composure. 

Rudy flicked the lighter open in one smooth movement, a testament for how many times he'd done the exact move. Alejandro found himself wondering how many times the other had men pressed under him just as he was now, a cigarette waiting to be lit by his deft hands hanging from their lips. He didn't want to think about it for too long, all that it did was make hot waves of jealousy bash at his insides. Within a moment, the end of his cigarette was burning red and Rudy was flicking the lighter shut and setting it aside. Alejandro let his thoughts be pushed aside with it.

"Good?" Rudy leaned back just a bit, just enough that he could watch Alejandro pull the cigarette from his mouth and puff smoke out between them. Alejandro made sure to turn his head, determined not to be one of those assholes who would puff smoke into his face. He'd seen some of the men do it to some of the other workers, he could never imagine doing it to Rudy.

He let the cigarette rest between his lips again before squeezing at Rudy's thighs, feeling the softness and gently rocking the man against him again. "Made better by you," Alejandro spoke in a low voice, his eyes tracing along exposed skin, taking it all in and committing the man to memory. "You're quite the view, Rodolfo."

Rudy tilted his head at him as he gave another puff of the cigarette, one of his hands still clasped tight on Rudy's thigh, nearly digging in. He didn't seem to mind, so Alejandro never bothered to move his hand or loosen his grip. "Do you want just the view, Vaquero?" Hands pushed the sides of his unbuttoned shirt open further, tracing up his chest temptingly. Alejandro could only tilt his head back and give a pleased sigh at the temptation he was feeling. At the desperation that pulled at him.

One of Rudy's hands slipped up his neck to wind its way into his hair, slowly tugging at the knots in the locks and trying to undo them with a gentle touch. Alejandro let him, his eyes falling closed as the feeling of Rudy's chest pressed against his own provided him with a comforting weight. 

Alejandro would have been content just to stay like that, just to have the other man's weight pressed against his, providing him comfort for the rest of the night. That wasn't what he paid for, though. Rudy was always a stickler about giving him what he paid for, even on the nights when Alejandro had told him he just wanted to hold him, to have his warmth. And, Rudy was tempting. It was hard for Alejandro to ignore his temptation. 

"Let me help you," Rudy's voice was sweet like honey, dripping slow and thick with desire. Alejandro let himself believe the desire was real, that Rudy was doing this for a reason beyond the money that he'd paid. He needed to pretend, even if he knew it would ruin him later. Rudy's hand slipped from his hair and joined the other in trailing its way down Alejandro's chest, shifting closer and closer to the waistband of his pants. He was already hard, he was already desperate for the man above him. 

"Desperate thing," he groaned out as those hands finally reached the fabric straining around his cock. Rudy wasted no time in touching, letting his hand massage gently over Alejandro's length through the fabric of his pants. Alejandro let himself blow the smoke of his cigarette out as the thing still hung from his lips. His head was tilted back, his eyes directed to the ceiling so he didn't have to worry about disturbing Rudy with the smoke. 

He could feel the way that Rudy laughed against him, "What can I say, you make me feel as though I am starving, Alejo." Alejandro's hips bucked up into Rudy's hand at those words, a sharp sense of satisfaction shooting through him at the resulting gasp from the man above him. A pleased hum met his ears and moments later Rudy's fingers were deftly working on the buttons of his pants. "Do you want me?"

"Always," Alejandro breathed out. His voice was caught in his throat as Rudy pulled him from his pants, his hands giving slow measured strokes over his cock, spreading any precum that leaked from the tip down his shaft. It made the slide of Rudy's skin over him that much more delicious, that much more enticing. "Fuck, Conejito," he pulled the cigarette from his mouth, hardly able to focus on the sweet burning of the smoke down his throat with the sensations that Rudy was giving him, "I always want you, just like this." Another groan pulled from the back of his throat.

Rudy gave another sweet laugh before he removed one of his hands from Alejandro's cock, letting the other stay back to torture the head of his cock with sweet strokes of his thumb over the slit. His free hand carefully reached out to take the cigarette from Alejandro's hand prompting him to open his eyes and watch with delight as Rudy brought the lit cigarette up to his own lips, locking eyes with Alejandro as he did. 

A long moment passed as Rudy took a drag off of the cigarette, his eyes locked onto Alejandro's as his hand continued to work him with slow tight strokes and teasing touches over the head of his cock. After a long moment, Rudy tilted his head back, exposing the line of his throat to Alejandro's hungry eyes before blowing the smoke from his lips. 

The smoke created a low haze in Alejandro's mind, only added to by the pleasure that Rudy was giving him with his hand. He needed more from the man in his lap, he was desperate to feel and taste him. He wanted to be inside of him, to feel him squeezing around his cock and knocking the air from his lungs. "You tease," he accused, his breathing heavy as he watched Rudy take another drag from the cigarette. "Is this meant to help me relax?" He slid the hand on Rudy's thigh up, letting it trace around the line of his hip before he reached back to grab a handful of Rudy's ass.

The squeak that resulted from the sudden and harsh move was enough to pull a laugh from Alejandro's throat and soon he was leaning up to snatch the cigarette from Rudy's fingers. He could practically feel the other's smug gaze as he leaned over to toss the thing in the little glass ashtray nearby. Rudy enjoyed making Alejandro break. He always made Alejandro break. 

“How do you want me?” Rudy gave a soft sigh as Alejandro’s mouth met his chest, kissing and licking his way across naked skin before latching on to one of his nipples. He sucked at the little bud, flicking it with his tongue just to hear the resulting moan from the man above him as he did. His hand on Rudy’s ass tempted further, sliding down until he could slip his fingers far enough that they were just teasing the edge of Rudy’s hole.

He held that way for a long moment, enjoying the sweet sounds that escaped the other’s mouth and the way he was rocking back against his fingers, desperate for more of the teasing touch. Alejandro didn’t give it to him, not yet anyways. “Just like this,” he muttered, his mouth moving to Rudy’s other nipple, “ride me just like this, conejito.” 

The breathless chuckle from the man above him went straight to his cock and filled him with a warmth that he was desperate to ignore. “I should have known,” Rudy pulled away from Alejandro, clambering off of him to cross the room and retrieve a little jar of oil from the dresser where Alejandro’s things were stored, “you Vaqueros always do like a ride, don’t you?”

Alejandro could only give him a grin as he approached again, his hands extended for the little bottle of oil. He was desperate to work Rudy open and get inside of him. He was desperate to connect himself to him. He wasn’t going to get what he wanted so easily.

Rudy knocked his hands out of the way and fixed himself over Alejandro’s lap again, a teasing smile on his face as he tilted the little jar of oil over until a healthy amount was spilling over his fingers and dripping down onto Alejandro’s chest. He carefully placed the little jar into Alejandro’s hands as he watched the oil drip down his chest, moving lower and lower until it was gathering over the base of his cock. With the hand he hadn’t poured the oil on, Rudy grabbed the base of Alejandro’s cock and started to spread the oil along his shaft.

“Sit back and watch,” he leaned forward to place a soft kiss on Alejandro’s mouth, “you’re supposed to be relaxing.” His other hand snuck back to slip between his cheeks so he could finger at his own hole, teasing at himself with slicked fingers.

“How am I supposed to relax when you tease me like this?” Alejandro set aside the little jar of oil, desperate pants leaving his mouth as slow pleasure seemed to rock his lower half with the careful movements Rudy’s hand over his cock. He was practically panting, heat tearing at him as he looked over Rudy’s own body, admiring how his own cock was already leaking between them. 

He could tell the moment that Rudy worked one finger inside of himself. He could feel the hitch in breath against him and he could see the way that Rudy’s lips parted. Alejandro always enjoyed watching Rudy, he liked to see the delight that would cross the man’s face as he worked himself on his fingers or his cock. It made his own experience that much better, it allowed him to pretend that he hadn’t paid for all of this. That he hadn’t paid for that reaction. 

He slid a hand through the oil on his chest before wrapping it around Rudy’s cock. The resulting moan pulled one from his own lips and soon he was stroking Rudy in time with the hand on his own cock. If Rudy intended to torture him, Alejandro would just have to do it back. 

“Oh fuck, Alejo.” Rudy tilted his head back and Alejandro took the chance to admire the curve of his throat, his own breath ragged and hot with desire. Another moan pulled from Rudy’s chest told him that Rudy had worked another finger into himself. The resulting pants and whines had Alejandro bucking up into the hand wrapped around his cock, desperation eating at him. He loved to see Rudy like this, he loved to see him falling apart in his lap. Like an angel fallen from heaven just for him to corrupt. 

The hand on his cock moved away and soon Rudy was tilting forward to bury his face in Alejandro’s shoulder, low moans spilling from his lips as he continued to work himself with deft fingers. Alejandro took to muttering in his ear, offering praise as his hand stayed wrapped around his cock, working him in the slow rhythm that Rudy had been working him. 

“That’s it, go on, open yourself up for me, Conejito.” He leaned forward to nip at Rudy’s ear and kiss along his neck. “Feels good, huh? Makes you want my cock, doesn’t it?” He could feel Rudy nodding into his shoulder and that alone had him giving another desperate groan, his cock twitching with the pleasure that ran through him from the other’s response. “Come on now,” he moved his free hand up to slide it into Rudy’s hair and tug him away from his shoulder, “You’re supposed to be riding me.” 

Rudy’s face was a delightful pink color and his chest was practically heaving with the harsh breaths that he was taking, still he managed to tease, “So impatient, Alejo. Can’t you wait for me?”

“You make me desperate, you haunt my waking thoughts,” Alejandro tugged Rudy further onto his lap, “Do you think I can be patient when you’re all I think about?” He used his hand in Rudy’s hair to tug him closer, slotting their mouths together in a sloppy kiss. A meeting of teeth and tongues and spit that had the two moaning against the other's mouth and pressing impossibly closer, desperate for there to be no room between their bodies. 

As they kissed, Rudy slowly pulled his fingers from himself and did his best to reposition his body. Alejandro wasn’t making it easy with his roaming hands and demanding mouth. He wanted all of Rudy’s attention on him, so he had no issue with manhandling the other until his cock was pressed tight against his hole. One slight shift and he’d be inside of him. Alejandro didn’t shift, he let Rudy control the pace. 

That grew much harder to follow when Rudy sank down on him, letting the head of his cock slip inside of him. His hands gripped tight to Rudy’s hips, trying hard not to just pull the man down onto his cock or thrust his hips up inside of him. It was a game of self control and one that Rudy seemed to enjoy watching if his amused little grin was anything to go off of. Eventually, after he’d held still for just a touch too long, Alejandro swatted at his ass, enjoying the little jerk that Rudy gave in response. “Move already, Conejito, don’t make me do it for you.” 

Rudy gave a tut at his demanding words, but did as he asked and started to slowly sink further and further down on his cock. The velvet heat around his cock did nothing but make Alejandro’s head spin, the pleasure of it nearly too good for him to handle. By the time that Rudy was fully sat on his cock, Alejandro could do nothing but stare up at him with stars in his eyes and desperate little breaths puffed from between his lips. 

He thought Rudy looked beautiful all the time, but there was something special about seeing the man taking in deep breaths as he adjusted to the size of Alejandro filling him. Something about it could turn Alejandro into putty in seconds, unable to do anything but wait for Rudy to set the pace and the scene for him. For the man above him to tell him what he needed from him with his mouth or his hands or his body. 

Rudy, today, needed him to keep talking. He made that clear when he rocked his hips forward, grinding his cock against Alejandro’s stomach and moving himself around Alejandro’s cock. All before he asked in that soft voice he would occasionally use, “How is that, Alejo, good?”

“So good,” Alejandro groaned, his head tilting back against the love seat as Rudy started a slow rhythm with his hips, bouncing slowly on his cock while his hands traced along his chest, pushing his shirt open further and further so that he could scrape blunt nails wherever he so pleased. “Keep going, Rudy, fuck you feel so good.”

He used his hands to help Rudy maintain the speed he’d set, his fingers digging into those plush thighs once again. He was sure he would leave bruises but Rudy never seemed to mind when he did. In fact, he seemed to try and entice Alejandro into leaving bruises most of the time. Alejandro would never say no, not when that part of him that he tried to suppress was always screaming about leaving a mark. About letting Rudy and everyone else know who he belonged to. 

Rudy sped up his movements, causing a flood of curses and moans to leave Alejandro’s lips. Rudy licked each of them from his mouth, capturing his lips with his own in a heated and desperate kiss. They panted against the other’s lips, desperate for more as the sounds of skin slapping skin filled the air, nearly drowning out their desperate moans. Alejandro was thankful for it, hoping that it meant that Rudy couldn’t hear the words that he muttered against his lips. 

Rudy was tight around Alejandro, enough to have him twitching and squirming with desperation as they continued. Pleasure shocked up his spine and refused to subside, only building and building. Higher and higher and stronger and stronger until he couldn’t help but to fuck his hips up, meeting every fall of Rudy’s hips with a rise of his own. It only served to make things more intense, to drive his pleasure up even quicker so that he felt like every thrust might tear open his chest with how good he felt. 

“Alejo,” Rudy pulled away from him, his mouth hooked open as he continued to ride him, “talk to me, please.” Alejandro admired the haze of lust on the other man’s face, he was helpless to do anything other than fulfill his request.

“Doing so good for me,” he grunted out after a moment, “fuck you take me so well.” The resulting whine from Rudy let Alejandro know that he was close, that his words were just helping to push him toward the edge. “You were made for this, weren’t you, conejito? Just made to bounce on my cock.” 

Rudy’s hips stuttered a bit, so Alejandro picked up the pace, using his hands to help continue the rhythm that had been set as he grew closer to his own end. “You like this don’t you?” He buried his face in Rudy’s shoulder, speaking as close to his ear as he could get while his hand wrapped around Rudy’s cock, stroking him quickly, “You like taking care of me? Like helping me relax, don’t you?” He could feel Rudy nod against his shoulder, his moans picking up in volume. Alejandro knew that they both would only need one good push to send them diving over the edge. 

“You’re so good at this,” he muttered, “so perfect. Take care of me so well, conejito. You’re the only person who can help me relax.” 

Rudy gave another jerk of his hips before he was crying out, his entire body shuttering in Alejandro’s hold as he came. Alejandro followed soon after. 

“You’re leaving already?” 

Alejandro paused where he was buttoning up his shirt, a moment of guilt flooding over him. His eyes traced over to the bed, meeting the soft warm brown eyes that were watching him, an added pout making them that much more powerful. “It is morning already, conejito,” Alejandro defended himself weakly, “I don’t need to overstay my welcome.”

“You could never overstay your welcome.” Rudy sat up then, giving a long yawn as the sheet over his chest fell over his lap, only barely covering what lay beneath. Alejandro’s eyes traced over the skin for a moment, mapping out every line and curve that he could before he forced himself to look away and focus back on buttoning his shirt. 

He could hear as the bed creaked with movement, then the padding of feet on the wooden floors as they approached him. Still, he nearly jumped out of his skin when Rudy appeared in front of him and swatted his hands away to take over buttoning his shirt. They stood silently for several moments as Rudy deftly did the buttons for him before smoothing over the fabric with his hands. He stopped for a moment at the edge of Alejandro’s shirt before slowly starting to tuck the fabric into his pants for him. Alejandro’s breath hitched at the move, but the only response he received from Rudy was a slight lift of the corner of his mouth into a small smile. 

When he was finally finished, he did the buttons on Alejandro’s pants for him as well. His hands didn’t move from the waistband of his trousers, and the two stayed like that for a moment, just silent as they looked at the other. 

“You know,” Rudy started, his voice soft, “you don’t have to run every morning. Roach won’t mind if you stay longer, so long as you have my permission.” 

“Do I have your permission?” Alejandro asked, just slightly tilting his head at the other. It was new, Rudy trying to get him to stay longer. Usually he helped him dress and the two said their goodbyes. Today was different, though something in Alejandro pointed out that it had felt different for a while now. 

Rudy ran his hands up Alejandro’s chest, a small smile on his face as he did. “You do,” he answered. Alejandro tried not to let that go to his head. Most of all, he tried not to let it go to his heart. He couldn’t let himself do that, not again. 

Alejandro stepped back, turning away to gather his jacket and the rest of his things. He could feel Rudy’s eyes on him, they burned into him as he finished getting all of his things for the day. “I have to go,” he called over his shoulder, “I need to get back and change before getting to the station. Long days call for early mornings.”

“Is today a long day?” Rudy asked, slowly approaching him again.

Alejandro paused, allowing the other to wrap him up from behind. Rudy rested his head on his shoulder and, for a moment, Alejandro let himself relax against the other. “I have a bad feeling that today will certainly be one,��� he answered back quietly.

“And are your bad feelings usually right?”

“Usually,” Alejandro stared forward, annoyance ticking at his chest as he remembered the last day he’d had a feeling like this, “usually, yes. I’m waiting on a letter, I imagine today is the day I’ll get it.”

Rudy didn’t ask any further questions about his work. He knew that Alejandro often came to him to relax after a hard day, not to talk it out. He never pressed and Alejandro appreciated it as much as he hated it. “Will you be back tonight?”

Alejandro turned in Rudy’s hold, moving until they were facing each other, holding each other in their arms. Something about it felt almost too intimate for Alejandro, but he wouldn’t complain about that. “Of course, conejito,” his voice was soft. Soft and quiet and holding almost too many hints at what he was currently feeling. He pulled away first. 

“Let me see you off,” Rudy offered, turning to go and grab a robe for himself. Alejandro stopped him. 

“That’s not necessary. Go back to bed, conejito.” He gave Rudy a crooked smile, “You should get your rest, I don’t know how much I’ll let you have tonight.” He stayed only long enough to watch the blush and heat spread across Rudy’s face. He ducked out the door, still riding the high that the other man always left him with as he headed toward the station, ready to start what he knew was likely to be a shitty day. 

“Well, well, well,” The voice that rang out through the tiny sheriff's office grated on Alejandro’s nerves and immediately sent his already souring mood plummeting downward, “look who’s finally back.” Alejandro ignored him and started toward his desk, dropping his hat on the empty deputy’s desk along the way. He’d never been able to get anyone to stay for long enough to have anything there. “What took you so long, Sheriff? Too busy getting your rocks off to come to work.”

“Do you ever shut the fuck up?” Alejandro practically groaned the words as we went about opening all of the windows in the office, letting natural light flood the room. He was trying to give himself something to focus on other than the glaring white envelope sitting neatly on his desk. He knew what the envelope was. 

Graves gave a low chuckle, watching him with that stupid smug grin that he always wore, even when Alejandro was arresting him. “Think there's a letter on your desk for me big man, you may wanna open that up.”

Alejandro turned to look at him before leaning over his desk. “Look at that,” he turned to look back at Graves, “Sure enough. But I don’t open my letters until after dinner. You’ll just have to wait.” He turned back to continue opening up the office, even as he could hear Graves smack the bars of his cell behind him. 

“Why do you always do this, eh?” Alejandro didn’t turn around to face the man, he just kept doing his work as though he was completely unaffected by the man behind him. “You know you have to let me out, why prolong it?”

“Because,” Alejandro moved back toward his desk and started to clear up some of the papers scattered across the top, “the longer you’re in here, the less time you have to cause trouble.”

“Oh bullshit,” Graves scoffed at him, “You and I both know that I take a couple of days of rest before I start my shit again.” There was a long pause, “Come on, keeping me here longer won’t do either of us any good. I’ll just annoy you and sitting in this cell is not good for my back.”

There was a pause as Alejandro leaned up against his desk, taking in several deep breaths as he did. He really hated to admit it, but Graves was right. They both knew that the man would take a few days break from his usual shit in town, so what really was the point in keeping him? To fill his own need to feel like he could do something to protect the town from people like this? It was pointless, in the end he’d have to let Graves free anyways. Might as well not suffer through hours more of the man’s yapping. 

He gave a deep sigh before reaching out to snatch up the cell keys from his desk and start toward Graves. “Hey, atta boy, Sheriff.” Alejandro shot him a glare but dutifully opened the cell door for him, allowing him to walk freely into the little Sheriff’s office with an over dramatic stretch into the air. “Man I really gotta stretch my legs after that, you should really invest in a bigger cell.”

Alejandro closed the cell door with a grumble, “You know where your things are. Now get the hell out of my office, pendejo.” 

“Always so eager to get rid of me,” Graves taunted. Still, he didn’t push his luck and instead moved to the little box that held all of his extra things. Alejandro watched with displeasure as he strapped his guns back to his waist and tucked a knife in beside one of them. “Alright bud,” he turned to Alejandro with a grin, “I’m off to the Silk House if you need me. I got a major hankering to be between someone’s thighs and I doubt you’re willing to spread ‘em for me.” 

Alejandro rolled his eyes and turned away from him to take a seat at his desk. “Think I’ll find that one I really like, you know, Roach’s boy with those fat fucking thighs, the bitable ones? Oh what’s his name, uhh Ru-Rudy? Rudy! Yeah him. Fuck he’s good with his mouth too.” Alejandro froze where he was, just hovering over the papers on his desk as something hot and ugly laid itself over his chest, threatening to crush his ribs with its weight. “Alright, well I’m off. See ya in a few days.” 

Alejandro didn’t move until Graves was well out of the office. He didn’t trust himself not to chase the man down the street and shoot him dead where he stood. He didn’t trust himself not to let the jealousy bubbling up in his chest consume him whole. As soon as he was sure that Graves was far enough away that he wouldn’t be able to catch back up, he stood from his desk and started to pace the room. He tugged at his hair, bared his teeth, and resisted the urge to sweep everything off of his desk. It would only leave a mess for him to clean up and that would do nothing to help his mood. 

He tried to think of anything else, he always tried to avoid thinking of what Rudy did during the day, of the other clients he knew that he took. All that it would do is send waves of jealousy through him and remind him with a slap to the face of the shit he’d gotten himself into again. 

Alejandro had never been good at separating himself from people. He’d never been good at putting a wall between himself and the people that he interacted with, he always grew attached. He’d tried, this time, he’d tried not to get attached. After a few nights with Rudy, he’d taken a night with someone else, another one of Roach’s people. A sweet little thing named James. He’d been sweet, but he hadn’t been Rudy. 

He’d tried again. He’d taken another night with James, then another one of Roach’s people, then another. He’d tried so hard, but nothing had worked, so he’d found himself crawling back to Rudy, where he’d stayed. And since then all he’d done was get more attached, fall harder and harder until he was back to the same sad fuck that he’d once been. A Sheriff in a small town who’d fallen in love with a prostitute. He was fucked, but he knew better this time. He knew what the relationship was to Rudy. He knew he was only a client, so he tucked his feelings into his chest where they would stay buried.

Or, at least, where he tried to keep them buried.

Rudy gave only a cursory knock to the wall outside of Roach’s office before stepping in through the open door, his eyes locked on to where his boss was sitting at his desk sorting through money. Likely putting together everyone’s pay for the week. All he received was a quick smile before Roach’s eyes were back down, sorting and flicking through everything quickly. 

“Hey, Rudy,” he greeted him, his voice soft, “What can I do for you?”

“Um,” Rudy didn’t know why he was so nervous, he knew that Roach would support him. Roach had always supported and helped him when it came to things like this. “I wanted to talk some more about, well about me leaving.” That pulled Roach’s attention from the money. He stared at Rudy for a long moment before motioning to one of the seats across from his desk. Rudy crossed the room in careful steps and sat in front of him. 

“When are you thinking?” Roach asked him carefully, folding his hands in front of his chest patiently.

“A few weeks,” Rudy answered. He tried to sit up straighter, tried to appear more confident in his ability to actually succeed in leaving this time. He didn’t feel confident in the slightest, but he felt like had to try.

Roach tilted his head at him, his eyes sweeping across his face. Rudy knew that the other was looking right through him. That he could see all the doubts and worries that he had about taking off again. “Alright,” his voice was still soft, “And what’s your plan?”

“Find a job,” Rudy closed in on himself a bit, he already knew what was coming next, “stay out of the business.”

“That was your plan last time too,” Roach pointed out, his voice still soft. There was a moment of silence, a nearly oppressive quiet that had Rudy feeling like an idiot. He knew that he needed to have more than that, he knew that he needed to do more if he didn’t want to end up right back on Roach’s doorstep. “Rudy,” Roach started carefully, “You know if it's the business you want out of, I can give you a job outside of what you’ve been doing. Jackson could always use help behind the bar, I can always open up a new games table-”

“No,” Rudy cut him off, “no I don’t-” He gave a sigh and leaned forward, rubbing at his face with his hands. “I don’t want to stay here the rest of my life,” he sounded more tired than he thought he should have. “I want to do something else, I need to do something else.” He looked up at Roach, “I don’t want to get stuck in this.”

“I understand,” Roach didn’t give anything away on his face, but Rudy knew the man. He knew that Roach understood better than any of the workers ever really believed that he did. He reminded himself that the other man had been where he was at one point. He’d been in his shoes but he’d been under someone else. Someone who wasn’t so willing to let him get away. He reminded himself that he didn’t want to get stuck in this life, but that Roach had. After a moment, Roach leaned back in his seat to look at him better. “You should speak to Alejandro about this.” 

“Alejandro?” Rudy’s face went a bit pink at the mention of the man. It was stupid, his crush on the Sheriff who came so often to visit him. It was juvenile. He was supposed to be a professional and yet…and yet, he’d dreamt of a life away from what he was doing now, a life where Alejandro was still involved. Where he still came around to look at him with that burning heat and adoration. “What does he have to do with this?”

The look of amusement that Roach gave him told him that the other knew what sort of thoughts he was having about his most loyal client. “Alejandro hasn’t been able to keep a deputy at the office. Ask him about the position.”

“You think he’d let me jump from sex worker to deputy?” He shook his head, watching the other with wide eyes. Sure, he enjoyed the thought of getting to do something so interesting. Of getting to spend more time around Alejandro, but that was a lot to ask of a man who paid to fuck him every night.

Roach leaned forward on his desk and met Rudy’s eyes. His lips were twitched up into that knowing smile that he always wore, the one that so often drove people crazy when they tried to question or trick him. The one that he always used right before he would scam some asshole politician out of their money or into a compromising position so that he could blackmail them later on. “I think,” he started, “that Sheriff Alejandro Vargas would let you do anything that you like.”

Rudy gaped at him for a moment, trying to figure out a way to respond to the bold statement. Trying to figure out a way to question Roach about what he knew. He never got a chance. 

“Rudy?” He turned to look toward the door, meeting Jackson’s apologetic look, “Sorry for interrupting. You’ve got a client asking for you.”

Rudy took a moment to right himself, trying to get his mind back on track before standing up from his seat. “Right, uh,” he turned to Roach, “We’ll talk more later?” Roach gave a nod, that knowing smile still on his lips. He started toward the door then, not looking back at Roach as he followed Jackson back out into the game room of the house. 

He gave a deep sigh when he spotted who had come in. Perhaps Alejandro had been right that morning, perhaps the day would not be a good one. “Want me to kick him out?” Jackson asked, crossing his arms over his chest as he glanced toward him. 

Rudy appreciated the offer, but if he planned to leave he would need what money he could get. “No,” he shook his head, “As much as I hate it, I’ll handle him.” With those words, he plastered on a fake smile and started toward his client for the day. Rudy only hoped that Philip Graves wouldn’t try to stay long.

As usual, by the time that Alejandro finished his day of work, he was absolutely fucking exhausted. Trying to run a town without a deputy to help him keep things in order was god awful and bordered on enough to just have him quitting. Unfortunately for him and fortunately for the people of the town, he loved the town too much to just leave them without any protection. 

He took several long moments to himself before leaving for the day, collapsing forward onto his desk to take in ragged breaths. He was working himself up like usual, but he tried to take solace in the fact that soon he would be wrapped up in Rudy’s arms, in the comfort of a man that he loved but knew that he shouldn’t.

With those thoughts in mind, he started his usual routine of closing up the office, everything was practically muscle memory. His mind was already waiting for him down the long street of the town, waiting with his heart in the hands of a man who didn’t even know that he held them. He felt hardly present as he shut everything down like he always did before starting on his walk toward the Silk House. 

When he arrived, he was greeted at the door by Roach as usual, only today Roach looked more than a little put out by something. “Alejandro,” the man placed his hands on his hips, “welcome.”

“Everything alright, hermano?” He tilted his head. He wasn’t used to Roach being so out of it when he greeted him. Usually he wore that aggravating knowing smile as he invited Alejandro in for his usual. Alejandro knew that Roach knew more than he let on. He knew that the man likely knew everything. He could only hope that his mood wasn’t because of that. Surely if he’d known that Alejandro had gone and fallen for another one of his workers and been bothered by it, it wouldn’t have taken him so long to show it.

Roach gave a deep sigh before reaching up to pinch at his nose. “I’m sorry Alejandro. Graves came in earlier today and requested Rudy, he still hasn’t left yet and any time his time runs up he just throws down more money before I can stop him.” Alejandro felt himself go cold. Graves was inside, likely with Rodolfo sitting on his lap like he usually would for him. He couldn’t go inside. Not when he would have to see that. 

“Ah,” his voice was quiet and he stood for a long moment. “I hope you will not hold it against me if I leave then?” He shook his head carefully, “I’m sorry I…I just can’t-”

“You don’t have to explain yourself,” Roach stopped him. “I understand. That’s why I stepped outside to tell you.” He hesitated for a moment before, “Listen, tomorrow I’m going to send Rodolfo by the station for you-”

“That isn’t necessary,” Alejandro cut him off with a shake of his head. “He is working. I don’t need anything just because I’m not allowed to hold all of his attention.” He rubbed at his face, his heart tugging painfully in his chest. He should have held Graves another day, not opened the letter or freed him and just put up with his bullshit for another day. 

“Not for that,” Roach assured him. He gave a glance around them before taking Alejandro’s arm in his own and tugging him to walk, guiding them back toward the station and Alejandro’s home. “Rudy wants to leave again.” 

Alejandro tensed. He felt for a long moment like he couldn’t breathe, like the breath had been stolen from his lungs and something was blocking him from taking more. “Oh,” he managed to choke out after a long moment. It wasn’t that Alejandro didn’t want Rudy to leave his job if he wanted to, he’d supported him the last two times that he’d decided to try it on his own, saying goodbye as he saw the man out of town. That wasn’t the issue. The issue was that he didn’t want Rudy to leave him. 

He’d always felt guilty about it. He’d felt even more guilty on those days when he’d come to the Silk House and seen that Rudy had returned, fallen back into what he knew to support himself as his other ventures had left him with nothing. He was never happy to see that Rudy had failed to get away, but he was always happy to see Rudy again. To have the man back with him. 

“Well,” he cleared his throat and tried to pretend that his heart wasn’t breaking into pieces at the thought of losing Rudy again. He tried to convince himself that it would be good for him, that it would provide him with a chance to finally get over his little crush on the man. He knew it wouldn’t work. “I’m sure he’ll do well for himself.”

Roach made a humming noise, but from the sound of it Alejandro could tell that he was unconvinced. “I want him better prepared this time,” he spoke carefully, tugging Alejandro closer to him as they walked. “I want him to have a job before he leaves this time, I want him to succeed and this time I’m not leaving it up to him to make sure it happens.”

“What does this have to do with the station?” Alejandro spoke the words carefully, still not quite sure how this all connected to him. 

“I want you to give Rudy a job.”

“What?”

Roach turned to look at him as they walked, “Give Rudy a job. Your deputy position is still open and, even if you aren’t comfortable giving him that place, though I assure you he can use a gun just as well as any of the outlaws you deal with, you can make him your secretary. I’m sure it would be helpful for you to have an extra pair of hands around.” 

“I don’t,” Alejandro stumbled over himself as Roach pulled them to a stop in the station, “Wouldn’t that be odd for him?”

“How so?” Roach asked, turning to cross his arms over his chest. “The two of you are friends, whether you became friends because you’ve been paying to fuck him or not.” Alejandro went hot at the words, an odd sense of embarrassment flooding through him. After a moment, Roach leaned forward to run his fingers across his chest, speaking in a slow and low voice. Only meant for Alejandro’s ears. “Whether you wish you could be together without the payment or not. Give him a job Alejandro, please? For me? For him?” 

Alejandro couldn’t say no. Not when it came to Rudy. Not if it meant seeing the other happy.

“You didn’t come by yesterday.” 

Alejandro looked up from his work, his eyes softening as they landed on Rudy. It was…odd to see him out of the rather revealing outfit he always wore at work, but it was nice. Something about seeing him in normal clothes, clothes that he’d likely chosen for himself and enjoyed wearing, it was somehow more enticing than the outfits that normally adorned him when Alejandro would see him. 

“Rodolfo,” he greeted carefully, his paperwork all but forgotten as he devoured the other with his eyes. “I, um,” he cleared his throat, “I did come by, actually. Roach said you already had a client and, well, I'm not interested in having anyone else to uh, to take care of me.” He could see the way that Rudy seemed to soften at his words, a small smile tugging at his lips as he stepped fully into the station, moving toward Alejandro’s desk. 

“I’ve never seen you in your element before, Vaquero.” He stopped beside him, leaning back against Alejandro’s desk. Neither of them touched, despite the fact that both of their hands were practically itching with the need to feel the other. “You look good here, like you belong.” 

“So do you,” Alejandro offered in return. The words were truthful. Rudy wasn’t some dainty little thing to be pinned down and fucked, he was rather lean and held a bit of muscle on him. It was a testament to the work he’d done on a farm before he’d run off, information he’d told to Alejandro in the dead of night as they laid against the other’s chest. Alejandro always liked to pretend in those moments that Rudy was telling him those things because he cared for him, and not because he’d asked in a display of weakness for the other to just speak to him and hold him in his arms. 

Rudy scoffed and gave a small smile, “You flatter me, Vaquero. Trying to charm me?”

“I’m serious,” Alejandro tilted his head at him. “Roach told me you know how to shoot.”

Rudy straightened up at that, biting his bottom lip for a moment before responding in a hesitant voice, “I can. I learned before I ran away.” He paused for a moment before shaking his head, “Listen I know Roach said…well, just listen. I don’t want you to just give me a job because Roach asked-”

“That’s not what this is,” Alejandro cut him off. He paused for a moment before motioning over toward the empty deputy’s desk, “I need help here. You see how stressed I’ve been, the things I’ve been dealing with on my own.” He stood from his seat then and took a step closer to Rudy, “You’re looking for a job. If you have the skills I need…there is a job for you here. With me.” 

The two were silent as Rudy met his eyes, trying to discern if this was a real offer or something that Roach had somehow blackmailed the man into. He couldn’t find anything other than a startling intensity in the other’s eyes. Something that told him that this offer was genuine. That it may have been spurred by something else, but that if Rudy could prove himself and do the job, the place would be his.

“You have a test for me?” He asked after a moment. “I won’t let you hire me just off of word of mouth. I want to prove myself. I want to earn my spot.” He wouldn’t accept charity. He never would, it was against nearly everything that he stood for. It was what had kept him stumbling back into Roach’s care over and over. He wanted to earn his own way.

“Outside,” Alejandro nodded, “A shooting test. That’s it. Everything else can be taught, I just need you to know how to shoot.” He took a step back and motioned toward a door toward the back of the station, “If you can shoot, the job is yours.”

“Well,” Rudy pushed himself from the desk and brushed past Alejandro, moving toward the back door, “I guess let me show you how well I can shoot, eh Vaquero?” 

Alejandro’s eyes traced after him, admiring the line of his body. Something in him already felt like Rudy was right where he belonged, like he naturally fit right there beside him in the same station. Working side by side. Friends, allies, partners. It felt right. 

He shook his head after a moment, trying to brush away those thoughts. He didn’t even know if Rudy could shoot, he was getting ahead of himself. He always got ahead of himself when it came to Rudy. He wasted no more time before pushing himself to follow after the other, his hat snatched up from his desk as he moved past. 

He met Rudy at the door and pushed it open, holding it so that Rudy could step past him into the heated air outside. Alejandro followed after him before taking the lead and guiding them around the edge of the station to the little makeshift shooting range. Alejandro had set it up at the beginning of his search for a deputy and every person who he’d hired, no matter how long they stayed, had run through it. 

He made quick work of setting up targets of various sizes at different distances before returning to Rudy’s side. He turned to see Rudy eyeing up several of the little glass bottles that he’d set out as targets and he felt the need to assure him. “Don’t worry, I don’t expect you to hit everything.” He pulled one of his revolvers from his belt and spun it in his hand until he could hand it over to Rudy with the handle pointed in his direction. 

Rudy didn’t hesitate to take the gun from him, or to spin it around in his own hands, following Alejandro’s example with a wink. If Alejandro felt his cock twitch in his pants at the move, he wasn’t going to say anything about it. Rudy stepped past him to get a better position and Alejandro dutifully stepped out of the way, his eyes locked onto the other man as he moved into a strong shooting stance. 

“Any particular targets you want me to hit?” That pulled Alejandro’s attention away from him and toward the targets down range. He examined his set up for a moment, making sure that everything was in place. 

“One target of each size,” he turned back to Rudy and crossed his arms over his chest. “The rest can be your choice.” 

The corners of Rudy’s mouth ticked up into a smile and Alejandro found himself unable to look away as he turned back toward the shooting range. “My choice? Sounds easy enough.” He lifted the gun and immediately Alejandro was struck by how clear it was that he’d done this before, that he was more than comfortable with the gun in his hands. 

A shot rang out, Alejandro nearly jumped at how sudden it was. Following the noise was the shattering of glass and when he turned his head, he could see that Rudy had shot one of the little bottles that he’d set out. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. Another shot rang out and he watched as one of the bigger targets he’d set up was knocked off of its perch with the force of a bullet hitting it. 

“Board at the back,” Rudy called his next shot out and, as the sound of another bullet being fired rang out, Alejandro could only watch as the board splintered and rocked a bit with the force of the bullet hitting it. Rudy had landed his shots. “Three more.”

Alejandro didn’t even have time to question him before three shots were fired in quick succession and, following them came the sound of breaking bottles. When the last of the broken glass settled and the echoing of the gunshots subsided, Alejandro was left staring out at four broken bottles, a knocked over box, and a board torn up by a bullet. 

“Well, Vaquero,” Rudy took careful steps toward him, drawing Alejandro’s attention back to his form as he approached, “Did I pass your test?” He stopped in front of Alejandro, spinning the gun in his hand for a moment before stopping and holding it out to him in the exact way that Alejandro had done for him. 

Alejandro was sure that he’d never wanted to kiss someone more than he had in that moment.

Working with Rodolfo Parra was hell for Alejandro. 

It wasn’t because Rudy was bad at the job, on the contrary, he took to working as Alejandro’s deputy like a fish to water. Everything seemed to come naturally to him and he was clearly enjoying the work. With his help, Alejandro had a bit of that stress that had settled on his shoulders lifted. 

Rudy had been nothing but amazing at the job. Hell, he’d even managed to get Graves to shut the fuck up when Alejandro had been forced to bring him in again, and that by itself was enough to have Alejandro trying to figure out where he could buy a gift basket or something for the man. Hell, he’d even increased Rudy’s pay just because of that little detail. 

The issue wasn’t that Rudy wasn’t good at his job. The issue was that Alejandro was still fucking in love with the man and all the time he was now spending around him only made it worse. Sure, the nights of being buried between Rudy’s thighs were gone, but in its place were days of shared meals, rides around town, and moments of comfortable silence as they worked. It was work, but it all felt so overwhelmingly domestic to Alejandro. It all felt so…right. 

The only thing missing, as his mind was so often to remind him, was the relationship aspect. Alejandro knew it wouldn’t happen. They worked together and any romance that they’d had before that had been because of the will of a few coins that Alejandro was always so eager to pay. He knew that he needed to get over the damaging crush that he’d formed on Rudy, but it was more difficult than he wanted to say. 

He’d thought time and time again about returning to the Silk House and trying to bury his shame between another worker's thighs. But it was no use. Any time he tried to think about it and soon the person in his mind would always shift to Rudy. He always came back to Rudy. It wasn’t fair to him, it wasn’t fair to Rudy, and it wouldn’t be fair to whoever he would choose. So he’d stayed away from the Silk House and he’d gone weeks off of his usual routine, all because he didn’t want it if Rudy wasn’t involved.

Alejandro locked up the front of the station, using the light of the still setting sun to guide the movement of his keys before attaching the little ring to his belt like usual. He turned around to meet Rudy, still waiting patiently behind him. 

It wasn’t unusual for Rudy to be waiting behind for him, after all the two usually walked back together, Alejandro dropping Rudy off at the little house he’d been staying in before continuing on his way to his own lonely little home. He’d taken to spending the nights on his little porch, smoking a cigarette as he nursed a glass of whiskey and tried not to think about the man who was so constantly weighing on his mind. 

Something felt different today. Alejandro had felt Rudy’s eyes on him all day, watching him in a way that sent fear rocking up his spine. He wondered if Rudy had finally seen through him. If he’d fucked something up somewhere without even realizing it. 

“Alejandro,” Rudy tilted his head at him, “I thought we might go for a drink together. If you’re willing to let me join you?”

Alejandro paused for a moment. Was that what Rudy wanted to ask? Was that why he’d been watching him all day? “I’m always willing for a drink,” he answered after a moment, “The saloon?”

“No,” Rudy shook his head, “the Silk House. I want to play a game while we drink.” 

“Oh,” Alejandro suddenly understood why Rudy had been watching him all day. After all, he didn’t know that Alejandro hadn’t been following his normal schedule, crawling his way back to the brothel for comfort in someone's arms. He didn’t know that he was the only person that Alejandro wanted to find comfort with. “I didn’t think you’d want to go back. After you left that is.”

A smile crossed Rudy’s face and he gave a small chuckle, “I appreciate the worry, Ale, but I’m on good terms with Roach. And, besides, it may be fun going as a guest.” 

“I’m not going to say no,” Alejandro motioned forward, allowing Rudy to take the lead of guiding him toward the house. He wanted to give the man the opportunity to back out if he changed his mind. “I’ll buy,” he fell into step next to Rudy and looked over to him with a smile, “I’ve got no issue paying for you.” 

Rudy gave a small laugh at that, like there was some joke that Alejandro had just told without realizing it. He didn’t question it, he just grinned at Rudy and continued the way down the street at his side, feeling like he was right where he belonged. 

When they stepped inside the Silk House, Alejandro could feel a bit of trepidation pull at his throat, rising until he felt like perhaps this was a bad idea. Standing in the entryway felt far too much like it once had, it felt far too much like he’d stumbled in after a long day of work, ready to have Rudy in his lap whispering filth into his ears. He glanced over at Rudy at the thought, but the other didn’t seem bothered in the slightest by being back. Alejandro tried to brush off his running thoughts. 

“Well, well, well,” Roach rounded the corner to look over the two of them, a grin on his face. As usual, he seemed like he knew more than either of them could imagine and, as he looked over them, Alejandro felt like he was looking through them. Like he could see what was making both of them tick in that moment. “Welcome back Sheriff,” he acknowledged Alejandro before turning to Rudy, “And welcome in for the first time, Deputy.” 

“Roach,” Rudy greeted him with a grin, “We were thinking a night of drinks and games?”

“That,” Roach motioned them to follow him with a grin, “I can do for you. First round is on us, as usual for our lovely lawmakers.” He guided them toward one of the not yet full gaming tables and allowed them to take their seats next to one another. “What’ll it be for the first round, gentlemen.”

“My usual,” Alejandro spoke flippantly, not thinking of what his words might imply, even as Roach and Rudy glanced at him with careful eyes.

Rudy took a moment to pause before, “Whiskey here as well.” 

“Two whiskey’s,” Roach gave them both a smile before he looked back to Alejandro. “And, Sheriff, when you say your usual,” he paused for a moment and Alejandro realized with a startling clarity what Roach was trying to ask him. “I could send James over, I know that you’ve taken a few nights-”

“No,” Alejandro cut him off, wincing a bit at how horrified he sounded. He refused to look over at Rudy as he continued, “No, no, uh, I just meant my usual Whiskey. Nothing else tonight.” Roach looked at him for a long moment, amusement clear to read on his face before he gave a simple nod and pushed himself toward the bar.

Neither Rudy or Alejandro said anything as they were dealt into the game. Alejandro made a point not to look at Rudy and instead focus hard on the cards that he’d been given. When Roach returned with their drinks, he tossed half of his back in one quick move, ignoring the burning of the liquor down his throat. It did nothing to wash away the horror that burned at him. 

Things were quiet for several long moments before Rudy spoke, his voice low, “You know you don’t have to do that for me, right?” 

Alejandro tensed for a moment before tilting his head toward Rudy. Of course he understood what the man meant, but it didn’t stop him from pretending. “I’m not sure what you mean, hermano?”

Rudy leaned closer to him and whispered in his ear, “The usual. Your routine. I’m not going to judge you for doing what you’ve always done, Vaquero.” Alejandro couldn’t stop the shiver that pulled down his spine at having Rudy whispering in his ear again. It wasn’t the same thing as it had once been, but it was similar enough to have him aching with the need to pull the other into his lap again.

“Why would I do that,” he cleared his throat, trying to act as normal as possible as he whispered back, “I’d much rather stay and play with you, eh Vaquero?” He could see Rudy’s eyes widen a bit as he tossed the usual nickname back at him. The lighting in the building was low, but Alejandro was sure that he could see a blush spreading across Rudy’s face before a sweet grin joined it. 

“Well then,” Rudy cleared his throat and brought his own glass up to his lips to take a sip of whiskey, “Let’s play.” 

So, Alejandro and Rudy started a new routine together. They’d spend their days together at work, doing paperwork, investigating, and arresting those who needed arrested. Then when night would come around, they’d spend their time pressed at the other’s side, sipping whiskey while playing games. 

In a way, Alejandro’s routine hadn’t changed much. The only difference was that now it was as though every moment of his day was taken up by Rudy. He would never complain about it. It only made his days better to have Rudy there. A part of him knew that he was well beyond fucked for believing that. Another part of him wanted to imagine that Rudy believed the same.

“Another hand to Rudy,” Alejandro groaned out, tossing his cards on the table. Despite his bemoaning, he had a bright grin on his face. He shook his head, “You’ve got to share your secret, I lose practically every hand to you now.”

Rudy smiled at him from over his glass of whiskey, “It’s not so hard,” he teased, “when your opponent is terrible at bluffing.” He had to pull his glass away as he nearly choked the alcohol. Alejandro’s face had pulled a nearly painful laugh from him and he couldn’t help but continue to laugh even as the other grumbled in annoyance.

“I am not terrible at bluffing,” Alejandro tried to defend himself, “I lie all the time.”

“Do you now?” Rudy was still trying to cover up his laughter as Alejandro tried fruitlessly to defend himself. “I don’t believe it.” 

“You don’t believe it,” Alejandro gaped at him, “I don’t believe that I’m a terrible liar, how’s that?” 

“You should believe him, Vaquero. You’ve never been a good liar.” The voice that cut into their conversation was sickly sweet and as it laid over Alejandro’s chest, it sent a spark of dread through him. The honeyed words forced their way down his throat to choke him in the way that it would a child. He froze. He could feel Rudy looking between him and the woman behind him, but he couldn’t bring himself to react. 

A beat passed before a soft hand landed on his chin, turning his face until he was looking in the eyes of a woman he was sure he’d never see again. She leaned close enough to share his breath, keeping herself right in his space as her fingers traced along his cheek and down his neck, threatening to pull a shiver from him.

“Alejandro,” she spoke, her voice dropped into a pout, “don’t you want to say hello to me? It’s been so long since we’ve seen each other.” 

Alejandro took in a shaky breath, feeling as though it might be stolen from him at any moment. “Valeria,” he finally acknowledged. “What are you doing back in town? I was under the impression you’d left for good.” 

Valeria scoffed and pouted at him again. She pulled back enough that she could stand at her full height, hovering over him in a way that was all too familiar to him. She pressed closer, moving until she was practically in his lap with her hands gripping his shoulders loosely. “Is that any way to greet me? You sound like you aren’t happy to have me back.” 

Before Alejandro could work himself up enough to respond, Rudy’s voice cut through. “You should step back, hmm? Roach won’t like it if you’re trying to make a move on one of his guests.” Alejandro shot a grateful look at the man, but was struck for a moment by the anger on Rudy’s face. 

“Roach is letting me stay,” Valeria responded flippantly, never even looking at Rudy. Her hands started to play with Alejandro’s hair, tugging at a few of the locks as she twirled them around her fingers. “Didn’t you miss me, Ale? You know all you have to do is ask and pay and i’ll-”

“Even if Roach is letting you stay, you can’t solicit here without a contract from him,” Rudy cut her off again. “I doubt he’s given you a contract for the night. Should I go ask him?” There was a short moment before, finally, Valeria’s attention moved away from Alejandro and to Rudy. 

She looked him up and down slowly, and an unimpressed frown tugging at her lips. “And who are you? You’ve got the information a worker would, but you certainly don’t look like one.” She turned back to Alejandro, “Who is this, eh? You replaced me?” 

“Valeria,” Alejandro started, his voice shaky. He wasn’t sure what he was planning to say, but he didn’t get a chance to reply as Rudy asked. 

“Replaced you? And who are you?” Rudy didn’t sound the least bit impressed either, and it was clear that he was matching her energy. It was almost impressive to Alejandro. He’d seen people bow to Valeria in seconds because of how forceful she could be. Rarely ever had there been someone so willing to hold their own against her.

Valeria gave a quick tut, “You’ve not told your friend about me? Oh and I thought I was so important to you Ale. That’s what you were on your knees telling me before I left.” 

Alejandro felt himself go red at the words, embarrassment flooding through him. He didn’t like to remember that moment, one of the lowest that he’d ever had. He’d been too pathetic, too naive. He knew better now. Maybe he couldn’t keep himself from falling in love again, but he could keep himself from making a fool out of himself. “That was then,” he answered quietly, “this is now.” 

Valeria stared at him for a long moment and, though she hid it well, he could see the shock in her eyes. She hadn’t expected him to say that and it was clear that she hadn’t believed that he would so openly deny her. Her eyes trailed over to Rudy for a moment before back to Alejandro.

A laugh choked up from her throat. She pushed herself away from Alejandro while still laughing. “Oh I get it now, Vaquero.” She pointed at Rudy with a grin on her face, “He’s your new favorite eh?” She gave another laugh as Alejandro sputtered at her words. “What a little pair the two of you make. A man who falls in love with his prostitutes and the prostitute stupid enough to fall in love with him as well.” 

She pointed at Rudy and Alejandro’s head whipped around to look at the man. Surely Valeria had to be wrong. There was no way that Rudy could have fallen for him. Valeria was teasing him. That’s what it had to be. Still, the downright murderous glare that Rudy was sending her way did nothing to disprove what she had claimed as the truth. 

“Valeria.” The voice that cut through the air silenced the room. Everyone knew that voice. Everyone knew to be quiet when he spoke like that. Alejandro could see Valeria’s face fall as aggravation showed clear on her body. Still, she turned around dutifully to face Roach. He was giving her a rather unimpressed look, and anyone would be able to see just from his body language that he was quite unhappy at the moment. “I was gracious enough to give you a place to stay for the night, free of charge. The least I expect is for you to avoid harassing my guests.”

“A woman has to work,” she responded, “I’m only trying to make my way.”

“You can try at the saloon down the street then,” Roach responded, “You don’t work at my house, and you do not get to try and solicit clients from me. So you’ll leave, or you’ll go up to your room and I won’t see you again until you leave in the morning.” He crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow at her, waiting for an answer.

Valeria paused for a moment, her hands clenched at her side. Finally she gave in. “I’ll see you in the morning, then.” She and Roach shared a short sour smile before she was off toward the stairs, finally leaving Alejandro and Rudy in peace. 

As soon as she was gone, Roach was stepping toward the two. “I am so sorry, gentlemen. If I had known she would do something like that I wouldn’t have invited her to stay the night.” 

“You couldn’t have known,” Rudy answered. His voice was still hard.

“Still, your drinks are on us tonight.” Roach gave them an apologetic smile, “Can I get either of you another whiskey?”

“I think I’ll call it a night,” Alejandro folded his cards on the table and pushed himself to stand on shaky legs. He couldn’t stay, not now, not after all of the embarrassment that he’d just been forced to endure. He didn’t like remembering his past with Valeria, how stupid he’d been to fall in love with her. He didn’t like to remember that he was stupid enough to fall in love with Rudy as well. 

“Me too,” Rudy agreed, folding his own cards, “Gotta make sure the Sheriff here gets home safe.” He gave a quick smile to Roach, though it was clear that he was still rather angry from the interaction with Valeria. “Thank you, though, Roach. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

Roach didn’t respond, he only gave an understanding nod before seeing them both to the door. The two stepped out into the humid night, still pressed at the other’s side. 

Neither of them said anything as they started their walk back toward their homes. Neither of them quite knew what to say to the other. So, for a majority of the walk, neither of them spoke at all. They just stayed at the other’s side and let the interaction bounce around in their minds. 

It wasn’t until they grew closer and closer to Rudy’s current little home that the silence broke. “What Valeria said, about you and her…was it true?”

Alejandro nearly tripped over himself at the words. It wasn’t a conversation that he wanted to have, in fact it was the last thing that he ever wanted to discuss with Rudy. Still, he answered. “Yes.” He hated himself for saying it, “I was in love with her. Years ago. I’m not anymore.” 

“And,” Rudy asked again after a moment, “What she implied, about me?” 

Alejandro winced, but when Rudy pulled him to a stop just outside of the entrance of his home, he knew he wouldn’t get away without answering. Rudy’s words about him being a horrible liar bounced around in his head for a few moments. He was a horrible liar. He couldn’t lie, not to Rudy. 

“I tried others,” he started carefully, “I tried not to get attached. Not to fall for you. It didn’t work.” Rudy tilted his head at him and neither of them spoke for a long moment. Alejandro felt the need to explain himself further, to let Rudy know that he didn’t expect anything from him. “Don’t worry,” he shook his head, “I’m not an idiot. I know everything that was between us, everything that happened was because I paid. I don’t expect anything.” He stood for another moment before giving Rudy a nod, “Good night, Rodolfo.”

He turned to leave, but before he could Rudy had a hand on his arm, yanking him around until they were facing one another again. Alejandro could feel his heart speed up. He wondered if Rudy was about to quit, to tell him he couldn’t work with him while knowing the truth. “You know,” Rudy let go of his arm and shuffled a bit, “I suppose she saw right through us. I guess neither of us are good at bluffing.” 

“Rudy…?”

“I think you should come inside with me, Vaquero.” Rudy stepped closer to him, moving until their bodies were pressed against one another. “I think…you should make up for the time we’ve lost.” 

Alejandro could feel his breath get caught in his throat. Rudy couldn’t mean what he thought that he did. But, it all felt so familiar. It felt just like it had on those nights when he’d get pulled upstairs to a room where he could enjoy the press of a man he shouldn’t have fallen in love with. Only…this felt more raw. More truthful. Like they both understood that this was different, that this was more. 

Alejandro met Rudy’s eyes and, slowly, his hands reached out to grab at his hips, pulling him closer. He could feel Rudy’s breath catch in his throat as he searched the other’s face for any sign that this was a joke. That he’d read the situation wrong. That this wasn’t what both of them wanted. 

“Conejito,” he started slowly, he didn’t miss the way that the others shuttered just a bit at the pet name, “what are you saying? Hmm?”

“I’m saying,” Rudy pulled him closer so he could whisper in Alejandro’s ear, “She was right. We do make quite the pair, no? A man who fell in love with his prostitute, and the prostitute stupid enough to fall back.”

And, as they were stumbling up to Rudy’s room, their hands and mouths exploring desperately, Alejandro had to agree. They did make quite the pair.